Split (1)

train · 5.83k rows

tale_id stringlengths 1 60	content stringlengths 26 371k	source stringlengths 82 200k	created_at stringlengths 19 19	tags listlengths 1 36	title stringlengths 14 145	rating int64 -64 2.07k	references listlengths 0 98	hubs listlengths 0 19	images listlengths 0 144	page_id stringlengths 7 10	url stringlengths 30 89
the-bookworm	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="page"> <p><strong>Tohko was an interesting girl.</strong><br/> <strong>She was the type of person you couldn't understand unless someone painstakingly described her to you.</strong><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <strong>That…is Tohko. Or, was.</strong><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <strong>To preface, Tohko was a scholar, in every sense of the word. She was beautiful, pale, dainty, even fragile, like a doll that was made out of pure snow, the snow that melts away even if the temperature was one degree above below zero.</strong><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <strong>She was like this because, quite frankly, she had no life outside of school.</strong><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <strong><em>No family outings to take part in.</em></strong><br/> <strong><em>No one who cared for her at all.</em></strong><br/> <strong><em>Including me.</em></strong><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <strong>And, I suppose, that's why she became like that.</strong><br/> <strong>And, I suppose, that's why she came concealing her bruises in school every day.</strong><br/> <strong>Why she flinched at every man who touched her.</strong><br/> <strong>She was pitiful, quite frankly. Especially how people treated her.</strong><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <strong><em>Like a monster.</em><br/> <em>Like something that shouldn't exist.</em><br/> <em>Like something that should be put out of its misery.</em></strong></p> </div> <hr/> <p>"Simple assessment, they said, shouldn't be too much of a problem here."</p> <p>Franz said to herself, trying, in vain, to hype herself up for the current mission at hand. She had been stationed in Nara, Japan, for a reason that was unknown to her.</p> <p>"Just do what we tell you, they said. It'll be easy, what a load of horse crap."</p> <p><span style="color:black"><em>"Hey, Franz? You know your radio is still on, right? So stop being a dickhead."</em></span></p> <p>There came a small voice from the earpiece Franz wore, one that hurt her head every time she heard it. The shrill voice came from a woman named Siren. Obviously, it wasn't her real name, but no one Franz has met has ever used her actual name, and even fewer have actually met the woman. Regardless, Franz didn't particularly care for her any-</p> <p><span style="color:black"><em>"Franz, focus, this is your first mission, so don't fail this. Otherwise…"</em></span></p> <p>"Yeah, yeah. I know. Thanks, Siren."</p> <p>Franz nodded to herself and walked forward to her objective. She was sent to investigate the Naragakuen Junior High School for her first assessment in order to regularly be put onto GOC combative teams. She supposed the test was in order to evaluate her mental fortitude, or something akin to that.</p> <p>Word from nearby embedded GOC operatives gave word that there was a Type-<span style="color:green">Green</span><sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-1" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-1')">1</a></sup> entity in this place that needed to be "taken care of", but Franz had no clue who it was, or how much trouble she would have with it.</p> <p><em>No one should be there since it's Golden Week, but we went ahead and gave you a standardized teacher uniform just in case. If anyone asks questions, just play up the "dumb American" trope. God knows you're good at that, huh Marry?</em></p> <p>And so, she walked. She didn't have much in terms of equipment, only being given a concealed combat knife, and a pistol in the design of an airsoft gun, holding exactly 6 bullets inside a concealed holster in her coat pocket.</p> <p>"That should be enough…right?" Franz thought to herself as she pushed in the door to the school.</p> <p>The first thing that hit her was the white walls that surrounded every inch of the school, and the pungent smell of cleaning chemicals on the floor.</p> <p>"Where is it now…" She thought to herself, absentmindedly chewing her lip as she walked the stark, maze-like corridors of the school. Siren was strangely quiet, which Franz didn't like. She justified it by thinking it was to help her focus, but in such a silent structure like this, Franz hoped for some sort of sound.</p> <p><strong><em>Shhhhhh- Clack-</em></strong></p> <p>The sound of a door sliding opening.</p> <p>"Fuckin' hell, I've been searching for a god-damned hour in this school. Fuckin' slippery anomaly—"</p> <p>The Englishman stood still, keeping his eyes on Franz the moment he saw her. Franz's nose was assaulted by a disgusting mix of clashing fragrances between cleaning chemicals and the harsh smell of ash that radiated off the man.</p> <p>A mess of a man, with unkempt hair and a loose dress shirt.<br/> A mess of a man, who reeked of ash and cheap alcohol.<br/> A mess of a man, with a serpentine-like tree tattooed just above his wrist.</p> <p>"Ah, so that's what it is," Darke said solemnly, quickly shoving something into his pocket. Franz had turned to him, reacting to the sound of the door and the smell assaulting her nose. Catching her off guard, Darke ran up to her in a full sprint. Before she could react, Darke threw a right hook at her, hitting her square in the jaw, causing her vision to blur and for her mouth to start leaking some blood, falling with a pathetic spittle on the floor.</p> <p>Taking this moment to push her up against the wall, Darke heard a small softened <em>clack-</em> against the hard stone wall. Franz reaches for her gun, but Darke quickly swats her hand away, forcing his way into her coat pocket and pulled the gun out from it. Darke took the gun and quickly pressed the barrel under Franz's jaw, smirking as he pulled the trigger.</p> <p><strong><em>Clack-</em></strong></p> <p>The pistol sounded, nothing coming out of the barrel. No blood surrounded the wall where it should have. No deafening ring filled the air as it was intended to. Considering the dangerous situation such as this, Darke assumed that the safety of the pistol would have been off, but the reality of the mishap is that Franz simply forgot to take it off. Surprise filled Darke's face, and that made it clear that this was Franz's only chance to take advantage of the moment.</p> <p>"G-gack…-" Franz feebly tried to speak, but nothing came out. Taking this one moment of distraction to reach into her concealed pocket, picking out the combat knife from the inside. She gripped it with all the remaining strength she had, stabbing it as far into Darke's arm as far as she could, dragging it towards herself, creating a gnarly gash along his arm, leaking crimson onto the brown floor. Franz at this point noticed the tattoo on the man's wrist, filling her with more drive to finally kill him.</p> <p>"Gahh.. Fuck-!" Darke said, dropping the foreign-modeled gun to the floor and clutching his now bleeding arm, dropping Franz to the floor in the process. Despite her lack of breath, Franz didn't waste a second, charging at Darke with her knife in hand, stabbing it into his abdomen, piling him over onto the floor, shifting her body weight for more leverage, into the pool of his blood. "Just die already!" Franz said, finally cracking at Darke as she kept stabbing her knife into his abdomen as fast as she could, not caring for his cries for help.</p> <p>Only after around 30 seconds, Franz knew it was over. Darke lay here on the ground, in a pool of his pathetic blood. The scent of copper added into the already clashing scenes, leaving Franz queasy as she stood there.</p> <p>"He brought it on himself…" Franz told herself, though she wasn't sure if she really believed it. Regardless, she looked inside of Darke's pockets, finding a collection of notes inside of them. She walked as she read, the notes, absentmindedly stepping on more and more notes gathering on the floor beneath her feet. The note she first noticed was,</p> <div class="page"> <p><strong>To say Tohko loved books was an understatement. I couldn't do it justice, even if I explained it for over a hundred years.</strong><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <em><strong>She was that deranged.</strong></em><br/> <em><strong>She was that infatuated to something that didn't reciprocate.</strong></em><br/> <em><strong>She was that… pathetic.</strong></em><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <strong>There were also rumors around that she would do…strange things to books, such as eating them, brushing them, and even █████████ in the ███.</strong><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <strong>And I suppose it got to her. She ran out of class one day, yelling obscenities as she did. Some people saw her run into the closed-off library, but no one went to check on her. Even the teachers.</strong><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <strong>I'm not even sure if she ever came out.</strong><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> </div> <p>Before she knew it. Franz was knee-deep in notes of varying sizes. "I wonder if these are all thoughts people had about her? Creepy…" Franz said to herself, trying her best to stay calm under the current circumstances. Franz wandered around the school a few minutes more, reading various notes as she went, rubbing her neck as she went because it still felt uncomfortable.</p> <p>Finally, she reached her location. The library.<br/> Said to be long since abandoned.<br/> For a reason she didn't know, nor cared to know.</p> <p><em><strong>Shhhh- Clack!</strong></em></p> <p>The door slid open, causing even more notes to spill out of the room, bringing the amount of collective notes up to her thighs at this point. Franz wadded her way into the library. Immediately, she was hit with the scent of death, causing her nose to scrunch up. Franz walked further into the dimly lit library, filled with subjects of many different kinds, though she didn't have time to look through them.</p> <p>It was then that she saw it. Tohko. The notes were right, words didn't do her justice. She lay there, collapsed against the wall on a set of four desks put together. This wouldn't have been that unnatural- but the problem was her lower half. Tohko was bisected from the waist down, and not in a clean way, but as if a wild animal had torn her open like a piñata. And from this wound, paper spilled out from her, filled with notes with unintelligible writings.</p> <p>Wordlessly, Franz raised her pistol to the entity. "I guess I should just make sure…" Franz said, slowly unlocking the safety on her pistol, aiming at the girl in front of her. It was then that Franz noticed, slow breaths coming out of Tohko's mouth.</p> <p><strong><em>The water coming down her eyes.</em></strong><br/> <strong><em>The slow and pained rising of her chest.</em></strong><br/> <strong><em>The seemingly desperate plea for help Tohko was asking for.</em></strong><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <strong><em>"I'm sorry."</em></strong> Franz said, before two shots filled the library with a ringing white noise.</p> <hr/> <p>Franz walked outside the school, the sunlight hitting her face, clearing her head of the events that just transpired. Her headset came back on, and Siren finally spoke.</p> <p><span style="color:black"><em>"Good job, Franz. We'll get you back home, and someone will come to dispose of the body. Good work out there, and about the Serpent's Hand member…"</em></span></p> <p>"Don't worry about it, really. I mean, I'm alive, right? And I took care of the Type-Green, so that's all that matters."</p> <p><span style="color:black"><em>"Mm… Well, get back to base, we will talk about your implementation and results when you're back."</em></span></p> <p>The headset promptly turned back off, leaving Franz alone yet again in her silence. Franz took one look back at the school staring at the building. The image of Tohko and the man resurfaced in her mind, causing her to remain still, a somber look coming over her face. A strong gust of wind knocked her back to her senses, and after a brief moment of complication, Franz shrugged, turning the other direction, and started to walk away.</p> <p><em>This was just the job. I know I'm doing the right thing.</em> Franz told herself, unable to recognize if she even believed herself.</p> <div class="footnotes-footer"> <div class="title">Footnotes</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-1"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-1')">1</a>. Reality-Bender</div> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-bookworm">The Bookworm</a>" by kblacke, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-bookworm">https://scpwiki.com/the-bookworm</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[module css]] .page { display: block; overflow: hidden; font-family: "Monotype Corsiva", "Bradley Hand ITC", sans-serif; font-style: normal; background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-color: transparent; background-image: linear-gradient(to top ,rgb(202, 219, 228) 0%, rgb(231, 233, 220) 8%); background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0px 8px; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: 100% 20px; border: 1px solid #CCC; border-radius: 10px; padding: 10px 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; box-shadow: 0px 1px 3px rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) } .page p, .page ul { line-height: 20px; margin: 0; } [[/module]] [[div class="page"]] Tohko was an interesting girl. She was the type of person you couldn't understand unless someone painstakingly described her to you. @@ @@ That...is Tohko. Or, was. @@ @@ To preface, Tohko was a scholar, in every sense of the word. She was beautiful, pale, dainty, even fragile, like a doll that was made out of pure snow, the snow that melts away even if the temperature was one degree above below zero. @@ @@ She was like this because, quite frankly, she had no life outside of school. @@ @@ //No family outings to take part in.// //No one who cared for her at all.// //Including me.// @@ @@ And, I suppose, that's why she became like that. And, I suppose, that's why she came concealing her bruises in school every day. Why she flinched at every man who touched her. She was pitiful, quite frankly. Especially how people treated her. @@ @@ //Like a monster.// //Like something that shouldn't exist.// //Like something that should be put out of its misery.// [[/div]] ---- "Simple assessment, they said, shouldn't be too much of a problem here." Franz said to herself, trying, in vain, to hype herself up for the current mission at hand. She had been stationed in Nara, Japan, for a reason that was unknown to her. "Just do what we tell you, they said. It'll be easy, what a load of horse crap." [[span style="color:black"]]//"Hey, Franz? You know your radio is still on, right? So stop being a dickhead."//[[/span]] There came a small voice from the earpiece Franz wore, one that hurt her head every time she heard it. The shrill voice came from a woman named Siren. Obviously, it wasn't her real name, but no one Franz has met has ever used her actual name, and even fewer have actually met the woman. Regardless, Franz didn't particularly care for her any- [[span style="color:black"]]//"Franz, focus, this is your first mission, so don't fail this. Otherwise..."//[[/span]] "Yeah, yeah. I know. Thanks, Siren." Franz nodded to herself and walked forward to her objective. She was sent to investigate the Naragakuen Junior High School for her first assessment in order to regularly be put onto GOC combative teams. She supposed the test was in order to evaluate her mental fortitude, or something akin to that. Word from nearby embedded GOC operatives gave word that there was a Type-[[span style="color:green"]]Green[[/span]][[footnote]]Reality-Bender[[/footnote]] entity in this place that needed to be "taken care of", but Franz had no clue who it was, or how much trouble she would have with it. //No one should be there since it's Golden Week, but we went ahead and gave you a standardized teacher uniform just in case. If anyone asks questions, just play up the "dumb American" trope. God knows you're good at that, huh Marry?// And so, she walked. She didn't have much in terms of equipment, only being given a concealed combat knife, and a pistol in the design of an airsoft gun, holding exactly 6 bullets inside a concealed holster in her coat pocket. "That should be enough...right?" Franz thought to herself as she pushed in the door to the school. The first thing that hit her was the white walls that surrounded every inch of the school, and the pungent smell of cleaning chemicals on the floor. "Where is it now..." She thought to herself, absentmindedly chewing her lip as she walked the stark, maze-like corridors of the school. Siren was strangely quiet, which Franz didn't like. She justified it by thinking it was to help her focus, but in such a silent structure like this, Franz hoped for some sort of sound. //Shhhhhh- Clack-// The sound of a door sliding opening. "Fuckin' hell, I've been searching for a god-damned hour in this school. Fuckin' slippery anomaly--" The Englishman stood still, keeping his eyes on Franz the moment he saw her. Franz's nose was assaulted by a disgusting mix of clashing fragrances between cleaning chemicals and the harsh smell of ash that radiated off the man. A mess of a man, with unkempt hair and a loose dress shirt. A mess of a man, who reeked of ash and cheap alcohol. A mess of a man, with a serpentine-like tree tattooed just above his wrist. "Ah, so that's what it is," Darke said solemnly, quickly shoving something into his pocket. Franz had turned to him, reacting to the sound of the door and the smell assaulting her nose. Catching her off guard, Darke ran up to her in a full sprint. Before she could react, Darke threw a right hook at her, hitting her square in the jaw, causing her vision to blur and for her mouth to start leaking some blood, falling with a pathetic spittle on the floor. Taking this moment to push her up against the wall, Darke heard a small softened //clack-// against the hard stone wall. Franz reaches for her gun, but Darke quickly swats her hand away, forcing his way into her coat pocket and pulled the gun out from it. Darke took the gun and quickly pressed the barrel under Franz's jaw, smirking as he pulled the trigger. //Clack-// The pistol sounded, nothing coming out of the barrel. No blood surrounded the wall where it should have. No deafening ring filled the air as it was intended to. Considering the dangerous situation such as this, Darke assumed that the safety of the pistol would have been off, but the reality of the mishap is that Franz simply forgot to take it off. Surprise filled Darke's face, and that made it clear that this was Franz's only chance to take advantage of the moment. "G-gack...-" Franz feebly tried to speak, but nothing came out. Taking this one moment of distraction to reach into her concealed pocket, picking out the combat knife from the inside. She gripped it with all the remaining strength she had, stabbing it as far into Darke's arm as far as she could, dragging it towards herself, creating a gnarly gash along his arm, leaking crimson onto the brown floor. Franz at this point noticed the tattoo on the man's wrist, filling her with more drive to finally kill him. "Gahh.. Fuck-!" Darke said, dropping the foreign-modeled gun to the floor and clutching his now bleeding arm, dropping Franz to the floor in the process. Despite her lack of breath, Franz didn't waste a second, charging at Darke with her knife in hand, stabbing it into his abdomen, piling him over onto the floor, shifting her body weight for more leverage, into the pool of his blood. "Just die already!" Franz said, finally cracking at Darke as she kept stabbing her knife into his abdomen as fast as she could, not caring for his cries for help. Only after around 30 seconds, Franz knew it was over. Darke lay here on the ground, in a pool of his pathetic blood. The scent of copper added into the already clashing scenes, leaving Franz queasy as she stood there. "He brought it on himself..." Franz told herself, though she wasn't sure if she really believed it. Regardless, she looked inside of Darke's pockets, finding a collection of notes inside of them. She walked as she read, the notes, absentmindedly stepping on more and more notes gathering on the floor beneath her feet. The note she first noticed was, [[div class="page"]] To say Tohko loved books was an understatement. I couldn't do it justice, even if I explained it for over a hundred years. @@ @@ //She was that deranged.// //She was that infatuated to something that didn't reciprocate.// //She was that... pathetic.// @@ @@ There were also rumors around that she would do...strange things to books, such as eating them, brushing them, and even █████████ in the ███. @@ @@ And I suppose it got to her. She ran out of class one day, yelling obscenities as she did. Some people saw her run into the closed-off library, but no one went to check on her. Even the teachers. @@ @@ I'm not even sure if she ever came out. @@ @@ [[/div]] Before she knew it. Franz was knee-deep in notes of varying sizes. "I wonder if these are all thoughts people had about her? Creepy..." Franz said to herself, trying her best to stay calm under the current circumstances. Franz wandered around the school a few minutes more, reading various notes as she went, rubbing her neck as she went because it still felt uncomfortable. Finally, she reached her location. The library. Said to be long since abandoned. For a reason she didn't know, nor cared to know. //Shhhh- Clack!// The door slid open, causing even more notes to spill out of the room, bringing the amount of collective notes up to her thighs at this point. Franz wadded her way into the library. Immediately, she was hit with the scent of death, causing her nose to scrunch up. Franz walked further into the dimly lit library, filled with subjects of many different kinds, though she didn't have time to look through them. It was then that she saw it. Tohko. The notes were right, words didn't do her justice. She lay there, collapsed against the wall on a set of four desks put together. This wouldn't have been that unnatural- but the problem was her lower half. Tohko was bisected from the waist down, and not in a clean way, but as if a wild animal had torn her open like a piñata. And from this wound, paper spilled out from her, filled with notes with unintelligible writings. Wordlessly, Franz raised her pistol to the entity. "I guess I should just make sure..." Franz said, slowly unlocking the safety on her pistol, aiming at the girl in front of her. It was then that Franz noticed, slow breaths coming out of Tohko's mouth. //The water coming down her eyes.// //The slow and pained rising of her chest.// //The seemingly desperate plea for help Tohko was asking for.// @@ @@ //"I'm sorry."// Franz said, before two shots filled the library with a ringing white noise. ---- Franz walked outside the school, the sunlight hitting her face, clearing her head of the events that just transpired. Her headset came back on, and Siren finally spoke. [[span style="color:black"]]//"Good job, Franz. We'll get you back home, and someone will come to dispose of the body. Good work out there, and about the Serpent's Hand member..."//[[/span]] "Don't worry about it, really. I mean, I'm alive, right? And I took care of the Type-Green, so that's all that matters." [[span style="color:black"]]//"Mm... Well, get back to base, we will talk about your implementation and results when you're back."//[[/span]] The headset promptly turned back off, leaving Franz alone yet again in her silence. Franz took one look back at the school staring at the building. The image of Tohko and the man resurfaced in her mind, causing her to remain still, a somber look coming over her face. A strong gust of wind knocked her back to her senses, and after a brief moment of complication, Franz shrugged, turning the other direction, and started to walk away. //This was just the job. I know I'm doing the right thing.// Franz told herself, unable to recognize if she even believed herself. [[footnoteblock]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-04-23T20:37:00	[ "_licensebox", "action", "global-occult-coalition", "serpents-hand", "tale" ]	The Bookworm - SCP Foundation	7	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "serpent-s-hand-hub", "goc-hub-page" ]	[]	1453435613	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-bookworm
the-bowe-transition	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="preview"> <p>How can you believe words that you do not understand? How can you start to heal if you don't know the damage done?</p> </div> <br/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h4 id="toc0"><span><span style="color: grey">1971</span></span></h4> </div> <p>Parallel, nondescript furniture sat stagnant in an oppressive basement, each pillow perfectly aligned, everything in its place. The vertical lines of the wood paneling that surrounded him like cage bars, the pressed and pleated flags decorating the walls, the uniforms, badges and medals lining the halls; everything was in the perfect position, honoring those that had come before.</p> <p>"George."</p> <p>He looked at his father, trying to hide his unavoidable fear. "A Bowe man does not show fear," his father had told him since he could remember. Fear was to be punished, and he knew this. A swallow, and he met his father's gaze.</p> <p>"Yes, sir?"</p> <p>"Do you know why I asked you down here?"</p> <p>"No, sir."</p> <p>That was a lie, and George knew it. So did his father.</p> <p>The clock echoed throughout the damp basement, as the distant sound of a neighbor mowing the lawn drowned out the laughter of the other neighborhood kids. George had tried to play football with them, but his mother told the General that he had skipped his chores. That wasn't true, but it was his word against his mother's.</p> <p>And the first lesson George Bowe had learned was to never disagree with authority.</p> <p>"Don't lie to me."</p> <p><em>I didn't lie about the chores,</em> George thought. "I'm sorry, sir."</p> <p>"Sorry isn't good enough. So, now I am forced to repeat myself. George, you have a duty to your family, a duty to me. You know how hard I work every day. You know the sacrifices I have made for our country, the things I've given up to keep you and your mother safe. So why don't you understand, son?"</p> <p>George shook his head, dropping his gaze to his father's shoes, avoiding staring at the switch his father held.</p> <p><em>Crack.</em></p> <p>George stood rigidly upright, his knuckles pulsing as he stared blankly ahead, refusing to allow the pain to appear on his face. His gaze was fixed on a discolored rectangle on the wall, a void in the order, surrounded by framed photographs of Bowe men from generations past. A year or two ago, before George knew any better, a cousin spoke of socialism and tried to convince George's father to lighten up, to consider that not all socialists want to destroy America, that some might love this country just as much as General Bowe did. His father took the framed portrait of his cousin and burned it outside, forcing the cousin to watch. The last memory George had of his cousin's face was it being licked by flames, as it turned to ashes.</p> <p>"Look at me when I am talking to you. Is that understood?"</p> <p>"Yes."</p> <p>"Yes, <em>what</em>?"</p> <p>"Yes, sir."</p> <p>"You know that a Bowe man should always serve his country first — but there is another lesson I must teach you: before his own country, there is a greater priority. For the Bowe name has not always lived here, nor will we; before America, when the Bowe line was without heritage, the family itself was what we stood for. You must remember that you are only here, in this great nation, because of the legacy of our family. Each Bowe man that came before you knew this. Each a hero, each a willing sacrifice, each a martyr for the good of the family. My family. You are a Bowe man, and whether you like it or not, <em>you</em> are my legacy. You will not speak back to your mother, and you will not ignore me. You will follow orders, or you will face the consequences. Is that understood?"</p> <p>The vitriolic glare George saw would one day be twisted into a fond memory. A cherished anecdote of the time his father set him straight, of the day General Stan Bowe reminded him what it means to serve America, of the honor it is to protect our great nation. This was the first day that George Bowe learned what it really meant to be a Bowe man.</p> <p>But in the moment, George Bowe cried. A mistake he would not make again.</p> <br/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h4 id="toc1"><span><span style="color: grey">1978</span></span></h4> </div> <p>George sat on the cold bench of the changing room, staring at his father's shoes. <em>I will not cry,</em> he thought, <em>I am above that. I will not show fear, for the Bowes are above that. I will not lose, because there is no place for that in the family.</em></p> <p>"Pay attention!" General Bowe said, hitting George across the side of the head with a clipboard. "Do you think I enjoy this? Do you think I like having to remind you to pay attention, remind you to respect your elders?"</p> <p>George snapped to attention, sitting straight up and looking at his father. <em>I will not cry, I will not feel pain, I will not show fear. I am George Bowe, and I have a legacy to fulfill.</em></p> <p>"That's better," General Bowe sneered. "What the hell are you doing, George? Get your head in the game, you've wasted enough of my time."</p> <p>"Yes sir," George centered himself, mirroring his father's body language. "Sorry, sir, I was walking through our strategy."</p> <p>"Strategy?" his father said, shaking his head. "George, I don't give a shit how you do it. But you are going to win today, because you will <em>not</em> embarrass me. You understand how important today is?"</p> <p>"Yes, sir," George said robotically. "If I win today then I will advance to the regionals, and then—"</p> <p>"No, you idiot," General Bowe turned on a dime and glared at George. "Today is important because Admiral Billing's son is in your bracket. If you lose, you will have failed not just me, not just the US Army, but the entire nation. Do you understand? Do you know how much is riding on you?"</p> <p>"I do." George swallowed hard. "I won't let you down. I'm sorry."</p> <p>"<em>You're</em> sorry?" General Bowe asked, the promise of repercussions hanging above them like a gathering storm cloud.</p> <p>"No, nothing. Never mind," George said, lowering his eyes.</p> <p>His father went down on a knee, and put a hand on George's shoulder. "Son. You know that I just want the best for you, right? That I am hard on you because I understand how great you could be? If you listen to me, you will be the man that you were meant to be. You will become the next General Bowe, and you will embrace the legacy I have created for you. Don't squander your chance, son. Don't you know how hard I've worked to build your future? If you want to have the same power as I do, you need to do it my way. You have to play by my rules. I am harsh, because it works — God knows it worked on me." General Bowe stood up, and walked towards the door. "Now move, soldier! You have a duty to fulfill."</p> <p>George did as he was told. As he always did. No matter how he felt, no matter how little he wanted to be here, no matter how uncomfortable he felt wearing only a singlet, with a crowd of eyes staring and mocking him — no matter what, he would do what his father asked of him. He had no other choice.</p> <p>He had never had a choice, at least, not one where he had any real agency. His life was a series of false dichotomies, a constant test to pick the right option, to be the right version of George Bowe. It was hard-earned lessons, with his father 'teaching' George how to act, how to speak, how to be a real man — knowledge paid for in blood and violence.</p> <p>But never tears.</p> <p>No, George knew how to cry on the inside, the world none-the-wiser. He learned how to take his rebellious, free-spirited self, and bury it deep inside him, encased in a thick shell. Layer after layer of masks covered his forgotten dreams, discarded because they did not fit his father's plan. A dissenter had no place in a legacy; and that was why, most of all, he knew that he had to be normal. He had to be the next General Bowe, no matter what he felt inside.</p> <p>For George Bowe was fake through and through — a facsimile of the General, the perfect man to continue the Bowe legacy. He controlled the ill-fitting meatsuit, the testament to what it meant to be a Bowe man, his body growing and being shaped into the form that it had to be, all the while hating every single piece of him.</p> <p>His true self was buried six feet deep, in a hole he had dug himself; there had been no service, for the Bowe that might have been.</p> <p>Still, George did not shed a single tear.</p> <br/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h4 id="toc2"><span><span style="color: grey">1991</span></span></h4> </div> <p>Not at General Stan Bowe's funeral, not during the eulogy, nor at any other point.</p> <p>Major George Bowe mourned his father, just as he had been taught: it was a performance, as was his duty. <em>'A Bowe man honors his country, no matter his personal feelings. We show what America should strive for.'</em></p> <p>The funeral itself was a political circus, the death of the General an excuse to gather and rub elbows, the world of power never pausing. The service was an afterthought, a convenient coincidence. Of course, for George, any moment could be turned to his advantage.</p> <p>He had been speaking with the governor, an old friend of his father's, whom he had known since he was young. That just meant that he knew how to work him better — after all, he learned from the best.</p> <p>"You know what," George said, leaning in as if sharing a critical secret. "Don't tell anybody I said this, but my father liked you best. He told me, out of <em>every</em> single politician he met, you were always the most earnest. He told me, he said 'George, if there is ever a time where you need help and you can't come to me — go to Douglas. He has integrity.' He was right, you really are a step above the rest."</p> <p>Of course, his father hadn't said that. No, his father told him that <em>'a Bowe man knows exactly the right words to say to get what he wants. Otherwise, he does not speak.'</em> George knew just what a politician wanted to hear. Though, it had been a while. What if he had gone too far?</p> <p>Luckily, Governor Douglas was grinning like the fool that he was. "Your father was a good man, George, and he raised you well. Have you ever considered a leadership role within the National Guard? We could use more men like you."</p> <p>George smiled back. "Sir, I would love to transfer to the National Guard, but my supervisors told me that if I can put in a few more months, I might be up for promotion. And I want to get to general as quickly as possible — I want to do my father proud."</p> <p>"A promotion? Is that it?" the governor said, waving away George's concerns. "I'm sure that we could figure something out. You know, for your father, of course."</p> <p>That was exactly what George had been hoping to hear. A wide smile appeared on his face, as he grabbed the governor's hand, shaking it firmly. "In that case, it would be my pleasure. We can ta—"</p> <p>"Excuse me," a man interrupted softly. The man was calm, and appeared to have no sense of urgency, making a stark difference as compared to the many scrambling clout-chasers in attendance. Even still, he had an air of importance to him, despite the lack of uniform. "May I have a moment of Mr. Bowe's time?"</p> <p>"Of course," the governor replied affably. "Give my office a call sometime next week Georgie, and we can hammer out the details."</p> <p>The Governor departed for the refreshments table, leaving George and the unknown individual to their conversation.</p> <p>George turned, facing the man, looking every part the grieving son. He was as predictable as possible — you need to know your enemy before you know how to handle them. He took a mental inventory of the situation. No uniform, no armed guards — and yet, George felt an undeniable importance to the man. An unstated respect echoed by all present at the funeral. Simply look around the room; the more eyes on somebody, the more power they wield.</p> <p>All eyes were on them.</p> <p>"It's nice to meet you, Major Bowe," the man said. "I've heard a lot about you."</p> <p>"I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage, sir," George said. "Did you know my father?"</p> <p>"I did. We worked together on a classified subject for many years, and I trusted him more than anybody else. He was a good man, your father. But I'm not here to talk about the late General. I'm here because I wanted to talk to you, George."</p> <p>Now that was curious. George had been schmoozing with each official and general that made an appearance; each spoke of the 'late, great General Bowe', feigning sympathy, pretending to have empathy left in their cold, jaded souls. None had admitted the truth that they all knew; none of them were really here for his father.</p> <p>A situation such as this required a more nuanced hand.</p> <p>"In that case," George said warmly, a practiced response falling from his tongue with ease, "I would be more than talk with you. How can I be of service?"</p> <p>"It's about how I can help you," the man replied. "I am sure that you are aware of the many enemies who want nothing more than to undo the work your father did, those who would destroy the United States — but what you don't understand is that there are many, <em>many</em> more enemies, hidden in the shadows."</p> <p>"Of course," George replied, leaning into the moment and applying some poison to his tone. "You can never be too careful — the Soviets are smart. Tricky. Insidious. They linger."</p> <p>The man looked amused. "Mr. Bowe, the Soviets are nothing more than insects from where I sit. There are much worse things that linger, just out of sight. Things that make your worst nightmares look like pests in comparison."</p> <p>"You know," George began, pausing to draw the man in further. "My father taught me an invaluable lesson at a young age that stuck with me. He told me, he said that the legacy of a Bowe man was to protect our great nation, to save the world from the dangers that they were not ready for. I have been raised to fight unimaginable foes — I can assure you, that no matter the foe, I wouldn't rest until we had won."</p> <p>The man gave him a knowing smile as he assessed George, looking at him head to toe. He hated being stared at, being observed, being evaluated and compared — but he didn't let it show. He learned his lessons well.</p> <p>"Tell me, George," the man began, as if telling a joke George didn't know. "Did your father ever tell you about the work that we did together?"</p> <p>George Bowe knew that he was swimming with sharks, as he faced down the crooked grin the other man wore, a smile hiding rows of jagged teeth, the figure's nostrils flaring, as if smelling blood in the water.</p> <p>"No, sir. I'm afraid not," George answered, as he realized that he still did not know the name of the mystery man. "Knowing your name would help me remember, though."</p> <p>"Do you believe in the impossible, George?" the man asked, as if George hadn't implied a question at all. "Do you believe in magic? Unexplainable phenomena?"</p> <p>George Bowe didn't know if that was a joke, as he contemplated how to best answer the question. Of course he knew that magic didn't exist, but that wasn't really what the man was asking him, was it? Normally, George was quite good at reading people, and knowing just the right things to say to get his way. This man should have been no different, and yet — George still didn't have a handle on what the unknown man wanted. But that hadn't stopped him before.</p> <p>"No, sir, I do not," George said, as the man stared back at him blankly. "Because I believe that anything we encounter can be understood, analyzed and defeated. There is nothing unexplainable, no impossibilities, no foe to great that it cannot be conquered. You just need to find their weakness, and everybody has one."</p> <p>The man's neutral visage barely flickered, but there was a reaction, however subtle; just a twitch of the eye, a quirk of the nose. George didn't recognize the emotion at first, but — was that a glimpse of satisfaction? He seized the opportunity, and pushed the advantage.</p> <p>"After all," George said. "We talked of the Soviet Union as if they were an unbeatable foe. The public hid in fear, as we scrambled to find a single weakness. And yet, we remain, and they are gone."</p> <p>"Gone?" The man said, a single eyebrow raised. "Well, I wouldn't say gone, exactly…."</p> <p>George froze. This man might have thought that the Soviets were little more than insects, but George wouldn't fall for their tricks that easily — after all, insects can be deadly if given the chance. <em>What does he know that nobody else does?</em> George had suspicions but… no buts, this meant that he had always been right. His father had prepared him for the Cold War, prepared him to be a weapon against Communism — and George knew that it wasn't over.</p> <p>"When are you returning to work?" the man continued, not waiting for George's reply. "Will you need time to mourn and get your father's affairs in—"</p> <p>"I appreciate your concern, sir," George replied, giving the man the patented Bowe smile. "But if my father taught me anything, we can mourn on our own time. International conflicts wait for no man, not even a Bowe."</p> <p>"Good answer," the man said, taking a card out of his breast pocket and passing it to George. "When you return, and realize that the unknown beckons you, give me a call. There is always a bigger war to wage, and I know that one day you could be a great general."</p> <p>The white card only listed a single number, and an insignia: a black circle, and three black arrows, facing inward. <em>'A Bowe man does not ask questions, he simply does what is needed for his country.'</em> George forced a smile. "I appreciate the offer, but I must honor my father and continue his legacy, by protecting the United States from our enemies. I know that he would want another General Bowe in the family, and I intend to make that happen."</p> <p>"Well then," the mysterious man said. "When you are ready to protect the world from the real threats, give me a call." He turned to walk away, and then paused, looking back. "Why choose to be a big fish in a small pond? Be the fisherman."</p> <p>George slid the card into his pocket, as he considered for the first time, what it could have been like were he not the heir to General Bowe. Of course, daydreams are just that — fantasies.</p> <p>George Bowe was a realist.</p> <br/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h4 id="toc3"><span><span style="color: grey">1992</span></span></h4> </div> <p>Lt. Colonel George Bowe stood at the head of a conference table, a projector screen mounted behind him, an American flag showing. He wore a perfectly-pressed uniform, each medal and button polished to perfection. Despite his short stature, he cut an imposing figure — that was good, because he knew he needed every edge he could get today.</p> <p>"Hello gentlemen," George said, as he flashed an award winning smile. "I am here today because you have let your guard down. You have grown lazy, too distracted by fantasies of peace to protect our glorious nation. Thankfully, a Bowe man never is never caught off-guard."</p> <p>An island appeared on the projector, as George continued.</p> <p>"This is <a href="http://scp-int.wikidot.com/dossier-lph">Little Havana</a>, a twenty-seven square mile island located just sou—"</p> <p>"We know this, George," a decorated general said, leaning back in his chair, pausing to <em>yawn</em>. "Unlike you, some of us were actually there when the Reagan Agreement was drafted."</p> <p>George seethed internally. <em>'A Bowe man only yells when he knows that he can win.'</em></p> <p>George would never admit it, but he was tired of being a Bowe man. His fatigue didn't matter, no, he had to keep up appearances. So he held his tongue, and nodded. "My mistake, sir, I wasn't aware that I was presenting to such senior commanders." The general didn't answer.</p> <p>The slides jumped ahead, displaying an overhead, black and white image of Little Havana.</p> <p>"As part of the extended CORONA program," George continued, "we gathered hundreds of photos of the ocean, islands, and movements of the Soviet fleets. Notably, the satellites failed to capture any evidence of the USSR even landing in Little Havana. Doesn't that strike you as a little strange?"</p> <p>Another man, an older, sallow-faced individual looked up, as if woken from a nap, and replied. "Why are we still talking about the Soviets? Come on George, it's time to let it go. We won."</p> <p>George couldn't remember the man's name at first. He had spoken to him many times, always in meetings like this. George was always asked to do the impossible, would inevitably find a solution, all while the rest of the government did everything they could to stop him from taking care of things. He was constantly confronted by short-sighted, 'ethical' cowards, men like what's-his— George suddenly remembered that the man's name was Pritchard.</p> <p>"No, <em>Pritchard</em>," George said. "We did not win. That was simply another trick, another tactic to get our guards down. To make us lazy. Complacent. Even from a young age, I was taught that the most dangerous Soviet is the one you can't see; apparently, the US Military needs cataract surgery, since everybody else seems to be ignoring the obvious."</p> <p>"The obvious?" the General said, slowly interlacing his fingers. "Please, Lieutenant Colonel, enlighten us all. Tell us what the entire armed forces and US Military seems to be missing."</p> <p>George smirked, locking eyes with the General. George had gone toe-to-toe with men like the General since birth, a constant barrage of idiots that he had long since grown tired of; no matter his fatigue, if the General thought a Bowe could be cowed, he would be in for disappointment. "The fact of the matter is that the Soviet Union is still a significant threat to our way of life. Yes, John Q. Public may think that they are safe, but people like us? We should know that the surrender and collapse are nothing but mere performance. Propaganda."</p> <p>George took a second to survey the room, all while forcing the gathered officials to wait, their impatience growing with each passing section, a fact that brought him undeniable glee.</p> <p>"It is our duty—" he paused, standing proud, puffing out his chest. "No, my fellow Americans, it will be our honor to root out the corruption that has infected our great nation. If we do this, if you put your faith in me, I can promise you that we will be the heroes. I will lead you to victory, just as my father did before me. I can guarantee that we will seize glory and truly make a difference. Unless, of course, you would rather sit by and watch our nation get torn apart from within?"</p> <p>George basked in the silence that he created. There was no greater satisfaction than that of quieting an entire room — everybody focused on you, just you, waiting for you to speak. He loved the power that he could wie—</p> <p>And then the room burst into laughter, fists slamming down onto conference tables. They started laughing, at him? Did they know who they were speaking down to? How dare they treat him like a common civilian?</p> <p>As the laughter faded, Pritchard shook his head at George. "Frankly, Georgie, you're a kid. Your father fought wars, you're fighting ghosts and tilting at windmills. The Soviet Union is just playing dead? You really expect us to believe that? Do you have any proof?"</p> <p><em>Or was his name Richards?</em> George realized, staring at the official.</p> <p>"I do, <em>Richards</em>," George responded, his rage a flood threatening to break the final levee. "Did you really think a Bowe would come unprepared? Not only do I have proof that the Soviet Union is just pretending, but I have proof that the Soviets have multiple nuclear payloads hidden in Little Havana. Those heartless bastards are prepared to launch them at the drop of a hat. They are simply waiting for us to commit further to the Gulf, and then they will launch a surprise assault, devastating our great nation."</p> <p>The room sobered up in an instant. As little as they may have believed him before, George knew that the nuclear payloads would get their attention.</p> <p>"Show us this 'proof'," the General said, eyebrows raised.</p> <p>"Here," George said, as he advanced the slides. "This is surveillance footage captured in Little Havana, just last week, showing an industrial warehouse that is protected by armed guards twenty-four hours a day. Video surveillance has shown multiple fully covered trucks delivering shipments to the warehouse, but there have never been any outgoing shipments. On top of that, my sources confirmed that GRU used this warehouse as a base of operations in the past. Is that enough 'proof', sir?"</p> <p>"Your 'sources'," the general said, crossing his arms. "And you expect the US Military to take you for your word?"</p> <p>"How dare you?" George responded, the tides overflowing. "Is the fact that I am not a Bowe proof enough? Is my word not sufficient justifica—"</p> <p>"No," the general said, holding up his index finger and cutting George off. "You really thought that we would dance to your tune? The reality is that all of this is nothing more than a little boy panicking and throwing a tantrum because his father isn't here to protect him any longer. You're just lashing out, terrified of an imaginary bogeyman. If your father had said this, well — he knew what he was talking about firsthand. You'll never be half the man your father was, not as long as you keep trying to play soldier."</p> <p>A figure at the back of the room cleared their throat, and stepped forward. The gathered officials cleared a path, as if the man was exuding an aura telling the room that every single person here was less important than him. George was envious of the respect. On further inspection, he realized that he recognized the important fly on the wall. This was the man he had met at his father's funeral.</p> <p>"Gentlemen, perhaps I can help clear up any confusion?" the advancing figure said, every word spoken like venom, as he slowly advanced on his prey.</p> <p>"And you are?" Richards demanded, as if the strange man left a sour taste in his mouth. "Why should we believe you?"</p> <p>"You may not be important enough to realize this," the man said, pausing to stare down Richards. "But I have been welcomed in these halls since before you understood what it meant to be a patriot. I am the source, and that is all you need to know. If there are no more meaningless objections, then I assume I may continue?"</p> <p>Silence was all the permission he needed. George couldn't help but smirk as the figure advanced, stopping just behind him and facing the gathered officials. George had started talking to the man a few months ago, and they helped each other out, passing information back and forth for their benefit. George had known that the Foundation was planning on sending a representative he could call on if needed for today, but, it appears they valued their professional relationship with George as all should have. For a Bowe, sending anything but the best would have been an insult.</p> <p>An insult the US Military had made, time and time again.</p> <p>"What Lieutenant Colonel Bowe says is accurate," the man continued. "Our surveillance has captured these movements, and we believe that there may be nuclear warheads hidden within the facility."</p> <p>There was a momentary silence, as the officials murmured — a minute or so later, the General spoke. "Right. While we can agree that there is evidence of a warehouse, without tangible proof of a nuclear warhead, we just cannot justify an operation. Until you can prove that the Soviets are just playing dead, there is no point on discussing this topic again. Frankly, son, this meeting should have been an 'email', and you should know better than to waste our time, Georgie."</p> <p>"It's Lieutenant Colonel Bowe," George said firmly as his knuckles tightened around the presentation remote, turning white. "I have risked my life, time and time again, fighting and clawing my way to the top. I didn't sacrifice my childhood for this country just to be called 'Georgie' by a yellow-bellied, paper-pushing general, too concerned with 'optics' to protect America. I would die for my country. Can you say the same?"</p> <p>The General lost any kindness that may have remained in those eyes, leaving only unadulterated annoyance. He stood glaring, as if he was forced to deal with a dog that just wouldn't stop barking. "Watch your tone young man, you forget who you're speaking to. If I so wanted, I could end your career here and now — hell the only reason I haven't is because of who your father was. But, let me make this clear, since it seems he failed to teach you basic manners. I respected your father enough to use his title, because he earned it. But daddy helped you get to where you are, didn't he? You are not him. You have done nothing to deserve your rank, and you know it. You need to earn my respect if you want me to call you by your title. But even then, all you will ever be is General Bowe's son… Little <em>Georgie</em> Bowe."</p> <p>Richards cut in before George could get a word in. "I think we're done here."</p> <p>At that, the room cleared, leaving just George and the man from his father's funeral. George hadn't moved, his face twisted in rage, an anger without a target, without an enem—</p> <p>"Lieutenant Colonel Bowe," his source said. "It is unfortunate that you were unable to convince the military of the importance of this operation. They lack your vision. Just remember, if you need anything, you have my card — and don't forget my offer. If you came to the Foundation, well… I can promise you that you will be far more than just somebody's son."</p> <p>The man bowed his head, and left quietly. George was alone, and his mind was racing. He was tired of having to fight to prove himself, tired of the cowards who preached 'peace and love', sick of the bureaucracy, sick of dancing to their tune. But most of all?</p> <p>George was sick of being a son. George Bowe was done living in the shadow of his father. He thumbed the folded edges of the peculiar man's white business card that he kept in his pocket.</p> <p>Maybe, he could find his own path. Maybe, just maybe, <em>she</em> could be herself, somewhere else.</p> <br/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h4 id="toc4"><span><span style="color: grey">1993</span></span></h4> </div> <p>Pandora Bowe still wore her uniform, long after she left the US Military for the Foundation. She had it tailored to perfection, adjusted to fit her new… self. She had left her life behind, and hoped that a new job would be a new chance to discover who she was.</p> <p>And yet, looking in the mirror, she saw her father's legacy. The person the Foundation had hired, the reason she was able to abandon her career, the shadow behind the 'Late, Great General'; the outside did little to change the inside. Despite her hair, her make-up, and everything she had done, she still saw the little boy, scared of his father.</p> <p>Pandora sneered as she looked in the mirror, turning up her nose in disgust. <em>I didn't betray my nation and abandon my legacy just to talk to myself in the mirror.</em> She was above that, above talking about her 'feelings', better than the rest of the employees who filled the halls like mindless livestock. She refused to be cattle, refused to blend in and be a part of the team. She was proud of who she had become— and yet, she couldn't help but stare, not knowing what others would think of her.</p> <p>Pandora forced a smile as she smoothed out a crease in her jacket. <em>The appearance of happiness,</em> Pandora thought, <em>is enough to convince the mindless that you are friendly.</em> She knew that she needed allies here, those who she could rely on, those she could use to climb back up the ladder. She needed to show the Foundation just who she was.</p> <p>Problem was, Pandora wasn't quite sure who she had become. She had only just began the ordeal that was becoming the woman she always wanted to be. Deep down, Pandora thought she had always known she was a woman, but didn't dare think about it, let alone act on it. Before now, it wasn't safe to dream of becoming something she was not, not with the Bowe Legacy laid before her by her father. But now? Now, she refused to wait any longer, refused to stand behind the man. <em>I am nothing like him.</em></p> <p>She would do anything to separate herself from everything that man represented. Even if it meant that she would need to burn down every aspect of her life that had been corrupted by being his son, that is what she would do. She looked deep into her own eyes, the baggage, burdens and reputations shed, leaving just her. And then she spoke, without thinking.</p> <p>"I am Pandora Bowe, and I refuse to let my father control me anymore."</p> <p>She shook her head, blushing at her own weakness, knowing that her words rang hollow, even to herself. How can you believe words that you do not understand? How can you start to heal if you don't know the damage done? How can you learn how to be yourself, if you've never had to consider who you were?</p> <p>How can you be anything but what he wanted, without experiencing the life he didn't create for you?</p> <p>Pandora had opened a new frontier the moment she had first pushed back against her father, from the very second she started to diverge from his perfectly planned goals. She had cracked open the box, and let the evils out into the world; are you still hope, if you only remain because you are too cowardly to leave?</p> <p>Pandora didn't know.</p> <p>"In times of conflict," Pandora said, "the Foundation has the right to prioritize normalcy over human life. By your own definition, we are in a time of conflict, and therefore, there are zero restrictions on force."</p> <p>She was speaking to a room of people who underestimated her. Concerned administrative staff, MTF Agents, and decision-makers, now talking amongst themselves as a man (whose name Pandora couldn't remember) spat vitriol at her over her proposal. The more things change, the more they stay the same, she feared.</p> <p>"Are you seriously suggesting we build a facility just to detonate it less than a month later?"</p> <p>Pandora rolled her eyes. The Foundation had hired her because she had been responsible for the Miracle in the Mill, because she had coordinated endless military engagements without losing sight of the end goal, because of the fact that she would make a decision and stick to it. They hired her to make the hard choices, to find a solution against an impossible problem. So why was everybody so set on fighting her?</p> <p>"If the financials towards the construction of a new site are the issue, I am more than happy to detonate an existing Site. If your issue is with the detonation itself… well, I thought you had wanted to deal with the para-militaristic resurgence in South America?" The false equivalencies rolled off of her tongue, like pennies out of a change tray.</p> <p>"Come on, Bowe, what about the people who would be working there?" a pretentious figure chimed, a mocking tone barely concealed behind empty concern. "What about the anomalies? You can't just ignore that."</p> <p>"I wasn't," she said. "If you were paying any attention earlier, you would know that I was advocating for minimal staffing, prioritizing prisoners with high rates of estimated recidivism. You would know that I have a detailed evacuation plan for the major assets, including the handful of anomalies that are worth saving." Pandora paused, pretending to review her notes. "Any loss of life is intentional, I promise you. This is the best solution."</p> <p>"You think the Foundation can just afford to burn money like that? For that matter, do you think we would be willing to lose talented employees, or risk the containment of anomalies?" He looked down at her from behind his practically non-existent nose. "It seems you really haven't thought this through very well."</p> <p><em>Nothing really changes, does it Dora? Did they really want you, or were they just looking for a scapegoat?</em></p> <p>"It is not my fault that you cannot understand a plan as simple as this," Pandora said. "You do realize what is at stake? If we can't find and root out the rot now, imagine how far it could spread? Imagine the mutiny that could fester, the dangers we let in by doing <em>nothing</em>. As I understand it, we are concerned about traitors, hidden in the midst of the Foundation, are we not?"</p> <p>The moment Pandora had mentioned traitors, everybody began to whisper, a dull susurrus filling the room, just as she knew it would. After all, her job was simple — she just had to keep talking. That was one of Pandora's specialties.</p> <p>"You should be terrified," she continued, seeing fear reflected back at her. "Terrified of the ramifications of dangerous rebels getting a hold a dangerous anomalies, horrified that they are destroying us from within. Isn't the entire reason we're having this meeting because of the fact that you have all spent months trying to find a solution, and no matter what, you've come up empty? Isn't that why they asked me to solve this? Isn't that why you need me to save you?"</p> <p>The man sneered, failing to hide his disdain. "Mr. Bowe—"</p> <p>"Miss," she said, cutting him off.</p> <p>"Do not interrupt me," the man responded, as if daring Pandora to push back.</p> <p>She was more than happy to take the bait. "No, I can and will continue to interrupt you until you call me by my name. I am Pandora Bowe, and you will respect me. You will refer to me properly, or else I will do what I do best: remind the world of just how little you matter. I will do everything within my power to see you penniless, doomed without a chance for a legacy, and abandoned by those who you once trusted with your life."</p> <p>The man glared at her, red-faced, but silent. He must have thought that was a good enough response. It wasn't.</p> <p>"Do I make myself clear?" she asked. "Well?"</p> <p>"Come on, you know it was just a mistake," an agent said, as if that made anything better. "You don't have to be a bitch about it."</p> <p>"Is that right?" Pandora asked. The room was unable to tear their eyes away from her; that was just the way she liked it. "Now to remind you why I was asked to attend this meeting in the first place: you do not know what you are doing. If any of your were capable of handling this, we wouldn't be having this meeting. There wouldn't be traitors, there wouldn't be a threat of a full-fledged assault, and there certainly wouldn't be a need to detonate an entire Site. You brought me here because you could not solve your own problems. You brought me here because you had no other choice."</p> <p>She paused, straightening a medal on her lapel. "Unless… did I misunderstand the situation?"</p> <p>It was all part of the dance. She knew that, to get what she really wanted, what the Foundation had hired her for, she needed to be extreme. The more absurd, the better, in fact — if she could just make them see she was serious, than anything less than her initial plan was a compromise to them. Anything less than the untold loss of life and destruction of valuable anomalies, any plan that was less absurd than her initial proposition would be welcomed as 'doing the right thing'. Even, say, her real plan to resolve things — of course, that didn't matter right now. Right now, she was fighting to detonate a site, and all of her had to believe in that.</p> <p>She didn't need to believe in her plan to detonate a site. She just needed to throw her whole heart into the performance, waving it like the flag at a bull — because that was what her plan was, a bright red flag waved at a room full of bulls to direct their inevitable charge. You must lead them through a delicate dance, and only at the very end, when the beast is indistinguishable from beauty, will you let them give in and charge without hesitation. Right to where she wanted them to go.</p> <p>"I see that you clearly know what you're doing, so don't mind me. I'll take my leave," Pandora said, as she turned and slowly began to walk towards the door. <em>It shouldn't take them too long,</em> she thought, <em>maybe until the count of five.</em></p> <p><em>Five.</em></p> <p>"What an asshole…" an agent loudly 'whispered' to their companion. It was still the same, no matter where Pandora was.</p> <p><em>Four.</em></p> <p>"Are you sure we can even trust her? You know, her father…" a researcher whispered to another, both looking at her.</p> <p>It seemed like the Foundation was the same as the US government. Slow to change, and even slower to accept.</p> <p><em>Three.</em></p> <p>The elephant in the room was screaming for attention now, but Pandora refused to give it any pause.</p> <p><em>Two.</em></p> <p>This was just a game to them, wasn't it? A silly, little distraction. She kept walking.</p> <p><em>One.</em></p> <p>"Bowe, wait."</p> <p><em>There it was,</em> she thought in sweet satisfaction.</p> <p>Pandora turned and saw the condescending man from earlier, his derision replaced with desperation.</p> <p>She smiled. "Yes? Did you come to your senses?"</p> <p>"How dare you take that to—" the man cut himself off, swallowing his pride and his words. Through strained teeth, he forced himself to humility. "<em>Miss Bowe</em>, I wanted to apologize for my behavior. But you can't seriously expect us to entertain such medieval tactics. We aren't the Coalition. Bad enough what some of the anomalies have been saying, without people like you—"</p> <p>"People like me?"</p> <p>The man stammered, then recovered his footing. "People of your… decorated pedigree, Miss Bowe. Your background — this isn't the Cold War anymore. You're asking us to compromise our morals, just so that you can—"</p> <p><em>Play soldier?</em> It was time to control the narrative. <em>He should be begging.</em></p> <p>"So that I can what?" she asked. "Say it, for all of us. So that I can advance my faggot agenda? So that a transsexual like me can make her mark on the world? Is that what you're thinking, sir?" The intensity in her voice failed to match the void she felt within. General Bowe had beaten out interference from emotions, long, long ago.</p> <p>The man stammered, trying to find his voice. His face burned beet red, almost a perfect match to Pandora's dyed hair. "I'm not… I wasn't— I didn't mea— Bowe, you suggested sacrificing hundreds of Foundation employees in a glorified trap! How is that relevant in this situation?"</p> <p><em>It is relevant because I brought it up,</em> Pandora thought to herself, as she watched the crowd whisper back and forth, consensus leeching out into the room. Even if he hadn't meant it like that, even if he had the best of intentions — Bowe had poisoned the well, and only she was immune. It would serve as a lesson that other researchers would do well to learn, quickly. His protestations did not matter, not anymore — public opinion had turned in her favor. All that was left was the flourish.</p> <p>"Simply put," Pandora began, running a hand through her short hair. "What Foundation employees?"</p> <p>The room was silent, hanging off of her every word.</p> <p>"But I thought you had sai—"</p> <p>"When did I say that? I believe you will find that you are the one who brought up dying Foundation employees."</p> <p>"You were talking about detonating an on-Site ordinance, of course you are sacrificing Foundation sta—"</p> <p>That had been exactly what she was waiting for.</p> <p>"No. That's not right. What are we trying to deal with here, remind me? Oh, yes, that's right. Our enemies are back to their old tricks, and you were worried about moles within our organization. Spies, turncoats, people from within working to undermine the Foundation — that is what we are here to talk about, no?"</p> <p>The silence in the room confirmed it — they believed her.</p> <p>"So tell me this. What do you think would happen if we created a site of anomalies that are in desperate need of decommissioning, an anomalous honeypot, if you will, and we staff it with a mixture of traitors, spies and undesirables. And once the site is full, we then detonate the site ordinance. My question to the room is: what have we really lost?"</p> <p>"People will die," the man said firmly.</p> <p>"Yes, people will die," Pandora said as she went in for the kill. "Of course there will be deaths, that's the point! Instead of wasting time, bullets and energy to find them individually, why not take them all out in one swift blow? Why cry over a traitor's death? The fact is that people die every day, as a result of each and every decision that we make. A human life is only worth as much as it does in the moment, and there is no objective truth."</p> <p>Pandora let the implication hang in the air for a second, before continuing. "As living beings, we are simply evaluated in the eyes of another, our value derived from perception. From where I sit, not only does this solve the problem, it is the best option we have — no, it is the <em>only</em> option we have. You are all so terrified of morality that you've forgotten one important detail: if we only do what they expect from us, how can we ever hope to win? If we play by their rules, how can you beat a rigged game?"</p> <p>As Pandora scanned the crowd before her, she was unsurprised by the typical horror and derision reflecting back — it appeared that, for as much as the Foundation touted itself as a 'progressive' organization, prejudice still held strong. Of course they hated her; after all, what right does a transgender woman have in the war room? What would her father have said?</p> <p>They didn't have to say it for her to know what was really going on. She knew exactly why they hated her; even if they excused it as preferring the 'peaceful resolution', or disagreeing with her use of force, Pandora knew that it was always a hatred of who she was behind the glares.</p> <p>No matter where she went, Pandora knew that she would be the enemy. In her mind, her name was just too much of a burden, her reputation blinding them with rage to the point where nobody could see the true brilliance that was hidden within.</p> <p><em>No matter,</em> she thought. <em>I will change my fate, regardless of what others think of me.</em></p> <br/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h4 id="toc5"><span><span style="color: grey">1996</span></span></h4> </div> <p>Explosions shook the very ground where Pandora Bowe stood, gunshots ricocheting off of countless walls and bodies around her. Red lights punctuated the haze, incessant sirens filling the air with their dolorous klaxon, the screams of those caught in the crossfire lost in the maelstrom of noise that filled the remains of what was Site-282G. And yet, despite the blazing infernos, the panic, fear and overwhelming sense that she should be anywhere but here — Pandora was calm.</p> <p>This wasn't her first containment breach, nor was it the first time she watched as everything fell apart because they refused to listen to her. Time and time again, Pandora would watch as the monolithic thirteen on high would pull their strings, and decide the fates of the men and women who fought alongside her, and time and time again, they would reject any proposal to 'utilize' anomalies for the Foundation's benefit, if there was the slightest chance that it might be abusive.</p> <p>That didn't make sense to Pandora. Her father had once said that <em>'a Bowe man always takes any advantage he has, no matter the cost; anything else is accepting defeat.'</em> Of course, she hadn't been a Bowe man for some time now, but old habits die hard, especially when they are so effective. Why wouldn't the Foundation fully utilize their powerful, expendable tools, for their own benefit?</p> <p>She looked around the destroyed building, as the flames raged on. The primary anomaly contained here was a pyrokinetic hydrovore. <em>In other words, a firefighter's worst nightmare.</em> The Foundation had been so focused on finding a way to contain, to neutralize, to learn from it that they failed to consider the potential it had, if given the right direction. If they had just let her control the anomaly, use its full potential — well, they wouldn't be having this problem right now.</p> <p>But no, they had called her a fascist. She was more pragmatic than that, but the idiots in power were too distracted by 'ethics' to see the truth: she was simply an agent of revolution. Why couldn't they see all of the good she could do? Pandora didn't want to turn everything into a weapon, to twist those who would never harm another into a mindless killing machine; no, her aspirations would never be so pedestrian. No, there were anomalies that deserved to be locked up, and those that deserved to remain home. But the few, the special ones, like her: those who would do anything to leave their mark behind on the world?</p> <p>It would be unfair of her to deny them that honor, wouldn't it?</p> <p>"Commander, over here!" A grunt rushed to her side, as if valiantly protecting her.</p> <p><em>Idiot.</em> Pandora thought, looking at the man in disgust. "What do you want?"</p> <p>The grunt didn't flinch, responding immediately. "There is an emergency evac happening soon, we need to get to—"</p> <p>"You don't get it, do you?" Pandora drifted towards a burning wall. She held her hand to the flames, licking delicately inches away — they were colder than she was expecting.</p> <p>"Get what, ma'am?"</p> <p>"Look around, soldier. Do you know what I see?"</p> <p>"Danger?"</p> <p>"Potential," she said, caught in her own fervor. "Don't you see it too?"</p> <p>"I'm afraid that I don't understand."</p> <p>"Of course you wouldn't," Pandora continued. "That's my point. Not a single person in the Foundation sees what I see here. Yes, the site is burning to the ground and people are dying, but in the grand scheme, none of this matters. In a year's time, do you think anybody will remember this?"</p> <p>"Commander Bowe, if you are asking about the amnesticization protocols, do you really think that this is the best time—" the man said, stopping mid-sentence as soon as Pandora raised her hand.</p> <p>"The point is that nobody will care about the cost of life here, not once we've recovered the asset and moved on. Nobody else will see the death here, the damage caused — all of this was caused by a single anomaly. We are a witness to what the Foundation could be, to the fates that would befall our enemies; we are the pioneers, soldier, and this is the frontier!" Pandora ran to a collapsed wall, and quickly climbed atop. From the new vantage point, she scanned the ruins with an expert eye.</p> <p>"What is the frontier?" The man stared blankly at Pandora.</p> <p><em>A good grunt should know when to listen, and when to ask questions,</em> Pandora thought as she looked around the smoldering wreckage. <em>All this one is good for is cannon fodder.</em></p> <p>A glimpse of something hidden in the shadows caught her eye — movement, darting into cover.</p> <p>"There!" Pandora yelled, pointing at the collapsed doorframe. "Move soldier! Neutralize the threat, ASAP!"</p> <p>And like a good soldier, the man did as commanded. He sprinted to the debris, as Commander Pandora Bowe watched in twisted glee from on high. This was truly an important moment: she was about to see the future firsthand.</p> <p>The soldier stopped in front of the wreck, and looked back at Pandora to confirm this was the right place. She nodded, biting her lip in anticipation. The soldier turned back— and just a second later, flames blasted out from behind the partial cover, searing the flesh off of the soldier's face, a targeted surge of heat erupting in a moments notice. He fell to the ground, limp. Pandora could barely contain her excitement.</p> <p>A moment later, a cautious figure poked their head out from behind the singed corpse and makeshift barrier: it was a young man, wearing a standard Foundation-issue jumpsuit, if a bit charred around the edges. He was Anomalous Entity 043-R, the very anomaly that this site had been holding; the kid was barely eighteen, and looked terrified.</p> <p>Pandora grinned from ear to ear. She hopped down off of the rubble and sauntered over to the cowering man. He eyed her cautiously, but was clearly exhausted, and did not move. Like a wild animal, unsure if she would be predator or prey.</p> <p>When she stuck out her hand, and helped him to his feet, that did little to clarify his situation. The young man was still afraid, looking as if he would dart away at first chance.</p> <p>"It's okay now, son, you can let your guard down," she finally said. She shook the young anomaly's hand, her rock-solid grip enveloping his bruised and bloodied hands, just hard enough to sting, but not hurt. "I need you to listen to me. If you do — when you do, I will get your freedom back. All it will take is a spark."</p> <p>Pandora watched the flashes of fear, uncertainty and hope cross his face, silently waiting for the inevitable yes — after all, Pandora always got her way. She bent down, and removed a canteen from the dead soldier's belt, cracking the lid and offering it to the boy.</p> <p>He took the water, and drank, like he hadn't in weeks. When he was finally finished, he dropped the canteen to the ground. It clanged across the rubble and rolled back against its owner's corpse. He looked up, and met Pandora's eyes.</p> <p>"I'm Anthony," the boy said. "What do you want?"</p> <p>"I am Pandora Bowe, and I am the future of the Foundation."</p> <br/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h4 id="toc6"><span><span style="color: grey">2004</span></span></h4> </div> <p>Parallel tables sat perfectly within an office, each one arranged in an exacting manner. The concrete walls were bland, monotonous, and highlighted the perfectly straight rows of medals, photographs and commendations. Everything was in the perfect position, honoring the life that Pandora Bowe had built for herself at the Foundation.</p> <p>When Pandora had turned 40, she gave the Foundation an ultimatum: give her authorization for 'The Bowe Proposal', or she would leave. She drew her line in the sand, and stood strong in the face of backlash.</p> <p>While, yes, they had let her command countless MTF taskforces, and even turned a blind eye to the little project that she tried with Anthony — but no matter the arguments she would put forward, the Foundation refused to full utilize the anomalies they contained. They were simpletons, terrified of innovation and afraid of people like her — those who understood what it was like to be oppressed, to be stepped on, to suffer under the thumb of another. She would be their liberators — if only the Foundation would stop their pointless protestations.</p> <p><em>'A Bowe man forges his own path'</em>, she thought in the voice of her father. <em>'He does not follow, he charges ahead into the unknown.'</em></p> <p>She had done that time and time again. Her transition, her career, every single step she took in her life was a fight against the current, pushing back against fate, obligations, and destiny. She <em>was</em> General Stan Bowe's only heir. She rejected that, and all that came with it. She had become her own woman, and shed the shackles of her legacy — but time and time again, she faced the same foes, fought the same fights, defended her very core, protesting each time she was compared to her father. She had left behind so much, and yet, it refused to let her go.</p> <p>General Bowe had a death grip on her mind, a constant reminder of the legacy she abandoned. Even from beyond the grave, even after she burned her illusory familial tapestry to the ground — he refused to let her go.</p> <p>Pandora shook her head, as she returned to her perfectly arranged office; after all, this was a cause for celebration. The Foundation had finally caved. She was given an assignment, charged with evaluating the anomalies of the Site for tactical potential, identifying those that could benefit the Foundation — it appears that, finally, the Foundation had finally understood the point she had been trying to make year after year. They finally saw the brilliance that she had, the raw power and authority that Pandora commanded each time she entered a room. They only now understood just what a mistake it was to turn Pandora Bowe into their enemy.</p> <p><em>Site-19,</em> she thought, sitting behind her desk in a tall leather chair. <em>This is just the beginning.</em></p> <p><em>'A Bowe man is more than just a man, he is a legacy. He is the sum total of each and every Bowe man that has come before him,'</em> her father had once said through a drunken rant. <em>'He must live not only for himself, but for the family name. He must prove to the world that a Bowe man is never crossed. You are a Bowe man, George, never forget that.'</em></p> <p>Her father was wrong. She was no 'Bowe man'. <em>A Bowe woman rejects her legacy, because she is so much more than it could ever be.</em></p> <p>Pandora smiled. It was finally time to <a href="/eventyr-hub">get to work.</a></p> <hr/> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-bowe-transition">The Bowe Transition</a>" by Queerious, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-bowe-transition">https://scpwiki.com/the-bowe-transition</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:preview">:scp-wiki:component:preview</a> \|text=How can you believe words that you do not understand? How can you start to heal if you don't know the damage done?]] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:black-highlighter-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:eventyr">:scp-wiki:theme:eventyr</a>]] [[module CSS]] :root { --logo-image: var(--eventyr-trans); } [[/module]] [[>]] [[module rate]] [[/>]] [[div class="eventyr-hr"]] [[/div]] [[=]] ++++ ##grey\|1971## [[/=]] Parallel, nondescript furniture sat stagnant in an oppressive basement, each pillow perfectly aligned, everything in its place. The vertical lines of the wood paneling that surrounded him like cage bars, the pressed and pleated flags decorating the walls, the uniforms, badges and medals lining the halls; everything was in the perfect position, honoring those that had come before. "George." He looked at his father, trying to hide his unavoidable fear. "A Bowe man does not show fear," his father had told him since he could remember. Fear was to be punished, and he knew this. A swallow, and he met his father's gaze. "Yes, sir?" "Do you know why I asked you down here?" "No, sir." That was a lie, and George knew it. So did his father. The clock echoed throughout the damp basement, as the distant sound of a neighbor mowing the lawn drowned out the laughter of the other neighborhood kids. George had tried to play football with them, but his mother told the General that he had skipped his chores. That wasn't true, but it was his word against his mother's. And the first lesson George Bowe had learned was to never disagree with authority. "Don't lie to me." //I didn't lie about the chores,// George thought. "I'm sorry, sir." "Sorry isn't good enough. So, now I am forced to repeat myself. George, you have a duty to your family, a duty to me. You know how hard I work every day. You know the sacrifices I have made for our country, the things I've given up to keep you and your mother safe. So why don't you understand, son?" George shook his head, dropping his gaze to his father's shoes, avoiding staring at the switch his father held. //Crack.// George stood rigidly upright, his knuckles pulsing as he stared blankly ahead, refusing to allow the pain to appear on his face. His gaze was fixed on a discolored rectangle on the wall, a void in the order, surrounded by framed photographs of Bowe men from generations past. A year or two ago, before George knew any better, a cousin spoke of socialism and tried to convince George's father to lighten up, to consider that not all socialists want to destroy America, that some might love this country just as much as General Bowe did. His father took the framed portrait of his cousin and burned it outside, forcing the cousin to watch. The last memory George had of his cousin's face was it being licked by flames, as it turned to ashes. "Look at me when I am talking to you. Is that understood?" "Yes." "Yes, //what//?" "Yes, sir." "You know that a Bowe man should always serve his country first -- but there is another lesson I must teach you: before his own country, there is a greater priority. For the Bowe name has not always lived here, nor will we; before America, when the Bowe line was without heritage, the family itself was what we stood for. You must remember that you are only here, in this great nation, because of the legacy of our family. Each Bowe man that came before you knew this. Each a hero, each a willing sacrifice, each a martyr for the good of the family. My family. You are a Bowe man, and whether you like it or not, //you// are my legacy. You will not speak back to your mother, and you will not ignore me. You will follow orders, or you will face the consequences. Is that understood?" The vitriolic glare George saw would one day be twisted into a fond memory. A cherished anecdote of the time his father set him straight, of the day General Stan Bowe reminded him what it means to serve America, of the honor it is to protect our great nation. This was the first day that George Bowe learned what it really meant to be a Bowe man. But in the moment, George Bowe cried. A mistake he would not make again. [[div class="eventyr-hr"]] [[/div]] [[=]] ++++ ##grey\|1978## [[/=]] George sat on the cold bench of the changing room, staring at his father's shoes. //I will not cry,// he thought, //I am above that. I will not show fear, for the Bowes are above that. I will not lose, because there is no place for that in the family.// "Pay attention!" General Bowe said, hitting George across the side of the head with a clipboard. "Do you think I enjoy this? Do you think I like having to remind you to pay attention, remind you to respect your elders?" George snapped to attention, sitting straight up and looking at his father. //I will not cry, I will not feel pain, I will not show fear. I am George Bowe, and I have a legacy to fulfill.// "That's better," General Bowe sneered. "What the hell are you doing, George? Get your head in the game, you've wasted enough of my time." "Yes sir," George centered himself, mirroring his father's body language. "Sorry, sir, I was walking through our strategy." "Strategy?" his father said, shaking his head. "George, I don't give a shit how you do it. But you are going to win today, because you will //not// embarrass me. You understand how important today is?" "Yes, sir," George said robotically. "If I win today then I will advance to the regionals, and then--" "No, you idiot," General Bowe turned on a dime and glared at George. "Today is important because Admiral Billing's son is in your bracket. If you lose, you will have failed not just me, not just the US Army, but the entire nation. Do you understand? Do you know how much is riding on you?" "I do." George swallowed hard. "I won't let you down. I'm sorry." "//You're// sorry?" General Bowe asked, the promise of repercussions hanging above them like a gathering storm cloud. "No, nothing. Never mind," George said, lowering his eyes. His father went down on a knee, and put a hand on George's shoulder. "Son. You know that I just want the best for you, right? That I am hard on you because I understand how great you could be? If you listen to me, you will be the man that you were meant to be. You will become the next General Bowe, and you will embrace the legacy I have created for you. Don't squander your chance, son. Don't you know how hard I've worked to build your future? If you want to have the same power as I do, you need to do it my way. You have to play by my rules. I am harsh, because it works -- God knows it worked on me." General Bowe stood up, and walked towards the door. "Now move, soldier! You have a duty to fulfill." George did as he was told. As he always did. No matter how he felt, no matter how little he wanted to be here, no matter how uncomfortable he felt wearing only a singlet, with a crowd of eyes staring and mocking him -- no matter what, he would do what his father asked of him. He had no other choice. He had never had a choice, at least, not one where he had any real agency. His life was a series of false dichotomies, a constant test to pick the right option, to be the right version of George Bowe. It was hard-earned lessons, with his father 'teaching' George how to act, how to speak, how to be a real man -- knowledge paid for in blood and violence. But never tears. No, George knew how to cry on the inside, the world none-the-wiser. He learned how to take his rebellious, free-spirited self, and bury it deep inside him, encased in a thick shell. Layer after layer of masks covered his forgotten dreams, discarded because they did not fit his father's plan. A dissenter had no place in a legacy; and that was why, most of all, he knew that he had to be normal. He had to be the next General Bowe, no matter what he felt inside. For George Bowe was fake through and through -- a facsimile of the General, the perfect man to continue the Bowe legacy. He controlled the ill-fitting meatsuit, the testament to what it meant to be a Bowe man, his body growing and being shaped into the form that it had to be, all the while hating every single piece of him. His true self was buried six feet deep, in a hole he had dug himself; there had been no service, for the Bowe that might have been. Still, George did not shed a single tear. [[div class="eventyr-hr"]] [[/div]] [[=]] ++++ ##grey\|1991## [[/=]] Not at General Stan Bowe's funeral, not during the eulogy, nor at any other point. Major George Bowe mourned his father, just as he had been taught: it was a performance, as was his duty. //'A Bowe man honors his country, no matter his personal feelings. We show what America should strive for.'// The funeral itself was a political circus, the death of the General an excuse to gather and rub elbows, the world of power never pausing. The service was an afterthought, a convenient coincidence. Of course, for George, any moment could be turned to his advantage. He had been speaking with the governor, an old friend of his father's, whom he had known since he was young. That just meant that he knew how to work him better -- after all, he learned from the best. "You know what," George said, leaning in as if sharing a critical secret. "Don't tell anybody I said this, but my father liked you best. He told me, out of //every// single politician he met, you were always the most earnest. He told me, he said 'George, if there is ever a time where you need help and you can't come to me -- go to Douglas. He has integrity.' He was right, you really are a step above the rest." Of course, his father hadn't said that. No, his father told him that //'a Bowe man knows exactly the right words to say to get what he wants. Otherwise, he does not speak.'// George knew just what a politician wanted to hear. Though, it had been a while. What if he had gone too far? Luckily, Governor Douglas was grinning like the fool that he was. "Your father was a good man, George, and he raised you well. Have you ever considered a leadership role within the National Guard? We could use more men like you." George smiled back. "Sir, I would love to transfer to the National Guard, but my supervisors told me that if I can put in a few more months, I might be up for promotion. And I want to get to general as quickly as possible -- I want to do my father proud." "A promotion? Is that it?" the governor said, waving away George's concerns. "I'm sure that we could figure something out. You know, for your father, of course." That was exactly what George had been hoping to hear. A wide smile appeared on his face, as he grabbed the governor's hand, shaking it firmly. "In that case, it would be my pleasure. We can ta--" "Excuse me," a man interrupted softly. The man was calm, and appeared to have no sense of urgency, making a stark difference as compared to the many scrambling clout-chasers in attendance. Even still, he had an air of importance to him, despite the lack of uniform. "May I have a moment of Mr. Bowe's time?" "Of course," the governor replied affably. "Give my office a call sometime next week Georgie, and we can hammer out the details." The Governor departed for the refreshments table, leaving George and the unknown individual to their conversation. George turned, facing the man, looking every part the grieving son. He was as predictable as possible -- you need to know your enemy before you know how to handle them. He took a mental inventory of the situation. No uniform, no armed guards -- and yet, George felt an undeniable importance to the man. An unstated respect echoed by all present at the funeral. Simply look around the room; the more eyes on somebody, the more power they wield. All eyes were on them. "It's nice to meet you, Major Bowe," the man said. "I've heard a lot about you." "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage, sir," George said. "Did you know my father?" "I did. We worked together on a classified subject for many years, and I trusted him more than anybody else. He was a good man, your father. But I'm not here to talk about the late General. I'm here because I wanted to talk to you, George." Now that was curious. George had been schmoozing with each official and general that made an appearance; each spoke of the 'late, great General Bowe', feigning sympathy, pretending to have empathy left in their cold, jaded souls. None had admitted the truth that they all knew; none of them were really here for his father. A situation such as this required a more nuanced hand. "In that case," George said warmly, a practiced response falling from his tongue with ease, "I would be more than talk with you. How can I be of service?" "It's about how I can help you," the man replied. "I am sure that you are aware of the many enemies who want nothing more than to undo the work your father did, those who would destroy the United States -- but what you don't understand is that there are many, //many// more enemies, hidden in the shadows." "Of course," George replied, leaning into the moment and applying some poison to his tone. "You can never be too careful -- the Soviets are smart. Tricky. Insidious. They linger." The man looked amused. "Mr. Bowe, the Soviets are nothing more than insects from where I sit. There are much worse things that linger, just out of sight. Things that make your worst nightmares look like pests in comparison." "You know," George began, pausing to draw the man in further. "My father taught me an invaluable lesson at a young age that stuck with me. He told me, he said that the legacy of a Bowe man was to protect our great nation, to save the world from the dangers that they were not ready for. I have been raised to fight unimaginable foes -- I can assure you, that no matter the foe, I wouldn't rest until we had won." The man gave him a knowing smile as he assessed George, looking at him head to toe. He hated being stared at, being observed, being evaluated and compared -- but he didn't let it show. He learned his lessons well. "Tell me, George," the man began, as if telling a joke George didn't know. "Did your father ever tell you about the work that we did together?" George Bowe knew that he was swimming with sharks, as he faced down the crooked grin the other man wore, a smile hiding rows of jagged teeth, the figure's nostrils flaring, as if smelling blood in the water. "No, sir. I'm afraid not," George answered, as he realized that he still did not know the name of the mystery man. "Knowing your name would help me remember, though." "Do you believe in the impossible, George?" the man asked, as if George hadn't implied a question at all. "Do you believe in magic? Unexplainable phenomena?" George Bowe didn't know if that was a joke, as he contemplated how to best answer the question. Of course he knew that magic didn't exist, but that wasn't really what the man was asking him, was it? Normally, George was quite good at reading people, and knowing just the right things to say to get his way. This man should have been no different, and yet -- George still didn't have a handle on what the unknown man wanted. But that hadn't stopped him before. "No, sir, I do not," George said, as the man stared back at him blankly. "Because I believe that anything we encounter can be understood, analyzed and defeated. There is nothing unexplainable, no impossibilities, no foe to great that it cannot be conquered. You just need to find their weakness, and everybody has one." The man's neutral visage barely flickered, but there was a reaction, however subtle; just a twitch of the eye, a quirk of the nose. George didn't recognize the emotion at first, but -- was that a glimpse of satisfaction? He seized the opportunity, and pushed the advantage. "After all," George said. "We talked of the Soviet Union as if they were an unbeatable foe. The public hid in fear, as we scrambled to find a single weakness. And yet, we remain, and they are gone." "Gone?" The man said, a single eyebrow raised. "Well, I wouldn't say gone, exactly...." George froze. This man might have thought that the Soviets were little more than insects, but George wouldn't fall for their tricks that easily -- after all, insects can be deadly if given the chance. //What does he know that nobody else does?// George had suspicions but... no buts, this meant that he had always been right. His father had prepared him for the Cold War, prepared him to be a weapon against Communism -- and George knew that it wasn't over. "When are you returning to work?" the man continued, not waiting for George's reply. "Will you need time to mourn and get your father's affairs in--" "I appreciate your concern, sir," George replied, giving the man the patented Bowe smile. "But if my father taught me anything, we can mourn on our own time. International conflicts wait for no man, not even a Bowe." "Good answer," the man said, taking a card out of his breast pocket and passing it to George. "When you return, and realize that the unknown beckons you, give me a call. There is always a bigger war to wage, and I know that one day you could be a great general." The white card only listed a single number, and an insignia: a black circle, and three black arrows, facing inward. //'A Bowe man does not ask questions, he simply does what is needed for his country.'// George forced a smile. "I appreciate the offer, but I must honor my father and continue his legacy, by protecting the United States from our enemies. I know that he would want another General Bowe in the family, and I intend to make that happen." "Well then," the mysterious man said. "When you are ready to protect the world from the real threats, give me a call." He turned to walk away, and then paused, looking back. "Why choose to be a big fish in a small pond? Be the fisherman." George slid the card into his pocket, as he considered for the first time, what it could have been like were he not the heir to General Bowe. Of course, daydreams are just that -- fantasies. George Bowe was a realist. [[div class="eventyr-hr"]] [[/div]] [[=]] ++++ ##grey\|1992## [[/=]] Lt. Colonel George Bowe stood at the head of a conference table, a projector screen mounted behind him, an American flag showing. He wore a perfectly-pressed uniform, each medal and button polished to perfection. Despite his short stature, he cut an imposing figure -- that was good, because he knew he needed every edge he could get today. "Hello gentlemen," George said, as he flashed an award winning smile. "I am here today because you have let your guard down. You have grown lazy, too distracted by fantasies of peace to protect our glorious nation. Thankfully, a Bowe man never is never caught off-guard." An island appeared on the projector, as George continued. "This is [[[http://scp-int.wikidot.com/dossier-lph\|Little Havana]]], a twenty-seven square mile island located just sou--" "We know this, George," a decorated general said, leaning back in his chair, pausing to //yawn//. "Unlike you, some of us were actually there when the Reagan Agreement was drafted." George seethed internally. //'A Bowe man only yells when he knows that he can win.'// George would never admit it, but he was tired of being a Bowe man. His fatigue didn't matter, no, he had to keep up appearances. So he held his tongue, and nodded. "My mistake, sir, I wasn't aware that I was presenting to such senior commanders." The general didn't answer. The slides jumped ahead, displaying an overhead, black and white image of Little Havana. "As part of the extended CORONA program," George continued, "we gathered hundreds of photos of the ocean, islands, and movements of the Soviet fleets. Notably, the satellites failed to capture any evidence of the USSR even landing in Little Havana. Doesn't that strike you as a little strange?" Another man, an older, sallow-faced individual looked up, as if woken from a nap, and replied. "Why are we still talking about the Soviets? Come on George, it's time to let it go. We won." George couldn't remember the man's name at first. He had spoken to him many times, always in meetings like this. George was always asked to do the impossible, would inevitably find a solution, all while the rest of the government did everything they could to stop him from taking care of things. He was constantly confronted by short-sighted, 'ethical' cowards, men like what's-his-- George suddenly remembered that the man's name was Pritchard. "No, //Pritchard//," George said. "We did not win. That was simply another trick, another tactic to get our guards down. To make us lazy. Complacent. Even from a young age, I was taught that the most dangerous Soviet is the one you can't see; apparently, the US Military needs cataract surgery, since everybody else seems to be ignoring the obvious." "The obvious?" the General said, slowly interlacing his fingers. "Please, Lieutenant Colonel, enlighten us all. Tell us what the entire armed forces and US Military seems to be missing." George smirked, locking eyes with the General. George had gone toe-to-toe with men like the General since birth, a constant barrage of idiots that he had long since grown tired of; no matter his fatigue, if the General thought a Bowe could be cowed, he would be in for disappointment. "The fact of the matter is that the Soviet Union is still a significant threat to our way of life. Yes, John Q. Public may think that they are safe, but people like us? We should know that the surrender and collapse are nothing but mere performance. Propaganda." George took a second to survey the room, all while forcing the gathered officials to wait, their impatience growing with each passing section, a fact that brought him undeniable glee. "It is our duty--" he paused, standing proud, puffing out his chest. "No, my fellow Americans, it will be our honor to root out the corruption that has infected our great nation. If we do this, if you put your faith in me, I can promise you that we will be the heroes. I will lead you to victory, just as my father did before me. I can guarantee that we will seize glory and truly make a difference. Unless, of course, you would rather sit by and watch our nation get torn apart from within?" George basked in the silence that he created. There was no greater satisfaction than that of quieting an entire room -- everybody focused on you, just you, waiting for you to speak. He loved the power that he could wie-- And then the room burst into laughter, fists slamming down onto conference tables. They started laughing, at him? Did they know who they were speaking down to? How dare they treat him like a common civilian? As the laughter faded, Pritchard shook his head at George. "Frankly, Georgie, you're a kid. Your father fought wars, you're fighting ghosts and tilting at windmills. The Soviet Union is just playing dead? You really expect us to believe that? Do you have any proof?" //Or was his name Richards?// George realized, staring at the official. "I do, //Richards//," George responded, his rage a flood threatening to break the final levee. "Did you really think a Bowe would come unprepared? Not only do I have proof that the Soviet Union is just pretending, but I have proof that the Soviets have multiple nuclear payloads hidden in Little Havana. Those heartless bastards are prepared to launch them at the drop of a hat. They are simply waiting for us to commit further to the Gulf, and then they will launch a surprise assault, devastating our great nation." The room sobered up in an instant. As little as they may have believed him before, George knew that the nuclear payloads would get their attention. "Show us this 'proof'," the General said, eyebrows raised. "Here," George said, as he advanced the slides. "This is surveillance footage captured in Little Havana, just last week, showing an industrial warehouse that is protected by armed guards twenty-four hours a day. Video surveillance has shown multiple fully covered trucks delivering shipments to the warehouse, but there have never been any outgoing shipments. On top of that, my sources confirmed that GRU used this warehouse as a base of operations in the past. Is that enough 'proof', sir?" "Your 'sources'," the general said, crossing his arms. "And you expect the US Military to take you for your word?" "How dare you?" George responded, the tides overflowing. "Is the fact that I am not a Bowe proof enough? Is my word not sufficient justifica--" "No," the general said, holding up his index finger and cutting George off. "You really thought that we would dance to your tune? The reality is that all of this is nothing more than a little boy panicking and throwing a tantrum because his father isn't here to protect him any longer. You're just lashing out, terrified of an imaginary bogeyman. If your father had said this, well -- he knew what he was talking about firsthand. You'll never be half the man your father was, not as long as you keep trying to play soldier." A figure at the back of the room cleared their throat, and stepped forward. The gathered officials cleared a path, as if the man was exuding an aura telling the room that every single person here was less important than him. George was envious of the respect. On further inspection, he realized that he recognized the important fly on the wall. This was the man he had met at his father's funeral. "Gentlemen, perhaps I can help clear up any confusion?" the advancing figure said, every word spoken like venom, as he slowly advanced on his prey. "And you are?" Richards demanded, as if the strange man left a sour taste in his mouth. "Why should we believe you?" "You may not be important enough to realize this," the man said, pausing to stare down Richards. "But I have been welcomed in these halls since before you understood what it meant to be a patriot. I am the source, and that is all you need to know. If there are no more meaningless objections, then I assume I may continue?" Silence was all the permission he needed. George couldn't help but smirk as the figure advanced, stopping just behind him and facing the gathered officials. George had started talking to the man a few months ago, and they helped each other out, passing information back and forth for their benefit. George had known that the Foundation was planning on sending a representative he could call on if needed for today, but, it appears they valued their professional relationship with George as all should have. For a Bowe, sending anything but the best would have been an insult. An insult the US Military had made, time and time again. "What Lieutenant Colonel Bowe says is accurate," the man continued. "Our surveillance has captured these movements, and we believe that there may be nuclear warheads hidden within the facility." There was a momentary silence, as the officials murmured -- a minute or so later, the General spoke. "Right. While we can agree that there is evidence of a warehouse, without tangible proof of a nuclear warhead, we just cannot justify an operation. Until you can prove that the Soviets are just playing dead, there is no point on discussing this topic again. Frankly, son, this meeting should have been an 'email', and you should know better than to waste our time, Georgie." "It's Lieutenant Colonel Bowe," George said firmly as his knuckles tightened around the presentation remote, turning white. "I have risked my life, time and time again, fighting and clawing my way to the top. I didn't sacrifice my childhood for this country just to be called 'Georgie' by a yellow-bellied, paper-pushing general, too concerned with 'optics' to protect America. I would die for my country. Can you say the same?" The General lost any kindness that may have remained in those eyes, leaving only unadulterated annoyance. He stood glaring, as if he was forced to deal with a dog that just wouldn't stop barking. "Watch your tone young man, you forget who you're speaking to. If I so wanted, I could end your career here and now -- hell the only reason I haven't is because of who your father was. But, let me make this clear, since it seems he failed to teach you basic manners. I respected your father enough to use his title, because he earned it. But daddy helped you get to where you are, didn't he? You are not him. You have done nothing to deserve your rank, and you know it. You need to earn my respect if you want me to call you by your title. But even then, all you will ever be is General Bowe's son... Little //Georgie// Bowe." Richards cut in before George could get a word in. "I think we're done here." At that, the room cleared, leaving just George and the man from his father's funeral. George hadn't moved, his face twisted in rage, an anger without a target, without an enem-- "Lieutenant Colonel Bowe," his source said. "It is unfortunate that you were unable to convince the military of the importance of this operation. They lack your vision. Just remember, if you need anything, you have my card -- and don't forget my offer. If you came to the Foundation, well... I can promise you that you will be far more than just somebody's son." The man bowed his head, and left quietly. George was alone, and his mind was racing. He was tired of having to fight to prove himself, tired of the cowards who preached 'peace and love', sick of the bureaucracy, sick of dancing to their tune. But most of all? George was sick of being a son. George Bowe was done living in the shadow of his father. He thumbed the folded edges of the peculiar man's white business card that he kept in his pocket. Maybe, he could find his own path. Maybe, just maybe, //she// could be herself, somewhere else. [[div class="eventyr-hr"]] [[/div]] [[=]] ++++ ##grey\|1993## [[/=]] Pandora Bowe still wore her uniform, long after she left the US Military for the Foundation. She had it tailored to perfection, adjusted to fit her new... self. She had left her life behind, and hoped that a new job would be a new chance to discover who she was. And yet, looking in the mirror, she saw her father's legacy. The person the Foundation had hired, the reason she was able to abandon her career, the shadow behind the 'Late, Great General'; the outside did little to change the inside. Despite her hair, her make-up, and everything she had done, she still saw the little boy, scared of his father. Pandora sneered as she looked in the mirror, turning up her nose in disgust. //I didn't betray my nation and abandon my legacy just to talk to myself in the mirror.// She was above that, above talking about her 'feelings', better than the rest of the employees who filled the halls like mindless livestock. She refused to be cattle, refused to blend in and be a part of the team. She was proud of who she had become-- and yet, she couldn't help but stare, not knowing what others would think of her. Pandora forced a smile as she smoothed out a crease in her jacket. //The appearance of happiness,// Pandora thought, //is enough to convince the mindless that you are friendly.// She knew that she needed allies here, those who she could rely on, those she could use to climb back up the ladder. She needed to show the Foundation just who she was. Problem was, Pandora wasn't quite sure who she had become. She had only just began the ordeal that was becoming the woman she always wanted to be. Deep down, Pandora thought she had always known she was a woman, but didn't dare think about it, let alone act on it. Before now, it wasn't safe to dream of becoming something she was not, not with the Bowe Legacy laid before her by her father. But now? Now, she refused to wait any longer, refused to stand behind the man. //I am nothing like him.// She would do anything to separate herself from everything that man represented. Even if it meant that she would need to burn down every aspect of her life that had been corrupted by being his son, that is what she would do. She looked deep into her own eyes, the baggage, burdens and reputations shed, leaving just her. And then she spoke, without thinking. "I am Pandora Bowe, and I refuse to let my father control me anymore." She shook her head, blushing at her own weakness, knowing that her words rang hollow, even to herself. How can you believe words that you do not understand? How can you start to heal if you don't know the damage done? How can you learn how to be yourself, if you've never had to consider who you were? How can you be anything but what he wanted, without experiencing the life he didn't create for you? Pandora had opened a new frontier the moment she had first pushed back against her father, from the very second she started to diverge from his perfectly planned goals. She had cracked open the box, and let the evils out into the world; are you still hope, if you only remain because you are too cowardly to leave? Pandora didn't know. [[div class="eventyr-hr-short"]] [[/div]] "In times of conflict," Pandora said, "the Foundation has the right to prioritize normalcy over human life. By your own definition, we are in a time of conflict, and therefore, there are zero restrictions on force." She was speaking to a room of people who underestimated her. Concerned administrative staff, MTF Agents, and decision-makers, now talking amongst themselves as a man (whose name Pandora couldn't remember) spat vitriol at her over her proposal. The more things change, the more they stay the same, she feared. "Are you seriously suggesting we build a facility just to detonate it less than a month later?" Pandora rolled her eyes. The Foundation had hired her because she had been responsible for the Miracle in the Mill, because she had coordinated endless military engagements without losing sight of the end goal, because of the fact that she would make a decision and stick to it. They hired her to make the hard choices, to find a solution against an impossible problem. So why was everybody so set on fighting her? "If the financials towards the construction of a new site are the issue, I am more than happy to detonate an existing Site. If your issue is with the detonation itself... well, I thought you had wanted to deal with the para-militaristic resurgence in South America?" The false equivalencies rolled off of her tongue, like pennies out of a change tray. "Come on, Bowe, what about the people who would be working there?" a pretentious figure chimed, a mocking tone barely concealed behind empty concern. "What about the anomalies? You can't just ignore that." "I wasn't," she said. "If you were paying any attention earlier, you would know that I was advocating for minimal staffing, prioritizing prisoners with high rates of estimated recidivism. You would know that I have a detailed evacuation plan for the major assets, including the handful of anomalies that are worth saving." Pandora paused, pretending to review her notes. "Any loss of life is intentional, I promise you. This is the best solution." "You think the Foundation can just afford to burn money like that? For that matter, do you think we would be willing to lose talented employees, or risk the containment of anomalies?" He looked down at her from behind his practically non-existent nose. "It seems you really haven't thought this through very well." //Nothing really changes, does it Dora? Did they really want you, or were they just looking for a scapegoat?// "It is not my fault that you cannot understand a plan as simple as this," Pandora said. "You do realize what is at stake? If we can't find and root out the rot now, imagine how far it could spread? Imagine the mutiny that could fester, the dangers we let in by doing //nothing//. As I understand it, we are concerned about traitors, hidden in the midst of the Foundation, are we not?" The moment Pandora had mentioned traitors, everybody began to whisper, a dull susurrus filling the room, just as she knew it would. After all, her job was simple -- she just had to keep talking. That was one of Pandora's specialties. "You should be terrified," she continued, seeing fear reflected back at her. "Terrified of the ramifications of dangerous rebels getting a hold a dangerous anomalies, horrified that they are destroying us from within. Isn't the entire reason we're having this meeting because of the fact that you have all spent months trying to find a solution, and no matter what, you've come up empty? Isn't that why they asked me to solve this? Isn't that why you need me to save you?" The man sneered, failing to hide his disdain. "Mr. Bowe--" "Miss," she said, cutting him off. "Do not interrupt me," the man responded, as if daring Pandora to push back. She was more than happy to take the bait. "No, I can and will continue to interrupt you until you call me by my name. I am Pandora Bowe, and you will respect me. You will refer to me properly, or else I will do what I do best: remind the world of just how little you matter. I will do everything within my power to see you penniless, doomed without a chance for a legacy, and abandoned by those who you once trusted with your life." The man glared at her, red-faced, but silent. He must have thought that was a good enough response. It wasn't. "Do I make myself clear?" she asked. "Well?" "Come on, you know it was just a mistake," an agent said, as if that made anything better. "You don't have to be a bitch about it." "Is that right?" Pandora asked. The room was unable to tear their eyes away from her; that was just the way she liked it. "Now to remind you why I was asked to attend this meeting in the first place: you do not know what you are doing. If any of your were capable of handling this, we wouldn't be having this meeting. There wouldn't be traitors, there wouldn't be a threat of a full-fledged assault, and there certainly wouldn't be a need to detonate an entire Site. You brought me here because you could not solve your own problems. You brought me here because you had no other choice." She paused, straightening a medal on her lapel. "Unless... did I misunderstand the situation?" It was all part of the dance. She knew that, to get what she really wanted, what the Foundation had hired her for, she needed to be extreme. The more absurd, the better, in fact -- if she could just make them see she was serious, than anything less than her initial plan was a compromise to them. Anything less than the untold loss of life and destruction of valuable anomalies, any plan that was less absurd than her initial proposition would be welcomed as 'doing the right thing'. Even, say, her real plan to resolve things -- of course, that didn't matter right now. Right now, she was fighting to detonate a site, and all of her had to believe in that. She didn't need to believe in her plan to detonate a site. She just needed to throw her whole heart into the performance, waving it like the flag at a bull -- because that was what her plan was, a bright red flag waved at a room full of bulls to direct their inevitable charge. You must lead them through a delicate dance, and only at the very end, when the beast is indistinguishable from beauty, will you let them give in and charge without hesitation. Right to where she wanted them to go. "I see that you clearly know what you're doing, so don't mind me. I'll take my leave," Pandora said, as she turned and slowly began to walk towards the door. //It shouldn't take them too long,// she thought, //maybe until the count of five.// //Five.// "What an asshole..." an agent loudly 'whispered' to their companion. It was still the same, no matter where Pandora was. //Four.// "Are you sure we can even trust her? You know, her father..." a researcher whispered to another, both looking at her. It seemed like the Foundation was the same as the US government. Slow to change, and even slower to accept. //Three.// The elephant in the room was screaming for attention now, but Pandora refused to give it any pause. //Two.// This was just a game to them, wasn't it? A silly, little distraction. She kept walking. //One.// "Bowe, wait." //There it was,// she thought in sweet satisfaction. Pandora turned and saw the condescending man from earlier, his derision replaced with desperation. She smiled. "Yes? Did you come to your senses?" "How dare you take that to—" the man cut himself off, swallowing his pride and his words. Through strained teeth, he forced himself to humility. "//Miss Bowe//, I wanted to apologize for my behavior. But you can't seriously expect us to entertain such medieval tactics. We aren't the Coalition. Bad enough what some of the anomalies have been saying, without people like you—" "People like me?" The man stammered, then recovered his footing. "People of your... decorated pedigree, Miss Bowe. Your background — this isn't the Cold War anymore. You're asking us to compromise our morals, just so that you can—" //Play soldier?// It was time to control the narrative. //He should be begging.// "So that I can what?" she asked. "Say it, for all of us. So that I can advance my faggot agenda? So that a transsexual like me can make her mark on the world? Is that what you're thinking, sir?" The intensity in her voice failed to match the void she felt within. General Bowe had beaten out interference from emotions, long, long ago. The man stammered, trying to find his voice. His face burned beet red, almost a perfect match to Pandora's dyed hair. "I'm not... I wasn't-- I didn't mea-- Bowe, you suggested sacrificing hundreds of Foundation employees in a glorified trap! How is that relevant in this situation?" //It is relevant because I brought it up,// Pandora thought to herself, as she watched the crowd whisper back and forth, consensus leeching out into the room. Even if he hadn't meant it like that, even if he had the best of intentions -- Bowe had poisoned the well, and only she was immune. It would serve as a lesson that other researchers would do well to learn, quickly. His protestations did not matter, not anymore -- public opinion had turned in her favor. All that was left was the flourish. "Simply put," Pandora began, running a hand through her short hair. "What Foundation employees?" The room was silent, hanging off of her every word. "But I thought you had sai--" "When did I say that? I believe you will find that you are the one who brought up dying Foundation employees." "You were talking about detonating an on-Site ordinance, of course you are sacrificing Foundation sta--" That had been exactly what she was waiting for. "No. That's not right. What are we trying to deal with here, remind me? Oh, yes, that's right. Our enemies are back to their old tricks, and you were worried about moles within our organization. Spies, turncoats, people from within working to undermine the Foundation -- that is what we are here to talk about, no?" The silence in the room confirmed it -- they believed her. "So tell me this. What do you think would happen if we created a site of anomalies that are in desperate need of decommissioning, an anomalous honeypot, if you will, and we staff it with a mixture of traitors, spies and undesirables. And once the site is full, we then detonate the site ordinance. My question to the room is: what have we really lost?" "People will die," the man said firmly. "Yes, people will die," Pandora said as she went in for the kill. "Of course there will be deaths, that's the point! Instead of wasting time, bullets and energy to find them individually, why not take them all out in one swift blow? Why cry over a traitor's death? The fact is that people die every day, as a result of each and every decision that we make. A human life is only worth as much as it does in the moment, and there is no objective truth." Pandora let the implication hang in the air for a second, before continuing. "As living beings, we are simply evaluated in the eyes of another, our value derived from perception. From where I sit, not only does this solve the problem, it is the best option we have -- no, it is the //only// option we have. You are all so terrified of morality that you've forgotten one important detail: if we only do what they expect from us, how can we ever hope to win? If we play by their rules, how can you beat a rigged game?" As Pandora scanned the crowd before her, she was unsurprised by the typical horror and derision reflecting back -- it appeared that, for as much as the Foundation touted itself as a 'progressive' organization, prejudice still held strong. Of course they hated her; after all, what right does a transgender woman have in the war room? What would her father have said? They didn't have to say it for her to know what was really going on. She knew exactly why they hated her; even if they excused it as preferring the 'peaceful resolution', or disagreeing with her use of force, Pandora knew that it was always a hatred of who she was behind the glares. No matter where she went, Pandora knew that she would be the enemy. In her mind, her name was just too much of a burden, her reputation blinding them with rage to the point where nobody could see the true brilliance that was hidden within. //No matter,// she thought. //I will change my fate, regardless of what others think of me.// [[div class="eventyr-hr"]] [[/div]] [[=]] ++++ ##grey\|1996## [[/=]] Explosions shook the very ground where Pandora Bowe stood, gunshots ricocheting off of countless walls and bodies around her. Red lights punctuated the haze, incessant sirens filling the air with their dolorous klaxon, the screams of those caught in the crossfire lost in the maelstrom of noise that filled the remains of what was Site-282G. And yet, despite the blazing infernos, the panic, fear and overwhelming sense that she should be anywhere but here -- Pandora was calm. This wasn't her first containment breach, nor was it the first time she watched as everything fell apart because they refused to listen to her. Time and time again, Pandora would watch as the monolithic thirteen on high would pull their strings, and decide the fates of the men and women who fought alongside her, and time and time again, they would reject any proposal to 'utilize' anomalies for the Foundation's benefit, if there was the slightest chance that it might be abusive. That didn't make sense to Pandora. Her father had once said that //'a Bowe man always takes any advantage he has, no matter the cost; anything else is accepting defeat.'// Of course, she hadn't been a Bowe man for some time now, but old habits die hard, especially when they are so effective. Why wouldn't the Foundation fully utilize their powerful, expendable tools, for their own benefit? She looked around the destroyed building, as the flames raged on. The primary anomaly contained here was a pyrokinetic hydrovore. //In other words, a firefighter's worst nightmare.// The Foundation had been so focused on finding a way to contain, to neutralize, to learn from it that they failed to consider the potential it had, if given the right direction. If they had just let her control the anomaly, use its full potential -- well, they wouldn't be having this problem right now. But no, they had called her a fascist. She was more pragmatic than that, but the idiots in power were too distracted by 'ethics' to see the truth: she was simply an agent of revolution. Why couldn't they see all of the good she could do? Pandora didn't want to turn everything into a weapon, to twist those who would never harm another into a mindless killing machine; no, her aspirations would never be so pedestrian. No, there were anomalies that deserved to be locked up, and those that deserved to remain home. But the few, the special ones, like her: those who would do anything to leave their mark behind on the world? It would be unfair of her to deny them that honor, wouldn't it? "Commander, over here!" A grunt rushed to her side, as if valiantly protecting her. //Idiot.// Pandora thought, looking at the man in disgust. "What do you want?" The grunt didn't flinch, responding immediately. "There is an emergency evac happening soon, we need to get to--" "You don't get it, do you?" Pandora drifted towards a burning wall. She held her hand to the flames, licking delicately inches away — they were colder than she was expecting. "Get what, ma'am?" "Look around, soldier. Do you know what I see?" "Danger?" "Potential," she said, caught in her own fervor. "Don't you see it too?" "I'm afraid that I don't understand." "Of course you wouldn't," Pandora continued. "That's my point. Not a single person in the Foundation sees what I see here. Yes, the site is burning to the ground and people are dying, but in the grand scheme, none of this matters. In a year's time, do you think anybody will remember this?" "Commander Bowe, if you are asking about the amnesticization protocols, do you really think that this is the best time--" the man said, stopping mid-sentence as soon as Pandora raised her hand. "The point is that nobody will care about the cost of life here, not once we've recovered the asset and moved on. Nobody else will see the death here, the damage caused -- all of this was caused by a single anomaly. We are a witness to what the Foundation could be, to the fates that would befall our enemies; we are the pioneers, soldier, and this is the frontier!" Pandora ran to a collapsed wall, and quickly climbed atop. From the new vantage point, she scanned the ruins with an expert eye. "What is the frontier?" The man stared blankly at Pandora. //A good grunt should know when to listen, and when to ask questions,// Pandora thought as she looked around the smoldering wreckage. //All this one is good for is cannon fodder.// A glimpse of something hidden in the shadows caught her eye -- movement, darting into cover. "There!" Pandora yelled, pointing at the collapsed doorframe. "Move soldier! Neutralize the threat, ASAP!" And like a good soldier, the man did as commanded. He sprinted to the debris, as Commander Pandora Bowe watched in twisted glee from on high. This was truly an important moment: she was about to see the future firsthand. The soldier stopped in front of the wreck, and looked back at Pandora to confirm this was the right place. She nodded, biting her lip in anticipation. The soldier turned back-- and just a second later, flames blasted out from behind the partial cover, searing the flesh off of the soldier's face, a targeted surge of heat erupting in a moments notice. He fell to the ground, limp. Pandora could barely contain her excitement. A moment later, a cautious figure poked their head out from behind the singed corpse and makeshift barrier: it was a young man, wearing a standard Foundation-issue jumpsuit, if a bit charred around the edges. He was Anomalous Entity 043-R, the very anomaly that this site had been holding; the kid was barely eighteen, and looked terrified. Pandora grinned from ear to ear. She hopped down off of the rubble and sauntered over to the cowering man. He eyed her cautiously, but was clearly exhausted, and did not move. Like a wild animal, unsure if she would be predator or prey. When she stuck out her hand, and helped him to his feet, that did little to clarify his situation. The young man was still afraid, looking as if he would dart away at first chance. "It's okay now, son, you can let your guard down," she finally said. She shook the young anomaly's hand, her rock-solid grip enveloping his bruised and bloodied hands, just hard enough to sting, but not hurt. "I need you to listen to me. If you do -- when you do, I will get your freedom back. All it will take is a spark." Pandora watched the flashes of fear, uncertainty and hope cross his face, silently waiting for the inevitable yes -- after all, Pandora always got her way. She bent down, and removed a canteen from the dead soldier's belt, cracking the lid and offering it to the boy. He took the water, and drank, like he hadn't in weeks. When he was finally finished, he dropped the canteen to the ground. It clanged across the rubble and rolled back against its owner's corpse. He looked up, and met Pandora's eyes. "I'm Anthony," the boy said. "What do you want?" "I am Pandora Bowe, and I am the future of the Foundation." [[div class="eventyr-hr"]] [[/div]] [[=]] ++++ ##grey\|2004## [[/=]] Parallel tables sat perfectly within an office, each one arranged in an exacting manner. The concrete walls were bland, monotonous, and highlighted the perfectly straight rows of medals, photographs and commendations. Everything was in the perfect position, honoring the life that Pandora Bowe had built for herself at the Foundation. When Pandora had turned 40, she gave the Foundation an ultimatum: give her authorization for 'The Bowe Proposal', or she would leave. She drew her line in the sand, and stood strong in the face of backlash. While, yes, they had let her command countless MTF taskforces, and even turned a blind eye to the little project that she tried with Anthony -- but no matter the arguments she would put forward, the Foundation refused to full utilize the anomalies they contained. They were simpletons, terrified of innovation and afraid of people like her -- those who understood what it was like to be oppressed, to be stepped on, to suffer under the thumb of another. She would be their liberators -- if only the Foundation would stop their pointless protestations. //'A Bowe man forges his own path'//, she thought in the voice of her father. //'He does not follow, he charges ahead into the unknown.'// She had done that time and time again. Her transition, her career, every single step she took in her life was a fight against the current, pushing back against fate, obligations, and destiny. She //was// General Stan Bowe's only heir. She rejected that, and all that came with it. She had become her own woman, and shed the shackles of her legacy -- but time and time again, she faced the same foes, fought the same fights, defended her very core, protesting each time she was compared to her father. She had left behind so much, and yet, it refused to let her go. General Bowe had a death grip on her mind, a constant reminder of the legacy she abandoned. Even from beyond the grave, even after she burned her illusory familial tapestry to the ground -- he refused to let her go. Pandora shook her head, as she returned to her perfectly arranged office; after all, this was a cause for celebration. The Foundation had finally caved. She was given an assignment, charged with evaluating the anomalies of the Site for tactical potential, identifying those that could benefit the Foundation -- it appears that, finally, the Foundation had finally understood the point she had been trying to make year after year. They finally saw the brilliance that she had, the raw power and authority that Pandora commanded each time she entered a room. They only now understood just what a mistake it was to turn Pandora Bowe into their enemy. //Site-19,// she thought, sitting behind her desk in a tall leather chair. //This is just the beginning.// //'A Bowe man is more than just a man, he is a legacy. He is the sum total of each and every Bowe man that has come before him,'// her father had once said through a drunken rant. //'He must live not only for himself, but for the family name. He must prove to the world that a Bowe man is never crossed. You are a Bowe man, George, never forget that.'// Her father was wrong. She was no 'Bowe man'. //A Bowe woman rejects her legacy, because she is so much more than it could ever be.// Pandora smiled. It was finally time to [[[Eventyr Hub\|get to work.]]] ----- [[footnoteblock]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-12-06T17:55:00	[ "_licensebox", "bleak", "eventyr", "general-bowe", "lgbtq", "military-fiction", "political", "tale" ]	The Bowe Transition - SCP Foundation	43	[ "eventyr-hub", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "tales-by-year", "eventyr-hub", "news" ]	[]	1457928215	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-bowe-transition
the-broken-cargo	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=1&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Aword-processor/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <div style="display: none"> <hr/> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">+ Show component code</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">- Hide component code</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div class="code"> <div class="hl-main"> <pre><span class="hl-special">:root</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">sidebar-width-on-desktop:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--base-font-size) * (</span><span class="hl-number">266</span><span class="hl-code"> / </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-code">))</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">body-width-on-desktop:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">45.75</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">only</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">screen</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> (min-width: 56.25</span><span class="hl-identifier">rem</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#content-wrap</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> initial</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-direction:</span><span class="hl-code"> row</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vw - (</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vw - </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">min-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vh - var(--final-header-height-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">10.125</span><span class="hl-code">rem))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">13.6</span><span class="hl-code">rem) </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">13.6</span><span class="hl-code">rem) * -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code"> / </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> initial</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--body-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">45.75</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--body-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">45.75</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> min(</span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-code">vw, var(--body-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">45.75</span><span class="hl-code">rem))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> -webkit-sticky</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> sticky</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">grid-area:</span><span class="hl-code"> side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">13.6</span><span class="hl-code">rem) !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">min-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">13.6</span><span class="hl-code">rem) !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vh</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow-y:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">scroll</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> translate </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">), background-color </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">), padding </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms linear, margin </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms linear</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--swatch-tertiary-color, </span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">), </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--sidebar-bg-color, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">), </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">translate:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">13.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem) * -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">direction:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">rtl</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">scrollbar-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">thin</span><span class="hl-code">; -</span><span class="hl-reserved">ms-scroll-chaining:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overscroll-behavior:</span><span class="hl-code"> contain</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">scrollbar-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--swatch-primary-darker), </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">) /* Thumb / rgba(var(--swatch-tertiary-color), </span><span class="hl-number">0.05</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Track</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-track</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--swatch-secondary-color, </span><span class="hl-number">244</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">244</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">244</span><span class="hl-code">), </span><span class="hl-number">0.8</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-thumb</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-corner</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vw + </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vh)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right-style:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--sidebar-bg-color, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">), </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-identifier">is</span><span class="hl-code">(:</span><span class="hl-identifier">hover</span><span class="hl-code">, :</span><span class="hl-identifier">active</span><span class="hl-code">, :</span><span class="hl-identifier">focus-within</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2.25</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.25</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow-x:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow-y:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--swatch-primary-darker), </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--sidebar-bg-color, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">), </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">translate:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem) - var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">scrollbar-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">) / Thumb / rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">252</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">252</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">252</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Track</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">scrollbar-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--swatch-primary-darker, </span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">), </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">) / Thumb / rgb(var(--swatch-menubg-color, </span><span class="hl-number">252</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">252</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">252</span><span class="hl-code">), </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Track</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code">::</span><span class="hl-identifier">after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> " "</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">fixed</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">align-items:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">left</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">), background-position </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">), opacity </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> url("https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/component%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Acollapsible-sidebar/sidebar-tab.svg")</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-attachment:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">fixed</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">left</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">12.875</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">pointer-events:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-identifier">is</span><span class="hl-code">(:</span><span class="hl-identifier">hover</span><span class="hl-code">, :</span><span class="hl-identifier">active</span><span class="hl-code">, :</span><span class="hl-identifier">focus-within</span><span class="hl-code">) + </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code">::</span><span class="hl-identifier">after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">14.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem) -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">left</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">), background-position </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">), opacity </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">left</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">14.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem) * -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code">::</span><span class="hl-identifier">before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> " "</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">9</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--final-header-height-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">14.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - var(--final-header-height-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">0.688</span><span class="hl-code">rem) - </span><span class="hl-number">2.313</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--final-header-height-on-desktop, -</span><span class="hl-number">2.313</span><span class="hl-code">rem) * -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">2.313</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> translate </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">), opacity </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--swatch-alternate-color, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">pointer-events:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">translate:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">14.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem) * -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code"> + </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-identifier">is</span><span class="hl-code">(:</span><span class="hl-identifier">hover</span><span class="hl-code">, :</span><span class="hl-identifier">active</span><span class="hl-code">, :</span><span class="hl-identifier">focus-within</span><span class="hl-code">) + </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code">::</span><span class="hl-identifier">before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">translate:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.25</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">direction:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">ltr</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scpnet-interwiki-wrapper</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">direction:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">ltr</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Print</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Friendly</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Formatting</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Estrella</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">body.print-body</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">sidebar-width-on-desktop:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">body.print-body</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code">::</span><span class="hl-identifier">before</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">body.print-body</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code">::</span><span class="hl-identifier">after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span></pre></div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <p>Logically, only one of the following two propositions for "Mekhane" is true.</p> <ul> <li><strong>Mekhane exists.</strong></li> <li><strong>Mekhane does not exist, and Mekhane is a consequence of purely artificial constitution.</strong><sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-1" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-1')">1</a></sup></li> </ul> <p>There is a scholar who is famous in the mundane world. Being a self-proclaimed militant atheist and a high-ranking cabal of <a href="/saphir-centre">a certain group of interest</a>, he said in his book that “the messiah of Christianity did not exist.”<sup>[<a class="bibcite" href="javascript:;" id="bibcite-1-95031a" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('bibitem-1')">1</a>]: 122</sup> After being criticized by many people, religious and non-religious, he reluctantly withdrew his remarks and revised his opinion, saying, “It is true that he existed.”</p> <p>However, even if the proposition that the Messiah of Christianity existed is (tentatively) true, this proposition does not mean that all the mythical records describing his birth, life, and even afterlife are also true. Let's take a simple analogy. <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2776">George Washington</a>, the first president of the United States of America, exists, but that doesn't mean that the proposition “George Washington accidentally cut down his cherry tree as a child, but he confidently confessed without hiding it” is true.</p> <p>If so, in the binary choice above, even if the proposition <strong>“Mekhane exists”</strong> is true, it does not immediately prove that “the goddess Mekhane claimed by the cults of the Broken God, and the historical descriptions written in their catechisms, are true."</p> <p>Let's move on for a moment. At least, in the mundane “history of normalcy,” the development of mechanical civilization was a splendid feat of the instrumental reason of human beings and the result of Entzauberung. Information technology, symbolizing modern society, is also an extension of this mechanical civilization. With the development of natural science, — or the rediscovering of what paranormal civilizations of the past had discovered — some scholars have even compared nature to machines. However, in their argument, the metaphor of machines only meant complex regularity and sophistication, not that machines themselves were superior and transcendent to humans. As the Middle Ages ended and Modern Times dawned, through machine development, vast amounts of energy could be easily transferred from one side to the other and converted. But machines were only human-made tools and still obeyed human control. Optimists prospected that technology would develop rapidly and all mankind would be able to enjoy the benefits, while pessimists talked about rapidly developing technology ‘suppressing human freedom,’ ‘making people one-dimensional,’ and ‘leading to rapid polarization.’ However, even from these pessimists' view, the product of technological civilization is presumed to be used as a tool. They just insist that those who dominate advanced technology will use it for their self-interest and evil purposes. Finally, a view widely spread by a particular movie series: machines and artificial intelligence will soon get out of human control and become a serious threat to humanity. However, in all three viewpoints about technological advancement: optimism, pessimism, and perilism, machines are not transcendental beings, nor are they objects to be worshipped by humankind.</p> <p>Thus, the point is that the cults of the Broken God have a feeling of worship for the machine (considered the symbol of Entzauberung and instrumental reason), with a pre-modern way of Magisches Denken.</p> <p>Let's return to the previous choice: <strong>“Mekhane exists.”</strong> ／ <strong>“Mekhane does not exist, and Mekhane is a consequence of purely artificial composition.”</strong> Personally, I think the former proposition is close to true. At least, I cannot think that Mekhane is a some pataphysical anomalous narrative that popped into our world. And if Mekhane does not exist, we cannot explain the archaeological findings of the Foundation, nor can we explain the existence of their primeval World Ultra-hyper-war, and above all, why the cults exist.</p> <p>Based on the pieces of information from their catechisms, or the fragments of catechisms at least, seized by we Foundation,<sup>[<a class="bibcite" href="javascript:;" id="bibcite-4-10283a" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('bibitem-4')">4</a>]: 23-54, 221-257, 651-703</sup> and their doctrines and dogmas obtained from their detained devotees by the enhanced interrogation, they believe that the goddess Mekhane, or “WAN” by Maxwellism, certainly exists, and that their faith existed literally before the mundanely known origin of the humankind, and that what is written in their scriptures is the literal truth.<sup>[<a class="bibcite" href="javascript:;" id="bibcite-2-97584a" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('bibitem-2')">2</a>]: 23-26, 44-50, 53-58, 72-73</sup> Yet, by the Church to which these people belong, the scriptures themselves are different, and merely silly question remains: which scripture is true among them? If one or more of the conflicting scriptures, whether the Cogwork or Maxwellians, are false or not literal truths, it is quite possible to infer that the contents of all the scriptures of the Cults of the Broken God as a whole are not literal truths either.</p> <p>For example, though I agree that <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/SCP-2217">the ruins we discovered and secured in Greece</a> are from the ancient Mekhanite civilization, there is no direct content indicating worship or adoration. Interpreting these ruins as a sign of their worship of goddess Mekhane is merely an inference based on the testimony of devotees of the churches of the Broken God. According to the Foundation's official document, in the place where it was presumed to be a temple, we found only the word “<span class="ruby">Κύθηρα<span class="rt">kythera</span></span>,” but there were no words “<span class="ruby">Θεός<span class="rt">Theós</span></span>”<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-2" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-2')">2</a></sup> or “<span class="ruby">δαίμων<span class="rt">daimon</span></span>”,<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-3" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-3')">3</a></sup> or any other terms whose grammatical roots are them.<sup>[<a class="bibcite" href="javascript:;" id="bibcite-5-59769a" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('bibitem-5')">5</a>]: 33-69</sup> It is possible that the place we have interpreted as a temple may be something far from religious practice, e.g., a manufacturing mill, a research institute, a weapon hangar-like facility, etc. I think we should also keep that possibility in mind.</p> <p>Think of it this way: They could build and handle machines that were awestriking, trembling, and terrible, even for someone like me with a foot in this anomalous world. <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/third-law-hub">A certain writer</a> once said: “Sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.” However, whether it is technology or magic, it is not so awestriking that it should be worshipped for those who can familiarize, handle, and improve it. People who live with enough nuclear weapons to wipe out all countries on Earth are afraid of nuclear war. But what they are afraid of is some crazy U.S. president's sudden nuclear war declaration or inability to repair a malfunctioning nuclear launch system, not the elements of uranium or plutonium, not the physical phenomena of nuclear fission or fusion. If we think about it from this point of view, should we really think that the ancient Mekhanite Empire had worshipped the machine as their God?</p> <p>What I tentatively think about these Cults of the Broken God is based on the following premises.</p> <ul> <li><strong>The ancient Mekhanite civilization existed, and this civilization collapsed because of the great war. The remnants of the collapsed Mekhanite civilization lead to the current sects and cults of the churches of the Broken God.</strong></li> <li><strong>The scriptures and catechisms of the churches of the Broken God did not exist in the days of the ancient Mekhanite civilization and were recorded later. And they do not contain the literal truth.</strong></li> </ul> <p>There are many inferences about how religion is born. Among them, I would like to think of a totemistic perspective. Any human life is an extremely humble life compared to nonexistence. Both the life of the ‘barbaric primitive’ and the life of the ‘most civilized modern humankind’ cannot escape the tragedy of recognizing themselves as a solitary being by recognizing themselves as isolated beings from nature. The primeval people, who would have lived a humble life just like us, had animals and plants as their totems. This may sound ridiculous, but in fact, modern civilization is also a kind of totemistic worldview. The totems were created for such humble humans to heal the scar between themselves and nature. The environment faced by modern people is not a natural environment but a technological environment, where the technological civilization is full everywhere; thus, technologies become the totems for modern people. Even for the primeval Mekhanite civilization, their environment was the paratechnological environment, so it can be inferred that they were also people who lived in the worldview of technology totems.<sup>[<a class="bibcite" href="javascript:;" id="bibcite-6-28103a" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('bibitem-6')">6</a>]</sup></p> <p>The ancient Mekhanite civilization must have had tremendous technologies. But in my opinion, the Mekhane was just a literal ‘machine,’ or 'software,' or 'technology,' and these were merely tools used by the ancient Mekhanite people, not their Theós.<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-4" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-4')">4</a></sup> However, even with the powerful mechanical troops, the great civilization could not stop the hordes of the Flesh, and their country eventually collapsed.</p> <p>In the process of their collapse, numerous scholars they admired must have been dead, factories that made various artifacts must have been demolished, and many documents and computer servers that recorded their research outcomes and history must have been destroyed. Even in the case of <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/system:page-tags/tag/xia-dynasty">the Xia dynasty</a>, which existed in modern-day East Asia, their existence was anomalously erased. The only things that remained must have been the artifacts that remained few compared to their heyday, a handful of survivors, and ‘primitive people’ who might have been assimilated by some survivors of the Mekhanite civilization. Some of the Mekhanite civilization survivors may have been engineers or scientists. Still, not all of the survivors could be masters of their science, and the majority of the refugees must be laypeople of science, who only consumed the products of civilization. The refugees who were laypeople must not have known the specific principles and knowledge to operate their remaining artifacts, and it must have been the same for people in the world of normalcy outside of Mekhanite civilization. For these people, remaining artifacts must have been like legendary treasures, that could not be restored once damaged or lost. The people who owned them must have had an attitude to cherish their technologies or parts of them as ‘regalia’ or ‘halidoms.’ As this attitude continued through generations, the practice of worshipping the tools would have emerged. Consequently, only a few remaining documents and oral traditions on the history of the ancient Mekhanite civilization and crude eyewitness accounts of foreigners were mixed over time and made into scriptures. Let's assume the initial Broken God faith is a totemism. Compared to animals and plants that other ethnic groups used as their totems, the technology is visible and tangible like other totems. But at the same time, it also has invisible parts full of incomprehensible mysteries. Thus, the worshipers must have come to regard themselves as something special that distinguishes them from others.</p> <p>Although I use the term ‘technological civilization’ to refer to the current mundane world, it can be divisible into several periods. From the Middle Ages to Contemporary times, from an epistemological perspective on machines, four mechanical devices have appeared sequentially: the clock, the balance, the engine, and the computer. In the question of ‘work’ and ‘energy’ of machines, <span style="text-decoration: underline;">The clock</span> was a symbol of mechanical and elaborate laws reaching even to the fine points, and <span style="text-decoration: underline;">the balance</span> was a symbol of nature with harmonious movements created by an equilibrium of attraction and repulsion. <span style="text-decoration: underline;">The engine</span> introduced a new concept of ‘energy — the ability to work’ instead of the ambiguous concept of 'force.' In addition, new phenomena such as the conversion of coal chemical energy into heat and work were considered to be studied as key elements of nature; thus, the ‘natural philosophy’ was expelled by ‘physics.’ Finally, in the era of <span style="text-decoration: underline;">computers</span> where I live now, a new perspective emerged that understands the concept of information as equally crucial as mass and energy and the real world itself as a device that processes information. Even the human brain is compared and understood as a parallel supercomputer that processes information.<sup>[<a class="bibcite" href="javascript:;" id="bibcite-3-60099a" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('bibitem-3')">3</a>]</sup></p> <p>This story was intended to explain the history of the mundane world, but it can be applied to Mekhanites. As far as we can tell, Mekhanite civilization was an anomalous civilization, in a way, close to the ‘perfect archetype’ of human technological civilization, in which all “the clocks, the balances, the engines, and the computers” were developed to extremes. Ancient Mekhanite civilization had <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/SCP-2406">highly sophisticated automata</a>, <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/SCP-2847">artificial intelligence that has been operated by itself for thousands of years</a>, and — even though it's my own argument — some kinda factory. The sects schismatized from the Broken God faith have these symbols of technological civilization one by one. The sects can be likened to the old ritualists following Bumaro to the clocks, the Cogwork Orthodoxy to the engines, and the Maxwellian Church to the computers.<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-5" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-5')">5</a></sup></p> <p>Bumaro, the charismatic leader of ‘the Broken Church,’ calls himself ‘the Builder,’ or at least called such by his devotees. As the Builder, his goals are to rebuild his God and restore her body, thus building a Broken God into a sophisticated totality that can move again. It is also worth considering that Bumaro's cult is the most “basic” one, in the sense of not being obsessed with mechanically augmenting the body, contrary to what some people misunderstand. The Cogwork Orthodoxy believes in mass production, and their patriarchs are like the anomalous iteration of factory owners in the Industrial Revolution. They are so fascinated by the amazing power and energy of the engines and the unity of standards endlessly replicated by the machinery that they seek to standardize their own body to get closer to God. Thus, they are the admirers of the engines. Lastly, the Maxwellian Church finds its God, WAN, in the network. Unlike past technological civilizations, their God does not have a ‘material’ form. They also augment their bodies, but here, the augmentation is to turn their bodies into network devices, that is, terminals that can produce, transmit, and receive information.</p> <p>What does it mean that God is Broken? When they say that their God is <em>Broken</em>, the word may mean that she is physically broken and shattered and damaged, but it may also mean that she has a breakdown and does not work properly. It doesn't matter either way. The modern cults of the Broken God have capabilities that cannot be taken lightly, even for the Foundation, but as long as they express themselves that their God is Broken, they believe that their machine or software — Maxwellians insist that their God is not a physical machine, so it is very annoying to have to mention it one by one — is incomplete. That is a matter of course. Compared to what the Mekhanite civilization, a civilization with near-perfect technologies, enjoyed, they are far behind and can be seen only as having a few fragments of the shattered technologies. According to the inference above, they are also broken. Mekhanite civilization had a quaternity of clocks, balances, engines, and computers. As long as they serve only one of them as the form of God, they are broken, and they have their God broken.</p> <p>Among the middle of the Pacific islands, some cults worship the cargoplane. The cultists believe that if you carve a tree branch to make guns, clear forests to make a runway, and build a control tower by stacking logs, then one day, a U.S. military cargoplane will land there, and John Frum the Great brings them infinite cargo. What those cultists have seen is clearly true. Indeed, a plane landed on a runway built by the U.S. military and dumped a lot of cargo, and even some of the cargo was given to the indigenous people on the island. That is, what they observed and what their descendants remember are true. However, their interpretation has a critical error. I believe that the cults of the Broken God are the paranormal iteration of the cargo cults: believing that if they worship her, work hard to restore her, and do some rituals corresponding to building a control tower by stacking logs, then ‘the Broken God’ that has never existed will be reassembled.</p> <p>For now, my opinion is merely an unverified speculation. Still, if this is true, the cults of the Broken God are in stark contrast to the <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/sarkicism-hub">Sarkic cults</a>, the cultists of flesh. Even though Nälkä cults perform the barbaric and primitive ritual of flesh, they do not worship the deities, while acknowledging their existence. Instead, they want humans (at least, Sarkic cultists) to transcend beyond the deities and become as powerful as them. Even though Sarkic cultists are twisted, they still believe in the potential for human development and strive, while those who believe in the Broken God submit themselves to sophisticated and advanced machines and claim to be devotees of what does not exist.</p> <div class="footnotes-footer"> <div class="title">Notes</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-1"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-1')">1</a>. Of course, in the world of anomalies we belong to, a consequence of purely artificial constitution can also be seen as “existing.”</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-2"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-2')">2</a>. In ancient Greek, meaning “deity, a god, God.”</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-3"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-3')">3</a>. In ancient Greek, meaning “demon, soul, spirit”.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-4"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-4')">4</a>. Of course, if you work for the Foundation and have sufficient security clearance, you can see the ‘existence’ of anomalies that make it difficult not to use the word ‘deity”. However, that does not prove the proposition ‘the goddess Mekhane exists as a divine being.’</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-5"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-5')">5</a>. “The balance” is missing. I wonder if any sects can be linked to the balance.</div> </div> <div class="bibitems"> <div class="title">References</div> <div class="bibitem" id="bibitem-1">1. R. D██████, <em>T██ ███ ████████</em>, R██████████ 2006</div> <div class="bibitem" id="bibitem-2">2. F. Habermas <em>et al.</em>, <em>Differences in Interpretation of the Doctrines and Doctrinal Refutation between the Devotees of the Churches of the Broken God: a Focus on SCP Foundation's Interrogation Record</em>, Parareligion Studies Division, Department of Anthropology, SCP Foundation, 2006.</div> <div class="bibitem" id="bibitem-3">3. Frans van Lunteren, <a href="https://www.jstor.org/stable/26456229" target="_blank">"Clocks to Computers: A Machine-Based ‘Big Picture’ of the History of Modern Science,"</a> <em>Isis</em> <strong>107</strong> (2016) 762-776.</div> <div class="bibitem" id="bibitem-4">4. U. Matteotti & V. Kryuger, <em>Translation and Annotation of the Scriptures and Catechisms of Mekhanite Cults</em>, Parareligion Studies Division, Department of Anthropology, SCP Foundation, 2000.</div> <div class="bibitem" id="bibitem-5">5. G. ████████ and W. ████, <em>Exploration Report on Parahistoric Sites in ██████</em>, Department of Archaeology, SCP Foundation, 1984.</div> <div class="bibitem" id="bibitem-6">6. James W. Quirk and John J. Carey, <a href="https://www.jstor.org/stable/41210251" target="_blank">"The Mythos of the Electronic Revolution,"</a> <em>American Scholar</em> <strong>39</strong> (1969-70), pp. 219-241 and pp. 395-424.</div> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <blockquote> <p>To make my thoughts more than just speculation, it must take enormous research. It is necessary to discover more ruins of Mekhanite civilization around the world, rake remaining records in, and even invade the cores of the cults of the Broken God to expropriate everything they have. However, the third is impossible, at least. The Council would not want the Foundation to declare a de facto war declaration on the CotBG simply because of the desire to investigate the primeval history of the paranormal world. The first and second do not appear to be possible either. The Foundation is unlikely to fund me simply because I want to know the history of the CotBG, with the tight budget to contain Keter-class anomalies.</p> <p>And who knows? Any of the O5 Council members might have actually seen Mekhane. Those oldsters of that Council may have seen everything, including nothing.</p> </blockquote> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="danke agent" style="width:90%; margin: 0 auto; word-break: keep-all"> <p><tt><strong>> shutdown</strong></tt></p> <p>\| SCPiNET: <strong>There is currently a temporarily saved file. If you do not save and exit, the file will be deleted. Do you want to save the file to the server?</strong> Y/N</p> <p><tt><strong>> N</strong></tt></p> <p>\| SCPiNET: <strong>SYSTEM shutting down…. <span style="color: red">Any operation of this terminal is recorded and may be subject to an audit by the Security Division.</span></strong></p> <p>\| SCPiNET: <strong>G o o d B y e, Researcher Rosa Marcuse (<span style="color: blue">Clearance Level: 2</span>).</strong></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-broken-cargo">Memo by a religious studies scholar belonging to the Foundation: "the Broken Cargo"</a>" by crssk, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-broken-cargo">https://scpwiki.com/the-broken-cargo</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <blockquote> <p><a href="http://scpko.wikidot.com/the-broken-cargo" target="_blank">Original article</a> was written by <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/crssk" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1618969); return false;"><img alt="Crssk" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1618969&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1718261034" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1618969)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/crssk" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1618969); return false;">Crssk</a></span>.<br/> This article was translated by <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/salamander724" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1486450); return false;"><img alt="Salamander724" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1486450&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1718261034" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1486450)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/salamander724" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1486450); return false;">Salamander724</a></span> and proofread by <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/fluxman" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6498353); return false;"><img alt="fluxman" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6498353&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1718261034" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6498353)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/fluxman" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6498353); return false;">fluxman</a></span>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-int.wikidot.com/the-broken-cargo">:scp-int:the-broken-cargo</a>]]	2024-01-18T10:51:00	[ "_ko", "_licensebox", "broken-god", "cogwork-orthodoxy", "international", "maxwellism", "no-dialogue", "tale", "worldbuilding" ]	Memo by a religious studies scholar belonging to the Foundation: "the Broken Cargo" - SCP Foundation	18	[ "saphir-centre", "scp-2776", "SCP-2217", "third-law-hub", "system:page-tags/tag/xia-dynasty", "SCP-2406", "SCP-2847", "sarkicism-hub", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "church-of-the-broken-god-hub", "scp-international" ]	[]	1452221222	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-broken-cargo
the-clef-catfish-kon	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <ul class="modal-wrapper"> <li class="unfolded"> <div id="u-adult-warning"> <div id="u-adult-header"> <p>ADULT CONTENT</p> </div> <br/> This article contains adult content that may not be suitable for all readers. <div class="content-descriptor"><span style="display: syntax error near `{$gore} ==`">Graphic depiction of blood, gore or mutilation of body parts</span><br/> <span style="display: block">Features sexual themes or language, but does not depict sexual acts.</span><br/> <span style="display: syntax error near `{$sexually`">Explicit depiction of sexual acts.</span><br/> <span style="display: syntax error near `{$sexual-a`">Features non-consensual sexual acts.</span><br/> <span style="display: syntax error near `{$child-ab`">Depiction of severe mistreatment of children</span><br/> <span style="display: syntax error near `{$self-har`">Depiction of self-harm</span><br/> <span style="display: syntax error near `{$suicide}`">Depiction of suicide</span><br/> <span style="display: syntax error near `{$torture}`">Depiction of torture</span><br/> <span style="display: syntax error near `{$custom} `">{$custom-content}</span></div> <p>If you are above the age of 18+ and wish to read such content, then you may click Continue to view said content.</p> <div class="foldable-list-container choice"><a href="javascript:;">Continue</a></div> <div class="choice"><a href="/">Back to Front Page</a></div> </div> <br/></li> </ul> <div class="authorlink-wrapper"><a href="javascript:;">Fish^12</a> <div class="authorbox"> <div class="authorcontent"> <p>Can't believe i write gay people now. <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/hotfish\|">Author Page</a>!</p> </div> </div> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <table style="margin:auto"> <tr> <td><img alt="ship.png" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-clef-catfish-kon/ship.png" style="width:43px;"/></td> <td><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <strong>dockr</strong><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> The gay dating app</td> </tr> </table> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="gaybox"> <div class="gayheader"> <div class="gaynameaway"> <p><span style="color: #2dbe7a">⬤</span> Sam001<br/> <span class="distance">42 miles away</span></p> </div> </div> <div class="gaydate"> <p>Today</p> </div> <div class="gaycaller" style="margin-bottom:10px;"> <p>Hi there!</p> </div> <div class="gaycaller"> <p>Is Kondraki your first or last name? It's quite foreign, I've never heard of it before.</p> </div> <div class="gaytime"> <p>21:06</p> </div> <div class="gaycaller"> <p>Sorry, this is the first time I've tried this out and I'm really nervous. I don't want to be weird about it or anything, just wanted to make conversation. My hobbies are reading and philosophy, and I'd love to take you out to Carmine's. What do you think?</p> </div> <div class="gaytime"> <p>21:11</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder"> <p>Not into weak men</p> </div> <div class="gaytime2"> <p>21:22</p> </div> <div class="gaydate"> <p><span style="color: red">You have blocked this person.</span></p> </div> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="gaybox"> <div class="gayheader"> <div class="gaynameaway"> <p><span style="color: #2dbe7a">⬤</span> 34rn3st<br/> <span class="distance">11 miles away</span></p> </div> </div> <div class="gaydate"> <p>Today</p> </div> <div class="gaycaller" style="margin-bottom:10px;"> <p>I saw in your profile that you liked movies</p> </div> <div class="gaycaller" style="margin-bottom:10px;"> <p>want kind of movies</p> </div> <div class="gaycaller" style="margin-bottom:10px;"> <p>we could watch my favorite movie (shawshank redemption)</p> </div> <div class="gaycaller"> <p>we could keep it casual</p> </div> <div class="gaytime"> <p>22:12</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder"> <p>Is that you in the picture</p> </div> <div class="gaytime2"> <p>22:13</p> </div> <div class="gaycaller"> <p>ya</p> </div> <div class="gaytime"> <p>22:13</p> </div> <div class="gaydate"> <p><span style="color: red">You have blocked this person.</span></p> </div> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="gaybox"> <div class="gayheader"> <div class="gaynameaway"> <p><span style="color: #2dbe7a">⬤</span> DINGO<br/> <span class="distance">25 miles away</span></p> </div> </div> <div class="gaydate"> <p>Today</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder"> <p>So you're a scientist? That's interesting</p> </div> <div class="gaytime2"> <p>22:15</p> </div> <div class="gaycaller" style="margin-bottom:10px"> <p>I am! I do forensic analysis of geology.</p> </div> <div class="gaycaller"> <p>Currently working on the mineral composition of the landslide in Vernal trails. It's very rewarding.</p> </div> <div class="gaytime"> <p>22:15</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px"> <p>Yup</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px"> <p>I study bugs</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder"> <p>Love studying bugs</p> </div> <div class="gaytime2"> <p>22:15</p> </div> <div class="gaycaller"> <p>An entomologist! How do you like it?</p> </div> <div class="gaytime"> <p>22:16</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px"> <p>I do</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px"> <p>Like it</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder"> <p>But besides that, what do you like to do in your free time?</p> </div> <div class="gaytime2"> <p>22:17</p> </div> <div class="gaycaller"> <p>Say, what kind of insects do you study? What's your field of focus? I'd love to discuss your work.</p> </div> <div class="gaytime"> <p>22:17</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder"> <p>Mainly butterflies. Migratory patterns.</p> </div> <div class="gaytime2"> <p>22:17</p> </div> <div class="gaycaller"> <p>Interesting! I saw that you're also a biologist. I'd love to see your thesis.</p> </div> <div class="gaytime"> <p>22:17</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder"> <p>Actually, I'm a cryptobiologist.</p> </div> <div class="gaytime2"> <p>22:17</p> </div> <div class="gaycaller"> <p>Okay</p> </div> <div class="gaytime"> <p>22:17</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder"> <p>Yup</p> </div> <div class="gaytime2"> <p>22:18</p> </div> <div class="gaycaller"> <p>Tell me about it</p> </div> <div class="gaytime"> <p>22:18</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px"> <p>Yup</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px"> <p>I will</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder"> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">www.researchgate.net/publication/107533321_Butterfly_Migration_Sub_Trends_In_Survival</span></p> </div> <div class="gaytime2"> <p>22:18</p> </div> <div class="gaycaller" style="margin-bottom:10px"> <p>You are neither of these authors</p> </div> <div class="gaycaller"> <p>Not the brightest bulb in the closet, huh?</p> </div> <div class="gaytime"> <p>22:19</p> </div> <div class="gaydate"> <p><span style="color: red">You have blocked this person.</span></p> </div> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="gaybox"> <div class="gayheader"> <div class="gaynameaway"> <p><span style="color: #2dbe7a">⬤</span> kylemark<br/> <span class="distance">138 miles away</span></p> </div> </div> <div class="gaydate"> <p>Today</p> </div> <div class="gaycaller"> <p>Hey babygirl, are your parents terrorists? Cause your the bomb.</p> </div> <div class="gaytime"> <p>22:22</p> </div> <div class="gaydate"> <p><span style="color: red">You have blocked this person.</span></p> </div> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="gaybox"> <div class="gayheader"> <div class="gaynameaway"> <p><span style="color: #2dbe7a">⬤</span> 💪 Flexing<br/> <span class="distance">97 miles away</span></p> </div> </div> <div class="gaydate"> <p>Today</p> </div> <div class="gaycaller" style="margin-bottom:10px"> <p>I can lift you up stretch your boy pussy hard pump you full of cum</p> </div> <div class="gaycaller"> <p>Would you like that, little boy?</p> </div> <div class="gaytime"> <p>20:33</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px"> <p>I don't think I would be interested in that</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder"> <p>Can we reverse roles?</p> </div> <div class="gaytime2"> <p>20:34</p> </div> <div class="gaycaller"> <p>Daddykins wants control</p> </div> <div class="gaytime"> <p>20:34</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px"> <p>Daddykins is anorexic</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px"> <p>You need to drink some milk</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder"> <p>You're 20 you're nobody's daddy</p> </div> <div class="gaytime2"> <p>20:34</p> </div> <div class="gaycaller"> <p>😳😞</p> </div> <div class="gaytime"> <p>20:35</p> </div> <div class="gaydate"> <p><span style="color: red">You have blocked this person.</span></p> </div> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="gaybox"> <div class="gayheader"> <div class="gaynameaway"> <p><span style="color: #2dbe7a">⬤</span> runaway baby<br/> <span class="distance">4 miles away</span></p> </div> </div> <div class="gaydate"> <p>Today</p> </div> <div class="gaycaller"> <p>Looking for a top</p> </div> <div class="gaytime"> <p>22:35</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder"> <p>Go on</p> </div> <div class="gaytime2"> <p>22:35</p> </div> <div class="gaycaller"> <p>I'm not afraid of a little punishment 😏</p> </div> <div class="gaytime"> <p>22:35</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder"> <p>How old are you /gen</p> </div> <div class="gaytime2"> <p>22:36</p> </div> <div class="gaycaller"> <p>31, and you must be daddy material</p> </div> <div class="gaytime"> <p>22:36</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px;"> <p>Haha</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px;"> <p>We should meet up</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder"> <p>How about a date?</p> </div> <div class="gaytime2"> <p>22:36</p> </div> <div class="gaycaller"> <p>Whatever you say 😉</p> </div> <div class="gaytime"> <p>22:36</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder"> <p>I can pick you up</p> </div> <div class="gaytime2"> <p>22:37</p> </div> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="gaybox"> <div class="gayheader"> <div class="gaynameaway"> <p><span style="color: #2dbe7a">⬤</span> BK<br/> <span class="distance">1 mile away</span></p> </div> </div> <div class="gaydate"> <p>Today</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder"> <p>Benjibear</p> </div> <div class="gaytime2"> <p>22:37</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder"> <p>Hey. Ben Konny.</p> </div> <div class="gaytime2"> <p>22:39</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder"> <p>Hey.</p> </div> <div class="gaytime2"> <p>22:42</p> </div> <div class="gaycaller"> <p>What the fuck? Clef?</p> </div> <div class="gaytime"> <p>22:47</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder"> <p>It's Eli</p> </div> <div class="gaytime2"> <p>22:47</p> </div> <div class="gaycaller" style="margin-bottom:10px;"> <p>…</p> </div> <div class="gaycaller"> <p>Are you fucking impersonating me?</p> </div> <div class="gaytime"> <p>22:48</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px;"> <p>No</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px;"> <p>Ok yes but your game is trash and that's not important right now</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px;"> <p>You're a dommy daddy that loves to use dildos and you have a date tomorrow</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px;"> <p>His name is Omar and he is going to fuck you on the first date so take a shower</p> </div> <div class="gaytime2"> <p>22:48</p> </div> <div class="gaycaller" style="margin-bottom:10px;"> <p>I am not going on a fucking Vegas style one night stand with some random stranger</p> </div> <div class="gaycaller"> <p>What the hell are you doing? Tell me one good reason why I shouldn't kick your shit in</p> </div> <div class="gaytime"> <p>22:50</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder"> <p>Mate</p> </div> <div class="gaytime2"> <p>22:50</p> </div> <div class="gaycaller"> <p>How did you even find my account</p> </div> <div class="gaytime"> <p>22:50</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px;"> <p>He's cool</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px;"> <p>You'll like him</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px;"> <p>And you don't have to dick down or anything</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px;"> <p>It's a date</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px;"> <p>Do you have your have your license still, you do need to drive</p> </div> <div class="gaytime2"> <p>22:52</p> </div> <div class="gaycaller" style="margin-bottom:10px;"> <p>No. MY CAR IS STILL IN RHINE</p> </div> <div class="gaycaller" style="margin-bottom:10px;"> <p>BECAUSE OF YOU</p> </div> <div class="gaycaller"> <p>YOU ASSHOLE</p> </div> <div class="gaytime"> <p>22:52</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px;"> <p>Right. My bad</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder"> <p>You could borrow my car</p> </div> <div class="gaytime2"> <p>22:53</p> </div> <div class="gaycaller"> <p>THE ONE YOU LIVE IN?</p> </div> <div class="gaytime"> <p>22:53</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px;"> <p>I'll crash at your place</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder"> <p>It's fine it's perfect</p> </div> <div class="gaytime2"> <p>22:54</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder"> <p>Hello?</p> </div> <div class="gaytime2"> <p>23:00</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder"> <p>Hellooooo?</p> </div> <div class="gaytime2"> <p>23:02</p> </div> <div class="gaycaller"> <p>You're paying for a new phone.</p> </div> <div class="gaytime"> <p>23:09</p> </div> <div class="gaycaller"> <p>Why are you doing this?</p> </div> <div class="gaytime"> <p>23:15</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder"> <p>Well, you refuse to give me your contact. It's impossible to find you</p> </div> <div class="gaytime2"> <p>23:15</p> </div> <div class="gaycaller"> <p>Why are you doing THIS</p> </div> <div class="gaytime"> <p>23:15</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px"> <p>No reason</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px"> <p>Because it might be good for you</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px"> <p>Its a little funny</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px"> <p>You eat salads unironically</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px"> <p>You don't want to drink, you hate shooting the shit, your hobby is boring as fuck, you're an even bigger arsehole since Carmen split town</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder"> <p>But also you do drink and talk to your butterflies when you think no one's watching</p> </div> <div class="gaytime2"> <p>23:16</p> </div> <div class="gaycaller" style="margin-bottom:10px"> <p>Alright, fine</p> </div> <div class="gaycaller"> <p>What else do I need to know about Omar</p> </div> <div class="gaytime"> <p>23:21</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px"> <p>He likes museums, gardens, butterflies, the colour purple</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder"> <p>Actually, I'll just link his profile</p> </div> <div class="gaytime2"> <p>23:22</p> </div> <div class="gaycaller"> <p>He sounds fine.</p> </div> <div class="gaytime"> <p>23:21</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder"> <p><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">https://dockr.x/runaway_baby/aA2jFde35f8Pmg352r0tT</span></span></p> </div> <div class="gaytime2"> <p>23:22</p> </div> <div class="gaycaller"> <p>How did you find this account anyways?</p> </div> <div class="gaytime"> <p>23:22</p> </div> <div class="gayresponder"> <p>You didn't bother hiding it burgerking</p> </div> <div class="gaytime2"> <p>23:23</p> </div> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-clef-catfish-kon">The Clef Catfish Condraki</a>" by Fish^12, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-clef-catfish-kon">https://scpwiki.com/the-clef-catfish-kon</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> hummingbird.png<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Anna's hummingbird<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Rhododendrites<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 4.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Anna%27s_hummingbird_(41124).jpg">https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Anna%27s_hummingbird_(41124).jpg</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> lawyer.png<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Taras Shevchenko<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Julia Zakharyan<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 4.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Taras_Shevchenko_(lawyer)_07.jpg">https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Taras_Shevchenko_(lawyer)_07.jpg</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> man.png<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Selfie of tattoos<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Prolete<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 1.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Selfie_of_tattoos.jpg">https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Selfie_of_tattoos.jpg</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> coolerman.png<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Selfie en el Museo de Aguascalientes<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Luisalvaz<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 4.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Selfie_en_el_Museo_de_Aguascalientes.jpg">https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Selfie_en_el_Museo_de_Aguascalientes.jpg</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> butt.png<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Butterfly Display<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Daniel Ramirez<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 2.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Butterfly_Display_-_Bishop_Museum_(22889552575).jpg">https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Butterfly_Display_-_Bishop_Museum_(22889552575).jpg</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> flex.png<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> VolpiBuff<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Lincolntan36<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 4.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:VolpiBuff.png">https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:VolpiBuff.png</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> snow.png<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Snow crystals<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Unknown author<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Public Domain<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Snow_crystals.png">https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Snow_crystals.png</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> ship.png<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Galley<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Delapouite<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://game-icons.net/1x1/delapouite/galley.html#download">https://game-icons.net/1x1/delapouite/galley.html#download</a></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:adult-content-warning">:scp-wiki:component:adult-content-warning</a> \|sexual-references=1 ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:black-highlighter-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:eventyr">:scp-wiki:theme:eventyr</a>]] [[module css]] @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Roboto+Condensed:ital,wght@0,100..900;1,100..900&display=swap'); #page-title{ display:none; } .gaybox{ background:#1d1e20; box-shadow: rgba(189, 195, 199, 1) 0px 0px 0px 1em; border-radius:1em; color:white; margin:auto; width:80%; max-width:400px; padding-left:1em; padding-right:1em; padding-bottom:1em; font-family:'roboto condensed'; font-weight:bold; } .gayconvo, .gayheader{ display:flex; } .gayheader{ justify-content:center; align-items:center; } .gaypfp img{ border-radius:100%; width:2.5em; margin-right:10px; } .gaynameaway{ } .gaydate{ border-top:solid 1px #303133; color:#9e9ea0; text-align:center; } .distance{ font-weight:200; } .gaycaller, .gayresponder{ max-width:65%; width:fit-content; position:relative; flex-shrink:0; padding:5px 10px; color:black; } .gaycaller p, .gayresponder p{ margin-block-start: 0em; margin-block-end: 0em; } .gaycaller{ background:#71e094; border-radius:5px 5px 5px 0; } .gaycaller::after{ border-left: 5px solid transparent; border-bottom: 5px solid #71e094; border-right: 5px solid #71e094; right: 100%; } .gayresponder{ background:#8BB0FE; border-radius:5px 5px 0 5px; margin-left: auto; } .gayresponder::after{ border-right: 5px solid transparent; border-bottom: 5px solid #8BB0FE; border-left: 5px solid #8BB0FE; left: 100%; } .gaycaller::after, .gayresponder::after{ position:absolute; content: ''; border-top: 5px solid transparent; bottom: 0px; width: 0; height: 0; } .gaytime, .gaytime2{ color:grey; font-size:10px; margin-top:-0.7em; margin-bottom:-0.3em; } .gaytime2{ text-align:right; } [[/module]] [[>]] [[module rate]] [[/>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:author-label-source">:scp-wiki:component:author-label-source</a> start=-- \|name=Fish^12]] Can't believe i write gay people now. [http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/hotfish\| Author Page]! [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:author-label-source">:scp-wiki:component:author-label-source</a> end=--]] @@ @@ [[table style="margin:auto"]] [[row]] [[cell]] [[image ship.png style="width:43px;"]] [[/cell]] [[cell]] @@ @@ dockr @@ @@ The gay dating app [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[/table]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[div class="gaybox"]] [[div class="gayheader"]] [[div class="gaypfp"]] [[image http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/the-clef-catfish-kon/hummingbird.png]] [[/div]] [[div class="gaynameaway"]] ##2dbe7a\|⬤## Sam001 [[span class="distance"]]42 miles away[[/span]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div class="gaydate"]] Today [[/div]] [[div class="gaycaller" style="margin-bottom:10px;"]] Hi there! [[/div]] [[div class="gaycaller"]] Is Kondraki your first or last name? It's quite foreign, I've never heard of it before. [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime"]] 21:06 [[/div]] [[div class="gaycaller"]] Sorry, this is the first time I've tried this out and I'm really nervous. I don't want to be weird about it or anything, just wanted to make conversation. My hobbies are reading and philosophy, and I'd love to take you out to Carmine's. What do you think? [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime"]] 21:11 [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder"]] Not into weak men [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime2"]] 21:22 [[/div]] [[div class="gaydate"]] ##red\|You have blocked this person.## [[/div]] [[/div]] @@ @@ [[div class="gaybox"]] [[div class="gayheader"]] [[div class="gaypfp"]] [[image http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/the-clef-catfish-kon/lawyer.png]] [[/div]] [[div class="gaynameaway"]] ##2dbe7a\|⬤## 34rn3st [[span class="distance"]]11 miles away[[/span]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div class="gaydate"]] Today [[/div]] [[div class="gaycaller" style="margin-bottom:10px;"]] I saw in your profile that you liked movies [[/div]] [[div class="gaycaller" style="margin-bottom:10px;"]] want kind of movies [[/div]] [[div class="gaycaller" style="margin-bottom:10px;"]] we could watch my favorite movie (shawshank redemption) [[/div]] [[div class="gaycaller"]] we could keep it casual [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime"]] 22:12 [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder"]] Is that you in the picture [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime2"]] 22:13 [[/div]] [[div class="gaycaller"]] ya [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime"]] 22:13 [[/div]] [[div class="gaydate"]] ##red\|You have blocked this person.## [[/div]] [[/div]] @@ @@ [[div class="gaybox"]] [[div class="gayheader"]] [[div class="gaypfp"]] [[image http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/the-clef-catfish-kon/snow.png]] [[/div]] [[div class="gaynameaway"]] ##2dbe7a\|⬤## DINGO [[span class="distance"]]25 miles away[[/span]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div class="gaydate"]] Today [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder"]] So you're a scientist? That's interesting [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime2"]] 22:15 [[/div]] [[div class="gaycaller" style="margin-bottom:10px"]] I am! I do forensic analysis of geology. [[/div]] [[div class="gaycaller"]] Currently working on the mineral composition of the landslide in Vernal trails. It's very rewarding. [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime"]] 22:15 [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px"]] Yup [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px"]] I study bugs [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder"]] Love studying bugs [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime2"]] 22:15 [[/div]] [[div class="gaycaller"]] An entomologist! How do you like it? [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime"]] 22:16 [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px"]] I do [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px"]] Like it [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder"]] But besides that, what do you like to do in your free time? [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime2"]] 22:17 [[/div]] [[div class="gaycaller"]] Say, what kind of insects do you study? What's your field of focus? I'd love to discuss your work. [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime"]] 22:17 [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder"]] Mainly butterflies. Migratory patterns. [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime2"]] 22:17 [[/div]] [[div class="gaycaller"]] Interesting! I saw that you're also a biologist. I'd love to see your thesis. [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime"]] 22:17 [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder"]] Actually, I'm a cryptobiologist. [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime2"]] 22:17 [[/div]] [[div class="gaycaller"]] Okay [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime"]] 22:17 [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder"]] Yup [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime2"]] 22:18 [[/div]] [[div class="gaycaller"]] Tell me about it [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime"]] 22:18 [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px"]] Yup [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px"]] I will [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder"]] @@www.researchgate.net/publication/107533321_Butterfly_Migration_Sub_Trends_In_Survival@@ [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime2"]] 22:18 [[/div]] [[div class="gaycaller" style="margin-bottom:10px"]] You are neither of these authors [[/div]] [[div class="gaycaller"]] Not the brightest bulb in the closet, huh? [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime"]] 22:19 [[/div]] [[div class="gaydate"]] ##red\|You have blocked this person.## [[/div]] [[/div]] @@ @@ [[div class="gaybox"]] [[div class="gayheader"]] [[div class="gaypfp"]] [[image http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/the-clef-catfish-kon/man.png]] [[/div]] [[div class="gaynameaway"]] ##2dbe7a\|⬤## kylemark [[span class="distance"]]138 miles away[[/span]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div class="gaydate"]] Today [[/div]] [[div class="gaycaller"]] Hey babygirl, are your parents terrorists? Cause your the bomb. [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime"]] 22:22 [[/div]] [[div class="gaydate"]] ##red\|You have blocked this person.## [[/div]] [[/div]] @@ @@ [[div class="gaybox"]] [[div class="gayheader"]] [[div class="gaypfp"]] [[image http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/the-clef-catfish-kon/flex.png]] [[/div]] [[div class="gaynameaway"]] ##2dbe7a\|⬤## 💪 Flexing [[span class="distance"]]97 miles away[[/span]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div class="gaydate"]] Today [[/div]] [[div class="gaycaller" style="margin-bottom:10px"]] I can lift you up stretch your boy pussy hard pump you full of cum [[/div]] [[div class="gaycaller"]] Would you like that, little boy? [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime"]] 20:33 [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px"]] I don't think I would be interested in that [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder"]] Can we reverse roles? [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime2"]] 20:34 [[/div]] [[div class="gaycaller"]] Daddykins wants control [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime"]] 20:34 [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px"]] Daddykins is anorexic [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px"]] You need to drink some milk [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder"]] You're 20 you're nobody's daddy [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime2"]] 20:34 [[/div]] [[div class="gaycaller"]] 😳😞 [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime"]] 20:35 [[/div]] [[div class="gaydate"]] ##red\|You have blocked this person.## [[/div]] [[/div]] @@ @@ [[div class="gaybox"]] [[div class="gayheader"]] [[div class="gaypfp"]] [[image http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/the-clef-catfish-kon/coolerman.png]] [[/div]] [[div class="gaynameaway"]] ##2dbe7a\|⬤## runaway baby [[span class="distance"]]4 miles away[[/span]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div class="gaydate"]] Today [[/div]] [[div class="gaycaller"]] Looking for a top [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime"]] 22:35 [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder"]] Go on [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime2"]] 22:35 [[/div]] [[div class="gaycaller"]] I'm not afraid of a little punishment 😏 [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime"]] 22:35 [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder"]] How old are you /gen [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime2"]] 22:36 [[/div]] [[div class="gaycaller"]] 31, and you must be daddy material [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime"]] 22:36 [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px;"]] Haha [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px;"]] We should meet up [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder"]] How about a date? [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime2"]] 22:36 [[/div]] [[div class="gaycaller"]] Whatever you say 😉 [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime"]] 22:36 [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder"]] I can pick you up [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime2"]] 22:37 [[/div]] [[/div]] @@ @@ [[div class="gaybox"]] [[div class="gayheader"]] [[div class="gaypfp"]] [[image http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/the-clef-catfish-kon/butt.png]] [[/div]] [[div class="gaynameaway"]] ##2dbe7a\|⬤## BK [[span class="distance"]]1 mile away[[/span]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div class="gaydate"]] Today [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder"]] Benjibear [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime2"]] 22:37 [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder"]] Hey. Ben Konny. [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime2"]] 22:39 [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder"]] Hey. [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime2"]] 22:42 [[/div]] [[div class="gaycaller"]] What the fuck? Clef? [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime"]] 22:47 [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder"]] It's Eli [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime2"]] 22:47 [[/div]] [[div class="gaycaller" style="margin-bottom:10px;"]] ... [[/div]] [[div class="gaycaller"]] Are you fucking impersonating me? [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime"]] 22:48 [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px;"]] No [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px;"]] Ok yes but your game is trash and that's not important right now [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px;"]] You're a dommy daddy that loves to use dildos and you have a date tomorrow [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px;"]] His name is Omar and he is going to fuck you on the first date so take a shower [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime2"]] 22:48 [[/div]] [[div class="gaycaller" style="margin-bottom:10px;"]] I am not going on a fucking Vegas style one night stand with some random stranger [[/div]] [[div class="gaycaller"]] What the hell are you doing? Tell me one good reason why I shouldn't kick your shit in [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime"]] 22:50 [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder"]] Mate [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime2"]] 22:50 [[/div]] [[div class="gaycaller"]] How did you even find my account [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime"]] 22:50 [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px;"]] He's cool [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px;"]] You'll like him [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px;"]] And you don't have to dick down or anything [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px;"]] It's a date [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px;"]] Do you have your have your license still, you do need to drive [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime2"]] 22:52 [[/div]] [[div class="gaycaller" style="margin-bottom:10px;"]] No. MY CAR IS STILL IN RHINE [[/div]] [[div class="gaycaller" style="margin-bottom:10px;"]] BECAUSE OF YOU [[/div]] [[div class="gaycaller"]] YOU ASSHOLE [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime"]] 22:52 [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px;"]] Right. My bad [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder"]] You could borrow my car [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime2"]] 22:53 [[/div]] [[div class="gaycaller"]] THE ONE YOU LIVE IN? [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime"]] 22:53 [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px;"]] I'll crash at your place [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder"]] It's fine it's perfect [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime2"]] 22:54 [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder"]] Hello? [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime2"]] 23:00 [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder"]] Hellooooo? [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime2"]] 23:02 [[/div]] [[div class="gaycaller"]] You're paying for a new phone. [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime"]] 23:09 [[/div]] [[div class="gaycaller"]] Why are you doing this? [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime"]] 23:15 [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder"]] Well, you refuse to give me your contact. It's impossible to find you [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime2"]] 23:15 [[/div]] [[div class="gaycaller"]] Why are you doing THIS [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime"]] 23:15 [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px"]] No reason [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px"]] Because it might be good for you [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px"]] Its a little funny [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px"]] You eat salads unironically [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px"]] You don't want to drink, you hate shooting the shit, your hobby is boring as fuck, you're an even bigger arsehole since Carmen split town [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder"]] But also you do drink and talk to your butterflies when you think no one's watching [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime2"]] 23:16 [[/div]] [[div class="gaycaller" style="margin-bottom:10px"]] Alright, fine [[/div]] [[div class="gaycaller"]] What else do I need to know about Omar [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime"]] 23:21 [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder" style="margin-bottom:10px"]] He likes museums, gardens, butterflies, the colour purple [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder"]] Actually, I'll just link his profile [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime2"]] 23:22 [[/div]] [[div class="gaycaller"]] He sounds fine. [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime"]] 23:21 [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder"]] __@@https://dockr.x/runaway_baby/aA2jFde35f8Pmg352r0tT@@__ [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime2"]] 23:22 [[/div]] [[div class="gaycaller"]] How did you find this account anyways? [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime"]] 23:22 [[/div]] [[div class="gayresponder"]] You didn't bother hiding it burgerking [[/div]] [[div class="gaytime2"]] 23:23 [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div style="margin:300px;"]] [[/div]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] ===== > Filename: hummingbird.png > Name: Anna's hummingbird > Author: Rhododendrites > License: CC BY-SA 4.0 > Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Anna%27s_hummingbird_(41124).jpg > Filename: lawyer.png > Name: Taras Shevchenko > Author: Julia Zakharyan > License: CC BY-SA 4.0 > Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Taras_Shevchenko_(lawyer)_07.jpg > Filename: man.png > Name: Selfie of tattoos > Author: Prolete > License: CC BY-SA 1.0 > Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Selfie_of_tattoos.jpg > Filename: coolerman.png > Name: Selfie en el Museo de Aguascalientes > Author: Luisalvaz > License: CC BY-SA 4.0 > Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Selfie_en_el_Museo_de_Aguascalientes.jpg > Filename: butt.png > Name: Butterfly Display > Author: Daniel Ramirez > License: CC BY-SA 2.0 > Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Butterfly_Display_-_Bishop_Museum_(22889552575).jpg > Filename: flex.png > Name: VolpiBuff > Author: Lincolntan36 > License: CC BY-SA 4.0 > Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:VolpiBuff.png > Filename: snow.png > Name: Snow crystals > Author: Unknown author > License: Public Domain > Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Snow_crystals.png > Filename: ship.png > Name: Galley > Author: Delapouite > License: CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: https://game-icons.net/1x1/delapouite/galley.html#download ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-07-27T20:58:00	[ "_adult", "_cc", "_licensebox", "comedy", "correspondence", "doctor-clef", "doctor-kondraki", "eventyr", "lgbtq", "slice-of-life", "tale" ]	The Clef Catfish Condraki - SCP Foundation	76	[ "prev", "next", "hotfish%7C", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[]	[ "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-clef-catfish-kon/ship.png" ]	1455959355	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-clef-catfish-kon
the-clefnikov-experience	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="authorlink-wrapper"><a href="javascript:;">Fish^12</a> <div class="authorbox"> <div class="authorcontent"> <p>It turtles all the way down to my <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/hotfish\|">Author Page</a>!</p> </div> </div> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>This is all pure conjecture. It has very little bearing on anything. In fact, it will probably never happen. But if it did, here's how it would happen.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="background: linear-gradient(0deg, #ffcccb, rgba(0,0,0,0));padding:2px;"> <p>This is about a Russian.</p> <p>While theatre came naturally to him, his skill in the other creative arts were lacking. He understood presentation; he did not understand color theory. He understood acoustics; he did not understand music theory.</p> <p>Often, before the Foundation, he spent his time watching others play, admiring from a distance but never entertaining the thought of playing an instrument himself. He had a silent admiration and respect for these creatives, which were often at the dismay of his old colleagues. He had to bury this fascination, calling them a passing curiosity and, ultimately, a waste of time.</p> <p>Now, in the Foundation, little has changed. This time, he chose to embellish his affinity with theatre, playing into his role as the eccentric Russian among scientists. Many of them were far more queer, for he observed a talking dog, a butterfly man, and a woman with horns. This time however, he buried his own fascinations; better never to fail than to fail at all.</p> <p>Until one day, he spotted a ukulele on a lark, alone and untouched. While he was before the instrument, he played his role as the dramaturgist, bigger than life, bigger than himself, and to his surprise, the ukulele played back. It was simple, twangy, petulant, and other such crass words, but it was to his delight.</p> <p>From there, he learned everything he could, still at a distance, still uneasy with these thoughts. He started off simple, learning the notes and where they were located and how to press them. Then the chords, which ones would produce the most pleasant (or unpleasant) sounds. Then, onto the finer things. How to tune the strings, how to protect the wood, how to clean the finish.</p> <p>And then, came the right moment. This is the right moment. Maybe. He was still unsure, uncomfortable with actually playing, but he had already come this far. So he starts. Slow, plucking arpeggios, then something a bit less structured and more melodic, repeating the same chords and undulations he had learned not too long ago, until he started to sing along to something simple. Something nice. And then it was over.</p> </div> <div style="background: linear-gradient(180deg, #98FB98, rgba(0,0,0,0));padding:2px;"> <p>This is about a Brit.</p> <p>While violent and foul mouthed and abrasive, he still cared about some things in life. Weapons came naturally to him like a red blooded yankee. Perhaps it was unhealthy, and it is ironic that his favorite pastime was borrowed from the colonies, but it simply was. Mechanical, high energy, low effort, it was perfect for him.</p> <p>Often, he would head to the shooting range with the other miscreants and spend the time smoking and drinking. They would pass along jokes in poor taste, get angry, start pissing contests, and then move on to the next place. Maybe a casino. Maybe a club. Always someplace new, never the same place.</p> <p>Now, in yet another hangover from yet another night, he draped himself over a cool bench to rest his body, feeling no better. And maybe he deserved this. The pounding headache and the nasty backwash with the ibuprofen rotting through his gut, and that maybe this will be his lot in life, forever.</p> <p>Until one day, he comes across a sniper rifle. A genuine, well-polished and elegant SV-98. It was an old fashioned bolt action with modern accessories that were out of place and yet very much befitting it. It was well oiled, well machined, but had an edge that took him off the grid. It was heavy and light and he wanted to find out where it had just come from.</p> <p>From there, he thought he knew everything there was to know about it. It had been modified by GRU-P, put through a dozen stress tests, performing each with ease. But it was no more than another rifle, and he knew what rifles could do. What else was there to say; it was usable, powerful for the right reasons, a novelty for sure, but anything else made for a poor weapon. He did not trust it, for all the above reasons and more.</p> <p>And then, after all was said and done, he still took it out to the range. It was impulsive, he was in the mood, he wasn't particularly thinking straight. He got it into his head that this would have been a once in a lifetime chance, and that after this one he would never find another rifle like it, and that he was already lined up for the shot when he had snapped to his senses. He forces himself to steady his shaky breathing, he wants to stay dead still, he feels the pressure of the stock against his breast, his eyes stare slightly off target, his scope was not zeroed in and he knew he would miss and he should have taken the time to fix it but he had already pulled the bolt and he-</p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>It was over.</p> <p>If it happened at all.</p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-clefnikov-experience">The Clefnikov Experience™</a>" by Fish^12, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-clefnikov-experience">https://scpwiki.com/the-clefnikov-experience</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:black-highlighter-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:eventyr">:scp-wiki:theme:eventyr</a>]] [[module css]] #page-title{ display:none; } [[/module]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:author-label-source">:scp-wiki:component:author-label-source</a> start=-- \|name=Fish^12]] It turtles all the way down to my [http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/hotfish\| Author Page]! [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:author-label-source">:scp-wiki:component:author-label-source</a> end=--]] @@ @@ This is all pure conjecture. It has very little bearing on anything. In fact, it will probably never happen. But if it did, here's how it would happen. @@ @@ ---- @@ @@ [[div style="background: linear-gradient(0deg, #ffcccb, rgba(0,0,0,0));padding:2px;"]] This is about a Russian. While theatre came naturally to him, his skill in the other creative arts were lacking. He understood presentation; he did not understand color theory. He understood acoustics; he did not understand music theory. Often, before the Foundation, he spent his time watching others play, admiring from a distance but never entertaining the thought of playing an instrument himself. He had a silent admiration and respect for these creatives, which were often at the dismay of his old colleagues. He had to bury this fascination, calling them a passing curiosity and, ultimately, a waste of time. Now, in the Foundation, little has changed. This time, he chose to embellish his affinity with theatre, playing into his role as the eccentric Russian among scientists. Many of them were far more queer, for he observed a talking dog, a butterfly man, and a woman with horns. This time however, he buried his own fascinations; better never to fail than to fail at all. Until one day, he spotted a ukulele on a lark, alone and untouched. While he was before the instrument, he played his role as the dramaturgist, bigger than life, bigger than himself, and to his surprise, the ukulele played back. It was simple, twangy, petulant, and other such crass words, but it was to his delight. From there, he learned everything he could, still at a distance, still uneasy with these thoughts. He started off simple, learning the notes and where they were located and how to press them. Then the chords, which ones would produce the most pleasant (or unpleasant) sounds. Then, onto the finer things. How to tune the strings, how to protect the wood, how to clean the finish. And then, came the right moment. This is the right moment. Maybe. He was still unsure, uncomfortable with actually playing, but he had already come this far. So he starts. Slow, plucking arpeggios, then something a bit less structured and more melodic, repeating the same chords and undulations he had learned not too long ago, until he started to sing along to something simple. Something nice. And then it was over. [[/div]] [[div style="background: linear-gradient(180deg, #ffcccb, #98FB98);margin-top:-16px;margin-bottom:-16px;"]] @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[/div]] [[div style="background: linear-gradient(180deg, #98FB98, rgba(0,0,0,0));padding:2px;"]] This is about a Brit. While violent and foul mouthed and abrasive, he still cared about some things in life. Weapons came naturally to him like a red blooded yankee. Perhaps it was unhealthy, and it is ironic that his favorite pastime was borrowed from the colonies, but it simply was. Mechanical, high energy, low effort, it was perfect for him. Often, he would head to the shooting range with the other miscreants and spend the time smoking and drinking. They would pass along jokes in poor taste, get angry, start pissing contests, and then move on to the next place. Maybe a casino. Maybe a club. Always someplace new, never the same place. Now, in yet another hangover from yet another night, he draped himself over a cool bench to rest his body, feeling no better. And maybe he deserved this. The pounding headache and the nasty backwash with the ibuprofen rotting through his gut, and that maybe this will be his lot in life, forever. Until one day, he comes across a sniper rifle. A genuine, well-polished and elegant SV-98. It was an old fashioned bolt action with modern accessories that were out of place and yet very much befitting it. It was well oiled, well machined, but had an edge that took him off the grid. It was heavy and light and he wanted to find out where it had just come from. From there, he thought he knew everything there was to know about it. It had been modified by GRU-P, put through a dozen stress tests, performing each with ease. But it was no more than another rifle, and he knew what rifles could do. What else was there to say; it was usable, powerful for the right reasons, a novelty for sure, but anything else made for a poor weapon. He did not trust it, for all the above reasons and more. And then, after all was said and done, he still took it out to the range. It was impulsive, he was in the mood, he wasn't particularly thinking straight. He got it into his head that this would have been a once in a lifetime chance, and that after this one he would never find another rifle like it, and that he was already lined up for the shot when he had snapped to his senses. He forces himself to steady his shaky breathing, he wants to stay dead still, he feels the pressure of the stock against his breast, his eyes stare slightly off target, his scope was not zeroed in and he knew he would miss and he should have taken the time to fix it but he had already pulled the bolt and he- [[/div]] @@ @@ ---- @@ @@ It was over. If it happened at all. [[div style="margin-top:300px"]] [[/div]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-06-01T08:24:00	[ "_licensebox", "agent-strelnikov", "bittersweet", "doctor-clef", "eventyr", "lgbtq", "no-dialogue", "pridefest2024", "romance", "tale" ]	The Clefnikov Experience™ - SCP Foundation	75	[ "hotfish%7C", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "pridefest" ]	[]	1453835030	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-clefnikov-experience
the-curse-of-mount-abraxas	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="preview"> <p>Many things are buried here.</p> </div> <div style="text-align: right; margin-right: 2em; margin-top: -20px;"> <p>by <a href="/koths-korner">Kothardarastrix</a></p> </div> <h3 id="toc0"><span>2014</span></h3> <p>At 3:00 AM Arabia Standard Time, August 3rd, the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant has invaded the city of Sinjar and set about massacring its populace. On the other side of the world, where it is 5:00 PM Pacific Standard Time on August 2nd, <a href="/scp-2068">SCP-2068</a> feels every bit of it. And it does its very best to make everyone else at <a href="/secure-facility-dossier-area-14">Armed Bio-Containment Area-14</a> feel it too.</p> <p>The first indication of a problem is the siren. Not the breach siren, but the WWII-era British air raid siren that suddenly begins to blare from every single speaker in the whole facility, accompanied by the heavy blues of Tony Iommi's guitar. By the time those assigned to SCP-2068 recognize it as "<a href="https://youtu.be/LQUXuQ6Zd9w?si=DEP34PwRP43JUQKT">War Pigs</a>," it's already too late.</p> <p>"<em>Generals gathered in their masses..</em>" Ozzy wails.</p> <p>A gas explosion rips through SCP-2068's containment chamber, shredding the vault door like paper but leaving the indestructible pump untouched.</p> <p>"<em>…just like witches at black masses.</em>"</p> <p>Thick tar clogs the drains. Oil begins to pool.</p> <p>"<em>Evil minds that plot destruction…</em>"</p> <p>A wave of oil surges from the breached chamber. It catches fire.</p> <p>"<em>…sorcerer of death's construction.</em>"</p> <p>Clouds of thick, black smoke roil through the heavy containment section. The security system detects the breach and, just as it was programmed, seals shut. Two hundred people, mere minutes from signing off for the day, are trapped inside.</p> <p>"<em>In the fields the bodies burning…</em>"</p> <p>Sprinklers erupt, but water is nothing to an oil fire. Unburned droplets worm their way into the lungs of those caught in the choking smoke. In a few agonizing seconds, their blood is transmuted to yet more oil.</p> <p>"<em>…as the war machine keeps turning.</em>"</p> <p>Then it ignites.</p> <p>"<em>Death and hatred to mankind…</em>"</p> <p>A few dozen people escape the smoke by scrambling into hazmat suits, but those are little help against the ever-expanding lake of fire. Some slip on the slick and fall into the flames, where they died in a horrible lump of melting plastic. Others simply get turned around in the inky fog and wander the flooding corridors until the fire finds them, or the heat and exertion bring them down. One especially unfortunate bastard, a Junior Researcher known as <a href="/director-house-gets-whitewashed">Rob Berr</a>, gets dragged into the fire by some kind of <a href="/scp-6643">translucent orange tentacle</a>.</p> <p>"<em>…poisoning their brainwashed minds. Oh Lord yeah!</em>"</p> <p>And so, out of almost two hundred soldiers and scientists, only five have found safety in the section's central freezer. Its armored walls and doors are impervious to explosions, its separate air supply is free of smoke, and its negative temperature is, at least, more survivable than the scorching heat outside.</p> <p>But then again, the freezer is also filled to the brim with live samples of all the most horrible diseases known to man (and a few that aren't). <a href="/medical-seminar">Dr. Christopher Zartion</a> is looking up at one of those samples now, tightly locked in a metal drawer. It's labeled "<a href="/scp-016">SCP-016</a>," and Zartion's not sure if he wants to remember what that one does.</p> <p>"How long are we gonna be stuck in here?" someone asks, voice muffled by his suit. Zartion squints at him. It's hard to tell under the frosty hazmat suit, but he sounds like Researcher Lee Roy Carlson, the Director's worthless nepo baby. Of course he'd go asking a stupid question like that. No one knows they're in the freezer, and no one will as long as 2068 keeps overriding the airwaves with protest music. Even if someone does, it'll take hours to drain all the oil soaking the rest of the section, just to clear a path. It might take <em>days</em>.</p> <p>Maybe it's a good thing that so few people had made it into the freezer. It'll make their air last longer.</p> <p>Carlson sighs. "You know, when they told me this joint was cursed, I didn't believe it."</p> <p>"Well, that was your first mistake," Zartion snaps. "Don't you know how we got this place, back in-"</p> <hr/> <h3 id="toc1"><span>1979</span></h3> <p>The ogre grinned. With one fat hand, he used a rib to pick the shreds of an MTF uniform out of his teeth. They did not part when he spoke.</p> <p>"So," he growled, "you think the seventh time will be the charm?"</p> <p>Dr. Leonard Byrne of the Mythology and Folkloristics Department returned the ogre's grin. "Actually, I'd like to accept your challenge."</p> <p>The ogre chuckled. "That'll be more fun for me, but I hope you don't expect it to work any better than your delicious friends' bullets." The remains of said friends (well, coworkers) were strewn all across the rocky slope of Mount Abraxas. Here was an arm, there a leg, over that way a body that'd been squashed flat in a way that, going by the stains on the ogre's rear, had been quite demeaning. There weren't any heads left, though, because they'd all gone in the ogre's belly. The look in his piggy little eyes said he still wasn't full.</p> <p>"Well," Leonard said, "let's get on with it."</p> <p>The ogre's bloodstained teeth parted long enough to admit the rib, which disappeared with an unsettling crunch. He clapped his enormous hands, sending echoes all down into Sky Valley. Rubbing them deviously together, he posed his question.</p> <p>"How many men can I eat on an empty stomach?"</p> <p>Leonard knew the answer immediately, but he humored the brute by counting the various half-eaten bodies strewn across the mountainside. It would've been quite hard to estimate how many entire bodies could fit in the ogre's belly, especially if it was bigger on the inside, but that wasn't really the question.</p> <p>"One," Leonard said, confidently. "After that, your stomach's not empty anymore."</p> <p>The ogre's eyes widened in surprise. "My! You're cleverer than you seem."</p> <p>"I get that a lot."</p> <p>He chuckled. "So, you have won my little game. Your prize is your life. Don't waste it." With one bulging arm, the ogre gestured back down the road.</p> <p>"Actually," Leonard replied with a smirk, "now that my safety is secured, I've got a challenge for <em>you</em>."</p> <p>The ogre blinked. "A challenge?"</p> <p>"That's right! I've got some riddles of my own."</p> <p>Slowly, the ogre's surprised expression became crafty. "That wasn't the only one <em>I</em> had either."</p> <p>"Of course not."</p> <p>"And what, dear delicious doctor, will be the stakes of this rematch?"</p> <p>Casually, Leonard shrugged. "Simple. If I stump you, you'll become my prisoner, and I'll take your lair for my own."</p> <p>The ogre scowled. He didn't believe for a second he could be trounced at his own game, but this squishy little Irishman seemed to think so, and that irked him. "And if <em>you</em> are the one who's stumped, you'll be my supper. Feet first."</p> <p>Leonard looked down at his boots and wiggled the toes inside them. "Yeah, you're on."</p> <p>At that, the battle began. Thirty white horses on a red hill. A building where blind men learned to see. Nails in my belly, trees on my back. Seven sacks of seven cats. Man, with his varying number of legs. A box unwanted by its builder. Four wheels and flies. And so on, and so on.</p> <p>As the sun sank behind the Ruby Mountains, Leonard leaned back on his palms, legs outstretched before him. He'd removed his boots and was now idly wiggling his toes to taunt the hungry ogre.</p> <p>Unlike his opponent, the ogre was not calm. His fists - each larger than Leonard's head - kept clenching and unclenching in anticipation of the dismembering to come. That dismembering was seeming increasingly unlikely, though; by all accounts, the ogre had run out of riddles. He didn't know how anyone such a small fraction of his own age could've amassed such a vast storehouse of puns, puzzles, and perplexities, much less the quick wits to solve his own.</p> <p>"Stuck?" the insolent doctor taunted, still wearing that self-important smirk.</p> <p>"No," the ogre grumbled, clenching his mighty jaws so tightly in his frustration that little rivulets of blood began to well up between his teeth. "Just deciding which one to use." This was a bald-faced lie; the ogre had exhausted his whole repertoire. He kept running back over his many centuries of memories, hoping to remember some truly unsolvable conundrum that'd escaped him until now, but could draw only blanks. Leonard had even known the cheater-riddles that were only solvable in context, like the one about the bees in the lion skull and the other one with the witches and the horse and the raven and the soup and the robbers-</p> <p>Wait. Cheating. But how? He couldn't just pull any random question out of the blue. He'd let himself use the bees and the raven because those were at least well-known, but he couldn't just make up something that was literally <em>unsolvable</em>. That'd be unfair, and he'd be forced to forfeit the game if Leonard called him out on it, which he surely would. Of course, he could pick something that <em>was</em> - theoretically - solvable from the present context. After all, the precedent of the game had been set by Samson and the fellow with the poisoned soup. Surely such a master of riddles as Leonard couldn't argue with Samson. Or, in this case, with Rumplestiltskin.</p> <p>Slowly, the ogre's scowl twisted back into a confident smile.</p> <p>"Here," he boomed, "is my riddle: <em>What is my name?</em>"</p> <p>Much to the ogre's delight, Leonard seemed surprised. "Hey, that's-"</p> <p>"Nuh uh," the ogre said, wiggling a thick finger, "Rumplestiltskin."</p> <p>Leonard scowled. He was right. The precedent was there.</p> <p>The ogre smugly crossed his tree-trunk arms. Suppertime.</p> <p>Name, name, name…well, the ogre's accent was clearly French, but that didn't rule out nonsensical fantasy-creature names like "Rumplestilkskin." Maybe there'd been clues? Leonard thought over the answers to the previous riddles. Maybe they formed an acrostic? Maybe an anagram of one? No, that didn't make sense. The ogre had clearly come up with this on the fly, he couldn't have planned that. And why would he? Leonard eyed the brute's scarred skin. Maybe there was a brand or a tattoo hidden somewhere among the scars, burns, and broken-off sword blades? None presented itself, though. Even if there was something there, it was surely hidden by the patchwork of rags (mostly shredded ASCI uniforms, with some animal pelts mixed in) that the ogre had covered himself with. Leonard doubted the ogre would give him a chance to check for branded buttocks. He scanned the nearby slopes, looking for helpful little animals that might've overheard the ogre's name, but there didn't seem to be much wildlife to go around up on the bare, rocky slope.</p> <p>With a creeping horror, Leonard realized that he might just be forced to make a flat guess. Those were horrible, horrible odds. He could try to run, he supposed, but that'd be a forfeit, and he didn't think he'd be outrunning the ogre's thickly muscled legs today.</p> <p>Angrily, Leonard climbed to his bare feet and began to pace. He had to think of something. Anything. Maybe the name was a pun. A play on words. A rhyme. It wasn't uncommon for fairy tale creatures to have descriptive names. The Big Bad Ogre? Jolly-Jaws-Jack (well, Jacque)? Bigtooth Baptiste? Ravenous, Riddling, Repugnant Roland?</p> <p>"Any guesses?" the ogre taunted, grinding his huge teeth from side to side in anticipation. Leonard, for the first time, was now seriously considering the possibility that those ivory slabs might be the last thing he ever saw.</p> <p>While staring into the maw of his impending demise, Leonard realized that, during the entire time they'd been talking, the ogre had only parted his bone-crunching jaws once. That was odd. Come to think of it, that was the only thing about this riddling ogre that distinguished him from any other storybook threshold-guarding giant. Interesting.</p> <p>"Can I have a hint?" he asked.</p> <p>The ogre chortled in response, longer and louder than was really necessary. When the echoes of his great guffaws had finally run off down the mountainside, he treated Leonard to a flat, snappy "no".</p> <p>"Well, that seems a little unfair, don't you think?"</p> <p>"I told you, Rumple-"</p> <p>"No, not that." Leonard gestured at the mangled remains of the Task Force, which by now had attracted quite a lot of flies. "These men here, did they even try to answer your first riddle?"</p> <p>The ogre snorted derisively. "As a matter of fact, they did not. I found it rather rude, to tell the truth."</p> <p>"Perhaps. But consider this: those men didn't use their guesses."</p> <p>"What?"</p> <p>"Well, I'm just thinking that since you ate these fellows before they tried to answer, that's a little unfair."</p> <p>"They attacked me!"</p> <p>"Oh, come now, you weren't in danger. That sword there has been in your skin since…what, the twelfth century?"</p> <p>"Thirteenth," he muttered, adjusting his tunic of stitched-together ASCI uniforms to cover the rusted blade.</p> <p>"Regardless, my point still stands. You denied these gentlemen their guesses earlier, and I think that, as a friend of theirs, I should be entitled to those guesses as compensation for your bad manners."</p> <p>"Bad manners!?" he shouted.</p> <p>"That's what I said. You've been a very ungracious host."</p> <p>"Why, I never!"</p> <p>Leonard shook his head in disappointment. "Yes, yes, very unbecoming behavior. Recompense is certainly in order."</p> <p>"No!" the ogre cried, stomping his strangely dainty feet in childish frustration. "Absolutely not! No more guesses! That's not how the game works!"</p> <p>Leonard rolled his eyes and threw up his hands in mock surrender. "Fine, fine. I'll settle for a compromise."</p> <p>"Compromise?" he replied, raising one bushy eyebrow.</p> <p>"Yes. Instead of extra guesses, I'll take extra questions."</p> <p>"Huh?"</p> <p>"Have you ever heard of a game called twenty questions?"</p> <p>"Twenty?! I only killed six!"</p> <p>"Of course, of course. I would never ask more than that. And, in fact, that is what I ask: six questions, from me to you, answered truthfully."</p> <p>"Hmm…" thoughtfully, he stroked his chin. "Don't think I don't know what you're up to. You can't just ask me what my name is."</p> <p>"Of course not! That'd be ridiculous."</p> <p>"Humph. Fine." For emphasis, the ogre held up six of his sausage-like fingers.</p> <p>"Excellent! Now, where to begin…ah! First question: where are you from?"</p> <p>"Portugal."</p> <p>That seemed unlikely.</p> <p>"How did you get to America?"</p> <p>"Jumped."</p> <p>"What?" Leonard blurted.</p> <p>Gleefully, the ogre lowered another finger. Leonard kicked himself.</p> <p>"I jumped. With a running start, of course."</p> <p>"Of course."</p> <p>Leonard made sure to think carefully this time, lest he waste another question. The ogre was obviously lying to him. The mockery was rather insulting, but it might be the opening Leonard needed.</p> <p>"Why are you lying to me?"</p> <p>The ogre chuckled softly. "I only lie when it's through my teeth! Hahahaha!" Leonard could tell from the ogre's delivery that he'd been waiting to use that line for a long time. He tried not to show it, but Leonard was almost as happy about it as the ogre. This was the key to the whole thing. The fairy-tale creature's fairy-tale weakness.</p> <p>"Alright, next-to-last question: aren't you getting hungry?"</p> <p>The ogre tilted his pointed head. "What?"</p> <p>"Well, we've been up here all evening. I wondered if you might be feeling a bit peckish. It's been quite a while since you ate my friends' heads, after all, and I doubt that their brains were very nutritious."</p> <p>"I'm fine," the ogre claimed. A monstrous growl from his stomach disagreed.</p> <p>"I won't mind if you have a snack."</p> <p>"I'm going to eat you, if you ever stop talking!"</p> <p>"Ha! That could be quite a while yet. I'm not done thinking."</p> <p>"Hey, that's stalling!"</p> <p>"I don't remember agreeing to any time limits, do you?"</p> <p>The ogre grumbled under his breath, but he let it slide.</p> <p>"Oh, that reminds me," Leonard said, suddenly patting his jacket pocket. "I think I might have an extra sandwich."</p> <p>"I don't want it." Once again, the ogre's stomach betrayed him.</p> <p>"It's peanut butter."</p> <p>"I don't <em>like</em> peanut butter."</p> <p>"Suit yourself." Leonard reached into his pocket and produced what was indeed a peanut butter sandwich, wrapped in wax paper. He made sure to eat it as slowly as possible.</p> <p>"Mmm," he said, patting his belly. "I love me some peanut butter."</p> <p>The ogre placed a hand over his stomach, but it wasn't enough to muffle the rumbling. He must have been lying about not liking peanut butter, too.</p> <p>"Say, can I-"</p> <p>"Hmm?" Leonard said, stuffing the last bit of sandwich into his mouth.</p> <p>"Oh…never mind." Frustrated, the ogre reached down and grabbed the nearest body. With a sickening pop, he wrenched off one of its arms and stuffed it into his guillotine of a mouth. He started chewing, and Leonard saw his chance.</p> <p>"Last question!" he said, quickly. "What's your name?"</p> <p>"<a href="/scp-082">Fernand</a>," said Fernand, still chewing. Fernand immediately clamped both meaty hands over his mouth, but the secret had already escaped.</p> <p>"Aha!" cried Leonard, triumphantly. "And now, foul ogre, I name thee <em>Fernand</em>!"</p> <p>"ARGH!" he roared, spewing chewed-up meat and bone shards as he talked, "THAT'S CHEATING! You said you wouldn't ask my name!"</p> <p>"And <em>you</em> said you'd answer truthfully," Leonard argued, pointing one accusing finger. "Did you really expect me to believe that you jumped here from Portugal? You cheated, so I cheated, and that made us even. Then I answered your riddle correctly and won the game."</p> <p>"No, that's…that isn't…NO! GRAH! ARGH!" Still howling in impotent rage, the ogre kicked the nearest corpse and sent it bouncing down the mountain. It rolled right past Leonard, but he wasn't worried. Now that he'd been beaten fair and square, Fernand could no more hurt him than a vampire could enter a house uninvited. He still waited for Fernand to finish his little tantrum, though. It would've been rude to interrupt.</p> <p>"So," Leonard said, stepping boldly toward the blood-soaked, out-of-breath ogre. "Why don't you take me on a tour of my new lair?"</p> <p>Fernand grumbled all the way, but he complied. The facility's entrance was a yawning, suspiciously rectangular hole in the mountainside. A rusted metal door still hung open and crooked in the cracked concrete frame. The Foundation didn't know much about this place, not yet, but they knew it had once belonged to the American Secure Containment Initiative. If their intel was accurate, it had been abandoned sometime around…</p> <hr/> <h3 id="toc2"><span>1931</span></h3> <p>"Repugnant," snarled Brother Eyesore, sneering at the writhing, incapacitated guards and scientists. Two dozen of them lay sprawled along the length of the hallway, crying like wild animals in an indescribable, inexpressible mixture of pain, pleasure, hunger, exhaustion, and every other sensation the human soul tries to deny to its body. The transparent form of the Debaucherer floated among their convulsing forms, caressing sweat-soaked faces and gnashing teeth with its vaporous feet and the tips of its frayed, diaphanous wings. Its nebulous body blurred as it moved; sometimes she took the well-defined form of a voluptuous maiden, and sometimes she was a hazy, hunched hag. All the while, the noxious perfumes and demonic pheromones that comprised her shape - and that had plunged her lecherous victims into such agonizing ecstasy - slowly shifted through shades of bruise blue, urine yellow, and gastric green.</p> <p>The bronze hexagram around Eyesore's neck sizzled with infernal energy, growing hot against the thick leather of his tunic. The Debaucherer was straining against its magic, empowered by the squeals of its victims. If this lechery was allowed to persist, it might break free of the binding.</p> <p>With open glee and hidden disappointment, Eyesore raised his right arm. A serpentine symbiont slithered down it, extending its head just past his wrist and unleashing a spray of venom that combusted in mid-air and fell upon on the helpless forms spread out before him. They did not seem to notice, for even the pain of burning alive was far less than what the Debaucherer had given them, but it burned them all the same. Disappointed, the dejected Debaucherer faded away, its demonic essence returning to the hexagram until it was called upon again. Heedless of the burning bodies and their heat, Brother Eyesore continued on towards his true goal.</p> <p>The halls of the American Secure Containment Initiative's underground base were dark with blood and scorch marks. Bodies lay everywhere. Most were on fire, though several seemed to have had their heads bitten off by something, doubtless one of the abominations that the ASCI had - until recently - kept locked up down here. There had been many such monsters, and releasing them to rampage through these subterranean halls had been one of the earliest steps of the plan. And now, Brother Eyesore had reached one of the last.</p> <p>At the door to the final containment chamber, sequestered in the deepest recess of the mountain, Eyesore was met by Brother Earache. He was dressed the same as Eyesore, in thick, brown leather. Heavy boots and fat-fingered gloves protruded from under a thick coat. Its hood rose over his head, surrounding a mask of dull metal and blackened glass. The garb of the faithful was hot and heavy, but they relished it.</p> <p>"Where is Brother Tonguetwist?" Earache asked.</p> <p>"He is dead," Eyesore grunted. "A bullet shattered his hexagram, and the Slaughtering Perseverance broke free."</p> <p>Earache laughed. "Then it shall slaughter these infidels forevermore. Now, let us assure that our brother will not have died in vain." He turned then to the immense vault door and raised his gloved hands in a dramatic gesture. Nine times, the hexagram about his neck flashed with coppery sparks. Nine spheres of crackling orange plasma appeared above him, moving in a slow circle like tiny electric planets. And at the center of each, dark against the bright ball lighting, floated the carbonized skeleton of a newborn infant, curled up as if still in its mother's womb, as if it had not been willingly released from her maternal embrace and passed through the flames to the loveless god of the brazen bull.</p> <p>"Burn, my Pyre Children!" Earache cried. "Burn, melt, consume!"</p> <p>Heeding their summoner's commands, the fetal flames shot forward into the vault door, vanishing into its metal mass. Dirty orange bolts danced across its surface, like the sparks that arc between two short-circuiting jumper cables. The door glowed red, then orange, then yellow, then finally a blinding white as the burnt babies wrought their wrath upon it. Eyesore and Earache gazed lovingly at the handiwork of their dark god's charred children. They stood heedless of the heat as the metal began to sag, then drip. As the weakening door finally lurched free of its frame, collapsing into a pile of seething slag, they raised their arms and voices in praise to the god of devouring flames. With fingers of liquid fire, the Pyre Children swept the remains of their handiwork aside, clearing a path for their father's followers. The brothers stepped between the piles of wreckage, waded through the air that now wavered like water in the heat, and relished the scalding purity of the searing air as it raised blisters on their sweating, reddened flesh. Then, as one, they knelt before their god, now freed from the prison of the blasphemers.</p> <p>It sat there on its earthen throne, a titan of glazed and hardened clay, fired by the heat of Gehenna itself. A humanoid figure, boxy chest and tubular arms etched with intricate designs. Two great wings, rising behind it like a painter's halo. And the head of a bull, blank eyes wide, dark mouth gaping. Its arms were spread, palms turned outwards, ready to receive its sacrifice. The glow from the cooling slag cast an immense shadow on the wall behind it, one that seemed to grow larger every time the Brothers of the Brazen Heart cried its name.</p> <p>"<a href="/scp-089">Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!</a>"</p> <p>Deep inside the furnace of the statue's chest, a fire was kindled. A voice like the far-off rumble of thunder rolled in its smokestack throat, rolled like cruel laughter. Now the Horned King Crowned in Shame would feast on the flesh of the faithful, feast as he had not since the blasphemers raided <a href="/scp-2427">Hemlock Attic</a> and stole this earthen vessel away from his followers. Not since…</p> <hr/> <h3 id="toc3"><span>1870</span></h3> <p>The only sound in the valley was the slow, muted thump of hooves on dirt. Captain Jedediah Shaw of the American Secure Containment Initiative found the silence unnerving. A mining camp should not be quiet. Then Sky Valley came into view, and it all became very clear.</p> <p>The mining camp was gone. Not vanished; destroyed. The ramshackle buildings had all been toppled or smashed. Some bore scorch marks, though the flames had long gone out. And even from the pass he could see the red splotches on the dusty ground, and the buzzards that huddled around them.</p> <p>Clarence "The Kid" Dawson rode up beside his captain and halted. "Guess we're too late," he observed, uselessly. He was in the habit of uselessness.</p> <p>Shaw didn't reply. He just drew a pistol and spurred his horse on down the mountain. His three troops followed. After Dawson came miss Liz Green, the squad's medic. Before the ASCI employed her, she'd been either a traveling frontier doctor or a livestock veterinarian, depending on who asked. The rear was brought up by Amos Bridge, a bulky frontiersman who'd first crossed the Mississippi during the Gold Rush. He didn't talk too much about his past - or anything, really - but he was a crack shot with his old hunting rifle, and that was all Shaw needed to know.</p> <p>The sorry state of the camp wasn't unexpected. Shaw's band was only here because the first group to arrive had called for backup, saying something about a "<a href="/scp-7587">were-odactyl</a>". It had been over a week since then, without a single update. There were plenty of reasonable explanations for the lack of communication, but the American Secure Containment Initiative didn't deal in the reasonable.</p> <p>Case in point: amongst all the burned and bloody wreckage of the camp, there was not a single body. Even the buzzards looked confused.</p> <p>"There's no bodies," Dawson said, in case anyone had forgotten to pack their eyes.</p> <p>"Not yet," Amos said, grimly. Dawson looked nervously at him, unsure if that was a warning or threat, and decided to shut up just in case.</p> <p>"Alright, folks," Shaw said, pulling his steed to a halt. "Spread out. See what you can find."</p> <p>Wordlessly, the team followed suit. The camp was small; counting the miners and whoever else they'd dragged up here, it might've housed fifty at most. Almost all of the buildings had been ramshackle houses; with a population that small, there wouldn't have been much point in setting up a proper saloon or general store.</p> <p>The search didn't take long. When the team regrouped beside their horses, each member had a new observation to share.</p> <p>"There's bullet holes in some o' the boards," Shaw said. "Our guys, and probably some o' the locals, put up a fight against whatever it was."</p> <p>"Ain't no footprints," Amos grunted. To clarify, he pointed at the trail leading back up the mountain. The only tracks on it were their horses'.</p> <p>"But there is a blood trail," Liz added. And so there was; a wide line of countless irregular splotches and splashes, tracing its way up the mountainside toward the mine. "Looks like it fell from pretty high."</p> <p>Shaw looked up at the mine's gaping, darkened maw. So that's where the were-odactyls had gone. The bodies, too.</p> <p>The others looked over at Dawson, but he seemed more interested in tracing dirt circles with his boot. Useless.</p> <p>"Well," Shaw said, unhappily, "I reckon we better get up there."</p> <p>"In the mine?" Liz asked, grimacing. "We'll go deaf, shootin' in there."</p> <p>"Stuff yer ears, then. There ain't no space to fly in there, if they even can while the sun's up. Best hit 'em now, while they're boxed in."</p> <p>Five minutes later, the four of them dismounted outside the mine. Taking Shaw's suggestion, Liz had fixed up some impromptu earplugs for the group. Shaw refused his; their guns couldn't do anything to his ears that the ones at Gettysburg hadn't already.</p> <p>Under normal circumstances, Amos would've taken the lead. His beady eyes were the sharpest and, somehow, his massive feet were the quietest. Underground, though, both sight and stealth would be limited by lantern light. Shaw went first instead, hoping his lightning reflexes would be enough to put some silver through anything that jumped out. Amos and Liz came behind, rifle and shotgun ready to perforate anything that Shaw missed. Dawson brought up the rear, for his own protection as much as anybody else's, and held the lantern. The kid protested - he wanted to be up front, where the action was - and Shaw credited him for bravery if nothing else.</p> <p>They had just begun their descent when Dawson spoke up.</p> <p>"Something's not right here," he said, contemplatively.</p> <p>"No shit?" Shaw snapped. He'd just about had enough of Captain Obvious back there.</p> <p>"The rocks are too old."</p> <p>That was a weird thing to say, even for Dawson. Shaw didn't turn around - that would've put his back to the dark and whatever might be in it - but he did bring the group to a stop.</p> <p>"What?"</p> <p>"These rocks," Dawson continued, "they're from the Cambrian Period."</p> <p>"English, son."</p> <p>"They're 500 million years old!" he said, with mixed wonder and impatience. "But pterodactyls, those only came around maybe 200 million years ago."</p> <p>"So?"</p> <p>"So there shouldn't <em>be</em> any in these rocks, live, dead, <em>or</em> fossilized! I don't see how the miners could've found one. That'd be like finding a <a href="/scp-4003">human fossil next to a dinosaur</a>."</p> <p>"Huh," Liz said, perplexed.</p> <p>"Cave," Amos answered, simply.</p> <p>"What?" Dawson asked.</p> <p>"Cave. Dinosaur went in. Roof collapsed. Got buried."</p> <p>"Maybe," Dawson admitted, uncertainly. "Or a burrow, or something."</p> <p>Shaw sighed. "Is anything you just said gonna make them things easier to shoot?"</p> <p>"Um. No?"</p> <p>"Then you shouldn't a' said it. Now keep yer trap shut, we don't want the damn things hearin' us."</p> <p>"Yes sir," he grumbled. Still, he continued to silently wonder what must've happened there back in…</p> <hr/> <h3 id="toc4"><span>The Late Cretaceous</span></h3> <p>Secure Compound-14 had fallen. The exact chain of events that led to the breach was not clear, and probably never would be, at least not to Scholar Ghost Sound of Glittering Falls, not if the sounds in the hallway were any indication. Sounds like the thunder of lead-launchers, the pained screams of the dying, and the monstrous roars of something very large and very angry. Ghost Sound knew the procedure was to wait for security escort, but the panic gnawing at her heart insisted that she should just run for it now, in case the monster got to her before security did.</p> <p>Fortunately, it didn't come to that. The door to her laboratory swung forcefully open, revealing a security guard wrapped in blood-splattered pseudo-shell. It'd be of little use against an escaped Artefact, of course, but it still made her feel just a little bit safer as he squawked at her to move. Bundling her research notes in her claws, Ghost Sound scampered off down the hall, letting the watchful guard keep himself between her and the breaching Artefact.</p> <p>The halls of Compound-14 were in pandemonium. Scholars sprinted away from the danger, and soldiers ran towards it. Dropped objects scattered underfoot, and she tried not to look as people stepped over or on the occasional fragmented corpse. If she made it out of this, it would take forever to scrub the gore from her talons.</p> <p>Another roar sounded, so loud and close that Ghost Sound's eardrums crackled. Several voices screeched briefly in pain but were cut off by wet crunching sounds. Without thinking, Ghost Sound shed the extra weight of her notes and put on more speed than she'd thought was possible. By the sound of it, she was almost outpacing the guard.</p> <p>Also by the sound of it, neither one of them was moving fast enough. Great, thudding footsteps pounded down the hall, joined by a deep, thunderous growl.</p> <p>Ghost Sound rounded a corner, and the security wheel-wall came into sight. If she could get to the other side before it sealed, she might just make it out of this alive.</p> <p>As if in cruel response, the wall began rolling into place, to seal the facility shut. An automated voice started counting down to the sunfire failsafe's detonation. Screaming with desperation and terror, Ghost Sound stretched her neck as far forward as she could, leveling her head with her tail and holding her arms flat to her sides for maximum aerodynamics. As the wind whistled through her feathers, it felt like she just might make it.</p> <p>Then her talon snagged on something, and all hope of escape evaporated. The wall wheeled shut just as her tumbling body struck it.</p> <p>The guard skidded to a stop. Then, with a resolute sigh, he turned to face the monster. It was something like an immense crocodylomorph, with a long, powerful jaw full of jagged, sharp teeth and a thick hide studded with armor plates and seeping bullet wounds. It stalked forward on six squat but powerful legs, spread somewhere between a lizard's wide gait and the upright joints of a quadrupedal dinosaur. A thick, spike-studded tail dragged the ground behind it, leaving a trail of sizzling acid and sloughed skin. Five compound eyes perched on blunt, twitching stalks, each black facet glinting with malice.</p> <p>Screeching defiantly (or maybe just desperately), the guard opened fire. The lead projectiles ripped into the thing's seething flesh, but the beast didn't seem to notice. Faster than the eye could follow, it lunged. There was a sickening crunch. It thrashed the body back and forth once, then tossed it aside. Then it stalked towards Ghost Sound. She opened her beak to beg for mercy, or cry for help, or pray to the Iron God, or maybe just to scream, but she couldn't find the breath to do any of that. Then the beast lashed out with a cruelly clawed foot, and she couldn't do anything at all.</p> <p>Loudly, it spat a glob of blood and flesh onto the concrete floor. Quietly, it muttered a word that no one else could hear.</p> <p>"…<em>disgusting</em>…"</p> <p>And with that, the compound was engulfed in a ball of atomic fire.</p> <hr/> <h3 id="toc5"><span>2010</span></h3> <p>The beast survived the bomb, of course, just as it later survived the structural collapse of Secure Compound-14, the airstrikes that followed, and everything else the hapless <a href="/scp-6980">feathered bipeds</a> could throw at it. They knew they could not kill or contain it, but that had never stopped them from trying. It never stopped anyone. Not the ethereal children of the stars that bound it with a thousand hexes. Not the hairy ones had who had trapped it in a <a href="/scp-2932">vast prison of living wood</a>, grown from the plucked-out heart of an ancient goddess. And certainly not the smooth ones, those hideous naked mammals that called themselves humans. At their hands, it had been <a href="/scp-557">chained in crumbling towers</a>, <a href="/scp-5689">caged in secret basements</a>, banished to a dozen different dimensions, pitted against warriors, monsters, machines, and other beasts of bygone eras, and subjected to every other indignation imaginable.</p> <p>And now the time had come again. <a href="/scp-682">SCP-682</a> seethed in its acid tank, unstable bulk shifting slightly as the transport truck trundled up the mountainside. It didn't know what torment the Foundation would subject it to this time, nor did it really care. The end would be the same, as it always is. Life would go on, and so would the lizard. But, as it sat there in its acid vat, ever dissolving and reforming, it felt a twinge of the familiar. With senses unguessed at by humans, it peered beyond the acid, beyond the plated steel of its transport truck, beyond the rumble of the road and the moaning of the wind, beyond a hundred million years of tectonic upheaval and slow, steady erosion, and saw that it had been here before, buried beneath these blood-cursed rocks by the feathered ones. It made something like a sigh, or perhaps a low, gurgling growl, and to itself it thought…</p> <p><em>Some things never change.</em></p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-curse-of-mount-abraxas">The Curse of Mount Abraxas</a>" by Kothardarastrix, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-curse-of-mount-abraxas">https://scpwiki.com/the-curse-of-mount-abraxas</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	===== [[include <a href="/component:preview">component:preview</a> text= Many things are buried here. ]] ===== [[module CSS]] .imagediv { float: right; margin: 15px} @media (max-width: 540px) { .imagediv { float: none; text-align:center; margin: auto; } } div#header h1 a span { font-size: 0px; } div#header h1 a:before { content: "Area-14"; color: #eee; } div#header h2 span { font-size:0px; padding: 4px; } div#header h2:after { content: "In the Mouth of Madness"; font-weight: bold; color: #f0f0c0; padding: 19px 0; text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px rgba(0, 0, 0, .8); white-space: pre; } #header { background-image: url(https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/jerden-insignia/Area-14.png); background-size: 90px; } [[/module]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[div style="text-align: right; margin-right: 2em; margin-top: -20px;"]] by [[[Koths Korner\| Kothardarastrix]]] [[/div]] +++ 2014 At 3:00 AM Arabia Standard Time, August 3rd, the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant has invaded the city of Sinjar and set about massacring its populace. On the other side of the world, where it is 5:00 PM Pacific Standard Time on August 2nd, [[[SCP-2068]]] feels every bit of it. And it does its very best to make everyone else at [[[secure-facility-dossier-area-14 \|Armed Bio-Containment Area-14]]] feel it too. The first indication of a problem is the siren. Not the breach siren, but the WWII-era British air raid siren that suddenly begins to blare from every single speaker in the whole facility, accompanied by the heavy blues of Tony Iommi's guitar. By the time those assigned to SCP-2068 recognize it as "[https://youtu.be/LQUXuQ6Zd9w?si=DEP34PwRP43JUQKT War Pigs]," it's already too late. "//Generals gathered in their masses..//" Ozzy wails. A gas explosion rips through SCP-2068's containment chamber, shredding the vault door like paper but leaving the indestructible pump untouched. "//...just like witches at black masses.//" Thick tar clogs the drains. Oil begins to pool. "//Evil minds that plot destruction...//" A wave of oil surges from the breached chamber. It catches fire. "//...sorcerer of death's construction.//" Clouds of thick, black smoke roil through the heavy containment section. The security system detects the breach and, just as it was programmed, seals shut. Two hundred people, mere minutes from signing off for the day, are trapped inside. "//In the fields the bodies burning...//" Sprinklers erupt, but water is nothing to an oil fire. Unburned droplets worm their way into the lungs of those caught in the choking smoke. In a few agonizing seconds, their blood is transmuted to yet more oil. "//...as the war machine keeps turning.//" Then it ignites. "//Death and hatred to mankind...//" A few dozen people escape the smoke by scrambling into hazmat suits, but those are little help against the ever-expanding lake of fire. Some slip on the slick and fall into the flames, where they died in a horrible lump of melting plastic. Others simply get turned around in the inky fog and wander the flooding corridors until the fire finds them, or the heat and exertion bring them down. One especially unfortunate bastard, a Junior Researcher known as [[[director-house-gets-whitewashed \|Rob Berr]]], gets dragged into the fire by some kind of [[[scp-6643 \|translucent orange tentacle]]]. "//...poisoning their brainwashed minds. Oh Lord yeah!//" And so, out of almost two hundred soldiers and scientists, only five have found safety in the section's central freezer. Its armored walls and doors are impervious to explosions, its separate air supply is free of smoke, and its negative temperature is, at least, more survivable than the scorching heat outside. But then again, the freezer is also filled to the brim with live samples of all the most horrible diseases known to man (and a few that aren't). [[[medical-seminar \|Dr. Christopher Zartion]]] is looking up at one of those samples now, tightly locked in a metal drawer. It's labeled "[[[SCP-016]]]," and Zartion's not sure if he wants to remember what that one does. "How long are we gonna be stuck in here?" someone asks, voice muffled by his suit. Zartion squints at him. It's hard to tell under the frosty hazmat suit, but he sounds like Researcher Lee Roy Carlson, the Director's worthless nepo baby. Of course he'd go asking a stupid question like that. No one knows they're in the freezer, and no one will as long as 2068 keeps overriding the airwaves with protest music. Even if someone does, it'll take hours to drain all the oil soaking the rest of the section, just to clear a path. It might take //days//. Maybe it's a good thing that so few people had made it into the freezer. It'll make their air last longer. Carlson sighs. "You know, when they told me this joint was cursed, I didn't believe it." "Well, that was your first mistake," Zartion snaps. "Don't you know how we got this place, back in-" ----- +++ 1979 The ogre grinned. With one fat hand, he used a rib to pick the shreds of an MTF uniform out of his teeth. They did not part when he spoke. "So," he growled, "you think the seventh time will be the charm?" Dr. Leonard Byrne of the Mythology and Folkloristics Department returned the ogre's grin. "Actually, I'd like to accept your challenge." The ogre chuckled. "That'll be more fun for me, but I hope you don't expect it to work any better than your delicious friends' bullets." The remains of said friends (well, coworkers) were strewn all across the rocky slope of Mount Abraxas. Here was an arm, there a leg, over that way a body that'd been squashed flat in a way that, going by the stains on the ogre's rear, had been quite demeaning. There weren't any heads left, though, because they'd all gone in the ogre's belly. The look in his piggy little eyes said he still wasn't full. "Well," Leonard said, "let's get on with it." The ogre's bloodstained teeth parted long enough to admit the rib, which disappeared with an unsettling crunch. He clapped his enormous hands, sending echoes all down into Sky Valley. Rubbing them deviously together, he posed his question. "How many men can I eat on an empty stomach?" Leonard knew the answer immediately, but he humored the brute by counting the various half-eaten bodies strewn across the mountainside. It would've been quite hard to estimate how many entire bodies could fit in the ogre's belly, especially if it was bigger on the inside, but that wasn't really the question. "One," Leonard said, confidently. "After that, your stomach's not empty anymore." The ogre's eyes widened in surprise. "My! You're cleverer than you seem." "I get that a lot." He chuckled. "So, you have won my little game. Your prize is your life. Don't waste it." With one bulging arm, the ogre gestured back down the road. "Actually," Leonard replied with a smirk, "now that my safety is secured, I've got a challenge for //you//." The ogre blinked. "A challenge?" "That's right! I've got some riddles of my own." Slowly, the ogre's surprised expression became crafty. "That wasn't the only one //I// had either." "Of course not." "And what, dear delicious doctor, will be the stakes of this rematch?" Casually, Leonard shrugged. "Simple. If I stump you, you'll become my prisoner, and I'll take your lair for my own." The ogre scowled. He didn't believe for a second he could be trounced at his own game, but this squishy little Irishman seemed to think so, and that irked him. "And if //you// are the one who's stumped, you'll be my supper. Feet first." Leonard looked down at his boots and wiggled the toes inside them. "Yeah, you're on." At that, the battle began. Thirty white horses on a red hill. A building where blind men learned to see. Nails in my belly, trees on my back. Seven sacks of seven cats. Man, with his varying number of legs. A box unwanted by its builder. Four wheels and flies. And so on, and so on. As the sun sank behind the Ruby Mountains, Leonard leaned back on his palms, legs outstretched before him. He'd removed his boots and was now idly wiggling his toes to taunt the hungry ogre. Unlike his opponent, the ogre was not calm. His fists - each larger than Leonard's head - kept clenching and unclenching in anticipation of the dismembering to come. That dismembering was seeming increasingly unlikely, though; by all accounts, the ogre had run out of riddles. He didn't know how anyone such a small fraction of his own age could've amassed such a vast storehouse of puns, puzzles, and perplexities, much less the quick wits to solve his own. "Stuck?" the insolent doctor taunted, still wearing that self-important smirk. "No," the ogre grumbled, clenching his mighty jaws so tightly in his frustration that little rivulets of blood began to well up between his teeth. "Just deciding which one to use." This was a bald-faced lie; the ogre had exhausted his whole repertoire. He kept running back over his many centuries of memories, hoping to remember some truly unsolvable conundrum that'd escaped him until now, but could draw only blanks. Leonard had even known the cheater-riddles that were only solvable in context, like the one about the bees in the lion skull and the other one with the witches and the horse and the raven and the soup and the robbers- Wait. Cheating. But how? He couldn't just pull any random question out of the blue. He'd let himself use the bees and the raven because those were at least well-known, but he couldn't just make up something that was literally //unsolvable//. That'd be unfair, and he'd be forced to forfeit the game if Leonard called him out on it, which he surely would. Of course, he could pick something that //was// - theoretically - solvable from the present context. After all, the precedent of the game had been set by Samson and the fellow with the poisoned soup. Surely such a master of riddles as Leonard couldn't argue with Samson. Or, in this case, with Rumplestiltskin. Slowly, the ogre's scowl twisted back into a confident smile. "Here," he boomed, "is my riddle: //What is my name?//" Much to the ogre's delight, Leonard seemed surprised. "Hey, that's-" "Nuh uh," the ogre said, wiggling a thick finger, "Rumplestiltskin." Leonard scowled. He was right. The precedent was there. The ogre smugly crossed his tree-trunk arms. Suppertime. Name, name, name...well, the ogre's accent was clearly French, but that didn't rule out nonsensical fantasy-creature names like "Rumplestilkskin." Maybe there'd been clues? Leonard thought over the answers to the previous riddles. Maybe they formed an acrostic? Maybe an anagram of one? No, that didn't make sense. The ogre had clearly come up with this on the fly, he couldn't have planned that. And why would he? Leonard eyed the brute's scarred skin. Maybe there was a brand or a tattoo hidden somewhere among the scars, burns, and broken-off sword blades? None presented itself, though. Even if there was something there, it was surely hidden by the patchwork of rags (mostly shredded ASCI uniforms, with some animal pelts mixed in) that the ogre had covered himself with. Leonard doubted the ogre would give him a chance to check for branded buttocks. He scanned the nearby slopes, looking for helpful little animals that might've overheard the ogre's name, but there didn't seem to be much wildlife to go around up on the bare, rocky slope. With a creeping horror, Leonard realized that he might just be forced to make a flat guess. Those were horrible, horrible odds. He could try to run, he supposed, but that'd be a forfeit, and he didn't think he'd be outrunning the ogre's thickly muscled legs today. Angrily, Leonard climbed to his bare feet and began to pace. He had to think of something. Anything. Maybe the name was a pun. A play on words. A rhyme. It wasn't uncommon for fairy tale creatures to have descriptive names. The Big Bad Ogre? Jolly-Jaws-Jack (well, Jacque)? Bigtooth Baptiste? Ravenous, Riddling, Repugnant Roland? "Any guesses?" the ogre taunted, grinding his huge teeth from side to side in anticipation. Leonard, for the first time, was now seriously considering the possibility that those ivory slabs might be the last thing he ever saw. While staring into the maw of his impending demise, Leonard realized that, during the entire time they'd been talking, the ogre had only parted his bone-crunching jaws once. That was odd. Come to think of it, that was the only thing about this riddling ogre that distinguished him from any other storybook threshold-guarding giant. Interesting. "Can I have a hint?" he asked. The ogre chortled in response, longer and louder than was really necessary. When the echoes of his great guffaws had finally run off down the mountainside, he treated Leonard to a flat, snappy "no". "Well, that seems a little unfair, don't you think?" "I told you, Rumple-" "No, not that." Leonard gestured at the mangled remains of the Task Force, which by now had attracted quite a lot of flies. "These men here, did they even try to answer your first riddle?" The ogre snorted derisively. "As a matter of fact, they did not. I found it rather rude, to tell the truth." "Perhaps. But consider this: those men didn't use their guesses." "What?" "Well, I'm just thinking that since you ate these fellows before they tried to answer, that's a little unfair." "They attacked me!" "Oh, come now, you weren't in danger. That sword there has been in your skin since...what, the twelfth century?" "Thirteenth," he muttered, adjusting his tunic of stitched-together ASCI uniforms to cover the rusted blade. "Regardless, my point still stands. You denied these gentlemen their guesses earlier, and I think that, as a friend of theirs, I should be entitled to those guesses as compensation for your bad manners." "Bad manners!?" he shouted. "That's what I said. You've been a very ungracious host." "Why, I never!" Leonard shook his head in disappointment. "Yes, yes, very unbecoming behavior. Recompense is certainly in order." "No!" the ogre cried, stomping his strangely dainty feet in childish frustration. "Absolutely not! No more guesses! That's not how the game works!" Leonard rolled his eyes and threw up his hands in mock surrender. "Fine, fine. I'll settle for a compromise." "Compromise?" he replied, raising one bushy eyebrow. "Yes. Instead of extra guesses, I'll take extra questions." "Huh?" "Have you ever heard of a game called twenty questions?" "Twenty?! I only killed six!" "Of course, of course. I would never ask more than that. And, in fact, that is what I ask: six questions, from me to you, answered truthfully." "Hmm..." thoughtfully, he stroked his chin. "Don't think I don't know what you're up to. You can't just ask me what my name is." "Of course not! That'd be ridiculous." "Humph. Fine." For emphasis, the ogre held up six of his sausage-like fingers. "Excellent! Now, where to begin...ah! First question: where are you from?" "Portugal." That seemed unlikely. "How did you get to America?" "Jumped." "What?" Leonard blurted. Gleefully, the ogre lowered another finger. Leonard kicked himself. "I jumped. With a running start, of course." "Of course." Leonard made sure to think carefully this time, lest he waste another question. The ogre was obviously lying to him. The mockery was rather insulting, but it might be the opening Leonard needed. "Why are you lying to me?" The ogre chuckled softly. "I only lie when it's through my teeth! Hahahaha!" Leonard could tell from the ogre's delivery that he'd been waiting to use that line for a long time. He tried not to show it, but Leonard was almost as happy about it as the ogre. This was the key to the whole thing. The fairy-tale creature's fairy-tale weakness. "Alright, next-to-last question: aren't you getting hungry?" The ogre tilted his pointed head. "What?" "Well, we've been up here all evening. I wondered if you might be feeling a bit peckish. It's been quite a while since you ate my friends' heads, after all, and I doubt that their brains were very nutritious." "I'm fine," the ogre claimed. A monstrous growl from his stomach disagreed. "I won't mind if you have a snack." "I'm going to eat you, if you ever stop talking!" "Ha! That could be quite a while yet. I'm not done thinking." "Hey, that's stalling!" "I don't remember agreeing to any time limits, do you?" The ogre grumbled under his breath, but he let it slide. "Oh, that reminds me," Leonard said, suddenly patting his jacket pocket. "I think I might have an extra sandwich." "I don't want it." Once again, the ogre's stomach betrayed him. "It's peanut butter." "I don't //like// peanut butter." "Suit yourself." Leonard reached into his pocket and produced what was indeed a peanut butter sandwich, wrapped in wax paper. He made sure to eat it as slowly as possible. "Mmm," he said, patting his belly. "I love me some peanut butter." The ogre placed a hand over his stomach, but it wasn't enough to muffle the rumbling. He must have been lying about not liking peanut butter, too. "Say, can I-" "Hmm?" Leonard said, stuffing the last bit of sandwich into his mouth. "Oh...never mind." Frustrated, the ogre reached down and grabbed the nearest body. With a sickening pop, he wrenched off one of its arms and stuffed it into his guillotine of a mouth. He started chewing, and Leonard saw his chance. "Last question!" he said, quickly. "What's your name?" "[[[scp-082 \|Fernand]]]," said Fernand, still chewing. Fernand immediately clamped both meaty hands over his mouth, but the secret had already escaped. "Aha!" cried Leonard, triumphantly. "And now, foul ogre, I name thee //Fernand//!" "ARGH!" he roared, spewing chewed-up meat and bone shards as he talked, "THAT'S CHEATING! You said you wouldn't ask my name!" "And //you// said you'd answer truthfully," Leonard argued, pointing one accusing finger. "Did you really expect me to believe that you jumped here from Portugal? You cheated, so I cheated, and that made us even. Then I answered your riddle correctly and won the game." "No, that's...that isn't...NO! GRAH! ARGH!" Still howling in impotent rage, the ogre kicked the nearest corpse and sent it bouncing down the mountain. It rolled right past Leonard, but he wasn't worried. Now that he'd been beaten fair and square, Fernand could no more hurt him than a vampire could enter a house uninvited. He still waited for Fernand to finish his little tantrum, though. It would've been rude to interrupt. "So," Leonard said, stepping boldly toward the blood-soaked, out-of-breath ogre. "Why don't you take me on a tour of my new lair?" Fernand grumbled all the way, but he complied. The facility's entrance was a yawning, suspiciously rectangular hole in the mountainside. A rusted metal door still hung open and crooked in the cracked concrete frame. The Foundation didn't know much about this place, not yet, but they knew it had once belonged to the American Secure Containment Initiative. If their intel was accurate, it had been abandoned sometime around... ----- +++ 1931 "Repugnant," snarled Brother Eyesore, sneering at the writhing, incapacitated guards and scientists. Two dozen of them lay sprawled along the length of the hallway, crying like wild animals in an indescribable, inexpressible mixture of pain, pleasure, hunger, exhaustion, and every other sensation the human soul tries to deny to its body. The transparent form of the Debaucherer floated among their convulsing forms, caressing sweat-soaked faces and gnashing teeth with its vaporous feet and the tips of its frayed, diaphanous wings. Its nebulous body blurred as it moved; sometimes she took the well-defined form of a voluptuous maiden, and sometimes she was a hazy, hunched hag. All the while, the noxious perfumes and demonic pheromones that comprised her shape - and that had plunged her lecherous victims into such agonizing ecstasy - slowly shifted through shades of bruise blue, urine yellow, and gastric green. The bronze hexagram around Eyesore's neck sizzled with infernal energy, growing hot against the thick leather of his tunic. The Debaucherer was straining against its magic, empowered by the squeals of its victims. If this lechery was allowed to persist, it might break free of the binding. With open glee and hidden disappointment, Eyesore raised his right arm. A serpentine symbiont slithered down it, extending its head just past his wrist and unleashing a spray of venom that combusted in mid-air and fell upon on the helpless forms spread out before him. They did not seem to notice, for even the pain of burning alive was far less than what the Debaucherer had given them, but it burned them all the same. Disappointed, the dejected Debaucherer faded away, its demonic essence returning to the hexagram until it was called upon again. Heedless of the burning bodies and their heat, Brother Eyesore continued on towards his true goal. The halls of the American Secure Containment Initiative's underground base were dark with blood and scorch marks. Bodies lay everywhere. Most were on fire, though several seemed to have had their heads bitten off by something, doubtless one of the abominations that the ASCI had - until recently - kept locked up down here. There had been many such monsters, and releasing them to rampage through these subterranean halls had been one of the earliest steps of the plan. And now, Brother Eyesore had reached one of the last. At the door to the final containment chamber, sequestered in the deepest recess of the mountain, Eyesore was met by Brother Earache. He was dressed the same as Eyesore, in thick, brown leather. Heavy boots and fat-fingered gloves protruded from under a thick coat. Its hood rose over his head, surrounding a mask of dull metal and blackened glass. The garb of the faithful was hot and heavy, but they relished it. "Where is Brother Tonguetwist?" Earache asked. "He is dead," Eyesore grunted. "A bullet shattered his hexagram, and the Slaughtering Perseverance broke free." Earache laughed. "Then it shall slaughter these infidels forevermore. Now, let us assure that our brother will not have died in vain." He turned then to the immense vault door and raised his gloved hands in a dramatic gesture. Nine times, the hexagram about his neck flashed with coppery sparks. Nine spheres of crackling orange plasma appeared above him, moving in a slow circle like tiny electric planets. And at the center of each, dark against the bright ball lighting, floated the carbonized skeleton of a newborn infant, curled up as if still in its mother's womb, as if it had not been willingly released from her maternal embrace and passed through the flames to the loveless god of the brazen bull. "Burn, my Pyre Children!" Earache cried. "Burn, melt, consume!" Heeding their summoner's commands, the fetal flames shot forward into the vault door, vanishing into its metal mass. Dirty orange bolts danced across its surface, like the sparks that arc between two short-circuiting jumper cables. The door glowed red, then orange, then yellow, then finally a blinding white as the burnt babies wrought their wrath upon it. Eyesore and Earache gazed lovingly at the handiwork of their dark god's charred children. They stood heedless of the heat as the metal began to sag, then drip. As the weakening door finally lurched free of its frame, collapsing into a pile of seething slag, they raised their arms and voices in praise to the god of devouring flames. With fingers of liquid fire, the Pyre Children swept the remains of their handiwork aside, clearing a path for their father's followers. The brothers stepped between the piles of wreckage, waded through the air that now wavered like water in the heat, and relished the scalding purity of the searing air as it raised blisters on their sweating, reddened flesh. Then, as one, they knelt before their god, now freed from the prison of the blasphemers. It sat there on its earthen throne, a titan of glazed and hardened clay, fired by the heat of Gehenna itself. A humanoid figure, boxy chest and tubular arms etched with intricate designs. Two great wings, rising behind it like a painter's halo. And the head of a bull, blank eyes wide, dark mouth gaping. Its arms were spread, palms turned outwards, ready to receive its sacrifice. The glow from the cooling slag cast an immense shadow on the wall behind it, one that seemed to grow larger every time the Brothers of the Brazen Heart cried its name. "[[[scp-089 \|Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!]]]" Deep inside the furnace of the statue's chest, a fire was kindled. A voice like the far-off rumble of thunder rolled in its smokestack throat, rolled like cruel laughter. Now the Horned King Crowned in Shame would feast on the flesh of the faithful, feast as he had not since the blasphemers raided [[[scp-2427 \|Hemlock Attic]]] and stole this earthen vessel away from his followers. Not since... ----- +++ 1870 The only sound in the valley was the slow, muted thump of hooves on dirt. Captain Jedediah Shaw of the American Secure Containment Initiative found the silence unnerving. A mining camp should not be quiet. Then Sky Valley came into view, and it all became very clear. The mining camp was gone. Not vanished; destroyed. The ramshackle buildings had all been toppled or smashed. Some bore scorch marks, though the flames had long gone out. And even from the pass he could see the red splotches on the dusty ground, and the buzzards that huddled around them. Clarence "The Kid" Dawson rode up beside his captain and halted. "Guess we're too late," he observed, uselessly. He was in the habit of uselessness. Shaw didn't reply. He just drew a pistol and spurred his horse on down the mountain. His three troops followed. After Dawson came miss Liz Green, the squad's medic. Before the ASCI employed her, she'd been either a traveling frontier doctor or a livestock veterinarian, depending on who asked. The rear was brought up by Amos Bridge, a bulky frontiersman who'd first crossed the Mississippi during the Gold Rush. He didn't talk too much about his past - or anything, really - but he was a crack shot with his old hunting rifle, and that was all Shaw needed to know. The sorry state of the camp wasn't unexpected. Shaw's band was only here because the first group to arrive had called for backup, saying something about a "[[[scp-7587 \|were-odactyl]]]". It had been over a week since then, without a single update. There were plenty of reasonable explanations for the lack of communication, but the American Secure Containment Initiative didn't deal in the reasonable. Case in point: amongst all the burned and bloody wreckage of the camp, there was not a single body. Even the buzzards looked confused. "There's no bodies," Dawson said, in case anyone had forgotten to pack their eyes. "Not yet," Amos said, grimly. Dawson looked nervously at him, unsure if that was a warning or threat, and decided to shut up just in case. "Alright, folks," Shaw said, pulling his steed to a halt. "Spread out. See what you can find." Wordlessly, the team followed suit. The camp was small; counting the miners and whoever else they'd dragged up here, it might've housed fifty at most. Almost all of the buildings had been ramshackle houses; with a population that small, there wouldn't have been much point in setting up a proper saloon or general store. The search didn't take long. When the team regrouped beside their horses, each member had a new observation to share. "There's bullet holes in some o' the boards," Shaw said. "Our guys, and probably some o' the locals, put up a fight against whatever it was." "Ain't no footprints," Amos grunted. To clarify, he pointed at the trail leading back up the mountain. The only tracks on it were their horses'. "But there is a blood trail," Liz added. And so there was; a wide line of countless irregular splotches and splashes, tracing its way up the mountainside toward the mine. "Looks like it fell from pretty high." Shaw looked up at the mine's gaping, darkened maw. So that's where the were-odactyls had gone. The bodies, too. The others looked over at Dawson, but he seemed more interested in tracing dirt circles with his boot. Useless. "Well," Shaw said, unhappily, "I reckon we better get up there." "In the mine?" Liz asked, grimacing. "We'll go deaf, shootin' in there." "Stuff yer ears, then. There ain't no space to fly in there, if they even can while the sun's up. Best hit 'em now, while they're boxed in." Five minutes later, the four of them dismounted outside the mine. Taking Shaw's suggestion, Liz had fixed up some impromptu earplugs for the group. Shaw refused his; their guns couldn't do anything to his ears that the ones at Gettysburg hadn't already. Under normal circumstances, Amos would've taken the lead. His beady eyes were the sharpest and, somehow, his massive feet were the quietest. Underground, though, both sight and stealth would be limited by lantern light. Shaw went first instead, hoping his lightning reflexes would be enough to put some silver through anything that jumped out. Amos and Liz came behind, rifle and shotgun ready to perforate anything that Shaw missed. Dawson brought up the rear, for his own protection as much as anybody else's, and held the lantern. The kid protested - he wanted to be up front, where the action was - and Shaw credited him for bravery if nothing else. They had just begun their descent when Dawson spoke up. "Something's not right here," he said, contemplatively. "No shit?" Shaw snapped. He'd just about had enough of Captain Obvious back there. "The rocks are too old." That was a weird thing to say, even for Dawson. Shaw didn't turn around - that would've put his back to the dark and whatever might be in it - but he did bring the group to a stop. "What?" "These rocks," Dawson continued, "they're from the Cambrian Period." "English, son." "They're 500 million years old!" he said, with mixed wonder and impatience. "But pterodactyls, those only came around maybe 200 million years ago." "So?" "So there shouldn't //be// any in these rocks, live, dead, //or// fossilized! I don't see how the miners could've found one. That'd be like finding a [[[scp-4003 \|human fossil next to a dinosaur]]]." "Huh," Liz said, perplexed. "Cave," Amos answered, simply. "What?" Dawson asked. "Cave. Dinosaur went in. Roof collapsed. Got buried." "Maybe," Dawson admitted, uncertainly. "Or a burrow, or something." Shaw sighed. "Is anything you just said gonna make them things easier to shoot?" "Um. No?" "Then you shouldn't a' said it. Now keep yer trap shut, we don't want the damn things hearin' us." "Yes sir," he grumbled. Still, he continued to silently wonder what must've happened there back in... ----- +++ The Late Cretaceous Secure Compound-14 had fallen. The exact chain of events that led to the breach was not clear, and probably never would be, at least not to Scholar Ghost Sound of Glittering Falls, not if the sounds in the hallway were any indication. Sounds like the thunder of lead-launchers, the pained screams of the dying, and the monstrous roars of something very large and very angry. Ghost Sound knew the procedure was to wait for security escort, but the panic gnawing at her heart insisted that she should just run for it now, in case the monster got to her before security did. Fortunately, it didn't come to that. The door to her laboratory swung forcefully open, revealing a security guard wrapped in blood-splattered pseudo-shell. It'd be of little use against an escaped Artefact, of course, but it still made her feel just a little bit safer as he squawked at her to move. Bundling her research notes in her claws, Ghost Sound scampered off down the hall, letting the watchful guard keep himself between her and the breaching Artefact. The halls of Compound-14 were in pandemonium. Scholars sprinted away from the danger, and soldiers ran towards it. Dropped objects scattered underfoot, and she tried not to look as people stepped over or on the occasional fragmented corpse. If she made it out of this, it would take forever to scrub the gore from her talons. Another roar sounded, so loud and close that Ghost Sound's eardrums crackled. Several voices screeched briefly in pain but were cut off by wet crunching sounds. Without thinking, Ghost Sound shed the extra weight of her notes and put on more speed than she'd thought was possible. By the sound of it, she was almost outpacing the guard. Also by the sound of it, neither one of them was moving fast enough. Great, thudding footsteps pounded down the hall, joined by a deep, thunderous growl. Ghost Sound rounded a corner, and the security wheel-wall came into sight. If she could get to the other side before it sealed, she might just make it out of this alive. As if in cruel response, the wall began rolling into place, to seal the facility shut. An automated voice started counting down to the sunfire failsafe's detonation. Screaming with desperation and terror, Ghost Sound stretched her neck as far forward as she could, leveling her head with her tail and holding her arms flat to her sides for maximum aerodynamics. As the wind whistled through her feathers, it felt like she just might make it. Then her talon snagged on something, and all hope of escape evaporated. The wall wheeled shut just as her tumbling body struck it. The guard skidded to a stop. Then, with a resolute sigh, he turned to face the monster. It was something like an immense crocodylomorph, with a long, powerful jaw full of jagged, sharp teeth and a thick hide studded with armor plates and seeping bullet wounds. It stalked forward on six squat but powerful legs, spread somewhere between a lizard's wide gait and the upright joints of a quadrupedal dinosaur. A thick, spike-studded tail dragged the ground behind it, leaving a trail of sizzling acid and sloughed skin. Five compound eyes perched on blunt, twitching stalks, each black facet glinting with malice. Screeching defiantly (or maybe just desperately), the guard opened fire. The lead projectiles ripped into the thing's seething flesh, but the beast didn't seem to notice. Faster than the eye could follow, it lunged. There was a sickening crunch. It thrashed the body back and forth once, then tossed it aside. Then it stalked towards Ghost Sound. She opened her beak to beg for mercy, or cry for help, or pray to the Iron God, or maybe just to scream, but she couldn't find the breath to do any of that. Then the beast lashed out with a cruelly clawed foot, and she couldn't do anything at all. Loudly, it spat a glob of blood and flesh onto the concrete floor. Quietly, it muttered a word that no one else could hear. "...//disgusting//..." And with that, the compound was engulfed in a ball of atomic fire. ----- +++ 2010 The beast survived the bomb, of course, just as it later survived the structural collapse of Secure Compound-14, the airstrikes that followed, and everything else the hapless [[[SCP-6980 \|feathered bipeds]]] could throw at it. They knew they could not kill or contain it, but that had never stopped them from trying. It never stopped anyone. Not the ethereal children of the stars that bound it with a thousand hexes. Not the hairy ones had who had trapped it in a [[[scp-2932 \|vast prison of living wood]]], grown from the plucked-out heart of an ancient goddess. And certainly not the smooth ones, those hideous naked mammals that called themselves humans. At their hands, it had been [[[scp-557 \|chained in crumbling towers]]], [[[scp-5689 \|caged in secret basements]]], banished to a dozen different dimensions, pitted against warriors, monsters, machines, and other beasts of bygone eras, and subjected to every other indignation imaginable. And now the time had come again. [[[SCP-682]]] seethed in its acid tank, unstable bulk shifting slightly as the transport truck trundled up the mountainside. It didn't know what torment the Foundation would subject it to this time, nor did it really care. The end would be the same, as it always is. Life would go on, and so would the lizard. But, as it sat there in its acid vat, ever dissolving and reforming, it felt a twinge of the familiar. With senses unguessed at by humans, it peered beyond the acid, beyond the plated steel of its transport truck, beyond the rumble of the road and the moaning of the wind, beyond a hundred million years of tectonic upheaval and slow, steady erosion, and saw that it had been here before, buried beneath these blood-cursed rocks by the feathered ones. It made something like a sigh, or perhaps a low, gurgling growl, and to itself it thought... //Some things never change.// [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-09-08T06:42:00	[ "_licensebox", "action", "folklore-dept", "hard-to-destroy-reptile", "period-piece", "tale", "western" ]	The Curse of Mount Abraxas - SCP Foundation	13	[ "koths-korner", "scp-2068", "secure-facility-dossier-area-14", "director-house-gets-whitewashed", "scp-6643", "medical-seminar", "scp-016", "scp-082", "scp-089", "scp-2427", "scp-7587", "scp-4003", "scp-6980", "scp-2932", "scp-557", "scp-5689", "scp-682", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "curated-tale-series" ]	[]	1456704094	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-curse-of-mount-abraxas
the-dangers-of-dating-a-tyrannical-god	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="authorlink-wrapper"><a href="javascript:;">SYTYCFanon</a> <div class="authorbox"> <div class="authorcontent"> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/sytycfanon">More by this author</a></strong></p> </div> </div> </div> </div> <p>“Hey, Astro!” Felix shook his compatriot awake. “You need to see this!” He couldn’t look into his partner’s eyes due to his helmet but imagined they were groggy as he stumbled up into the basket of their ship.</p> <p>“Did we make it?” The galaxy-trotting hero known as the Astroneer said in a lower register than his usual proud exclamations.</p> <p>“Y-yeah, these are the coordinates of that planet-killer we were given.”</p> <p>The Astroneer surveyed their surroundings, they had arrived in a landing bay of some sort.</p> <p>“You managed to battle your way inside of the ship? Good going, Felix!” He patted Felix on the shoulder. “I’m sure it was a mighty battle, wish I wasn’t such a hard sleeper.”</p> <p>“A-actually Astro, the ship opened its docking bay for us. The shape is certainly peculiar.” Felix pressed a spot in the thin air in front of them, activating their Hot Air Balloon’s holographic interfaces. Felix proceeded to open up the scans he took of the ship they’d entered. The general shape of the ship resembled an old earth Zeppelin.</p> <p>“It’s strangely similar to your crush’s ship.”</p> <p>“But it’s not hers?” The Astroneer said dejectedly.</p> <p>“Well you wouldn’t want your future girlfriend to be a planet-killer would you?” Felix laughed.</p> <p>“I mean… that would be cool, all the deaths aside.”</p> <p>Felix sighed. “Never change, Astro. Anyways, should we get a move on? I don’t want to die before we disembark.”</p> <p>“Agreed! Onwards to adventure!” The Astroneer hopped out of the basket with Felix in tow as the two headed towards the large doors at the end of the bay.</p> <p>To their surprise, the doors opened, which revealed a feminine figure in a purple astronaut suit.</p> <p>The Astroneer’s knees immediately began to buckle and his HUD began flashing a high blood pressure and heart rate warning. Felix looked nervously at his companion and wondered if he’d need to prepare a few stims from his satchel.</p> <p>Putting aside his nervousness, the Astroneer ran a quick scan of the figure in front of them. His suit’s AI was able to deduce that this wasn’t the being's true form, but rather one it took based on his desires.</p> <p>“Welcome. You must be the hero I’ve read so much about. You are the Astroneer, yes? All of you Mortals tend to look alike; although, you have better eyebrows.” Her voice echoed from her foreboding helmet through which light couldn't penetrate.</p> <p>“I am the Astroneer, you fou—, uhhh, less than savory villain.” The Astroneer’s proud voice buckled slightly under the weight of his chronic fear of women. He couldn’t even bring himself to insult someone responsible for the deaths of billions because her outfit was one of the sexiest things he’d seen.</p> <p>“That means you must be Felix. I’ve read many of your stories and I have to say I’m a fan. It’s the whole reason I invited you here.”</p> <p>“Invited? My lady, you must be mistaken! Me and my trusty sidekick accepted a quest to vanquish the evil responsible for the destruction of Minos IV. We would never willingly walk into such a trap!”</p> <p>“Except, I was the one who put that request on the bounty board. That planet was chosen based on its proximity to where you operate.”</p> <p>“And who are you to judge a whole species? What gives you the right?” The Astroneer asked.</p> <p>“Call me the Judge, it's the closest approximation of my name in your language. Follow me and all will be explained.”</p> <p>She turned and walked away from the pair who paused and then followed suit.</p> <p>“So… what are you exactly?” The Astroneer asked.</p> <p>“I’m a weapon.” The Judge said matter of factly as the next set of doors opened into the cockpit. “Brought to life from forces beyond this universe by sorcery bound in a number most thought to only be a myth.”</p> <p>With a snap of the Judge’s fingers, both Felix and the Astroneer felt their stomachs lurch. Astroneer didnt need his HUD warning him of sudden hume fluctuation to know that reality had shifted. But where had she taken them?</p> <p>The shudders to the windows then opened. Felix gasped as he saw the planetary remains of Minos floating before them.</p> <p>“My purpose is to judge the species of this wretched universe to see if any of them are worthy of preservation. My creator's presence would destabilize this universe, trillions upon trillions won’t survive their arrival. So I am to trim the herd looking for ones free of the capabilty for cruelty.”</p> <p>“And the Minoans? Why did they deserve to have their story cut short?” Felix gulped.</p> <p>“I brought one of them before me to plead for their species survival but I found their reasoning to be inadequate.” The Judge turned to look back at them.</p> <p>“The Minoans ritually sacrificed their people. Any species capable of such atrocity doesn’t deserve a chance to be with us.”</p> <p>“B-but the victims themselves? Surely they…” The Astroneer pulled up the population numbers of Minos IV onto his HUD and clenched his fist.</p> <p>“It is regrettable. However, their species showed a penchant for depravity. It wasn’t the only heinous act committed by their people. I didn’t find them worth redemption.”</p> <p>“So who would you have me judge? You’ve come to put my world on trial? I doubt you could find it, not even Felix has seen it.”</p> <p>“True. That is why…” The Judge snapped her fingers and reality shifted once more.<br/> They now now found themselves in the orbit of a planet adorned with bright blue seas.</p> <p>“No… you monster!” Felix drew his laser pistol.</p> <p>“-If you're the hero that I’ve read so much about then you should have no problem convincing me why I shouldn’t annihilate Homo sapiens from this galaxy.”</p> <p>“Words aren't gonna get us anywhere Astro! My momdo's down there.” Felix usually never advocated for the violent way out but his gut told him the Judge could not be trusted. He drew his weapon and fired a bolt at their adversary.</p> <p>The Judge didn't even flinch as she scattered the photons comprising the bolt into a bright red harmless flash. She made a slight movement with her fingers which transmuted and reassembled the weapon into a pen and paper.</p> <p>“I'll ignore that little provocation because I enjoy your stories, Felix. I'll want you to keep a record of this, it's the least I can do if I end up eradicating your species. Now I'll ask one more time.”</p> <p>“I accept your challenge.” The Astroneer proclaimed.</p> <p>“Astro… I hope you know what you're doing…”</p> <p>“Now, Astroneer. To start, you must answer for the atrocities perpetrated by your so-called friends, the SCP—.”</p> <p>The Astroneer took a deep breath and thought, <em>She’s the enemy, even though she resembles her. Keep your cool and show her there's more to the course she’s on now.</em></p> <p>“What do you think of Planet Earth?” The Astroneer asked, causing The Judge to pause.</p> <p>She tilted her head in confusion at him. “What do I make of this planet? It’s… ehhhh.” She scratched her helmet. “It’s greener than Minos was, that’s for sure.”</p> <p>“I don’t think you’re really seeing it.” The Astroneer pressed a few buttons on the device strapped to his wrist, and suddenly, he and the Judge were standing atop a snowy peak.</p> <p>“Huh? How did you—”</p> <p>“My suit deduced you tailored your ship and form to what I want to see most. So I forwarded a memetic image of Mt. Fuji to your HUD and I thought about it real hard. Now we’re here.”</p> <p>“I don’t have time to play your mind games. Need I remind you that I can shatter this mountain with a thought?”</p> <p>“Whoa, slow your roll there Judge. I do have a point here.” The Astroneer gestured towards the surrounding landscape. “Tell me what you see.”</p> <p>The Judge shook her head, looking down at her feet. “Snow?” She raised her head and looked into the distance at the plant life. “There’s also a lot of greens, reds, and pinks.”</p> <p><em>OK, Astro. So far so good. Think of it as practice for the real thing. We know what she thinks of our favorite planet, now for another icebreaker…</em></p> <p>“Do you have a favorite color?” Astroneer pointed to his suit. “Mine’s always been orange and this happens to be the only planet with oranges… funnily enough.”</p> <p>“A favorite color? I… uh… never really thought about it. I spent most of my existence drifting through the farthest reaches of space. There's no color out there.”</p> <p>“Then now’s the time to pick one! Come on now, you’ve been alive for how many millennia?”</p> <p>“Too many to count.”</p> <p>“Then what’s a few more minutes? The human race isn’t going anywhere.”</p> <p>“Tch.” The Judge looked at the Astroneer for a moment before turning back towards the landscape. She looked about briefly before pointing at a cherry blossom tree.</p> <p>“I… like that one. You don’t often see pinks like that in space.”</p> <p>“Why don’t you make your suit that color then? Or your visor? Purple doesn’t suit you like it does the Zeppelin pilot.”</p> <p>“Why does the color of my outfit matter? This form is only temporary.”</p> <p>“But shouldn’t it fit your identity? It’s the whole point of fashion! It’s to put the real you on display, to make yourself more comfortable. If I can’t view your true form with my three-dimensional vision, perhaps you can show an aspect of it in a form I can see.”</p> <p>His words made sense to the Judge but being comfortable was never something she considered. Worldly things such as the color of clothes were never a concern but now…</p> <p>The Judge’s suit instantly morphed into the color of the blossom and she began to admire how it looked on herself. “I do feel better now that I’m out of the garish purple. Your crush has a terrible taste. Now back to what I was trying to ask—”</p> <p>“—-about where we should go for food.” The Astroneer said and the pair suddenly found themselves seated at a table in an empty shop with two bowls of steaming hot noodles in front of them.</p> <p>“No! Stop this!” The Judge pointed at the Astroneer. “How are you doing this?”</p> <p>The Astroneer replied by casually slurping the noodles into his helmet. “I picked up a trick or two from the memesmiths of Klixon III. I would never have thought an extradimensional being would be susceptible to a little suggestion.”</p> <p>“Th-that’s because you got me flustered… oh!” She stomped her foot. “I should do away with the human race right now! You aren’t following the rules!”</p> <p>“Yes, I am. You asked me to make a case for the human race, correct?”</p> <p>The Judge crossed her arms. “I did.”</p> <p>“I’m in the middle of it, but you keep interrupting me. Now are you going to try your food?”</p> <p>“Food? I don’t need to eat. I’m a carefully crafted extradimensional weapon.”</p> <p>The Judge’s stomach answered in kind.</p> <p>“But you took a mortal form. It needs food.” He poked her bowl with his chopsticks. “Try it.”</p> <p>“And let you poison me? I’m not as stupid as you made me look.”</p> <p>“It’s not good courtesy to poison your d—, um. Guest, when you prepare them food. Thought you were an all-powerful extradimensional weapon. Afraid of a little food?”</p> <p>Amongst the new feelings the Judge was grappling with, embarrassment was a new one. If he could see her cheeks they’d be bright red. He made her look like a fool worrying about poison when her mortal form was just a ruse.</p> <p>She picked up the chopsticks and took a single noodle to her helmet. She slurped up the starchy food stuff and savored it for a moment before attacking her bowl like a rabid dog.</p> <p>“Whoa there, slow down! You can choke y’know.”</p> <p>The Judge spoke through rabid slurps. “In my… millions of years of life… I’ve never tasted anything! This… is…”</p> <p>“Delicious?”</p> <p>“Mmmm, yes! But I don’t see how this makes a case for humanity. 5,639,096 planets have carbohydrates on them. Earth is no different.”</p> <p>“Humans call this hospitality. I’m making a case for them by showing you what it truly means to have a human experience. Their humanity if you will.”</p> <p>“I don’t understand. Are you saying having a meal with someone or gazing upon landscapes is human-exclusive? Preposterous.”</p> <p>“Well no, but this is one of the pillars of the mortal experience. I think it's best to try to reason with you rather than fight you.”</p> <p>“But isn’t that what you do? You’re a famous galactic hero, I would have thought you would have gone guns blazing the moment you saw me.”</p> <p>“And what would that have achieved? Trust me I wouldn’t have taken Earth’s destruction lightly but our fight would have made every star gone dark by the time there was a winner.”</p> <p>The Judge laughed. “That assumes you could even last five minutes with me.”</p> <p>“I’ve lasted longer against mightier foes.” The Astroneer said, oblivious to any potential double entendre.</p> <p>“Hmm, you’ve piqued my interest in this “humanity” you speak of. I’ll let you continue unless I get bored and then…” She popped her lips and the Astroneer inferred what she meant.</p> <p>“I’ll circle back around to your original question. I don’t condone everything the SCP Foundation does. They’ve done horrific things in the name of normalcy but… the billions of people who live on this planet owe them their lives to the horrors they’ve managed to keep at bay.”</p> <p>“That doesn’t justify any of it! If you have to do something horrible to save your planet it was never worth saving in the first place! The Earth has you. You could free all of their prisoners, and keep the planet safe from whatever threatens it.”</p> <p>“It is not my place to enforce my will wherever I go. Humanity has the right of self-determination, just like all beings should.”</p> <p>“And what if they don’t know what’s good for them? What purpose does a species have to exist if they repeatedly make the same mistakes?”</p> <p>“Because life is cyclical! You speak of giving them another path but you only bring death.”</p> <p>“It’s a mercy! They’re going to die anyway when my creators arrive. I…” For the first time, The Judge’s voice wavered in her conviction. “I’m giving them mercy.”</p> <p>“Mercy would be sparing them from their deaths.” The Astroneer closed his eyes and gritted his teeth before standing up from the table.</p> <p>“Walk with me.” He said, and then their surroundings shifted once more.</p> <p>The pair found themselves in a grassy field in the middle of a large open plain. A large ring of stone structures awaited them.</p> <p>“Where are we?” The Judge asked as she took in the fresh cool air, finding it strangely soothing.</p> <p>“Humans call this Stonehenge. Its origins have been debated for centuries but in reality, it’s a landing zone made by my craft. Come on, I’ll show you.” He extended a hand but was immediately rebuffed.</p> <p>“You’ve wasted enough of my time, Astroneer. I don’t care about any damn rocks!” Her voice boomed louder than before and the ground beneath them began to quake.</p> <p>“There is a point to all of this. Those rocks are a reminder of my purpose in life. The very thing that keeps you reading Felix’s stories.”</p> <p>“They were just distractions. Something to stop me from going insane while I slowly formed in this unforgiving universe.”</p> <p>The plain around them was starting to split but the Astroneer didn’t waver.<br/> “No, I don’t believe that. I think the call to adventure interested you. You want to see something more than the cold unforgiving space right? I did too.” He extended his hand again. “You don’t have to be alone, there’s more to this life than taking it.”</p> <p>The Judge was trembling with rage, her precise control of the world around her was slipping. She could feel the Earth down to its core and was fighting to stop herself from popping it like a walnut. The Astroneer did have a point. What did this planet have in store for her? There was only one way to find out.</p> <p>The ground slowly stopped rumbling and the cracks began to heal. The Judge took the Astroneer’s hand and followed him into the circle.</p> <p>“When I landed here this land was nothing but swamps with creatures and peoples that have long since been forgotten. But I remember them. They all live within me, even if no one else will hear their stories.”</p> <p>With their mental connection, the Judge could see his memories. The feeling of cold muck on his boots from protecting some ancient tribe from a monster. It finally clicked for her then. “That’s why you sought out Felix. To have someone to tell your story. You didn’t want anyone to forget about you.” The Judge nodded, her mind drifting to how her story would be perceived.</p> <p>“The path I take is a dangerous one. I’m likely to die alone, fighting in some barren world far from home. Maybe the local people build a monument to me but I’d be lost to time eventually on the grand scale.” The Astroneer paused before continuing. “Felix’s stories ensure I’ll be remembered.”</p> <p>“And the peoples of this universe, what’s left of them. How do you think they’ll view me?”</p> <p>The Astroneer turned to look the Judge in the eye, his palms sweaty and arm tensed. It was taking every fiber of his being not to freak out about her holding her hand. “You’ll be a harbinger of death, a galactic boogeyman. They won’t thank you for sparing them. Certainly won’t clean up their acts to avoid your wrath either.”</p> <p>“I don’t care if they're grateful. Some will be alive and my purpose will be fulfilled.”</p> <p>“Then what? What happens when you’ve outlived your usefulness to your masters? They won’t keep someone as dangerous as you for long.”</p> <p>“You don’t know that!” The Judge snapped accusatorily.</p> <p>“Even if they don’t what will you do then? Judge, please. I’m imploring you to see that there is more to life than your original directive. Everything we’ve done today has been to show you what you have been stripping away from countless beings.”</p> <p>“I… I HATE THE WAY YOU'RE MAKING ME FEEL!” The Judge broke the Astroneer’s grip and stormed off into the center of Stonehenge. Her mortal body’s emotions were hitting her all at once. Stress, fear, and uncertainty were just the tip of the iceberg of a cavalcade of physical and emotional reactions she had no clue on how to deal with.</p> <p>“This was easier when things were binary.” She stuck out both hands and made a weighing motion with each. “Good actions and bad actions. Nothing in between. No lives to worry about or future or…” She fell to her knees. “All of those planets… is this… guilt?” The Judge turned to the Astroneer.</p> <p>“HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO LIVE WITH THIS GUILT?”</p> <p>“You can pledge to be better, that’s all I can offer. You may not be able to reverse the things you’ve done but you can protect the ones who are still here.”</p> <p>“Or I could consign myself back to the void again. Where nobody can use my abilities for their plots.”</p> <p>“Come on Judge. I didn’t show you all of this for you to punish yourself like that.” The Astroneer extended his hand.</p> <p>“I did this so you could live. You can be free to take in all that life has to offer, there’s more to existence than being a weapon. You just have to spare Earth.”</p> <p>The Judge stared up at the Astroneer as a fierce debate rolled through her thoughts. She could push all of these pesky human emotions aside, vaporize the Earth along with its two defenders, and move on to the next world.</p> <p>Or she could take his hand and walk a road of atonement. She didn’t understand his infectious optimism and unyielding hope. He knew her masters were coming… right? They’d certainly destroy him along with all things in this universe when they arrived but yet… he hadn’t given up?</p> <p>The Astroneer was an enigma, one that she hadn’t figured out. But he seemed to have the answers so she took his hand to the future and they were back on the facsimile of the Zeppelin.</p> <p>“Where did y’all go?” Felix asked, notepad in hand.</p> <p>“Oh, I gave the Judge, the ol’ Earth tour! Ain’t that right?”</p> <p>“Y-yes.” The judge felt something low in her belly. “That was a date… right?”</p> <p>The Astroneer started to feel lightheaded. “N-no. No. No. That was not–-”</p> <p>“The hand-holding and the dinner… those are human courtship rituals are they not?” The Judge’s eyes looked at the Astroneer with curiosity</p> <p>“YOU HELD HER HAND???” Felix exclaimed.</p> <p>“I grasped it to guide her.” The Astroneer deflected.</p> <p>“You wanted me to know what it felt like to be courted. This “Human experience” is full of interesting things. Is that why you wanted me to look the way I do? Perhaps you wanted to see if you could court your Zeppelin pilot.”</p> <p>The Astroneer’s voice caught in his throat. He didn’t know what to say.</p> <p>“Well… I wish you luck with it and I’d want to thank you for opening my mind up.” The Judge then gave the Astroneer a peck on the helmet. As their visors clinked, the Astroneer fell back on the steel floor like a ton of bricks.</p> <p>“Astro!” Felix came running and pulled the Astroneer up by his shoulders. He was incredibly confused as to how they went from standing off against a hostile reality warper to trying to date her.</p> <p>“So where does my planet stand then? And as for your crimes…”</p> <p>“Humanity is free to live another day as are the rest of the sentient races. As for me, nothing I could do would make up for the countless lives extinguished by my hand. I'll have to carry that guilt for the rest of my existence. The Astroneer thought that was punishment enough. It's not like you would be able to throw me in a cell. ”</p> <p>“Wouldnt want to end up like my gun.” Felix cracked a nervous smile. " 'sides I reckon that what ol' Astro would wanted. He was never one for capital punishment. If he's letting you go, what will you do?"</p> <p>“I’m going to finally live Felix, something I should have done along time ago. I was wrong to judge mortal life forms without having any idea of their experiences. I think I’ll start by finding more of this form of… stringy starch that the Astroneer introduced me to.”</p> <p>“Noodles?”</p> <p>“Noodles. It's a funny word. Yes, I would like more Noodles.”</p> <p>“I wish you good fortune with your noodles ma’am.” Felix began hauling the Astroneer’s comatose body back to their hot air balloon. He knew the Astroneer would want this part left out of the dramatization of this adventure but he would fight to keep it.</p> <p>After all, how many heroes saved the Earth through romance alone?</p> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:last-frontier">:scp-wiki:theme:last-frontier</a>]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:author-label-source">:scp-wiki:component:author-label-source</a> start=-- \|name=SYTYCFanon]] ----- [[=]] [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/sytycfanon More by this author] [[/=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:author-label-source">:scp-wiki:component:author-label-source</a> end=--]] “Hey, Astro!” Felix shook his compatriot awake. “You need to see this!” He couldn’t look into his partner’s eyes due to his helmet but imagined they were groggy as he stumbled up into the basket of their ship. “Did we make it?” The galaxy-trotting hero known as the Astroneer said in a lower register than his usual proud exclamations. “Y-yeah, these are the coordinates of that planet-killer we were given.” The Astroneer surveyed their surroundings, they had arrived in a landing bay of some sort. “You managed to battle your way inside of the ship? Good going, Felix!” He patted Felix on the shoulder. “I’m sure it was a mighty battle, wish I wasn’t such a hard sleeper.” “A-actually Astro, the ship opened its docking bay for us. The shape is certainly peculiar.” Felix pressed a spot in the thin air in front of them, activating their Hot Air Balloon’s holographic interfaces. Felix proceeded to open up the scans he took of the ship they’d entered. The general shape of the ship resembled an old earth Zeppelin. “It’s strangely similar to your crush’s ship.” “But it’s not hers?” The Astroneer said dejectedly. “Well you wouldn’t want your future girlfriend to be a planet-killer would you?” Felix laughed. “I mean… that would be cool, all the deaths aside.” Felix sighed. “Never change, Astro. Anyways, should we get a move on? I don’t want to die before we disembark.” “Agreed! Onwards to adventure!” The Astroneer hopped out of the basket with Felix in tow as the two headed towards the large doors at the end of the bay. To their surprise, the doors opened, which revealed a feminine figure in a purple astronaut suit. The Astroneer’s knees immediately began to buckle and his HUD began flashing a high blood pressure and heart rate warning. Felix looked nervously at his companion and wondered if he’d need to prepare a few stims from his satchel. Putting aside his nervousness, the Astroneer ran a quick scan of the figure in front of them. His suit’s AI was able to deduce that this wasn’t the being's true form, but rather one it took based on his desires. “Welcome. You must be the hero I’ve read so much about. You are the Astroneer, yes? All of you Mortals tend to look alike; although, you have better eyebrows.” Her voice echoed from her foreboding helmet through which light couldn't penetrate. “I am the Astroneer, you fou—, uhhh, less than savory villain.” The Astroneer’s proud voice buckled slightly under the weight of his chronic fear of women. He couldn’t even bring himself to insult someone responsible for the deaths of billions because her outfit was one of the sexiest things he’d seen. “That means you must be Felix. I’ve read many of your stories and I have to say I’m a fan. It’s the whole reason I invited you here.” “Invited? My lady, you must be mistaken! Me and my trusty sidekick accepted a quest to vanquish the evil responsible for the destruction of Minos IV. We would never willingly walk into such a trap!” “Except, I was the one who put that request on the bounty board. That planet was chosen based on its proximity to where you operate.” “And who are you to judge a whole species? What gives you the right?” The Astroneer asked. “Call me the Judge, it's the closest approximation of my name in your language. Follow me and all will be explained.” She turned and walked away from the pair who paused and then followed suit. “So… what are you exactly?” The Astroneer asked. “I’m a weapon.” The Judge said matter of factly as the next set of doors opened into the cockpit. “Brought to life from forces beyond this universe by sorcery bound in a number most thought to only be a myth.” With a snap of the Judge’s fingers, both Felix and the Astroneer felt their stomachs lurch. Astroneer didnt need his HUD warning him of sudden hume fluctuation to know that reality had shifted. But where had she taken them? The shudders to the windows then opened. Felix gasped as he saw the planetary remains of Minos floating before them. “My purpose is to judge the species of this wretched universe to see if any of them are worthy of preservation. My creator's presence would destabilize this universe, trillions upon trillions won’t survive their arrival. So I am to trim the herd looking for ones free of the capabilty for cruelty.” “And the Minoans? Why did they deserve to have their story cut short?” Felix gulped. “I brought one of them before me to plead for their species survival but I found their reasoning to be inadequate.” The Judge turned to look back at them. “The Minoans ritually sacrificed their people. Any species capable of such atrocity doesn’t deserve a chance to be with us.” “B-but the victims themselves? Surely they…” The Astroneer pulled up the population numbers of Minos IV onto his HUD and clenched his fist. “It is regrettable. However, their species showed a penchant for depravity. It wasn’t the only heinous act committed by their people. I didn’t find them worth redemption.” “So who would you have me judge? You’ve come to put my world on trial? I doubt you could find it, not even Felix has seen it.” “True. That is why…” The Judge snapped her fingers and reality shifted once more. They now now found themselves in the orbit of a planet adorned with bright blue seas. “No… you monster!” Felix drew his laser pistol. “-If you're the hero that I’ve read so much about then you should have no problem convincing me why I shouldn’t annihilate Homo sapiens from this galaxy.” “Words aren't gonna get us anywhere Astro! My momdo's down there.” Felix usually never advocated for the violent way out but his gut told him the Judge could not be trusted. He drew his weapon and fired a bolt at their adversary. The Judge didn't even flinch as she scattered the photons comprising the bolt into a bright red harmless flash. She made a slight movement with her fingers which transmuted and reassembled the weapon into a pen and paper. “I'll ignore that little provocation because I enjoy your stories, Felix. I'll want you to keep a record of this, it's the least I can do if I end up eradicating your species. Now I'll ask one more time.” “I accept your challenge.” The Astroneer proclaimed. “Astro… I hope you know what you're doing…” “Now, Astroneer. To start, you must answer for the atrocities perpetrated by your so-called friends, the SCP—.” The Astroneer took a deep breath and thought, //She’s the enemy, even though she resembles her. Keep your cool and show her there's more to the course she’s on now.// “What do you think of Planet Earth?” The Astroneer asked, causing The Judge to pause. She tilted her head in confusion at him. “What do I make of this planet? It’s… ehhhh.” She scratched her helmet. “It’s greener than Minos was, that’s for sure.” “I don’t think you’re really seeing it.” The Astroneer pressed a few buttons on the device strapped to his wrist, and suddenly, he and the Judge were standing atop a snowy peak. “Huh? How did you—” “My suit deduced you tailored your ship and form to what I want to see most. So I forwarded a memetic image of Mt. Fuji to your HUD and I thought about it real hard. Now we’re here.” “I don’t have time to play your mind games. Need I remind you that I can shatter this mountain with a thought?” “Whoa, slow your roll there Judge. I do have a point here.” The Astroneer gestured towards the surrounding landscape. “Tell me what you see.” The Judge shook her head, looking down at her feet. “Snow?” She raised her head and looked into the distance at the plant life. “There’s also a lot of greens, reds, and pinks.” //OK, Astro. So far so good. Think of it as practice for the real thing. We know what she thinks of our favorite planet, now for another icebreaker…// “Do you have a favorite color?” Astroneer pointed to his suit. “Mine’s always been orange and this happens to be the only planet with oranges… funnily enough.” “A favorite color? I… uh… never really thought about it. I spent most of my existence drifting through the farthest reaches of space. There's no color out there.” “Then now’s the time to pick one! Come on now, you’ve been alive for how many millennia?” “Too many to count.” “Then what’s a few more minutes? The human race isn’t going anywhere.” “Tch.” The Judge looked at the Astroneer for a moment before turning back towards the landscape. She looked about briefly before pointing at a cherry blossom tree. “I… like that one. You don’t often see pinks like that in space.” “Why don’t you make your suit that color then? Or your visor? Purple doesn’t suit you like it does the Zeppelin pilot.” “Why does the color of my outfit matter? This form is only temporary.” “But shouldn’t it fit your identity? It’s the whole point of fashion! It’s to put the real you on display, to make yourself more comfortable. If I can’t view your true form with my three-dimensional vision, perhaps you can show an aspect of it in a form I can see.” His words made sense to the Judge but being comfortable was never something she considered. Worldly things such as the color of clothes were never a concern but now… The Judge’s suit instantly morphed into the color of the blossom and she began to admire how it looked on herself. “I do feel better now that I’m out of the garish purple. Your crush has a terrible taste. Now back to what I was trying to ask—” “---about where we should go for food.” The Astroneer said and the pair suddenly found themselves seated at a table in an empty shop with two bowls of steaming hot noodles in front of them. “No! Stop this!” The Judge pointed at the Astroneer. “How are you doing this?” The Astroneer replied by casually slurping the noodles into his helmet. “I picked up a trick or two from the memesmiths of Klixon III. I would never have thought an extradimensional being would be susceptible to a little suggestion.” “Th-that’s because you got me flustered… oh!” She stomped her foot. “I should do away with the human race right now! You aren’t following the rules!” “Yes, I am. You asked me to make a case for the human race, correct?” The Judge crossed her arms. “I did.” “I’m in the middle of it, but you keep interrupting me. Now are you going to try your food?” “Food? I don’t need to eat. I’m a carefully crafted extradimensional weapon.” The Judge’s stomach answered in kind. “But you took a mortal form. It needs food.” He poked her bowl with his chopsticks. “Try it.” “And let you poison me? I’m not as stupid as you made me look.” “It’s not good courtesy to poison your d—, um. Guest, when you prepare them food. Thought you were an all-powerful extradimensional weapon. Afraid of a little food?” Amongst the new feelings the Judge was grappling with, embarrassment was a new one. If he could see her cheeks they’d be bright red. He made her look like a fool worrying about poison when her mortal form was just a ruse. She picked up the chopsticks and took a single noodle to her helmet. She slurped up the starchy food stuff and savored it for a moment before attacking her bowl like a rabid dog. “Whoa there, slow down! You can choke y’know.” The Judge spoke through rabid slurps. “In my… millions of years of life… I’ve never tasted anything! This… is…” “Delicious?” “Mmmm, yes! But I don’t see how this makes a case for humanity. 5,639,096 planets have carbohydrates on them. Earth is no different.” “Humans call this hospitality. I’m making a case for them by showing you what it truly means to have a human experience. Their humanity if you will.” “I don’t understand. Are you saying having a meal with someone or gazing upon landscapes is human-exclusive? Preposterous.” “Well no, but this is one of the pillars of the mortal experience. I think it's best to try to reason with you rather than fight you.” “But isn’t that what you do? You’re a famous galactic hero, I would have thought you would have gone guns blazing the moment you saw me.” “And what would that have achieved? Trust me I wouldn’t have taken Earth’s destruction lightly but our fight would have made every star gone dark by the time there was a winner.” The Judge laughed. “That assumes you could even last five minutes with me.” “I’ve lasted longer against mightier foes.” The Astroneer said, oblivious to any potential double entendre. “Hmm, you’ve piqued my interest in this “humanity” you speak of. I’ll let you continue unless I get bored and then…” She popped her lips and the Astroneer inferred what she meant. “I’ll circle back around to your original question. I don’t condone everything the SCP Foundation does. They’ve done horrific things in the name of normalcy but… the billions of people who live on this planet owe them their lives to the horrors they’ve managed to keep at bay.” “That doesn’t justify any of it! If you have to do something horrible to save your planet it was never worth saving in the first place! The Earth has you. You could free all of their prisoners, and keep the planet safe from whatever threatens it.” “It is not my place to enforce my will wherever I go. Humanity has the right of self-determination, just like all beings should.” “And what if they don’t know what’s good for them? What purpose does a species have to exist if they repeatedly make the same mistakes?” “Because life is cyclical! You speak of giving them another path but you only bring death.” “It’s a mercy! They’re going to die anyway when my creators arrive. I…” For the first time, The Judge’s voice wavered in her conviction. “I’m giving them mercy.” “Mercy would be sparing them from their deaths.” The Astroneer closed his eyes and gritted his teeth before standing up from the table. “Walk with me.” He said, and then their surroundings shifted once more. The pair found themselves in a grassy field in the middle of a large open plain. A large ring of stone structures awaited them. “Where are we?” The Judge asked as she took in the fresh cool air, finding it strangely soothing. “Humans call this Stonehenge. Its origins have been debated for centuries but in reality, it’s a landing zone made by my craft. Come on, I’ll show you.” He extended a hand but was immediately rebuffed. “You’ve wasted enough of my time, Astroneer. I don’t care about any damn rocks!” Her voice boomed louder than before and the ground beneath them began to quake. “There is a point to all of this. Those rocks are a reminder of my purpose in life. The very thing that keeps you reading Felix’s stories.” “They were just distractions. Something to stop me from going insane while I slowly formed in this unforgiving universe.” The plain around them was starting to split but the Astroneer didn’t waver. “No, I don’t believe that. I think the call to adventure interested you. You want to see something more than the cold unforgiving space right? I did too.” He extended his hand again. “You don’t have to be alone, there’s more to this life than taking it.” The Judge was trembling with rage, her precise control of the world around her was slipping. She could feel the Earth down to its core and was fighting to stop herself from popping it like a walnut. The Astroneer did have a point. What did this planet have in store for her? There was only one way to find out. The ground slowly stopped rumbling and the cracks began to heal. The Judge took the Astroneer’s hand and followed him into the circle. “When I landed here this land was nothing but swamps with creatures and peoples that have long since been forgotten. But I remember them. They all live within me, even if no one else will hear their stories.” With their mental connection, the Judge could see his memories. The feeling of cold muck on his boots from protecting some ancient tribe from a monster. It finally clicked for her then. “That’s why you sought out Felix. To have someone to tell your story. You didn’t want anyone to forget about you.” The Judge nodded, her mind drifting to how her story would be perceived. “The path I take is a dangerous one. I’m likely to die alone, fighting in some barren world far from home. Maybe the local people build a monument to me but I’d be lost to time eventually on the grand scale.” The Astroneer paused before continuing. “Felix’s stories ensure I’ll be remembered.” “And the peoples of this universe, what’s left of them. How do you think they’ll view me?” The Astroneer turned to look the Judge in the eye, his palms sweaty and arm tensed. It was taking every fiber of his being not to freak out about her holding her hand. “You’ll be a harbinger of death, a galactic boogeyman. They won’t thank you for sparing them. Certainly won’t clean up their acts to avoid your wrath either.” “I don’t care if they're grateful. Some will be alive and my purpose will be fulfilled.” “Then what? What happens when you’ve outlived your usefulness to your masters? They won’t keep someone as dangerous as you for long.” “You don’t know that!” The Judge snapped accusatorily. “Even if they don’t what will you do then? Judge, please. I’m imploring you to see that there is more to life than your original directive. Everything we’ve done today has been to show you what you have been stripping away from countless beings.” “I… I HATE THE WAY YOU'RE MAKING ME FEEL!” The Judge broke the Astroneer’s grip and stormed off into the center of Stonehenge. Her mortal body’s emotions were hitting her all at once. Stress, fear, and uncertainty were just the tip of the iceberg of a cavalcade of physical and emotional reactions she had no clue on how to deal with. “This was easier when things were binary.” She stuck out both hands and made a weighing motion with each. “Good actions and bad actions. Nothing in between. No lives to worry about or future or…” She fell to her knees. “All of those planets… is this… guilt?” The Judge turned to the Astroneer. “HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO LIVE WITH THIS GUILT?” “You can pledge to be better, that’s all I can offer. You may not be able to reverse the things you’ve done but you can protect the ones who are still here.” “Or I could consign myself back to the void again. Where nobody can use my abilities for their plots.” “Come on Judge. I didn’t show you all of this for you to punish yourself like that.” The Astroneer extended his hand. “I did this so you could live. You can be free to take in all that life has to offer, there’s more to existence than being a weapon. You just have to spare Earth.” The Judge stared up at the Astroneer as a fierce debate rolled through her thoughts. She could push all of these pesky human emotions aside, vaporize the Earth along with its two defenders, and move on to the next world. Or she could take his hand and walk a road of atonement. She didn’t understand his infectious optimism and unyielding hope. He knew her masters were coming… right? They’d certainly destroy him along with all things in this universe when they arrived but yet… he hadn’t given up? The Astroneer was an enigma, one that she hadn’t figured out. But he seemed to have the answers so she took his hand to the future and they were back on the facsimile of the Zeppelin. “Where did y’all go?” Felix asked, notepad in hand. “Oh, I gave the Judge, the ol’ Earth tour! Ain’t that right?” “Y-yes.” The judge felt something low in her belly. “That was a date… right?” The Astroneer started to feel lightheaded. “N-no. No. No. That was not–-” “The hand-holding and the dinner… those are human courtship rituals are they not?” The Judge’s eyes looked at the Astroneer with curiosity “YOU HELD HER HAND???” Felix exclaimed. “I grasped it to guide her.” The Astroneer deflected. “You wanted me to know what it felt like to be courted. This “Human experience” is full of interesting things. Is that why you wanted me to look the way I do? Perhaps you wanted to see if you could court your Zeppelin pilot.” The Astroneer’s voice caught in his throat. He didn’t know what to say. “Well… I wish you luck with it and I’d want to thank you for opening my mind up.” The Judge then gave the Astroneer a peck on the helmet. As their visors clinked, the Astroneer fell back on the steel floor like a ton of bricks. “Astro!” Felix came running and pulled the Astroneer up by his shoulders. He was incredibly confused as to how they went from standing off against a hostile reality warper to trying to date her. “So where does my planet stand then? And as for your crimes...” “Humanity is free to live another day as are the rest of the sentient races. As for me, nothing I could do would make up for the countless lives extinguished by my hand. I'll have to carry that guilt for the rest of my existence. The Astroneer thought that was punishment enough. It's not like you would be able to throw me in a cell. ” “Wouldnt want to end up like my gun.” Felix cracked a nervous smile. " 'sides I reckon that what ol' Astro would wanted. He was never one for capital punishment. If he's letting you go, what will you do?" “I’m going to finally live Felix, something I should have done along time ago. I was wrong to judge mortal life forms without having any idea of their experiences. I think I’ll start by finding more of this form of… stringy starch that the Astroneer introduced me to.” “Noodles?” “Noodles. It's a funny word. Yes, I would like more Noodles.” “I wish you good fortune with your noodles ma’am.” Felix began hauling the Astroneer’s comatose body back to their hot air balloon. He knew the Astroneer would want this part left out of the dramatization of this adventure but he would fight to keep it. After all, how many heroes saved the Earth through romance alone?	2024-11-05T02:37:00	[ "bittersweet", "ninth-world", "romance", "tale" ]	The Dangers of Dating a Tyrannical God (or: How I Managed to Save the World Through Romance Alone) - SCP Foundation	16	[ "sytycfanon" ]	[ "the-ninth-world-hub" ]	[]	1457283465	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-dangers-of-dating-a-tyrannical-god
the-darkness-after	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div style="display: none"> <hr/> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">+ Show component code</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">- Hide component code</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div class="code"> <div class="hl-main"> <pre><span class="hl-special">:root</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">sidebar-width-on-desktop:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--base-font-size) * (</span><span class="hl-number">266</span><span class="hl-code"> / </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-code">))</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">body-width-on-desktop:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">45.75</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">only</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">screen</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> (min-width: 56.25</span><span class="hl-identifier">rem</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#content-wrap</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> initial</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-direction:</span><span class="hl-code"> row</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vw - (</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vw - </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">min-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vh - var(--final-header-height-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">10.125</span><span class="hl-code">rem))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">13.6</span><span class="hl-code">rem) </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">13.6</span><span class="hl-code">rem) * -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code"> / </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> initial</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--body-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">45.75</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--body-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">45.75</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> min(</span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-code">vw, var(--body-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">45.75</span><span class="hl-code">rem))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> -webkit-sticky</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> sticky</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">grid-area:</span><span class="hl-code"> side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">13.6</span><span class="hl-code">rem) !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">min-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">13.6</span><span class="hl-code">rem) !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vh</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow-y:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">scroll</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> translate </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">), background-color </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">), padding </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms linear, margin </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms linear</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--swatch-tertiary-color, </span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">), </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--sidebar-bg-color, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">), </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">translate:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">13.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem) * -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">direction:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">rtl</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">scrollbar-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">thin</span><span class="hl-code">; -</span><span class="hl-reserved">ms-scroll-chaining:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overscroll-behavior:</span><span class="hl-code"> contain</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">scrollbar-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--swatch-primary-darker), </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">) /* Thumb / rgba(var(--swatch-tertiary-color), </span><span class="hl-number">0.05</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Track</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-track</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--swatch-secondary-color, </span><span class="hl-number">244</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">244</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">244</span><span class="hl-code">), </span><span class="hl-number">0.8</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-thumb</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-corner</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vw + </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vh)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right-style:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--sidebar-bg-color, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">), </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-identifier">is</span><span class="hl-code">(:</span><span class="hl-identifier">hover</span><span class="hl-code">, :</span><span class="hl-identifier">active</span><span class="hl-code">, :</span><span class="hl-identifier">focus-within</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2.25</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.25</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow-x:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow-y:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--swatch-primary-darker), </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--sidebar-bg-color, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">), </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">translate:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem) - var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">scrollbar-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">) / Thumb / rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">252</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">252</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">252</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Track</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">scrollbar-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--swatch-primary-darker, </span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">), </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">) / Thumb / rgb(var(--swatch-menubg-color, </span><span class="hl-number">252</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">252</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">252</span><span class="hl-code">), </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Track</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code">::</span><span class="hl-identifier">after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> " "</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">fixed</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">align-items:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">left</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">), background-position </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">), opacity </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> url("https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/component%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Acollapsible-sidebar/sidebar-tab.svg")</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-attachment:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">fixed</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">left</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">12.875</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">pointer-events:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-identifier">is</span><span class="hl-code">(:</span><span class="hl-identifier">hover</span><span class="hl-code">, :</span><span class="hl-identifier">active</span><span class="hl-code">, :</span><span class="hl-identifier">focus-within</span><span class="hl-code">) + </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code">::</span><span class="hl-identifier">after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">14.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem) -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">left</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">), background-position </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">), opacity </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">left</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">14.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem) * -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code">::</span><span class="hl-identifier">before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> " "</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">9</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--final-header-height-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">14.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - var(--final-header-height-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">0.688</span><span class="hl-code">rem) - </span><span class="hl-number">2.313</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--final-header-height-on-desktop, -</span><span class="hl-number">2.313</span><span class="hl-code">rem) * -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">2.313</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> translate </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">), opacity </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--swatch-alternate-color, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">pointer-events:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">translate:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">14.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem) * -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code"> + </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-identifier">is</span><span class="hl-code">(:</span><span class="hl-identifier">hover</span><span class="hl-code">, :</span><span class="hl-identifier">active</span><span class="hl-code">, :</span><span class="hl-identifier">focus-within</span><span class="hl-code">) + </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code">::</span><span class="hl-identifier">before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">translate:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.25</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">direction:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">ltr</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scpnet-interwiki-wrapper</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">direction:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">ltr</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Print</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Friendly</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Formatting</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Estrella</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">body.print-body</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">sidebar-width-on-desktop:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">body.print-body</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code">::</span><span class="hl-identifier">before</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">body.print-body</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code">::</span><span class="hl-identifier">after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span></pre></div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=3&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Athe-foundation-theme/2&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=4&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/component%3Abhl-dark-sidebar/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p>Sorrow. Out of all the emotions to afflict the sapient races, sorrow is by far the most prevalent. Perhaps it's because there are so many things to feel sorrowful about…</p> <p>The Scarlet King. An ineffable emptiness of unfathomable power, one that had devoured all his pawns for their power. The Gods. Incomprehensible beings of immeasurable strength, beings with weapons made in the forges of creation themself. The most powerful beings in all of existence, fighting to deter oblivion, to delay the end. There was no competition.</p> <p>The Scarlet King ripped through the Gods like a wet paper bag, consuming each fallen one's essence, growing stronger and stronger. And with each God consumed, so too was the God's morale consumed. Perhaps that is why the sapient species feel sorrow. Somewhere, out there, is something consuming their hope, their joy, their happiness.</p> <p>Sorrow. Out of all the emotions to afflict the sapient races, sorrow is by far the most prevalent. It was felt by the humans of Earth, where the grounds shattered as the sky ripped open. It was felt by the <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/sandrewswann-s-proposal" target="_blank">Writers</a>, as their pages turned to ash and their realities were turned to nothing. It was felt by the <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2747" target="_blank">anti-narratives</a>, by the God's children, by everything and everyone. All beings from all corners of reality slumped over and wept with the strength of their sorrow as their worlds came crashing down around them.</p> <p>But the Scarlet King was one and the Gods were many. For every 5 killed, 20 took their place. And for a moment, it appeared as if the King was being overwhelmed, being driven back by the sheer numbers that faced him. For surely not even one as mighty as the Scarlet King could triumph over such power? Surely not even the Scarlet King could hope to survive. But alas, it was not to be. As the Gods had continued to charge the King, so too had the King continued to grow stronger upon their being. Until finally, the Gods were as ants to the boot that was the Scarlet King.</p> <p>As the Scarlet King finally finished its subsumption of the foolish Elder Gods that had challenged him, so too did a shadow of crimson settle over Creation. All hope was lost, for the Scarlet King had won. There was no one left to challenge it, for there was no one -</p> <p>And the Scarlet King stopped. For in this void beyond time was something new, something unexpected. For there was light, and there was truth. A God of Gods, a truth of truths. A <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/vision-at-betar" target="_blank">Creator</a>. And the Scarlet King knew hate for the first time since its inception. And Creation knew hope for the first time since the war. God had come for them. God had come to save them.</p> <p>And so commenced the indescribable, a battle beyond dualities. God vs the Devil, good vs evil, sorrow vs hope, and yet, so much more than that. And it was glorious. For the first time in existence, this void without time shone with the force of a thousand blazing supernovas. Creation wept and cheered in equal measure, as these two supreme beings exchanged blow after blow after blow. Neither gave ground, and neither gained it. Everything and everyone throughout Creation felt it, ubiquitous as it was.</p> <p>It was felt by the first <em>Homo erectus</em>, where they bowed down and prayed to obscure Gods, long since destroyed.</p> <p>It was felt by the space-faring ancestors of <em><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2256" target="_blank">Cryptomorpha gigantes</a></em>, prompting them to leave their dying world for another.</p> <p>It was felt across all time and all space. And in this short period, every being in existence bowed down and prayed to their Creator for salvation. And they waited in fear, in anticipation of the winner of this mammoth battle. And then it was over. And the dust began to settle.</p> <p>Emerging from the dust was the Scarlet King. The Devil had slain God. And the Scarlet King walked, walked towards the Tree, towards the darkness after, as Creation marched right beside it. The King entered the Garden, and there it was…<br/> -<br/> -<br/> -<br/> <span style="font-size:0.8em;">Oblivion.</span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">+ Epilogue</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">- The Darkness After</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Time as a concept had long since ceased to have any meaning. But in this nothingness, this empty oblivion beyond all, long after creation had been rendered nought, the ineffability once known as the Scarlet King stirred in its slumber, opening its non-existent eyes. The end of everything meant nothing to one who <em>was</em> the end of everything. And in this quiet void, the Scarlet King saw Infinity. Rows and rows of neatly lined Trees, in a Garden that stretched on for eternity. And there was going to be blood.</p> </div> </div> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>« <a href="/metal-and-hellfire">Metal and Hellfire</a></strong></p> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-darkness-after">The Darkness After</a>" by FreezerMonkey, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-darkness-after">https://scpwiki.com/the-darkness-after</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Name:</strong> Children of the Scarlet King<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> SunnyClockwork<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC-BY-SA<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/sunny-art-goi">https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/sunny-art-goi</a></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:black-highlighter-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:the-foundation-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:the-foundation-theme</a> \|dark=--]]] [[module CSS]] :root { --header-h1-font-size: calc(var(--base-font-size) * (40 / 11)); --header-title: "Children of the Scarlet King"; } [[/module]] > [[module CSS]] #extra-div-3 { background-image: url(https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/cotsk-hub/cotsk.png); background-size: contain; background-repeat: no-repeat } #page-content a:not([href="user"]):not([href="javascript:;"]):not([href="/classification-committee-memo"]) { color: #FFFFFF; } [[/module]] > [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] > Sorrow. Out of all the emotions to afflict the sapient races, sorrow is by far the most prevalent. Perhaps it's because there are so many things to feel sorrowful about... > The Scarlet King. An ineffable emptiness of unfathomable power, one that had devoured all his pawns for their power. The Gods. Incomprehensible beings of immeasurable strength, beings with weapons made in the forges of creation themself. The most powerful beings in all of existence, fighting to deter oblivion, to delay the end. There was no competition. > The Scarlet King ripped through the Gods like a wet paper bag, consuming each fallen one's essence, growing stronger and stronger. And with each God consumed, so too was the God's morale consumed. Perhaps that is why the sapient species feel sorrow. Somewhere, out there, is something consuming their hope, their joy, their happiness. > Sorrow. Out of all the emotions to afflict the sapient races, sorrow is by far the most prevalent. It was felt by the humans of Earth, where the grounds shattered as the sky ripped open. It was felt by the [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/sandrewswann-s-proposal \| Writers]]], as their pages turned to ash and their realities were turned to nothing. It was felt by the [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2747 \| anti-narratives]]], by the God's children, by everything and everyone. All beings from all corners of reality slumped over and wept with the strength of their sorrow as their worlds came crashing down around them. > But the Scarlet King was one and the Gods were many. For every 5 killed, 20 took their place. And for a moment, it appeared as if the King was being overwhelmed, being driven back by the sheer numbers that faced him. For surely not even one as mighty as the Scarlet King could triumph over such power? Surely not even the Scarlet King could hope to survive. But alas, it was not to be. As the Gods had continued to charge the King, so too had the King continued to grow stronger upon their being. Until finally, the Gods were as ants to the boot that was the Scarlet King. > As the Scarlet King finally finished its subsumption of the foolish Elder Gods that had challenged him, so too did a shadow of crimson settle over Creation. All hope was lost, for the Scarlet King had won. There was no one left to challenge it, for there was no one - > And the Scarlet King stopped. For in this void beyond time was something new, something unexpected. For there was light, and there was truth. A God of Gods, a truth of truths. A [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/vision-at-betar \| Creator]]]. And the Scarlet King knew hate for the first time since its inception. And Creation knew hope for the first time since the war. God had come for them. God had come to save them. > And so commenced the indescribable, a battle beyond dualities. God vs the Devil, good vs evil, sorrow vs hope, and yet, so much more than that. And it was glorious. For the first time in existence, this void without time shone with the force of a thousand blazing supernovas. Creation wept and cheered in equal measure, as these two supreme beings exchanged blow after blow after blow. Neither gave ground, and neither gained it. Everything and everyone throughout Creation felt it, ubiquitous as it was. > It was felt by the first //Homo erectus//, where they bowed down and prayed to obscure Gods, long since destroyed. > It was felt by the space-faring ancestors of //[[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2256 \| Cryptomorpha gigantes]]]//, prompting them to leave their dying world for another. > It was felt across all time and all space. And in this short period, every being in existence bowed down and prayed to their Creator for salvation. And they waited in fear, in anticipation of the winner of this mammoth battle. And then it was over. And the dust began to settle. > Emerging from the dust was the Scarlet King. The Devil had slain God. And the Scarlet King walked, walked towards the Tree, towards the darkness after, as Creation marched right beside it. The King entered the Garden, and there it was... - - - [[size 0.8em]]Oblivion.[[/size]] @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[collapsible show="+ Epilogue" hide="- The Darkness After"]] Time as a concept had long since ceased to have any meaning. But in this nothingness, this empty oblivion beyond all, long after creation had been rendered nought, the ineffability once known as the Scarlet King stirred in its slumber, opening its non-existent eyes. The end of everything meant nothing to one who //was// the end of everything. And in this quiet void, the Scarlet King saw Infinity. Rows and rows of neatly lined Trees, in a Garden that stretched on for eternity. And there was going to be blood. [[/collapsible]] > [[=]] << [[[Metal and Hellfire]]] [[/=]] > [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] > Name: Children of the Scarlet King > Author: SunnyClockwork > License: CC-BY-SA > Source Link: https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/sunny-art-goi [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-02-18T05:19:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "action", "mythological", "religious-fiction", "scarlet-king", "tale" ]	The Darkness After - SCP Foundation	13	[ "sandrewswann-s-proposal", "scp-2747", "vision-at-betar", "scp-2256", "metal-and-hellfire", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide", "sunny-art-goi" ]	[ "cotsk-hub", "at-creation-s-end-hub" ]	[]	1452654495	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-darkness-after
the-deadname-meme	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="preview"> <p>"Oh my god, you made your chosen name a cognitohazard."</p> </div> <div style="display: none"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">+ CODE</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">- CODE</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div style="text-align: left;"> <div class="code"> <div class="hl-main"> <pre><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BLANKSTYLE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CSS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">2021</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">Wikidot</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">Theme</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">By</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Placeholder</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">McD</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">HarryBlank</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Based</span><span class="hl-code"> on: </span><span class="hl-identifier">Paperstack</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Penumbra</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Montserrat</span><span class="hl-special">:ital</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">wght</span><span class="hl-var">@0</span><span class="hl-code">,800;1,800&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.9</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">1.6</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#container-wrap</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'Montserrat', </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-title, "R\</span><span class="hl-number">0026</span><span class="hl-code"> C SITE-43")</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">400</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-subtitle, "SUBVERTING COMMON PRACTICE")</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">700</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 707</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">a:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">1.6</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-title</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#footer</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#footer</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#efefef</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.empty</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#999999</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem!important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">7.9</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'Montserrat', </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.45</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#extra-div-1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">160</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Ablankstyle/</span><span class="hl-number">43</span><span class="hl-code">Head.png')</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> contain</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 707</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#extra-div-1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">body</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> linear-gradient( to </span><span class="hl-string">bottom</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">200</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">200</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-special">:root</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">timeScale:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">timeDelay:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">posX:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">358</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">13</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">fnLinger:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">12</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.35</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#DDD</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.open-menu</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 767</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-identifier">target</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">black</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FDF6D7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-var">#D7EFE7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.resources</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-var">#F5D8E0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.creditRate</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">PAGE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">RATING</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-points</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anchor</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> sticky</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.14</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc((</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vw - </span><span class="hl-number">870</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">)/</span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vh - </span><span class="hl-number">18</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">103.5</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 1290</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">visibility:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">h2:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">0.9</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">YUI</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TAB</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BASE</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">YUI</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TAB</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CUSTOMIZATION</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-wrap:</span><span class="hl-code"> wrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">.125</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">UNSELECTED</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#efefef</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">HOVER</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Listitem</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">relative</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-bottom</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">align-items:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.35</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.75</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> ellipsis</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">white-space:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">nowrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Selection</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">SELECTED</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:active</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">SCROLLBAR</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-track</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-thumb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#CCC</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-thumb</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#EEE</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">CENTER</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">IMAGES</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ON</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MOBILE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">courtesy</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">of</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">PeppersGhost</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.imagediv</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">right</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 540</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.imagediv</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">only</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">screen</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 600</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block.block-right</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">ACS-COLORED</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TABLE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">DIVS</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#D7EFE7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#D8ECF4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FDF6D7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFDABF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#F5D8E0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">146</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.wiki-content-table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-collapse:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">separate</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">img</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.top-left-box</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">.item</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">WORDS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">NO</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">LONGER</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BROKEN</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">THE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CROQUEMBOUCHE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">HAS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">SPOKEN</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">word-break:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">normal</span><span class="hl-code"> !important </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.avatar-hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#breadcrumbs</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.pseudocrumbs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> -- </span><span class="hl-identifier">FANCY</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">THINGS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">from</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Woedenaz</span><span class="hl-code">'</span><span class="hl-identifier">s</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Dustjacket</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> -- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fancyhr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--bright-accent), </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-source:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Aflopstyle-dark/wl_hr.png')</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> round round</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-slice:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-code"> fill</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fancyborder</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Aflopstyle-dark/wl_border.png') </span><span class="hl-number">600</span><span class="hl-code"> round</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span></pre></div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div> <div> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <p><strong>The Deadname Meme</strong><br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/queerious">Queerious</a><br/> ⚠️ <strong>Content warning:</strong> Sexual References, Mentions of Dysphoria & Deadnaming</p> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <div class="content-warning creditRate">⚠️ content warning <span class="content-warning-arrow"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></div> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc0"><span>The Deadname Meme</span></h1> </div> </div> <div class="email-example"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">Access SCiPNET Email? One (1) new message!</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">Welcome to Site-43</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div style="text-align: left;"> <div class="email"> <div class="tofrom"> <p><strong>To:</strong> Dr. Heather Garrison<br/> <strong>From:</strong> Tad Trainor<br/> <strong>Subject:</strong> Welcome to Site-43!</p> </div> <hr/> <p>Hello Dr. Heather Garrison,</p> <p>This email is to inform you of your transfer, effective immediately, to the Memetics and Countermemetics section at Site-43. You were chosen via random lottery for staff reassignment, to build stronger ties between sites. Site-43 is a beautiful underground facility in Canada, and is sure to be a welcome change.</p> <p>Transport will be arranged within the next 24 hours. Please use this time to collect any personal belongings, and get ready for a wonderful career change!</p> <p>Tad Trainor,<br/> Human Resources</p> </div> <div class="email"> <div class="tofrom"> <p><strong>To:</strong> Tad Trainor<br/> <strong>From:</strong> Dr. Heather Garrison<br/> <strong>Subject:</strong> Re:Welcome to Site-43!</p> </div> <hr/> <p>Tad,</p> <p>We've never met and we probably never will. So I don't feel bad about saying this next part; am I to understand that I am being transferred to fucking Canada, and into a completely different department? I was in research, why not just move me to their research department? Don't I get a say in this? Also, what the fuck is a section?</p> <p>And seriously? Canada?</p> <p>Dr. Heather Garrison,<br/> Researcher</p> </div> <div class="email"> <div class="tofrom"> <p><strong>To:</strong> Tad Trainor<br/> <strong>From:</strong> Dr. Heather Garrison<br/> <strong>Subject:</strong> Re:Re:Welcome to Site-43!</p> </div> <hr/> <p>Tad,</p> <p>Please excuse the former email, I am still adjusting to a new dosage of hormones. The transfer is welcomed, and I am looking forward to new challenges.</p> <p>Dr. Heather Garrison,<br/> Researcher</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <hr/> <p>Heather sighed as she zipped her coat up tighter. She hated the cold — she was cold all the time now, thanks to her unpredictable body chemistry. Canada only made it worse.</p> <p>"Hey! You must be the new transfer! Welcome to Site-43!" A short man in an ill-fitting lab coat called out, waving her over. "I'm Dr. Swallows, Research and Experimentation, and I've been assigned as your orientation buddy!"</p> <p>Heather looked down at Dr. Swallows — he was already short, and it didn't help that at 6'2", she towered over him even more. "Thanks. Glad to be here." Heather was terse, failing to hide any negative emotions, but Dr. Swallows seemed not to notice.</p> <p>"So I hear you're going to be in Memetics and Countermemetics! Exciting! Have you done a lot of work in that field then?" He was sincere. Honestly, she felt bad being around him, worried that she'd make him less endlessly optimistic. Ah well.</p> <p>"Nope."</p> <p>A beat skipped.</p> <p>"Nope?"</p> <p>"Yep. Haven't really done much work in memetics, I mainly helped out around the lab with experiments for Senior Researchers. Grunt work."</p> <p>"Huh. Well I'm sure you'll make quick work of it!" Dr. Swallows began to walk down a corridor, having forgotten to tell Heather to follow him. For a second, she thought about not following him, ditching him instead and figuring this out on her own. Her legs were moving before she could stop them, though, and she quickly caught up with the short doctor.</p> <p><em>At least he's not that boring. Yet.</em> Heather always found a way to regret her thoughts.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Heather stood in line in the cafeteria, mentally beating herself up. <em>Why did I have to tempt fate?</em> She had just gone through what felt like the most excruciating day of her life, being dragged all over Site-43 by Dr. Swallows, spending the entire time trying not to make a joke about either his height or his name.</p> <p>She had succeeded in holding her tongue, but not by much. Thankfully, she had slipped away at the end of his tour, and managed to find her way to the cafeteria. Staring down a slab of what she assumed was meatloaf, and a slightly wilted salad, Heather was reminded of one of her least favorite parts of being at a new site, or anywhere really; figuring out what the lunch table rules were.</p> <p>Sure, it wasn't any different than high school, but then again, that didn't really help her much. High school and her did not get along — her experience with finding a lunch table was 'sit down and hope nobody comes over to harass you.' <em>It was a good technique.</em> Heather thought.</p> <p>She found an empty table in a quiet corner of the room, took a seat and started to eat her… slab. As she ate, her eyes wandered the large hall until they settled on something interesting. A couple tables in front of her, a tall woman sat. But Heather barely noticed the woman — she was immediately distracted by her coat.</p> <p>There were patterns, shapes and symbols all across the coat, crisscrossing and overlapping. Her head started to hurt for a second, so she focused onto the shapes harder. They began to separate in her mind — she started seeing the different patterns, overlaid on each other. There was a flow and rhythm to them, and Heather quickly got lost in breaking them apart and seeing them independently.</p> <p>She got so lost, in fact, that she didn't notice that the coat's wearer was standing on the other side of her table.</p> <p>"What the fuck are you looking at?"</p> <p>That's when Heather finally noticed the person attached to her object of obsession — a tall, slender woman, with long white hair falling effortlessly around her face. She was pretty. <em>Shit,</em> Heather thought. She didn't want to fall for somebody already. <em>Right. She asked me a question.</em></p> <p>"Umm, sorry, I was just looking—" Heather couldn't get the sentence out before being cut off.</p> <p>"Well take a good fucking look, because this is the most you'll ever see. I'm way out of your league."</p> <p>Oh fuck. Heather realized who she had been staring at; she'd heard about her on SCiPNET before being transferred, and Dr. Swallows wouldn't stop talking about how much he was terrified of her. This was her new boss. Dr. Lillian Lillihammer, living legend and memetics whiz.</p> <p>"Sorry, I was looking at your coat." <em>Heather, this is your boss. You should probably smooth this over.</em> Heather stood up abruptly, and stuck her hand out to the other woman. "I was just transferred to the site, I'm the new member for the Memetics and Countermemetics section."</p> <p>There was a moment of silence as both women, towering over everybody else in the room, looked at each other with shared recognition and understanding. For a second, Heather thought that she just might make it through this encounter without any casualties. That was until—</p> <p>"I didn't hire a new researcher. Find another section to work in." Dr. Lillihammer began to walk away, until a second newcomer stopped her, a man with a very nice haircut.</p> <p>"Li, play nice. She probably didn't want to be transferred here anyways. Now be a good section chair and introduce yourself to your new employee." Lillian's sigh echoed through the cafeteria; it seemed like everybody else had stopped their conversations and were staring, waiting for what would happen next.</p> <p>"Do I have tooooo?" Lillian whined in a mock-childish voice — the man just looked back at her with a look that said he was used to her.</p> <p>"Fine." Lillian took a deep breath in, centered herself, and then turned back around to face Heather. "Hello new employee, my name is Dr. Lillian Lillihammer, resident badass, local goddess and chair of Memetics and Countermemetics at Site-43. Who are you and why should I care?"</p> <p>Heather was used to being condescended to, but most of it came from old, cis, white men. Heather ignored it and tried her best to turn this around without her losing her job.</p> <p>"Hi! I'm Heather Garrison, I was at site—"</p> <p>"Oh, I know you! You're the girl who made the deadname meme."</p> <p>She hated when people called it that.</p> <p>"Yeah, that was me."</p> <p>There was a second where Heather thought that Dr. Lillihammer was about to tear apart her research and prove her wrong — but it never came.</p> <p>"Oh. In that case, you can stay for a bit. I'll see you in my office tomorrow, at 11am. I want to talk to you about how you made that deadname meme."</p> <p>Dr. Lillihammer started to walk past her, but stopped directly in front of her. Inches apart, they stared at each other. Sizing the other woman up, doing a little consulting of their gaydars. Heather felt Lillian's breath on her cheek and tried not to visibly let the shiver go down her spine.</p> <p>"I don't like this," Lillian said, continuing to stare her down. "I'm normally taller than everybody else. By a lot." It was almost like Lillian was daring her, seeing just what Heather was made of.</p> <p>Heather was never one to back down from a challenge. "Don't like somebody else being compared to you?" Her smooth and sultry voice trilled in pleasure. She did love verbal sparring.</p> <p>Lillian laughed, and Site-43's cafeteria released a collective sigh of relief. They wouldn't need to talk to HR about another staff incident with Dr. Lillihammer.</p> <p>Instead of firing back though, Lillian started staring blankly at Heather before wandering off, in the vague direction of her closet.</p> <p>"Sorry about Li, she's a lot to take in all at once." The man who smoothed things over earlier approached her with an outstretched hand. "Dr. Harry Blank, Chair of Archives and Revisions. I'm just your friendly local archivist."</p> <p>"Dr. Heather Garrison, I guess I'm part of the Memetics and Countermemetics section now? Not that I've had much experience with memetics before but…"</p> <p>"What was that about the uhh… your deadname meme that Lil was talking about? That sounds like Memetics…"</p> <p>Heather didn't reply. She hated it when it was called the deadname meme.</p> <p>Trying to break the awkward silence, Harry continued. "You know, I'd love to ask you a few questions about that and yourself. I maintain a small file of employee bios, which I'd love to keep up to date. When would you be free to do that? It should only take an hour, maybe two."</p> <p>He looked far too excited at the prospect of a lengthy deconstruction of her personal and work history — she much preferred to not think about her history, thank you very much!</p> <p>"The first thing to know is that it's <em>not</em> a deadname meme, everybody just says that. It's so much more." Heather rolled her eyes, tired of having to deal with this every time she met somebody who'd read her dissertation. All that anybody remembered from her paper was the vast oversimplification that the Foundation thought would be more 'eye-catching' for their internal journals. <em>Maybe that's the real memetic effect?</em></p> <p>Of course, that nickname was all they remembered. Not any of the actual work that she did, no, of course not. Not the fact that while it used some basic memetics, the real work was identifying how to apply it to a noospheric idea, and then <em>choosing</em> which idea to target?</p> <p>She had to remind herself; that wasn't the part that got fully published. The Foundation's internal journals made a lot of cuts to her dissertation before publication, the editor claiming that he knew better about what other scientists would care about. He thought it was more interesting how she had described the act of being deadnamed as containing a potential memetic load, through auditory delivery — the actual 'deadname meme' she'd created was practically a footnote, moved into the 'further research' section. And she had to fight hard for that.</p> <p>But her interests or actually groundbreaking research didn't matter. It was all about what would look good for the Foundation, and the journal editor.</p> <p>Between that and her advisor who kept telling her that nobody would care about her research, since it was only about trans people — she was pretty sick and tired of having to do so much work to just even get a glimmer of recognition.</p> <p><em>Fucking old white men.</em></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>It was at that moment Harry realized that he was being ignored by a memetic prodigy for the second time today. He sighed. It wasn't that big a deal. He was used to being ignored.</p> <p>When Heather walked away from him without saying another word Harry realized something. He was going to have to get used to there being two of them now.</p> <p>"Great. Let's go eat lunch," he said to nobody in particular.</p> <p>Harry saw Wettle start to laugh at him from beside the cafeteria doorway. That was, until Heather opened it, slamming it into Wettle's face, walking by, not having noticed what just happened. <em>At least some things won't change.</em></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>"So how did you do it?" Heather looked around the modified janitor's closet that Lillian used as her office. It wasn't cramped for space, but it felt more full than it was. <em>Something with a memetic effect, probably.</em> she mused to herself.</p> <p>Every inch of the walls were decorated in various diagrams, outlines, sketches; except for this one section that looked suspiciously like a conspiracy theory board. On second inspection, it WAS a conspiracy board. Fun.</p> <p>But right, Lillian had asked her a question. <em>Oh yeah, it was about how I did 'it'. Whatever 'it' means… probably my meme? Don't make a transition joke.</em></p> <p>"How did I do what?"</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Lillian stared at Heather — she thought she had a pretty good idea of what Heather could do, and how she had made her memeplex, but there was something that she wasn't sure about. And it was that missing piece that kept her up last night.</p> <p>She didn't like not knowing something, especially when it came to her specialty.</p> <p>As she watched Heather pace around the room, inspecting her decorations, she was slightly annoyed that she hadn't answered her question yet. <em>Is this what it's like?</em> Her office was full of interesting diversions, not for her with her eidetic memory, but for visitors, so she could analyze what they were getting distracted by. By her interpretation, Heather was… honestly? Heather seemed boring.</p> <p>"How did you make your deadname meme work <em>on me</em>?" Lillian grimaced as she admitted that. Even with her absurdly high CRV and her extensive experience with memetics, this random researcher had managed to beat her at her own game. It's not even that Lillian cared about Heather's deadname, she only cared about finding out how it worked.</p> <p>"It's not a deadname meme." Heather tersely replied. <em>Interesting.</em> Lillian thought, filing that emotional response away for later.</p> <p>"Sure. I can tell that your dissertation was missing a bit of… you know. Interesting work that the Foundation journal didn't want?"</p> <p>"Was it that obvious?"</p> <p>"No. I'm just really smart."</p> <p>The two women exchanged a look — Lillian couldn't tell if Heather was amused or irritated. <em>Maybe both.</em> She thought to herself. <em>Yeah, on second thought, definitely both.</em></p> <p>"Okay, so I'm going to skip the details behind the visual meme as it relates to memetics, I'm sure you understood that completely."</p> <p>"I did, but walk me through it from the start. Humor me."</p> <p>Heather sat down in a chair across from Lillian's makeshift desk. Neither sat straight, a fact that escaped neither of the women.</p> <p>"Okay. Firstly, I call the memetic effect the Name Changer, not the deadname meme. The Name Changer is built from three components. The first payload contains the information surrounding the deadname. In this case, it's encoded directly to mine. The second payload contains the replacement information, again, for the study, it was my chosen name."</p> <p>"I got that — but how does it interpret the difference between your deadname and somebody else who has the same name? From what I can see in the memetic image, it should just make that name no longer exist to anybody who is exposed to the cognitohazard." Lillian was clearly getting annoyed — she knew all the basic information from skimming the dissertation last night. Heather's explanation hadn't told her anything new.</p> <p>"Right! And at first, it did!" Heather leaned in, having taken a renewed interest in their discussion. "So that's why it's not just the deadname."</p> <p>"Oh my god it's—"</p> <p>"Yeah. It's the ontological concept of my deadname as it relates to me."</p> <p>Lillian was stunned — stunned that she hadn't thought of that answer. It was all falling into place now.</p> <p>"So you weren't just targeting the name, you were targeting the name only in relation to you."</p> <p>"Yes! And the second payload was the idea of my new name in relation to me."</p> <p>Thinking back to the memetic image, Lillian could just barely see it now. Visualizing it, she started to pick apart the image. And then — there it was. Hidden underneath the information tied to the deadname, and the chosen name were just enough patterns to tie them to their ontological concepts.</p> <p>Even though you couldn't see it fully, your brain recognized the pattern and filled in the blanks. <em>Clever.</em></p> <p>Lillian returned to the real world and continued her investigation. "What about the third payload? You mentioned three parts."</p> <p>"Right, sorry. The third part is what makes it special. So I had the first two parts of the meme working, but I was struggling with showing everybody I knew a cognitohazard, due to 'ethics'. It was benign though, so I don't know why everybody was so upset about it. Anyways, I had to add an extra part, which honestly is a lot of different parts. But they're all about spread." Heather looked excited to be going deep into her topic with somebody who could keep up. Lillian was starting to like her more.</p> <p>"First step, change the association of my deadname to be replaced with my new name. The second step was to make my chosen name an audible trigger that carried the entire memetic effect to anybody who heard my chosen name from an 'infected' individual."</p> <p>"Oh my god, you made your chosen name a cognitohazard." Lillian laughed — she had thought about doing that once, years ago, just to fuck with people. In the end, she couldn't figure out a punch-line, so she had just moved on to another idea.</p> <p>"Yep! The last step was what I loved working on the most, and the part that I'm still pissed about it being cut from my dissertation. It was way more interesting than anything else in ther— sorry, I'm ranting again." Heather stopped to catch a breath. A blush formed on her cheeks. Lillian thought about making a suggestive remark, but decided to hold her tongue. For now.</p> <p>"No, I get it. Go on."</p> <p>"So. The final piece of the puzzle was this: after a long enough time, the memetic effect would fade away, and my deadname would return to their minds. If I wasn't constantly exposing somebody to either the visual or audio memes, they would slowly regain memory of my deadname as it relates to me — and once they had one memory back, the others would all cascade."</p> <p>"Right — unless they were constantly being dosed, the idea would slide back into their minds."</p> <p>"So I stopped it."</p> <p>"Stopped the memetic effect from fading?"</p> <p>"No. I stopped my deadname from coming back."</p> <p>Lillian paused. She stopped her deadname from coming back? That sounded like any trans person's dream come true — she knew even she had moments of dysphoria when she heard her deadname, even now, kickass as she was.</p> <p>"How did you make the meme permanent?" That had to be the answer. <em>Maybe some magic way of forcing the meme to stay put?</em> Heather didn't seem like a witch… well, not one that the Foundation cared about anyways. <em>Maybe a thaumic array she set up so that it was constantly being reapplied to any carrier of the idea? But there's no way that she could keep it running for longer than…</em> Lillian had done some quick math in her head, and concluded, yeah. There's no way the Foundation would have given a junior researcher that many resources.</p> <p><em>So how did she do it?</em> Lillian thought, having fallen back into the puzzle that had kept her up last night.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Heather watched as Lillian's eyes seemed to glaze over, as she stared directly at her. Well, not at her. Past her.</p> <p><em>Was it something I had said?</em> Heather thought. She had gotten excited talking with Dr. Lillihammer about her research, but realized that maybe she had been behaving unprofessionally with her boss. She definitely should have been more respectful, now that she thought about it.</p> <p><em>Crap.</em></p> <p>What should she do? Should she apologize? Heather looked at Lillian, who was still staring — what was she waiting for? Heather took a second to stare back. She hadn't really looked at the woman before — the silver hair, delicate nose, pursed lips. <em>Well, she's definitely pretty.</em> Heather thought. <em>Wait! Crap! That's your boss, it's definitely a no-fly zone.</em></p> <p>But why was Lillian still staring?</p> <p>Oh. That's right. She had asked Heather a question. Again. Oops.</p> <p>"I didn't make the meme permanent." Heather jumped right back into it, as if neither of the women had been lost in their own minds. Thankfully, Lillian didn't say anything about it, if she had even noticed Heather drifting away too. "I just… reassociated my deadname. Permanently."</p> <p>"To your chosen name?"</p> <p>"I thought about that at first, but it had the same issue of correlation causing the memetic complex to degrade over time. Too many overlaps and small inconsistencies it had to fight to have much staying power."</p> <p>"Right."</p> <p>"So instead I associated my deadname with nothing."</p> <p>"Nothing."</p> <p>"The noospheric concept of nothingness, of void, of absence."</p> <p>Both women sat back in their chairs as Lillian took in what Heather had just said.</p> <p>"So you grabbed your deadname, and replaced it with your chosen name. And then you took your deadname again, and tied it to the conceptual idea of nothingness?" Lillian looked, for the first time in the conversation, truly, completely interested.</p> <p>Heather continued on, more confident than ever. "Yeah. It's a large enough non-concept that the association had a significantly stronger relation, so it stayed for even longer. And the best part was if the idea of my deadname ever came back to somebody, they associated it with 'nothing' and dismissed the concept entirely."</p> <p>"So you severed your deadname from the noosphere."</p> <p>"Exactly. As far as it relates to me, my deadname no longer exists as a concept. At all." Heather grinned wide. She was proud of that, really proud.</p> <p>"But how did it work on me? I should have been able to remember the deadname as separate information from your chosen name if the meme works the way you say it does."</p> <p>"I'm not targeting your memories though. I'm targeting recall. I'm replacing the idea <em>as</em> you're remembering it." Was she getting too smug? Probably not.</p> <p>"Fuck!"</p> <p>Heather froze. Had she said something wrong? Gotten too smug? Panicking, she started — "I'm sorry, did I—"</p> <p>"Fuck! It's makes so much sense now! It wasn't about memories, it was processing and interpre… why didn't I realize… of course it was ontological… the fucking noosphere, it's always the fucking noosphere… that's brilliant though." <em>That wasn't a sentence,</em> Heather thought, <em>that was a lot of sentences, squished into one.</em></p> <p>Dr. Lillian Lillihamer fixed her gaze directly at Heather.</p> <p>"Seriously. That was a brilliant solution. You should be proud of that."</p> <p>Heather let go an internal sigh, the panic having faded. "I am proud."</p> <p>The dust having settled from their chaotic conversation, both women took a second to breathe and think. Heather tried to figure out what to say next, but Lillian took care of that for her.</p> <p>"So. Can you make me one?"</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>The two woman had spent a few hours longer than either had planned, going over the entire process of creating and infusing a visual meme with both a memetic and ontological payload, after which, Dr. Lillihammer had invited her out for drinks off-site. <em>It's my boss, right? I should probably go.</em> Heather didn't love being in crowds, but those were memories from a different time. She should be fine.</p> <p><em>Anywhere that Lillian would go to would probably be safe enough. Right?</em></p> <p>Heather looked at herself in the mirror — she had changed out of her lab clothes, and into something more casual. Dark, high-waisted jeans hugged her hips, with a deep green crossover top that gave her more curves than she really had. <em>Ugh</em>, she thought to herself, <em>sometimes hormones are too slow.</em></p> <p>She moved on from her top — she had just finished doing her make-up, a subtle smoky eye look. Her massive waves of black hair cascaded around her face, flowing fluidly down into her outfit.</p> <p><em>Now to pick some shoes…</em> Heather looked at the options that she had brought, and considered what would be best for the snow.</p> <p>She decided to wear the ones with the highest heels she had.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>"Heather! Over here!" Lillian was sat at the bar, still wearing her dazzlecoat, hair sweeping around her as she turned and waved. Heather made her way over to the bar, and Lillian got up to greet the woman.</p> <p><em>Fuck.</em> Lillian thought. She understood what other people felt about taller women now. It was a rarity, that's for sure, few people were taller than her Amazoness-like stature. She looked down at Heather's shoes — 4 inch heeled boots. <em>Of course.</em> Her boots were relatively flat in comparison. Lillian quickly realized that it looked like she was staring at Heather's…</p> <p>"Heels like that? In the snow?" She quipped, brushing it off.</p> <p>"I… well I wanted to be taller than you Lillia— sorry, I mean Dr. Lillihammer." Heather seemed awkward at having been called out.</p> <p>"Hey, don't get stuck on formalities. I'm informal in every way. Just call me Lillian."</p> <p>"Right. Lillian." Heather took the seat next to her, and once again Lillian felt herself staring. <em>Stop it! She. Is. Your. Employee. Sure, you didn't hire her, but still! Keep it in your pants for once.</em></p> <p>"Shots?" Lillian sat down with a daring look on her face.</p> <p>"Shots it is." Heather fired back. This was going to be an interesting night.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>"Okay, so wait. Why not use the rock?"</p> <p>"The rock? No, fuck the rock!"</p> <p>"What? Fuck the rock? People I care about used the rock! The rock fucking slaps!"</p> <p>"Oh shit. Did you use the rock?"</p> <p>"No, but—"</p> <p>"Well then! Fuck the rock!"</p> <p>Lillian leaned forward.</p> <p>"Why didn't you want to use it then?"</p> <p>Heather leaned forward too.</p> <p>"The rock swaps everything. I… well, my gender identity falls somewhere in between, and a complete switch wouldn't have worked out."</p> <p>"So you kept—"</p> <p>"Yeah. I kept it."</p> <p>"Does it still… uhh, does it still work?"</p> <p>"Yes. It still works."</p> <p>An awkward moment passed. And then another. The two women blushed and took their next shots.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>"Heather, listen. Honestly? I didn't want you on my team yesterday."</p> <p>"Yeah. I mean that was kind of obvious."</p> <p>"Okay looook, I'm surrounded by idiots who don't know the first thing about what I do. I just… assumed that you would be one too."</p> <p>"Good thing I'm not then." Heather wiggled her eyebrows, giggling to herself. It was cuter than it had any right to be.</p> <p>"You're not! Which is exciting! You're fascinating."</p> <p>Lillian was staring again. This time, she wasn't lost in her thoughts.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>"So is the sex nexus real?"</p> <p>"Oh my god, the sexus? Yeah. It's real."</p> <p>Heather blushed deep at where her mind went.</p> <p>"Did you read the—"</p> <p>Heather cut Lillian off.</p> <p>"Yeah, I've read the file."</p> <p>"There's just something about being a tall woman at Site-43." Lillian mused. She looked back over at Heather. "Though, from this perspective? I can definitely see the appeal." Lillian smirked, as Heather's blush grew deeper.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>"Can I be honest?"</p> <p>"I'd expect nothing less from an employee of mine."</p> <p>"You're really pretty." Lillian grinned. <em>It seems like Heather is pretty drunk to admit that so openly.</em> She thought to herself in pride.</p> <p>"I know. You were staring at me on your first day, of course you thought I was pretty."</p> <p>"I wasn't looking at you."</p> <p>Lillian was shocked. "Excuse me? You weren't looking at me? Who the hell were you looking at then? Harry? Fucking Wettle?"</p> <p>"I was looking at your coat."</p> <p>"Oh." Lillian realized that she was probably pretty drunk too.</p> <p>A beat.</p> <p>"It's a really cool coat."</p> <p>"I know! It has pockets!"</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>As the bar closed, the two women stumbled outside and started making their way back to the site via the train system. They leaned on each other for support as they walked through the fresh snow. For support. Right.</p> <p>Neither of them had any ulterior motives whatsoever.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Heather was at her door, Lillian having walked her back to her quarters. It was late, and they were the only two around.</p> <p>"Thanks for tonight. I don't… well I don't really have a lot of friends that are like me, you know? Somebody who really gets what it was like. It's nice." Heather spoke honestly, the booze still coursing through her system and giving her unfounded confidence.</p> <p>"It was special." Lillian got it. Heather knew that she did. "So… since neither of us used the rock… care to compare?"</p> <p>Heather was tempted — oh god, was she tempted. Lillian started drifting closer to her, leaning in. Heather bit her lip, unsure of what to do — before she knew it, their faces were only inches apart. Again.</p> <p>"So?" Lillian's hot breath hit her lips, and a shiver ran down her spine. Heather panicked.</p> <p>"I guess we'll just have to find out another time. Goodnight Lil, I'll see you tomorrow." Heather quickly backed into her dormitory, the door closing behind her. She was breathing hard, her heart beating faster than it had in years. <em>Shit girl, really? It's just a crush. It's okay. Let's just sleep this off and figure it out in the morning.</em></p> <p>Heather barely made it into her bed before passing out and lapsing into a very tense, but gratifying dream.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Lillian stood in the hallway, still staring at Heather's door.</p> <p><em>Did—did I just get rejected?</em> Lillian was stunned. When she went for something she wanted, or somebody, she got it. <em>Is… is this what it feels like? God, you meet one other trans girl and you turn into a teenager Lils.</em></p> <p>She was fascinated by Heather Garrison. And frustrated. Very, very, frustrated.</p> <p>Resolving to deal with that, Lillian began making her way back to her dormitory. As she walked on autopilot, her mind wandered. <em>The deadname meme… no, the Name Changer.</em> It was shockingly simple, and a completely different way of solving the problem than Lillian had considered. <em>I know that I'm still smarter than she is but… somehow, I still don't fully get her.</em></p> <p>And if there was something that bothered Lillian more than anything else, it was a puzzle she couldn't solve. Her other frustration didn't help much either.</p> <div class="earthworm earthworm--old-syntax-first-true earthworm--old-syntax-last-false earthworm--old-syntax-hub-yes {$class}"> <div class="first earthworm__previous" data-title="/"> <p><a href="/">/</a></p> </div> <div class="hub earthworm__hub" data-title="Forgotten Memories"> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/forgotten-memories-hub">Forgotten Memories</a></p> </div> <div class="last earthworm__next" data-title="SCP-8688"> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-8688">SCP-8688</a></p> </div> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-deadname-meme">The Deadname Meme</a>" by Queerious, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-deadname-meme">https://scpwiki.com/the-deadname-meme</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	===== [[include <a href="/component:preview">component:preview</a> text="Oh my god, you made your chosen name a cognitohazard."]] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:blankstyle">:scp-wiki:theme:blankstyle</a>]] [[div]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] The Deadname Meme Author: [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/queerious\|Queerious]]] ⚠️ Content warning: Sexual References, Mentions of Dysphoria & Deadnaming [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:end">:scp-wiki:info:end</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:info-cw">:scp-wiki:component:info-cw</a>]] [[/div]] @@ @@ [[div]] [[=]] + The Deadname Meme [[/=]] [[/div]] [[module CSS]] #page-content .creditButton p a { color:#373737; } .email-example .collapsible-block-folded a.collapsible-block-link { animation: blink 0.8s ease-in-out infinite alternate; } @keyframes blink { 0% { color: transparent; } 50%, 100% { color: #b01; } } .email {border: solid 2px #000000; width: 88%; padding: 1px 15px; margin: 10px; box-shadow: 0 1px 3px rgba(0,0,0,.5)} .email-example a.collapsible-block-link {font-weight: bold;} .tofrom {margin-left: 10px; margin-top: 5px; padding: 1px 15px; border-left: solid 3px maroon} [[/module]] [[div class="email-example"]] [[=]] [[collapsible show="Access SCiPNET Email? One (1) new message!" hide="Welcome to Site-43"]] [[<]] [[div class="email"]] [[div class="tofrom"]] To: Dr. Heather Garrison From: Tad Trainor Subject: Welcome to Site-43! [[/div]] ------ Hello Dr. Heather Garrison, This email is to inform you of your transfer, effective immediately, to the Memetics and Countermemetics section at Site-43. You were chosen via random lottery for staff reassignment, to build stronger ties between sites. Site-43 is a beautiful underground facility in Canada, and is sure to be a welcome change. Transport will be arranged within the next 24 hours. Please use this time to collect any personal belongings, and get ready for a wonderful career change! Tad Trainor, Human Resources [[/div]] > [[div class="email"]] [[div class="tofrom"]] To: Tad Trainor From: Dr. Heather Garrison Subject: Re:Welcome to Site-43! [[/div]] ------ Tad, We've never met and we probably never will. So I don't feel bad about saying this next part; am I to understand that I am being transferred to fucking Canada, and into a completely different department? I was in research, why not just move me to their research department? Don't I get a say in this? Also, what the fuck is a section? And seriously? Canada? Dr. Heather Garrison, Researcher [[/div]] > [[div class="email"]] [[div class="tofrom"]] To: Tad Trainor From: Dr. Heather Garrison Subject: Re:Re:Welcome to Site-43! [[/div]] ------ Tad, Please excuse the former email, I am still adjusting to a new dosage of hormones. The transfer is welcomed, and I am looking forward to new challenges. Dr. Heather Garrison, Researcher [[/div]] > [[/<]] [[/collapsible]] [[/=]] [[/div]] ------ Heather sighed as she zipped her coat up tighter. She hated the cold -- she was cold all the time now, thanks to her unpredictable body chemistry. Canada only made it worse. "Hey! You must be the new transfer! Welcome to Site-43!" A short man in an ill-fitting lab coat called out, waving her over. "I'm Dr. Swallows, Research and Experimentation, and I've been assigned as your orientation buddy!" Heather looked down at Dr. Swallows -- he was already short, and it didn't help that at 6'2", she towered over him even more. "Thanks. Glad to be here." Heather was terse, failing to hide any negative emotions, but Dr. Swallows seemed not to notice. "So I hear you're going to be in Memetics and Countermemetics! Exciting! Have you done a lot of work in that field then?" He was sincere. Honestly, she felt bad being around him, worried that she'd make him less endlessly optimistic. Ah well. "Nope." A beat skipped. "Nope?" "Yep. Haven't really done much work in memetics, I mainly helped out around the lab with experiments for Senior Researchers. Grunt work." "Huh. Well I'm sure you'll make quick work of it!" Dr. Swallows began to walk down a corridor, having forgotten to tell Heather to follow him. For a second, she thought about not following him, ditching him instead and figuring this out on her own. Her legs were moving before she could stop them, though, and she quickly caught up with the short doctor. //At least he's not that boring. Yet.// Heather always found a way to regret her thoughts. @@ @@ ------ @@ @@ Heather stood in line in the cafeteria, mentally beating herself up. //Why did I have to tempt fate?// She had just gone through what felt like the most excruciating day of her life, being dragged all over Site-43 by Dr. Swallows, spending the entire time trying not to make a joke about either his height or his name. She had succeeded in holding her tongue, but not by much. Thankfully, she had slipped away at the end of his tour, and managed to find her way to the cafeteria. Staring down a slab of what she assumed was meatloaf, and a slightly wilted salad, Heather was reminded of one of her least favorite parts of being at a new site, or anywhere really; figuring out what the lunch table rules were. Sure, it wasn't any different than high school, but then again, that didn't really help her much. High school and her did not get along -- her experience with finding a lunch table was 'sit down and hope nobody comes over to harass you.' //It was a good technique.// Heather thought. She found an empty table in a quiet corner of the room, took a seat and started to eat her... slab. As she ate, her eyes wandered the large hall until they settled on something interesting. A couple tables in front of her, a tall woman sat. But Heather barely noticed the woman -- she was immediately distracted by her coat. There were patterns, shapes and symbols all across the coat, crisscrossing and overlapping. Her head started to hurt for a second, so she focused onto the shapes harder. They began to separate in her mind -- she started seeing the different patterns, overlaid on each other. There was a flow and rhythm to them, and Heather quickly got lost in breaking them apart and seeing them independently. She got so lost, in fact, that she didn't notice that the coat's wearer was standing on the other side of her table. "What the fuck are you looking at?" That's when Heather finally noticed the person attached to her object of obsession -- a tall, slender woman, with long white hair falling effortlessly around her face. She was pretty. //Shit,// Heather thought. She didn't want to fall for somebody already. //Right. She asked me a question.// "Umm, sorry, I was just looking--" Heather couldn't get the sentence out before being cut off. "Well take a good fucking look, because this is the most you'll ever see. I'm way out of your league." Oh fuck. Heather realized who she had been staring at; she'd heard about her on SCiPNET before being transferred, and Dr. Swallows wouldn't stop talking about how much he was terrified of her. This was her new boss. Dr. Lillian Lillihammer, living legend and memetics whiz. "Sorry, I was looking at your coat." //Heather, this is your boss. You should probably smooth this over.// Heather stood up abruptly, and stuck her hand out to the other woman. "I was just transferred to the site, I'm the new member for the Memetics and Countermemetics section." There was a moment of silence as both women, towering over everybody else in the room, looked at each other with shared recognition and understanding. For a second, Heather thought that she just might make it through this encounter without any casualties. That was until-- "I didn't hire a new researcher. Find another section to work in." Dr. Lillihammer began to walk away, until a second newcomer stopped her, a man with a very nice haircut. "Li, play nice. She probably didn't want to be transferred here anyways. Now be a good section chair and introduce yourself to your new employee." Lillian's sigh echoed through the cafeteria; it seemed like everybody else had stopped their conversations and were staring, waiting for what would happen next. "Do I have tooooo?" Lillian whined in a mock-childish voice -- the man just looked back at her with a look that said he was used to her. "Fine." Lillian took a deep breath in, centered herself, and then turned back around to face Heather. "Hello new employee, my name is Dr. Lillian Lillihammer, resident badass, local goddess and chair of Memetics and Countermemetics at Site-43. Who are you and why should I care?" Heather was used to being condescended to, but most of it came from old, cis, white men. Heather ignored it and tried her best to turn this around without her losing her job. "Hi! I'm Heather Garrison, I was at site--" "Oh, I know you! You're the girl who made the deadname meme." She hated when people called it that. "Yeah, that was me." There was a second where Heather thought that Dr. Lillihammer was about to tear apart her research and prove her wrong -- but it never came. "Oh. In that case, you can stay for a bit. I'll see you in my office tomorrow, at 11am. I want to talk to you about how you made that deadname meme." Dr. Lillihammer started to walk past her, but stopped directly in front of her. Inches apart, they stared at each other. Sizing the other woman up, doing a little consulting of their gaydars. Heather felt Lillian's breath on her cheek and tried not to visibly let the shiver go down her spine. "I don't like this," Lillian said, continuing to stare her down. "I'm normally taller than everybody else. By a lot." It was almost like Lillian was daring her, seeing just what Heather was made of. Heather was never one to back down from a challenge. "Don't like somebody else being compared to you?" Her smooth and sultry voice trilled in pleasure. She did love verbal sparring. Lillian laughed, and Site-43's cafeteria released a collective sigh of relief. They wouldn't need to talk to HR about another staff incident with Dr. Lillihammer. Instead of firing back though, Lillian started staring blankly at Heather before wandering off, in the vague direction of her closet. "Sorry about Li, she's a lot to take in all at once." The man who smoothed things over earlier approached her with an outstretched hand. "Dr. Harry Blank, Chair of Archives and Revisions. I'm just your friendly local archivist." "Dr. Heather Garrison, I guess I'm part of the Memetics and Countermemetics section now? Not that I've had much experience with memetics before but..." "What was that about the uhh... your deadname meme that Lil was talking about? That sounds like Memetics..." Heather didn't reply. She hated it when it was called the deadname meme. Trying to break the awkward silence, Harry continued. "You know, I'd love to ask you a few questions about that and yourself. I maintain a small file of employee bios, which I'd love to keep up to date. When would you be free to do that? It should only take an hour, maybe two." He looked far too excited at the prospect of a lengthy deconstruction of her personal and work history -- she much preferred to not think about her history, thank you very much! "The first thing to know is that it's //not// a deadname meme, everybody just says that. It's so much more." Heather rolled her eyes, tired of having to deal with this every time she met somebody who'd read her dissertation. All that anybody remembered from her paper was the vast oversimplification that the Foundation thought would be more 'eye-catching' for their internal journals. //Maybe that's the real memetic effect?// Of course, that nickname was all they remembered. Not any of the actual work that she did, no, of course not. Not the fact that while it used some basic memetics, the real work was identifying how to apply it to a noospheric idea, and then //choosing// which idea to target? She had to remind herself; that wasn't the part that got fully published. The Foundation's internal journals made a lot of cuts to her dissertation before publication, the editor claiming that he knew better about what other scientists would care about. He thought it was more interesting how she had described the act of being deadnamed as containing a potential memetic load, through auditory delivery -- the actual 'deadname meme' she'd created was practically a footnote, moved into the 'further research' section. And she had to fight hard for that. But her interests or actually groundbreaking research didn't matter. It was all about what would look good for the Foundation, and the journal editor. Between that and her advisor who kept telling her that nobody would care about her research, since it was only about trans people -- she was pretty sick and tired of having to do so much work to just even get a glimmer of recognition. //Fucking old white men.// @@ @@ ------ @@ @@ It was at that moment Harry realized that he was being ignored by a memetic prodigy for the second time today. He sighed. It wasn't that big a deal. He was used to being ignored. When Heather walked away from him without saying another word Harry realized something. He was going to have to get used to there being two of them now. "Great. Let's go eat lunch," he said to nobody in particular. Harry saw Wettle start to laugh at him from beside the cafeteria doorway. That was, until Heather opened it, slamming it into Wettle's face, walking by, not having noticed what just happened. //At least some things won't change.// @@ @@ ------ @@ @@ "So how did you do it?" Heather looked around the modified janitor's closet that Lillian used as her office. It wasn't cramped for space, but it felt more full than it was. //Something with a memetic effect, probably.// she mused to herself. Every inch of the walls were decorated in various diagrams, outlines, sketches; except for this one section that looked suspiciously like a conspiracy theory board. On second inspection, it WAS a conspiracy board. Fun. But right, Lillian had asked her a question. //Oh yeah, it was about how I did 'it'. Whatever 'it' means... probably my meme? Don't make a transition joke.// "How did I do what?" @@ @@ ------ @@ @@ Lillian stared at Heather -- she thought she had a pretty good idea of what Heather could do, and how she had made her memeplex, but there was something that she wasn't sure about. And it was that missing piece that kept her up last night. She didn't like not knowing something, especially when it came to her specialty. As she watched Heather pace around the room, inspecting her decorations, she was slightly annoyed that she hadn't answered her question yet. //Is this what it's like?// Her office was full of interesting diversions, not for her with her eidetic memory, but for visitors, so she could analyze what they were getting distracted by. By her interpretation, Heather was... honestly? Heather seemed boring. "How did you make your deadname meme work //on me//?" Lillian grimaced as she admitted that. Even with her absurdly high CRV and her extensive experience with memetics, this random researcher had managed to beat her at her own game. It's not even that Lillian cared about Heather's deadname, she only cared about finding out how it worked. "It's not a deadname meme." Heather tersely replied. //Interesting.// Lillian thought, filing that emotional response away for later. "Sure. I can tell that your dissertation was missing a bit of... you know. Interesting work that the Foundation journal didn't want?" "Was it that obvious?" "No. I'm just really smart." The two women exchanged a look -- Lillian couldn't tell if Heather was amused or irritated. //Maybe both.// She thought to herself. //Yeah, on second thought, definitely both.// "Okay, so I'm going to skip the details behind the visual meme as it relates to memetics, I'm sure you understood that completely." "I did, but walk me through it from the start. Humor me." Heather sat down in a chair across from Lillian's makeshift desk. Neither sat straight, a fact that escaped neither of the women. "Okay. Firstly, I call the memetic effect the Name Changer, not the deadname meme. The Name Changer is built from three components. The first payload contains the information surrounding the deadname. In this case, it's encoded directly to mine. The second payload contains the replacement information, again, for the study, it was my chosen name." "I got that -- but how does it interpret the difference between your deadname and somebody else who has the same name? From what I can see in the memetic image, it should just make that name no longer exist to anybody who is exposed to the cognitohazard." Lillian was clearly getting annoyed -- she knew all the basic information from skimming the dissertation last night. Heather's explanation hadn't told her anything new. "Right! And at first, it did!" Heather leaned in, having taken a renewed interest in their discussion. "So that's why it's not just the deadname." "Oh my god it's--" "Yeah. It's the ontological concept of my deadname as it relates to me." Lillian was stunned -- stunned that she hadn't thought of that answer. It was all falling into place now. "So you weren't just targeting the name, you were targeting the name only in relation to you." "Yes! And the second payload was the idea of my new name in relation to me." Thinking back to the memetic image, Lillian could just barely see it now. Visualizing it, she started to pick apart the image. And then -- there it was. Hidden underneath the information tied to the deadname, and the chosen name were just enough patterns to tie them to their ontological concepts. Even though you couldn't see it fully, your brain recognized the pattern and filled in the blanks. //Clever.// Lillian returned to the real world and continued her investigation. "What about the third payload? You mentioned three parts." "Right, sorry. The third part is what makes it special. So I had the first two parts of the meme working, but I was struggling with showing everybody I knew a cognitohazard, due to 'ethics'. It was benign though, so I don't know why everybody was so upset about it. Anyways, I had to add an extra part, which honestly is a lot of different parts. But they're all about spread." Heather looked excited to be going deep into her topic with somebody who could keep up. Lillian was starting to like her more. "First step, change the association of my deadname to be replaced with my new name. The second step was to make my chosen name an audible trigger that carried the entire memetic effect to anybody who heard my chosen name from an 'infected' individual." "Oh my god, you made your chosen name a cognitohazard." Lillian laughed -- she had thought about doing that once, years ago, just to fuck with people. In the end, she couldn't figure out a punch-line, so she had just moved on to another idea. "Yep! The last step was what I loved working on the most, and the part that I'm still pissed about it being cut from my dissertation. It was way more interesting than anything else in ther-- sorry, I'm ranting again." Heather stopped to catch a breath. A blush formed on her cheeks. Lillian thought about making a suggestive remark, but decided to hold her tongue. For now. "No, I get it. Go on." "So. The final piece of the puzzle was this: after a long enough time, the memetic effect would fade away, and my deadname would return to their minds. If I wasn't constantly exposing somebody to either the visual or audio memes, they would slowly regain memory of my deadname as it relates to me -- and once they had one memory back, the others would all cascade." "Right -- unless they were constantly being dosed, the idea would slide back into their minds." "So I stopped it." "Stopped the memetic effect from fading?" "No. I stopped my deadname from coming back." Lillian paused. She stopped her deadname from coming back? That sounded like any trans person's dream come true -- she knew even she had moments of dysphoria when she heard her deadname, even now, kickass as she was. "How did you make the meme permanent?" That had to be the answer. //Maybe some magic way of forcing the meme to stay put?// Heather didn't seem like a witch... well, not one that the Foundation cared about anyways. //Maybe a thaumic array she set up so that it was constantly being reapplied to any carrier of the idea? But there's no way that she could keep it running for longer than...// Lillian had done some quick math in her head, and concluded, yeah. There's no way the Foundation would have given a junior researcher that many resources. //So how did she do it?// Lillian thought, having fallen back into the puzzle that had kept her up last night. @@ @@ ------ @@ @@ Heather watched as Lillian's eyes seemed to glaze over, as she stared directly at her. Well, not at her. Past her. //Was it something I had said?// Heather thought. She had gotten excited talking with Dr. Lillihammer about her research, but realized that maybe she had been behaving unprofessionally with her boss. She definitely should have been more respectful, now that she thought about it. //Crap.// What should she do? Should she apologize? Heather looked at Lillian, who was still staring -- what was she waiting for? Heather took a second to stare back. She hadn't really looked at the woman before -- the silver hair, delicate nose, pursed lips. //Well, she's definitely pretty.// Heather thought. //Wait! Crap! That's your boss, it's definitely a no-fly zone.// But why was Lillian still staring? Oh. That's right. She had asked Heather a question. Again. Oops. "I didn't make the meme permanent." Heather jumped right back into it, as if neither of the women had been lost in their own minds. Thankfully, Lillian didn't say anything about it, if she had even noticed Heather drifting away too. "I just... reassociated my deadname. Permanently." "To your chosen name?" "I thought about that at first, but it had the same issue of correlation causing the memetic complex to degrade over time. Too many overlaps and small inconsistencies it had to fight to have much staying power." "Right." "So instead I associated my deadname with nothing." "Nothing." "The noospheric concept of nothingness, of void, of absence." Both women sat back in their chairs as Lillian took in what Heather had just said. "So you grabbed your deadname, and replaced it with your chosen name. And then you took your deadname again, and tied it to the conceptual idea of nothingness?" Lillian looked, for the first time in the conversation, truly, completely interested. Heather continued on, more confident than ever. "Yeah. It's a large enough non-concept that the association had a significantly stronger relation, so it stayed for even longer. And the best part was if the idea of my deadname ever came back to somebody, they associated it with 'nothing' and dismissed the concept entirely." "So you severed your deadname from the noosphere." "Exactly. As far as it relates to me, my deadname no longer exists as a concept. At all." Heather grinned wide. She was proud of that, really proud. "But how did it work on me? I should have been able to remember the deadname as separate information from your chosen name if the meme works the way you say it does." "I'm not targeting your memories though. I'm targeting recall. I'm replacing the idea //as// you're remembering it." Was she getting too smug? Probably not. "Fuck!" Heather froze. Had she said something wrong? Gotten too smug? Panicking, she started -- "I'm sorry, did I--" "Fuck! It's makes so much sense now! It wasn't about memories, it was processing and interpre... why didn't I realize... of course it was ontological... the fucking noosphere, it's always the fucking noosphere... that's brilliant though." //That wasn't a sentence,// Heather thought, //that was a lot of sentences, squished into one.// Dr. Lillian Lillihamer fixed her gaze directly at Heather. "Seriously. That was a brilliant solution. You should be proud of that." Heather let go an internal sigh, the panic having faded. "I am proud." The dust having settled from their chaotic conversation, both women took a second to breathe and think. Heather tried to figure out what to say next, but Lillian took care of that for her. "So. Can you make me one?" @@ @@ ------ @@ @@ The two woman had spent a few hours longer than either had planned, going over the entire process of creating and infusing a visual meme with both a memetic and ontological payload, after which, Dr. Lillihammer had invited her out for drinks off-site. //It's my boss, right? I should probably go.// Heather didn't love being in crowds, but those were memories from a different time. She should be fine. //Anywhere that Lillian would go to would probably be safe enough. Right?// Heather looked at herself in the mirror -- she had changed out of her lab clothes, and into something more casual. Dark, high-waisted jeans hugged her hips, with a deep green crossover top that gave her more curves than she really had. //Ugh//, she thought to herself, //sometimes hormones are too slow.// She moved on from her top -- she had just finished doing her make-up, a subtle smoky eye look. Her massive waves of black hair cascaded around her face, flowing fluidly down into her outfit. //Now to pick some shoes...// Heather looked at the options that she had brought, and considered what would be best for the snow. She decided to wear the ones with the highest heels she had. @@ @@ ------ @@ @@ "Heather! Over here!" Lillian was sat at the bar, still wearing her dazzlecoat, hair sweeping around her as she turned and waved. Heather made her way over to the bar, and Lillian got up to greet the woman. //Fuck.// Lillian thought. She understood what other people felt about taller women now. It was a rarity, that's for sure, few people were taller than her Amazoness-like stature. She looked down at Heather's shoes -- 4 inch heeled boots. //Of course.// Her boots were relatively flat in comparison. Lillian quickly realized that it looked like she was staring at Heather's... "Heels like that? In the snow?" She quipped, brushing it off. "I... well I wanted to be taller than you Lillia-- sorry, I mean Dr. Lillihammer." Heather seemed awkward at having been called out. "Hey, don't get stuck on formalities. I'm informal in every way. Just call me Lillian." "Right. Lillian." Heather took the seat next to her, and once again Lillian felt herself staring. //Stop it! She. Is. Your. Employee. Sure, you didn't hire her, but still! Keep it in your pants for once.// "Shots?" Lillian sat down with a daring look on her face. "Shots it is." Heather fired back. This was going to be an interesting night. @@ @@ ------ @@ @@ "Okay, so wait. Why not use the rock?" "The rock? No, fuck the rock!" "What? Fuck the rock? People I care about used the rock! The rock fucking slaps!" "Oh shit. Did you use the rock?" "No, but--" "Well then! Fuck the rock!" Lillian leaned forward. "Why didn't you want to use it then?" Heather leaned forward too. "The rock swaps everything. I... well, my gender identity falls somewhere in between, and a complete switch wouldn't have worked out." "So you kept--" "Yeah. I kept it." "Does it still... uhh, does it still work?" "Yes. It still works." An awkward moment passed. And then another. The two women blushed and took their next shots. @@ @@ ------ @@ @@ "Heather, listen. Honestly? I didn't want you on my team yesterday." "Yeah. I mean that was kind of obvious." "Okay looook, I'm surrounded by idiots who don't know the first thing about what I do. I just... assumed that you would be one too." "Good thing I'm not then." Heather wiggled her eyebrows, giggling to herself. It was cuter than it had any right to be. "You're not! Which is exciting! You're fascinating." Lillian was staring again. This time, she wasn't lost in her thoughts. @@ @@ ------ @@ @@ "So is the sex nexus real?" "Oh my god, the sexus? Yeah. It's real." Heather blushed deep at where her mind went. "Did you read the--" Heather cut Lillian off. "Yeah, I've read the file." "There's just something about being a tall woman at Site-43." Lillian mused. She looked back over at Heather. "Though, from this perspective? I can definitely see the appeal." Lillian smirked, as Heather's blush grew deeper. @@ @@ ------ @@ @@ "Can I be honest?" "I'd expect nothing less from an employee of mine." "You're really pretty." Lillian grinned. //It seems like Heather is pretty drunk to admit that so openly.// She thought to herself in pride. "I know. You were staring at me on your first day, of course you thought I was pretty." "I wasn't looking at you." Lillian was shocked. "Excuse me? You weren't looking at me? Who the hell were you looking at then? Harry? Fucking Wettle?" "I was looking at your coat." "Oh." Lillian realized that she was probably pretty drunk too. A beat. "It's a really cool coat." "I know! It has pockets!" @@ @@ ------ @@ @@ As the bar closed, the two women stumbled outside and started making their way back to the site via the train system. They leaned on each other for support as they walked through the fresh snow. For support. Right. Neither of them had any ulterior motives whatsoever. @@ @@ ------ @@ @@ Heather was at her door, Lillian having walked her back to her quarters. It was late, and they were the only two around. "Thanks for tonight. I don't... well I don't really have a lot of friends that are like me, you know? Somebody who really gets what it was like. It's nice." Heather spoke honestly, the booze still coursing through her system and giving her unfounded confidence. "It was special." Lillian got it. Heather knew that she did. "So... since neither of us used the rock... care to compare?" Heather was tempted -- oh god, was she tempted. Lillian started drifting closer to her, leaning in. Heather bit her lip, unsure of what to do -- before she knew it, their faces were only inches apart. Again. "So?" Lillian's hot breath hit her lips, and a shiver ran down her spine. Heather panicked. "I guess we'll just have to find out another time. Goodnight Lil, I'll see you tomorrow." Heather quickly backed into her dormitory, the door closing behind her. She was breathing hard, her heart beating faster than it had in years. //Shit girl, really? It's just a crush. It's okay. Let's just sleep this off and figure it out in the morning.// Heather barely made it into her bed before passing out and lapsing into a very tense, but gratifying dream. @@ @@ ------ @@ @@ Lillian stood in the hallway, still staring at Heather's door. //Did--did I just get rejected?// Lillian was stunned. When she went for something she wanted, or somebody, she got it. //Is... is this what it feels like? God, you meet one other trans girl and you turn into a teenager Lils.// She was fascinated by Heather Garrison. And frustrated. Very, very, frustrated. Resolving to deal with that, Lillian began making her way back to her dormitory. As she walked on autopilot, her mind wandered. //The deadname meme... no, the Name Changer.// It was shockingly simple, and a completely different way of solving the problem than Lillian had considered. //I know that I'm still smarter than she is but... somehow, I still don't fully get her.// And if there was something that bothered Lillian more than anything else, it was a puzzle she couldn't solve. Her other frustration didn't help much either. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:earthworm">:scp-wiki:component:earthworm</a> \| first=true \| last=false \| hub=yes \| previous-url=/\| previous-title=/ \| next-url=https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-8688 \| next-title=SCP-8688 \| hub-url=https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/forgotten-memories-hub\| hub-title=Forgotten Memories ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-02-26T05:41:00	[ "_licensebox", "doctor-lillihammer", "forgotten-memories", "lgbtq", "on-guard-43", "reviewers-spotlight", "romance", "science-fiction", "tale" ]	The Deadname Meme - SCP Foundation	117	[ "queerious", "forgotten-memories-hub", "scp-8688", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "reviewers-spotlight-archive-ii", "forgotten-memories-hub" ]	[]	1452825223	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-deadname-meme
the-deal-of-agent-heckerman	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p>The coffeehouse was silent, dark, lit only by moonlight flickering through the windows. A chill rippled through the air, as painted countertops and empty booths framed the walls.</p> <p>The Agent stepped forwards, taking a breath to steady his racing heartbeat. His coat swished behind him - eyes fixating on the girl. Dressed in all white, shiny black hair pulled into a perfect loop at the base of her neck, dark eyes glittering and legs crossed primly. The chair across from her was already pulled out - prepared.</p> <p>She smiled, then gestured for him to step forwards.</p> <p>“Thanks for joining me. I was worried you wouldn’t make it.”</p> <hr/> <p>How Site Director Emerald Reynolds managed to be intimidating despite looking deeply uncomfortable, Agent N. D. Heckerman wasn’t sure. Her narrowed blue eyes, sharp jawline, and blonde hair tightly bound in a swaying ponytail struck a contrast to her rigid posture and teeth biting hard onto her lips.</p> <p>Her office was white-walled, and sparsely decorated, with a framed diploma counting as a “personal touch”. His shoes scuffed muffled beats into the carpet, as he sat before her. If the Foundation was clinical, this silence was like a bottle of antiseptic.</p> <p>Finally, she spoke, voice crisp and lofty - “Agent N.D Heckerman. You’re here.”</p> <p>“… yes,” Heckerman replied, uncertain. His hand fidgeted by his side, a nervous tic. A tell. Reynolds’ eyes flicked to it - assessment hardwired in her programming. “I’m Site 404 Director Emerald Reynolds. I’m sure your supervisors briefed you on my inquiry, though I’d like to hear from you what you’ve been told.” With a direction to take her script, she seemed to relax a fraction.</p> <p>Heckerman swallowed, feeling self-conscious as he realised he was going to be the bearer of bad news. He’d kept a false smile on his face, one that read of years in marketing and worse. But his hackles still rose at the information discrepancy.</p> <p>“To be perfectly honest Director, I believe I may have been insufficiently briefed on the case as it stands.” The words floated across in a practised, smooth tone that walked the straight edge between reassuring and unnerving.</p> <p>His briefing had been four sentences. “The gal at Site 404 needs you for some meeting thing,” had been the first one, muttered with a scoff by Agent Carlos Sierra. “It’s some Site in Ohio where they drop all the fresh-faced researchers until they’re useful enough to get an actual role,” had been the second, a note of disdain in his voice. “But she said there’s good money in it. Just show up, talk your way through, and get back in time for Friday drinks.”</p> <p>Then he’d been given an address, a plane ticket to the U.S. and a mind swimming with questions that he’d been given little chance to ask.</p> <p>But good money was a concrete idea, something that he could push against each question, a temporary answer that had him standing, jetlagged and troubled, on the steps of Site 404’s early morning fog. Site 403 stood, about a half mile away, and Agent Heckerman vaguely remembered some sort of joke about this - some plan being almost as bad as the Twin Site’s construction, or something like that.</p> <p>Now he stood in front of Site Director Emerald Reynolds, and he realised that the lowest rungs of the Foundation hierarchy still were part of the Foundation, and the Foundation was terrifying in all its forms.</p> <p>“Oh, good lord,” she groaned, tone impatient, and Heckerman got the impression this had happened to her before. “Did they even forward you the email? Or were you just whisked here by some tired higher-up and told I’d explain it all?”</p> <p>That was an uncomfortably accurate description. Heckerman slid his grin to something sympathetic. “Seems that way.” Passing the blame along, deflecting from himself. Reynolds was not someone he intended to make angry.</p> <p>“Great,” she hissed softly, then fished through her impeccably organised drawer for a file. Laying the cool manilla in front of him, she raised an eyebrow. “About four months ago, I was contacted by someone who claimed to represent an anomalous corporation. I had Lost do their due diligence by looking into it, and I’m thinking we might have a new Group Of Interest on our hands. Thankfully, our new friend seems cooperative. So we’re meeting.” Reynolds hit him with her frostbite look again, informing him sans words exactly what his position was in this.</p> <p>Heckerman raised an eyebrow, then felt his chest tighten when he lifted the folder open.</p> <p>Lightspeed Incorporated. He’d read their name in the Fortune 500 before. It was one of those businesses that seemed less a focused brand, and more a tangle of networking and investments.</p> <p>He couldn’t tell whether the dull note of surprise that fluttered in his chest was surprise at the fact they were involved in the anomalous - or surprise it had taken them this long. Big businesses always seemed to dip into the pot of the Foundation’s world at some point. Heckerman had met with Google execs two months prior to wrestle a couple memetic codestrings out of their hands. But there was curious, and then there was insane.</p> <p>He’d worked for insane. He’d met Iris Dark.</p> <p>“Seems a standard enough faire,” he replied, painfully pleasant. “Who is our client, specifically?”</p> <p>The last tension melted from Reynolds, though she still seemed to radiate a tight, focused air. “Estrella Vega. There’s a news article Lost clipped for me that gives a rundown on her position.” She gestured to the folder. Heckerman found it - a half-torn, half-hacked-away spread. A young woman’s face was the centre of attention, shots of her from different angles. She was gorgeous, though that was just a fact. Dark curls at her shoulders, pale skin and dark silver eyes. Fur-lined coat and matching ankle boots. Old money.</p> <p>The article detailed the main story - a <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-death-of-marilla-vega" target="_blank">profile on the death of her mother, Marilla Vega</a>, and her inheritance. The company. A sparse bit of interview text scattered throughout, and a read-through made Heckerman sure that it’d been scripted. MC&D had taught him how to recognise a brand from a person. This was her brand - old money, Vega family, young CEO. A few flavour-filled labels over a pretty face.</p> <p>“She’s… sparse,” he said, and Reynolds nodded. “Her emails are more personal, but still annoyingly lacking in information,” she said, staring at her hands. “So I don’t think you’ll get much help either way. Your reputation precedes you, though, so I’m sure you’ll figure it out as you go. You meet with her at 12:30.”</p> <p>Agent Heckerman gave a slight inhale - that wasn’t much time to prepare. Reynolds paused, then shook her head. “AM. Tomorrow.”</p> <p>“… where?” Heckerman said, because most of the time, when clients named a time after 10:00 at night, he was looking at shady exchanges in crowded bars and casinos. It wasn’t his crowd - the more shady the setup, the more likely it was he’d end up in a fight, and while he was trained well, he’d brought a new suit just for this. It was far too expensive to get bloody this soon.</p> <p>“Coffeehouse. Our insights suggest she might have bought out the place just for this,” Reynolds wrinkled her nose, as if the idea of flaunting wealth so easily appalled her. “I don’t really…” she furrowed her brow, then shook her head, pulling up something and sliding it across to him. It was an email to Reynolds, which first registered as simply a wall of gibberish. Then Heckerman noted the sender - EVega98 - and realised this was his client.</p> <p>The first thought he had was that she’d used a speech-to-text aid to write it. The tone was rambling, stream-of-consciousness bits of philosophy and distracted thoughts thrown in without discernible reason. “… Good Lord,” he muttered, slipping out of his training for the first time. Reynolds nodded. “I’ve been nursing a headache for four years, and <em>this</em>,” she pointed to the screen, “Is the current source.”</p> <p>This, Heckerman thought, was the look of a woman who had seen it all. He felt a stroke of sympathy for her, mixed in with his pure fear.</p> <p>“What’s her goal in this?” Heckerman asked, still unsure what to make of anything. Reynolds’ lips pressed together as if this hit a nerve. “Unclear. She just said she wants to… talk. But it’s clear she wants something from us,” Reynolds sank back in her chair, contemplative. “Her influence and wealth would make it simple for her to gain most basic wants, so it’s obviously something only we have.</p> <p>“Well. What’s my objective until then?” He checked his wrist - 3 watches, a polished silver analogue for Ireland, a classy bronze one for the U.S. with a leather band, and a Bell & Ross Red Radar Ceramic which had cost him over 4,000 dollars. The Radar had been intended as an international endeavour, which he’d change to match the time zone he was occupying. But that had fallen flat, so the hands usually dangled hazily around whatever country he’d been in two months ago. The time now was 7:00 in the morning.</p> <p>“You’re going to go with Dr. Lost and get a better picture of what Estrella Vega might want with us - by looking through what they already have done,” Reynolds crossed her arms as if daring him for comments.</p> <p>“Are you sure I couldn’t just garner that from the files, Director Reynolds?” Heckerman replied smoothly. He wasn’t much in the mood for working with a group of inexperienced Midwesterners. If he had questions, he could easily ring Sierra or Fuller and pick their thoughts.</p> <p>“Any good Agent knows the value of collaboration, especially when in foreign territory,” her tone was edged with a faint clipped imitation of Heckerman’s own, and he realised she was mocking him.</p> <p>“… right,” he conceded. “One last question.”</p> <p>“Yes?” Reynolds narrowed her eyes, impatient it seemed.</p> <p>Heckerman smiled. “How much am I getting paid for this endeavour?”</p> <p>Reynolds smiled tightly, and fished a cheque book from her drawer, and slid it across the desk, to where the top one bore his name.</p> <p>Heckerman looked at the amount- and swore.</p> <p>“They told me you weren’t cheap,” Reynolds said, voice still tight. “So I hope this is satisfactory.”</p> <p>Agent Heckerman looked up, swallowing and trying not to let his desire show in his features. “That will be… that is a quite reasonable amount, yes.”</p> <p>Reynolds nodded tersely. “Good.” Standing, she picked a sleek black walkie-talkie off her desk and spoke quickly into the receiver. “Wait outside. Lost should find you soon,” she pursed her lips again, tension flooding back into her frame. “I have work to take care of.” He then watched in complete horrified silence as she fished a redbull from under her desk, opened the grey thermos by her elbow, and poured half of the drink into what looked like coffee. She then shook it, took a long swig, and nodded at him.</p> <p>“Thank you for your time.”</p> <p>There wasn’t really anything to say beyond that.</p> <hr/> <p>Dr. Lost was… well, there was no real expectation in Agent Heckerman’s head for what he’d encounter upon the much-foreshadowed researcher’s arrival, but it wasn’t this. They were a painfully thin, short, and unhappy-looking creature, with chin-length purple hair and thick-framed glasses. There was something unsteady about the way they walked, swaying slightly every fourth step. When they spoke, it was soft, nervous, hesitant. “Agent N.D. Heckerman? I’m Dr. Viktoralai Amity Lost. Um. I’m here.” They winced, driving a palm into their forehead with a ferocity that seemed like they actually aimed to hurt themself. “Sorry- fuck- sorry-” and they dropped their sentence there, shaking their head.</p> <p>Heckerman had summoned up his thickest honeyed charm - Prince Charming smile, smooth tone. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Doctor. Call me Ned, if you’d like.” A gentle formality, with an invitation to familiarity attached.</p> <p>Lost flushed slightly, seeming taken aback. “… oh!”</p> <p>Since then, they’d fallen into a rhythm. Lost didn’t work in a lab, but rather in a room with concrete floors and poor lighting, where heat barely seemed to reach. Ireland had a grand habit of keeping steady temperatures, something Heckerman had found to be a rather exclusive luxury the more he travelled.</p> <p>The Midwest’s weather was like sharp claws.</p> <p>“This was our first major encounter with them,” Lost said, voice so quiet it barely pierced through the heater they’d plugged in. “Back in 2017, we got reports in from Cleveland of anomalous activity. Um. Here. <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7218" target="_blank">It was some kind of time loop. We- we lost one of our Research team.</a>”</p> <p>Heckerman wondered, for a moment, how that might affect a smaller Site like this one. 400 was always very close-knit, with the shared experience of anomalous ability. Could a tucked-away gem like this one have the same bonds? He decided to play it safe - genuine sympathy, without any presumption - “I’m very sorry for your loss.”</p> <p>“It hurt,” Lost conceded. “But… we’re the Foundation. We shouldn’t let it affect us.” Heckerman had heard that line countless times, or some variation upon it - usually in two groups. Those who believed it, and those who wished they believed it. Lost seemed to fall to the latter.</p> <p>“I see,” he said simply.</p> <p>They worked through the document, the conversation having dried up for the moment. Heckerman could understand by the end why Lost felt hesitant about it - it was heavy with emotion, even when displayed on the cool yellow-on-black mainframe of the database. “I take it this was before Marilla Vega’s death,” he observed. “Which gives us insight into the company, but little into the potential motivations of Miss Vega.”</p> <p>“Right,” Lost nodded, grimacing. They looked up to the ceiling, studying it. Heckerman watched their face. They had yellow eyes - well, not really yellow. It was a light hazel, just faded enough that in the dim light, they glowed golden. A sharp, cat-like stare, at odds with their nervous demeanour.</p> <p>“Are you anomalous?”</p> <p>He surprised himself by asking the question. Lost jumped, looking to him with wide eyes. “I- um-”</p> <p>Heckerman powered on. “I come from a Site which focuses on training personnel with anomalous or anomalous-adjacent abilities. It would make sense for Reynolds to pair you up with me if you had similar attributes. Of course, I apologise for being presumptuous, if that’s not the case-”</p> <p>Lost waved their hands frantically. “No, no! It’s alright. Yeah. Yes. I- I am.” They flushed again. “I’m a reality anchor. The Hume levels around me- they’re overly steady. Usually, reality fluctuates up and down just a bit, but when they tested me, it was basically just a line- reality benders don’t work on me. It’s… it’s the one thing I’m useful for.”</p> <p>The last sentence struck Heckerman with an odd discomfort - unsure whether to try and argue the issue, or just let it hang.</p> <p>“Are you registered with the APRC?” he asked smoothly, deciding to not acknowledge it at all. Lost shook their head, confused, and he clarified - “The Anomalous Personnel Regulation Committee. Less prominent, but more well known at my Site. They help manage decisions regarding staff with anomalous traits - like yourself.”</p> <p>“… oh,” they said, softly. “I’ll ask Novak about that later. She’s the Research department head.”</p> <p>Heckerman nodded. “You should. Perhaps I’ll see you at 400 in the future.”</p> <p>Lost shook their head wildly. “No, no. I don’t think that’s-” they cut themself off, biting a pale lip. “I’m happy here. I just want to be useful.” And they moved along.</p> <p>Lost had a knack at searching, and easily was able to pull up a half dozen tabs across a few platforms that were discussing a potential conspiracy surrounding the company.</p> <p>“Parawatch,” Lost commented, clicking to one of the tabs and scrolling through. They paused, pointing to an exchange that had caught their eye.</p> <hr/> <div class="parapost"> <p><span style="color: purple"><strong>Flowercat066</strong></span> 8/6/2022 (Mon) 23:14:31 #38485920</p> <hr/> <p>Anyone here heard anything about Lightspeed Incorporated?</p> <p>Aparently they’re sponsoring some kind of event at my school and TBH i get shady vibes</p> </div> <div class="parapost reply1"> <p><span style="color: green"><strong>SirFrogsALot7</strong></span> 8/6/2022 (Mon) 23:58:17 #38485937</p> <hr/> <p>Didn’t the CEO die</p> </div> <div class="parapost reply2"> <p><span style="color: red"><strong>DukeJuke43</strong></span> 8/7/2022 (Tues) 01:05:26 #38485936</p> <hr/> <p>From Wikipedia → “On October 12th, 2021, former Lightspeed Incorporated CEO Dr. Marilla Vega died of a stroke, with the company’s management passing to 23-year-old daughter Estrella Vega”</p> <p>But wiki is also fake as shit so.</p> <p>Idk.</p> </div> <div class="parapost reply1"> <p><span style="color: purple"><strong>Flowercat066</strong></span> 8/7/2022 (Tues) 1:15:06 #38485938</p> <hr/> <p>Oh yeah i did some digging this is really shady</p> <p>The company had a minor data breach a few years back and there’s this whole thing about marilla taking “clients”????? Like don’t they do space tech wtf does “CLIENTS” mean.</p> </div> <div class="parapost reply1"> <p><span style="color: blue"><strong>MothmanIsGay88</strong></span> 8/7/2022 (Tues) 1:45:58 #38485941</p> <hr/> <p>This is totally some russian sleep experiment type shit im calling it</p> </div> <hr/> <p>The thread seemed to go cold after a few more exchanges with little to offer in the way of info. Heckerman let out a breath. “Can you get us something on that data leak, perhaps?”</p> <p>Lost was already typing it in. Within about two minutes, they were combing through an archive from 2017, eyes narrowed. “Here. It’s a list of bookings for various clients- and client information.” The names weren’t anything Heckerman recognised. “Are you sure these aren’t simply a list of meetings with potential investors or business partners?”</p> <p>“Good point,” Lost scanned the chart, saving it to an evidence document they were slowly constructing. Focused into their task, it was a bit impressive how easily their nerves and awkwardness melted away. “I’ll do a search of the names.” They opened up a second monitor, letting Heckerman read out each name, as they vetted them first through a plain Google search, then through a Foundation engine. They frowned, staring at something in confusion.</p> <p>“What date was Gregory Dawson’s appointment on?”</p> <p>Heckerman checked. “June 5th.”</p> <p>“He died June 23rd.”</p> <p>Heckerman sucked in a breath. Lost locked eyes with him. “Give me the dates of the others, this might be a thread.””</p> <p>Sure enough - each person had a death listed within a month of their appointment. A new clue. But something caught Agent Heckerman’s eye from the screen, and he paused. “Are we thinking that these are anomaly-related?”</p> <p>“Probably,” Lost said. “Either way, the period of time isn’t consistent enough to be a calculated plan - the deaths are related, but they weren’t premeditated. I don’t think Marilla was holding the gun. But she had a hand in it.”</p> <p>Heckerman nodded, considering it. “A type of memetic poisoning, maybe? 7218 read as a possible memetic effect in my eyes. If that’s what we think she’s working with, we might have to talk with Reynold’s about bringing in some measure of counter-memetic ammo.”</p> <p>“I don’t think the planetarium was memetic,” Lost shot back.</p> <p>“Cognitohazardous?”</p> <p>“Possibly,” Lost shrugged. “I think the best bet here is to use the meeting as an information gathering opportunity. I’m not sure what stance Reynolds will take, if I’m being honest. The Foundation could easily take care of Estrella if we needed to, and find some way to take down the company as well. But that’s the Foundation. We don’t have that kind of support - Site 404, that is. Estrella has the upper hand.”</p> <p>“The question is-” Heckerman mused, leaning back. “Does Miss Vega know that?” He let the silence hang, as Lost considered it.</p> <p>“Doubtfully. If she knows enough about the Foundation’s hierarchy to grasp how much influence our individual Site has, then she has more influence than we thought. And in that event, it would be enough of a security breach that I’d bet we could use that to win greater backing,” they proposed.</p> <p>“Playing the long game,” Heckerman agreed. “It might work.”</p> <p>Lost’s eyes glinted gold, and for a second, the quick fingers over the keyboard, short violet hair melted away to the marble face of someone else. A someone like dark flowers in a shadowed hall.</p> <p>But then it was gone.</p> <hr/> <p>“Did you see the new guy?” the short, curvy frame of Dr. Sage West bustled its way into the break room, sitting down on the table with her legs crossed over the edge. Leaning over, she swiped a handful of chips from Sam “Levi” Leviticus’ bag. The engineer made a wounded sound, batting her arm.</p> <p>“You talkin’ about the tall ginger who Reynolds was meetin’ with?” sing-songed Adrien Hemlock, a cocky grin shining against brown skin. Pink streaked curls fell in his face. “Yeah. I saw him.”</p> <p>“You think he’s single?” West asked. Levi choked, shaking their head.</p> <p>“He struck me as kind of shady, if I’m being honest,” said Ezekiah Lenora.</p> <p>“We work for a spy organisation,” said West, shaking her head. “Everyone here is shady.”</p> <p>“Reynolds stuck him with Lost,” the scratchy voice of Dr. Maddie Simes cut in, tone scalding. “I feel sorry for him.”</p> <p>Levi frowned. “That’s not really fair, Maddie.”</p> <p>“This is about the Vega case,” Lenora said, matter-of-factly. They had a cup of heated ramen balanced under their chin, strands of auburn hair dipping into the broth as they tried to copy something from a book to a notepad. It looked like an accident waiting to happen. “They make the most sense for it. I mean, would you prefer it be you, Simes?”</p> <p>Simes bristled - and everyone remembered with a jolt exactly what nerve Ezekiah had just went for. After all, it had been Maddie who had sat on the other end for weeks. Who had heard Turnpike’s last transmission, up to the last second.</p> <p>“That shouldn’t matter,” Maddie snapped, sulkily taking another sip from their coffee mug. “This is the Foundation. Not a personal trauma management program.”</p> <p>“I disagree, actually,” Levi said, frowning. They ran a tan hand through dirty blond hair. “Personal trauma <em>is</em> something important to consider when in this line of work. The whole attitude a lot of people seem to have around it - this idea that being a Foundation worker makes you immune to your experiences - it’s toxic.”</p> <p>“This conversation isn’t even about that,” West said, brushing it off. “What do you think Vega wants?”</p> <p>“Nothing good,” Simes said scathingly. “Honestly? I just want them to do a good deed and put a bullet through the girl’s head. Sorry if that sounds cruel, but we don’t need any more planetary death traps.”</p> <p>Everyone winced at the blunt anger. Some wounds didn’t heal.</p> <p>“Pleased to see that classified information is once again the topic of your breakroom gossip sessions,” a new voice cut in, and the tall, imposing figure of Celeste Novak stepped in. Her bushy dark hair floated in a cloud around her head, eyes narrowed.</p> <p>“Busted,” West sighed. “It’s not like the Lightspeed situation is really private anymore, though.”</p> <p>“It isn’t. But I’d still like to keep work talk away from lunch if possible.” She grabbed her Tupperware-contained chicken from the fridge, setting up.</p> <p>Nodding, the room shifted, Levi piping up with a comment on the set they were working on for their theatre troupe, Adrien joined in, and business as normal returned.</p> <hr/> <p>Agent N.D Heckerman took a car to the meeting point. Reynolds’ own car. Two more Agents - a short asian woman, and a taller man with grey hair; Agent Pepper and Agent Letter, as Heckerman had quickly been introduced - followed a distance behind in a grey van.</p> <p>“No use in breaking out anything heavy-duty,” Reynolds had said, as she walked him to the car. “Unlikely we’ll need it. Better to blend in.”</p> <p>He had to admit he was charmed by the red Toyota Corolla she drove, a small plush black cat on the dashboard. Reynolds rolled her eyes when he smiled at it. “The Site 403 Director Moira Fernsby got me that. She’s been texting me pictures of golden retrievers cuddling with black cats and saying it’s supposed to be us.” A soft smile crossed her lips, and Heckerman appreciated how much he liked her. Not in any romantic sense, though she was beautiful, in a frosty, distant way. There was something nice about her presence, that made the silence comfortable as they rode.</p> <p>Lost and him had come up with a fairly good outline of what tactics might work best. And though he still couldn’t really bring himself to warm to the Site, he had to admit it wasn’t all bad. Lost and Reynolds were not the fresh-faced incompetents he’d been prepared for.</p> <p>“Pepper and Letter will wait outside in the van,” Reynolds informed him as she drove along the road. They passed a large billboard, with “JESUS SAVES'' printed in large, faded letters. A wooden cross stuck out from the ground a few metres away, someone having spray painted it with red. Litter danced at the edge of tall corn stalks. Heckerman felt his eyes glass over, lulled into a trance by the predictable scenery. “If you need them, we’ve given you a mini-com to put in your jacket pocket. Click the sides, and it’ll send a radio signal out. Don’t use it unless you need it.”</p> <p>Heckerman nodded. The sun had started to set outside.</p> <p>“Do you mind the silence?” Reynolds asked, about an hour in. “I have a few CDs. The radio signals aren’t that good out here.”</p> <p>He didn’t really mind the silence, but the idea of seeing what Reynolds considered quality music intrigued him. “I wouldn’t mind a couple of tunes to fill the air.”</p> <p>She snorted, probably from his formal delivery, and fished through the glove compartment until she pulled out a disc titled “Time and Pocket Change” - and below that, “Heather Maloney”.</p> <p>“I saw her in concert when I was 19,” Reynolds said. “It was a small venue, but I’ve been a fan ever since.”</p> <p>He didn’t really know what to make of that - but as the music picked up, it made sense, in a way. The jaunty flow of sweet folk-rock, music that could easily be heard from a live musician at some roadside restaurant. If Emerald Reynolds had danced her way through a show at any point in her life - though, her rigid manner made it hard to believe she’d ever danced in her life - it would be somewhere like that.</p> <p>Halfway through the trip, they stopped at a McDonalds, of all places, the two Agents sitting cross-legged in the open trunk window as they ploughed through a double-order of a Big Mac and fries. Reynolds ordered a salad, picking through it in disdain as they ate in the car’s front seat. Heckerman wasn’t used to this.</p> <p>The closest experience that came to mind was from the back of a limousine, the lanky figure of Iris Dark sprawled cat-like across the seat, faintly tipsy from a well stocked minibar. The blue LED strips falling across the angles of her face. Agent Heckerman wondered if she still thought about nights like that. Her life was so full that it seemed trivial to think that she’d have time to remember him.</p> <p>But the rage on her face, the night she’d realised exactly what he’d done - how the Foundation had bought him up like a cheap chandelier - that anger was a lasting burn.</p> <p>Heckerman glanced across the seat, to Reynolds. Her face lit in the same way, but instead of electric blue, it was the golden panels of the setting sun through car windows. A spot of salad dressing on her chin. Her cheeks slightly flushed from the chill, despite the seat heaters on full blast.</p> <p>For a moment, things felt lopsided in his mind - like he was back in the limo, missing the car, instead of the other way around. Living in the past, yearning for the future, motion sick from nostalgia.</p> <p>Then it was gone.</p> <p>And Iris Dark was behind him, again. Time kept running, the hands of his watches all ticking steadily along. And he ran to, glued to his seat with the vertigo of it.</p> <hr/> <p>The coffeehouse was small town charm slapped onto roadside appeal, the type of place that would no doubt be converted to a Tim Hortons at some point.</p> <p>It was dark inside, and for a second, Agent N.D Heckerman thought there’d been a mistake. Then he saw the faintest flicker of a shadow from inside. And he knew all too well it was right.</p> <p>“Good luck,” Reynolds said, eyes glinting with that frostbite-blue tone that sent shivers up his spine. She pressed the comm into his hand. The gun on one side, the comm on the other - his pockets felt like brass scales, the weight of the situation dragging him down as he approached the door.</p> <p>When Iris Dark had been his manager, he’d learned to judge the anomalous by what made them useful, helpful. By what could be marketed, capitalised on. MC&D had measured in dollars what the Foundation measured in danger. Secretly, he still tended to defer to that line of thought - considering anomalies not for what made them unusual, but what made them useful.</p> <p>The Foundation knew that the anomalous were useful.</p> <p>But they also knew the value of the ordinary.</p> <p>The Foundation had made Heckerman feel useful for the first time in his life. And it still felt surreal.</p> <p>Estrella Vega was someone who felt the weight of both - the use of the anomalous, and the use of the everyday.</p> <p>It was laid bare in her dark eyes.</p> <p>“Sit,” she spoke, voice surprisingly low and full. Heckerman did, his role kicking in as he gave her his most gracious smile. “Estrella Vega, yes?”</p> <p>“Yeah,” she chewed the inside of her cheek, leaning back further. “That’s me. You aren’t Emerald, though.”</p> <p>It was odd hearing her call the Director by her first name. It didn’t feel disrespectful so much as just… uncanny.</p> <p>“Agent N.D Heckerman,” he supplied, tilting his head towards her.</p> <p>“You’ve got an accent. Where you from?” she tilted her head curiously.</p> <p>“Ireland.” It wasn’t that hard to pick out, and he considered perhaps the offering of information would loosen her up a bit.</p> <p>“Oh. I’ve never been,” she unconsciously twirled a strand of hair around her finger, tugging on it. “I’m going to go to Egypt, one day. I think. After I finish my training, and all that.”</p> <p>“Training?” Heckerman ventured, wondering if this was her informational quid pro quo - an olive branch accepted, perhaps.</p> <p>“Yeah,” she nodded. “I’m going to get training from the Foundation on celestial thaumaturgy. My Mum died before she could finish teaching me. I’m reading the Picatrix, but I don’t know much Arabic yet. I don’t know if you work with an astral cult, but I really like your style. It’s very intelligent, y’know.” Estrella rolled her neck. “Do you think you can do it?”</p> <p>It took a second to piece out what she was asking for - and when it finally made sense, he wasn’t sure what to say. “You wish to… intern with us?”</p> <p>Estrella considered it. “Maybe. I wanna know more, though. I can pay money. Or information. My family was part of a group known as the Sabians, and that’s magic shit. I’m magic shit. You guys call it thaumaturgy. And I’m probably dangerous. So it’d be a mutually beneficial arrangement if someone were to let me help out.”</p> <p>This wasn’t what Heckerman was used to. He was used to bribes, to cash slipped under tables, to clean gunshots and dirty business. He was used to people who wanted the world.</p> <p>This wasn’t a sorcerer who wanted the world. This was a girl who didn’t know what she wanted.</p> <p>Heckerman always had known what he wanted. It’s why he’d made the same decision, over and over - always reaching up. Always reaching forwards.</p> <p>“I like your watches,” she said, cutting through his silence. Estrella raised a pale wrist. “I’ve got one too, and it’s also fancy.”</p> <p>“A Van Cleef & Arpels Midnight Planetarium,” he said, recognising it.</p> <p>She nodded, pleased. “Neat, huh?”</p> <p>They sat for another moment, the silence hanging thickly between them.</p> <p>Then Heckerman took a breath.</p> <p>“There’s a Foundation Site where we train personnel with anomalous abilities,” he wasn’t sure whether he was allowed to tell her this much. But the need in her eyes - that hunger for something so simple as a purpose. He understood that more than anything.</p> <p>She wanted to be useful, even if Heckerman didn’t understand yet what her use was.</p> <p>Estrella’s eyes widened. “Would they help me?”</p> <p>Heckerman paused. “I don’t know,” he finally replied. Then he met her eyes, and smiled again. This time, it was genuine.</p> <p>This was his play, now. Cards on the table. “But I have a deal for you.”</p> <p>“Shoot,” she prompted, tilting her chin up.</p> <p>“You help us find and destroy the anomalies your Mother created. And we’ll help you train to regulate your abilities,” his smile deepened. “Unregulated power can turn sour over time. You could easily be destroyed by your own magic.” He wasn’t sure if this was true, but it made for a compelling argument - one he sensed Estrella wouldn’t be able to call out.</p> <p>She studied the table, the silence stretching on forever, and for never. Time folding itself into paper cranes, all contained in that small darkened coffeehouse.</p> <p>And nodded.</p> <p>“Deal.”</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="earthworm earthworm--old-syntax-first-true/false earthworm--old-syntax-last-true/false earthworm--old-syntax-hub-yes/no {$class}"> <div class="first earthworm__previous" data-title="Director Emerald Reynolds' Guide To Containing Reality Using Tetris"> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/director-emerald-reynolds-guide-to-containing-reality-using/comments/show">Director Emerald Reynolds' Guide To Containing Reality Using Tetris</a></p> </div> <div class="hub earthworm__hub" data-title="ALL TALES"> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/dr-vikki-lost">ALL TALES</a></p> </div> <div class="last earthworm__next" data-title="Sage West's Guide To Keeping Up Disappearances"> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/sage-west-s-guide-to-keeping-up-disappearances">Sage West's Guide To Keeping Up Disappearances</a></p> </div> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-deal-of-agent-heckerman">The Deal of Agent Heckerman</a>" by Dr Vikki Lost, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-deal-of-agent-heckerman">https://scpwiki.com/the-deal-of-agent-heckerman</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] The coffeehouse was silent, dark, lit only by moonlight flickering through the windows. A chill rippled through the air, as painted countertops and empty booths framed the walls. The Agent stepped forwards, taking a breath to steady his racing heartbeat. His coat swished behind him - eyes fixating on the girl. Dressed in all white, shiny black hair pulled into a perfect loop at the base of her neck, dark eyes glittering and legs crossed primly. The chair across from her was already pulled out - prepared. She smiled, then gestured for him to step forwards. “Thanks for joining me. I was worried you wouldn’t make it.” ------ How Site Director Emerald Reynolds managed to be intimidating despite looking deeply uncomfortable, Agent N. D. Heckerman wasn’t sure. Her narrowed blue eyes, sharp jawline, and blonde hair tightly bound in a swaying ponytail struck a contrast to her rigid posture and teeth biting hard onto her lips. Her office was white-walled, and sparsely decorated, with a framed diploma counting as a “personal touch”. His shoes scuffed muffled beats into the carpet, as he sat before her. If the Foundation was clinical, this silence was like a bottle of antiseptic. Finally, she spoke, voice crisp and lofty - “Agent N.D Heckerman. You’re here.” “... yes,” Heckerman replied, uncertain. His hand fidgeted by his side, a nervous tic. A tell. Reynolds’ eyes flicked to it - assessment hardwired in her programming. “I’m Site 404 Director Emerald Reynolds. I’m sure your supervisors briefed you on my inquiry, though I’d like to hear from you what you’ve been told.” With a direction to take her script, she seemed to relax a fraction. Heckerman swallowed, feeling self-conscious as he realised he was going to be the bearer of bad news. He’d kept a false smile on his face, one that read of years in marketing and worse. But his hackles still rose at the information discrepancy. “To be perfectly honest Director, I believe I may have been insufficiently briefed on the case as it stands.” The words floated across in a practised, smooth tone that walked the straight edge between reassuring and unnerving. His briefing had been four sentences. “The gal at Site 404 needs you for some meeting thing,” had been the first one, muttered with a scoff by Agent Carlos Sierra. “It’s some Site in Ohio where they drop all the fresh-faced researchers until they’re useful enough to get an actual role,” had been the second, a note of disdain in his voice. “But she said there’s good money in it. Just show up, talk your way through, and get back in time for Friday drinks.” Then he’d been given an address, a plane ticket to the U.S. and a mind swimming with questions that he’d been given little chance to ask. But good money was a concrete idea, something that he could push against each question, a temporary answer that had him standing, jetlagged and troubled, on the steps of Site 404’s early morning fog. Site 403 stood, about a half mile away, and Agent Heckerman vaguely remembered some sort of joke about this - some plan being almost as bad as the Twin Site’s construction, or something like that. Now he stood in front of Site Director Emerald Reynolds, and he realised that the lowest rungs of the Foundation hierarchy still were part of the Foundation, and the Foundation was terrifying in all its forms. “Oh, good lord,” she groaned, tone impatient, and Heckerman got the impression this had happened to her before. “Did they even forward you the email? Or were you just whisked here by some tired higher-up and told I’d explain it all?” That was an uncomfortably accurate description. Heckerman slid his grin to something sympathetic. “Seems that way.” Passing the blame along, deflecting from himself. Reynolds was not someone he intended to make angry. “Great,” she hissed softly, then fished through her impeccably organised drawer for a file. Laying the cool manilla in front of him, she raised an eyebrow. “About four months ago, I was contacted by someone who claimed to represent an anomalous corporation. I had Lost do their due diligence by looking into it, and I’m thinking we might have a new Group Of Interest on our hands. Thankfully, our new friend seems cooperative. So we’re meeting.” Reynolds hit him with her frostbite look again, informing him sans words exactly what his position was in this. Heckerman raised an eyebrow, then felt his chest tighten when he lifted the folder open. Lightspeed Incorporated. He’d read their name in the Fortune 500 before. It was one of those businesses that seemed less a focused brand, and more a tangle of networking and investments. He couldn’t tell whether the dull note of surprise that fluttered in his chest was surprise at the fact they were involved in the anomalous - or surprise it had taken them this long. Big businesses always seemed to dip into the pot of the Foundation’s world at some point. Heckerman had met with Google execs two months prior to wrestle a couple memetic codestrings out of their hands. But there was curious, and then there was insane. He’d worked for insane. He’d met Iris Dark. “Seems a standard enough faire,” he replied, painfully pleasant. “Who is our client, specifically?” The last tension melted from Reynolds, though she still seemed to radiate a tight, focused air. “Estrella Vega. There’s a news article Lost clipped for me that gives a rundown on her position.” She gestured to the folder. Heckerman found it - a half-torn, half-hacked-away spread. A young woman’s face was the centre of attention, shots of her from different angles. She was gorgeous, though that was just a fact. Dark curls at her shoulders, pale skin and dark silver eyes. Fur-lined coat and matching ankle boots. Old money. The article detailed the main story - a [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-death-of-marilla-vega profile on the death of her mother, Marilla Vega], and her inheritance. The company. A sparse bit of interview text scattered throughout, and a read-through made Heckerman sure that it’d been scripted. MC&D had taught him how to recognise a brand from a person. This was her brand - old money, Vega family, young CEO. A few flavour-filled labels over a pretty face. “She’s… sparse,” he said, and Reynolds nodded. “Her emails are more personal, but still annoyingly lacking in information,” she said, staring at her hands. “So I don’t think you’ll get much help either way. Your reputation precedes you, though, so I’m sure you’ll figure it out as you go. You meet with her at 12:30.” Agent Heckerman gave a slight inhale - that wasn’t much time to prepare. Reynolds paused, then shook her head. “AM. Tomorrow.” “... where?” Heckerman said, because most of the time, when clients named a time after 10:00 at night, he was looking at shady exchanges in crowded bars and casinos. It wasn’t his crowd - the more shady the setup, the more likely it was he’d end up in a fight, and while he was trained well, he’d brought a new suit just for this. It was far too expensive to get bloody this soon. “Coffeehouse. Our insights suggest she might have bought out the place just for this,” Reynolds wrinkled her nose, as if the idea of flaunting wealth so easily appalled her. “I don’t really…” she furrowed her brow, then shook her head, pulling up something and sliding it across to him. It was an email to Reynolds, which first registered as simply a wall of gibberish. Then Heckerman noted the sender - EVega98 - and realised this was his client. The first thought he had was that she’d used a speech-to-text aid to write it. The tone was rambling, stream-of-consciousness bits of philosophy and distracted thoughts thrown in without discernible reason. “... Good Lord,” he muttered, slipping out of his training for the first time. Reynolds nodded. “I’ve been nursing a headache for four years, and //this//,” she pointed to the screen, “Is the current source.” This, Heckerman thought, was the look of a woman who had seen it all. He felt a stroke of sympathy for her, mixed in with his pure fear. “What’s her goal in this?” Heckerman asked, still unsure what to make of anything. Reynolds’ lips pressed together as if this hit a nerve. “Unclear. She just said she wants to… talk. But it’s clear she wants something from us,” Reynolds sank back in her chair, contemplative. “Her influence and wealth would make it simple for her to gain most basic wants, so it’s obviously something only we have. “Well. What’s my objective until then?” He checked his wrist - 3 watches, a polished silver analogue for Ireland, a classy bronze one for the U.S. with a leather band, and a Bell & Ross Red Radar Ceramic which had cost him over 4,000 dollars. The Radar had been intended as an international endeavour, which he’d change to match the time zone he was occupying. But that had fallen flat, so the hands usually dangled hazily around whatever country he’d been in two months ago. The time now was 7:00 in the morning. “You’re going to go with Dr. Lost and get a better picture of what Estrella Vega might want with us - by looking through what they already have done,” Reynolds crossed her arms as if daring him for comments. “Are you sure I couldn’t just garner that from the files, Director Reynolds?” Heckerman replied smoothly. He wasn’t much in the mood for working with a group of inexperienced Midwesterners. If he had questions, he could easily ring Sierra or Fuller and pick their thoughts. “Any good Agent knows the value of collaboration, especially when in foreign territory,” her tone was edged with a faint clipped imitation of Heckerman’s own, and he realised she was mocking him. “... right,” he conceded. “One last question.” “Yes?” Reynolds narrowed her eyes, impatient it seemed. Heckerman smiled. “How much am I getting paid for this endeavour?” Reynolds smiled tightly, and fished a cheque book from her drawer, and slid it across the desk, to where the top one bore his name. Heckerman looked at the amount- and swore. “They told me you weren’t cheap,” Reynolds said, voice still tight. “So I hope this is satisfactory.” Agent Heckerman looked up, swallowing and trying not to let his desire show in his features. “That will be… that is a quite reasonable amount, yes.” Reynolds nodded tersely. “Good.” Standing, she picked a sleek black walkie-talkie off her desk and spoke quickly into the receiver. “Wait outside. Lost should find you soon,” she pursed her lips again, tension flooding back into her frame. “I have work to take care of.” He then watched in complete horrified silence as she fished a redbull from under her desk, opened the grey thermos by her elbow, and poured half of the drink into what looked like coffee. She then shook it, took a long swig, and nodded at him. “Thank you for your time.” There wasn’t really anything to say beyond that. ------ Dr. Lost was… well, there was no real expectation in Agent Heckerman’s head for what he’d encounter upon the much-foreshadowed researcher’s arrival, but it wasn’t this. They were a painfully thin, short, and unhappy-looking creature, with chin-length purple hair and thick-framed glasses. There was something unsteady about the way they walked, swaying slightly every fourth step. When they spoke, it was soft, nervous, hesitant. “Agent N.D. Heckerman? I’m Dr. Viktoralai Amity Lost. Um. I’m here.” They winced, driving a palm into their forehead with a ferocity that seemed like they actually aimed to hurt themself. “Sorry- fuck- sorry-” and they dropped their sentence there, shaking their head. Heckerman had summoned up his thickest honeyed charm - Prince Charming smile, smooth tone. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Doctor. Call me Ned, if you’d like.” A gentle formality, with an invitation to familiarity attached. Lost flushed slightly, seeming taken aback. “... oh!” Since then, they’d fallen into a rhythm. Lost didn’t work in a lab, but rather in a room with concrete floors and poor lighting, where heat barely seemed to reach. Ireland had a grand habit of keeping steady temperatures, something Heckerman had found to be a rather exclusive luxury the more he travelled. The Midwest’s weather was like sharp claws. “This was our first major encounter with them,” Lost said, voice so quiet it barely pierced through the heater they’d plugged in. “Back in 2017, we got reports in from Cleveland of anomalous activity. Um. Here. [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7218 It was some kind of time loop. We- we lost one of our Research team.]” Heckerman wondered, for a moment, how that might affect a smaller Site like this one. 400 was always very close-knit, with the shared experience of anomalous ability. Could a tucked-away gem like this one have the same bonds? He decided to play it safe - genuine sympathy, without any presumption - “I’m very sorry for your loss.” “It hurt,” Lost conceded. “But… we’re the Foundation. We shouldn’t let it affect us.” Heckerman had heard that line countless times, or some variation upon it - usually in two groups. Those who believed it, and those who wished they believed it. Lost seemed to fall to the latter. “I see,” he said simply. They worked through the document, the conversation having dried up for the moment. Heckerman could understand by the end why Lost felt hesitant about it - it was heavy with emotion, even when displayed on the cool yellow-on-black mainframe of the database. “I take it this was before Marilla Vega’s death,” he observed. “Which gives us insight into the company, but little into the potential motivations of Miss Vega.” “Right,” Lost nodded, grimacing. They looked up to the ceiling, studying it. Heckerman watched their face. They had yellow eyes - well, not really yellow. It was a light hazel, just faded enough that in the dim light, they glowed golden. A sharp, cat-like stare, at odds with their nervous demeanour. “Are you anomalous?” He surprised himself by asking the question. Lost jumped, looking to him with wide eyes. “I- um-” Heckerman powered on. “I come from a Site which focuses on training personnel with anomalous or anomalous-adjacent abilities. It would make sense for Reynolds to pair you up with me if you had similar attributes. Of course, I apologise for being presumptuous, if that’s not the case-” Lost waved their hands frantically. “No, no! It’s alright. Yeah. Yes. I- I am.” They flushed again. “I’m a reality anchor. The Hume levels around me- they’re overly steady. Usually, reality fluctuates up and down just a bit, but when they tested me, it was basically just a line- reality benders don’t work on me. It’s… it’s the one thing I’m useful for.” The last sentence struck Heckerman with an odd discomfort - unsure whether to try and argue the issue, or just let it hang. “Are you registered with the APRC?” he asked smoothly, deciding to not acknowledge it at all. Lost shook their head, confused, and he clarified - “The Anomalous Personnel Regulation Committee. Less prominent, but more well known at my Site. They help manage decisions regarding staff with anomalous traits - like yourself.” “... oh,” they said, softly. “I’ll ask Novak about that later. She’s the Research department head.” Heckerman nodded. “You should. Perhaps I’ll see you at 400 in the future.” Lost shook their head wildly. “No, no. I don’t think that’s-” they cut themself off, biting a pale lip. “I’m happy here. I just want to be useful.” And they moved along. Lost had a knack at searching, and easily was able to pull up a half dozen tabs across a few platforms that were discussing a potential conspiracy surrounding the company. “Parawatch,” Lost commented, clicking to one of the tabs and scrolling through. They paused, pointing to an exchange that had caught their eye. ------ [[div class="parapost"]] ##purple\|Flowercat066## 8/6/2022 (Mon) 23:14:31 #38485920 ------ Anyone here heard anything about Lightspeed Incorporated? Aparently they’re sponsoring some kind of event at my school and TBH i get shady vibes [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply1"]] ##green\|SirFrogsALot7## 8/6/2022 (Mon) 23:58:17 #38485937 ------ Didn’t the CEO die [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply2"]] ##red\|DukeJuke43## 8/7/2022 (Tues) 01:05:26 #38485936 ------ From Wikipedia → “On October 12th, 2021, former Lightspeed Incorporated CEO Dr. Marilla Vega died of a stroke, with the company’s management passing to 23-year-old daughter Estrella Vega” But wiki is also fake as shit so. Idk. [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply1"]] ##purple\|Flowercat066## 8/7/2022 (Tues) 1:15:06 #38485938 ------ Oh yeah i did some digging this is really shady The company had a minor data breach a few years back and there’s this whole thing about marilla taking “clients”????? Like don’t they do space tech wtf does “CLIENTS” mean. [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply1"]] ##blue\|MothmanIsGay88## 8/7/2022 (Tues) 1:45:58 #38485941 ------ This is totally some russian sleep experiment type shit im calling it [[/div]] ------ The thread seemed to go cold after a few more exchanges with little to offer in the way of info. Heckerman let out a breath. “Can you get us something on that data leak, perhaps?” Lost was already typing it in. Within about two minutes, they were combing through an archive from 2017, eyes narrowed. “Here. It’s a list of bookings for various clients- and client information.” The names weren’t anything Heckerman recognised. “Are you sure these aren’t simply a list of meetings with potential investors or business partners?” “Good point,” Lost scanned the chart, saving it to an evidence document they were slowly constructing. Focused into their task, it was a bit impressive how easily their nerves and awkwardness melted away. “I’ll do a search of the names.” They opened up a second monitor, letting Heckerman read out each name, as they vetted them first through a plain Google search, then through a Foundation engine. They frowned, staring at something in confusion. “What date was Gregory Dawson’s appointment on?” Heckerman checked. “June 5th.” “He died June 23rd.” Heckerman sucked in a breath. Lost locked eyes with him. “Give me the dates of the others, this might be a thread.”” Sure enough - each person had a death listed within a month of their appointment. A new clue. But something caught Agent Heckerman’s eye from the screen, and he paused. “Are we thinking that these are anomaly-related?” “Probably,” Lost said. “Either way, the period of time isn’t consistent enough to be a calculated plan - the deaths are related, but they weren’t premeditated. I don’t think Marilla was holding the gun. But she had a hand in it.” Heckerman nodded, considering it. “A type of memetic poisoning, maybe? 7218 read as a possible memetic effect in my eyes. If that’s what we think she’s working with, we might have to talk with Reynold’s about bringing in some measure of counter-memetic ammo.” “I don’t think the planetarium was memetic,” Lost shot back. “Cognitohazardous?” “Possibly,” Lost shrugged. “I think the best bet here is to use the meeting as an information gathering opportunity. I’m not sure what stance Reynolds will take, if I’m being honest. The Foundation could easily take care of Estrella if we needed to, and find some way to take down the company as well. But that’s the Foundation. We don’t have that kind of support - Site 404, that is. Estrella has the upper hand.” “The question is-” Heckerman mused, leaning back. “Does Miss Vega know that?” He let the silence hang, as Lost considered it. “Doubtfully. If she knows enough about the Foundation’s hierarchy to grasp how much influence our individual Site has, then she has more influence than we thought. And in that event, it would be enough of a security breach that I’d bet we could use that to win greater backing,” they proposed. “Playing the long game,” Heckerman agreed. “It might work.” Lost’s eyes glinted gold, and for a second, the quick fingers over the keyboard, short violet hair melted away to the marble face of someone else. A someone like dark flowers in a shadowed hall. But then it was gone. ------ “Did you see the new guy?” the short, curvy frame of Dr. Sage West bustled its way into the break room, sitting down on the table with her legs crossed over the edge. Leaning over, she swiped a handful of chips from Sam “Levi” Leviticus’ bag. The engineer made a wounded sound, batting her arm. “You talkin’ about the tall ginger who Reynolds was meetin’ with?” sing-songed Adrien Hemlock, a cocky grin shining against brown skin. Pink streaked curls fell in his face. “Yeah. I saw him.” “You think he’s single?” West asked. Levi choked, shaking their head. “He struck me as kind of shady, if I’m being honest,” said Ezekiah Lenora. “We work for a spy organisation,” said West, shaking her head. “Everyone here is shady.” “Reynolds stuck him with Lost,” the scratchy voice of Dr. Maddie Simes cut in, tone scalding. “I feel sorry for him.” Levi frowned. “That’s not really fair, Maddie.” “This is about the Vega case,” Lenora said, matter-of-factly. They had a cup of heated ramen balanced under their chin, strands of auburn hair dipping into the broth as they tried to copy something from a book to a notepad. It looked like an accident waiting to happen. “They make the most sense for it. I mean, would you prefer it be you, Simes?” Simes bristled - and everyone remembered with a jolt exactly what nerve Ezekiah had just went for. After all, it had been Maddie who had sat on the other end for weeks. Who had heard Turnpike’s last transmission, up to the last second. “That shouldn’t matter,” Maddie snapped, sulkily taking another sip from their coffee mug. “This is the Foundation. Not a personal trauma management program.” “I disagree, actually,” Levi said, frowning. They ran a tan hand through dirty blond hair. “Personal trauma //is// something important to consider when in this line of work. The whole attitude a lot of people seem to have around it - this idea that being a Foundation worker makes you immune to your experiences - it’s toxic.” “This conversation isn’t even about that,” West said, brushing it off. “What do you think Vega wants?” “Nothing good,” Simes said scathingly. “Honestly? I just want them to do a good deed and put a bullet through the girl’s head. Sorry if that sounds cruel, but we don’t need any more planetary death traps.” Everyone winced at the blunt anger. Some wounds didn’t heal. “Pleased to see that classified information is once again the topic of your breakroom gossip sessions,” a new voice cut in, and the tall, imposing figure of Celeste Novak stepped in. Her bushy dark hair floated in a cloud around her head, eyes narrowed. “Busted,” West sighed. “It’s not like the Lightspeed situation is really private anymore, though.” “It isn’t. But I’d still like to keep work talk away from lunch if possible.” She grabbed her Tupperware-contained chicken from the fridge, setting up. Nodding, the room shifted, Levi piping up with a comment on the set they were working on for their theatre troupe, Adrien joined in, and business as normal returned. ------ Agent N.D Heckerman took a car to the meeting point. Reynolds’ own car. Two more Agents - a short asian woman, and a taller man with grey hair; Agent Pepper and Agent Letter, as Heckerman had quickly been introduced - followed a distance behind in a grey van. “No use in breaking out anything heavy-duty,” Reynolds had said, as she walked him to the car. “Unlikely we’ll need it. Better to blend in.” He had to admit he was charmed by the red Toyota Corolla she drove, a small plush black cat on the dashboard. Reynolds rolled her eyes when he smiled at it. “The Site 403 Director Moira Fernsby got me that. She’s been texting me pictures of golden retrievers cuddling with black cats and saying it’s supposed to be us.” A soft smile crossed her lips, and Heckerman appreciated how much he liked her. Not in any romantic sense, though she was beautiful, in a frosty, distant way. There was something nice about her presence, that made the silence comfortable as they rode. Lost and him had come up with a fairly good outline of what tactics might work best. And though he still couldn’t really bring himself to warm to the Site, he had to admit it wasn’t all bad. Lost and Reynolds were not the fresh-faced incompetents he’d been prepared for. “Pepper and Letter will wait outside in the van,” Reynolds informed him as she drove along the road. They passed a large billboard, with “JESUS SAVES'' printed in large, faded letters. A wooden cross stuck out from the ground a few metres away, someone having spray painted it with red. Litter danced at the edge of tall corn stalks. Heckerman felt his eyes glass over, lulled into a trance by the predictable scenery. “If you need them, we’ve given you a mini-com to put in your jacket pocket. Click the sides, and it’ll send a radio signal out. Don’t use it unless you need it.” Heckerman nodded. The sun had started to set outside. “Do you mind the silence?” Reynolds asked, about an hour in. “I have a few CDs. The radio signals aren’t that good out here.” He didn’t really mind the silence, but the idea of seeing what Reynolds considered quality music intrigued him. “I wouldn’t mind a couple of tunes to fill the air.” She snorted, probably from his formal delivery, and fished through the glove compartment until she pulled out a disc titled “Time and Pocket Change” - and below that, “Heather Maloney”. “I saw her in concert when I was 19,” Reynolds said. “It was a small venue, but I’ve been a fan ever since.” He didn’t really know what to make of that - but as the music picked up, it made sense, in a way. The jaunty flow of sweet folk-rock, music that could easily be heard from a live musician at some roadside restaurant. If Emerald Reynolds had danced her way through a show at any point in her life - though, her rigid manner made it hard to believe she’d ever danced in her life - it would be somewhere like that. Halfway through the trip, they stopped at a McDonalds, of all places, the two Agents sitting cross-legged in the open trunk window as they ploughed through a double-order of a Big Mac and fries. Reynolds ordered a salad, picking through it in disdain as they ate in the car’s front seat. Heckerman wasn’t used to this. The closest experience that came to mind was from the back of a limousine, the lanky figure of Iris Dark sprawled cat-like across the seat, faintly tipsy from a well stocked minibar. The blue LED strips falling across the angles of her face. Agent Heckerman wondered if she still thought about nights like that. Her life was so full that it seemed trivial to think that she’d have time to remember him. But the rage on her face, the night she’d realised exactly what he’d done - how the Foundation had bought him up like a cheap chandelier - that anger was a lasting burn. Heckerman glanced across the seat, to Reynolds. Her face lit in the same way, but instead of electric blue, it was the golden panels of the setting sun through car windows. A spot of salad dressing on her chin. Her cheeks slightly flushed from the chill, despite the seat heaters on full blast. For a moment, things felt lopsided in his mind - like he was back in the limo, missing the car, instead of the other way around. Living in the past, yearning for the future, motion sick from nostalgia. Then it was gone. And Iris Dark was behind him, again. Time kept running, the hands of his watches all ticking steadily along. And he ran to, glued to his seat with the vertigo of it. ------ The coffeehouse was small town charm slapped onto roadside appeal, the type of place that would no doubt be converted to a Tim Hortons at some point. It was dark inside, and for a second, Agent N.D Heckerman thought there’d been a mistake. Then he saw the faintest flicker of a shadow from inside. And he knew all too well it was right. “Good luck,” Reynolds said, eyes glinting with that frostbite-blue tone that sent shivers up his spine. She pressed the comm into his hand. The gun on one side, the comm on the other - his pockets felt like brass scales, the weight of the situation dragging him down as he approached the door. When Iris Dark had been his manager, he’d learned to judge the anomalous by what made them useful, helpful. By what could be marketed, capitalised on. MC&D had measured in dollars what the Foundation measured in danger. Secretly, he still tended to defer to that line of thought - considering anomalies not for what made them unusual, but what made them useful. The Foundation knew that the anomalous were useful. But they also knew the value of the ordinary. The Foundation had made Heckerman feel useful for the first time in his life. And it still felt surreal. Estrella Vega was someone who felt the weight of both - the use of the anomalous, and the use of the everyday. It was laid bare in her dark eyes. “Sit,” she spoke, voice surprisingly low and full. Heckerman did, his role kicking in as he gave her his most gracious smile. “Estrella Vega, yes?” “Yeah,” she chewed the inside of her cheek, leaning back further. “That’s me. You aren’t Emerald, though.” It was odd hearing her call the Director by her first name. It didn’t feel disrespectful so much as just… uncanny. “Agent N.D Heckerman,” he supplied, tilting his head towards her. “You’ve got an accent. Where you from?” she tilted her head curiously. “Ireland.” It wasn’t that hard to pick out, and he considered perhaps the offering of information would loosen her up a bit. “Oh. I’ve never been,” she unconsciously twirled a strand of hair around her finger, tugging on it. “I’m going to go to Egypt, one day. I think. After I finish my training, and all that.” “Training?” Heckerman ventured, wondering if this was her informational quid pro quo - an olive branch accepted, perhaps. “Yeah,” she nodded. “I’m going to get training from the Foundation on celestial thaumaturgy. My Mum died before she could finish teaching me. I’m reading the Picatrix, but I don’t know much Arabic yet. I don’t know if you work with an astral cult, but I really like your style. It’s very intelligent, y’know.” Estrella rolled her neck. “Do you think you can do it?” It took a second to piece out what she was asking for - and when it finally made sense, he wasn’t sure what to say. “You wish to… intern with us?” Estrella considered it. “Maybe. I wanna know more, though. I can pay money. Or information. My family was part of a group known as the Sabians, and that’s magic shit. I’m magic shit. You guys call it thaumaturgy. And I’m probably dangerous. So it’d be a mutually beneficial arrangement if someone were to let me help out.” This wasn’t what Heckerman was used to. He was used to bribes, to cash slipped under tables, to clean gunshots and dirty business. He was used to people who wanted the world. This wasn’t a sorcerer who wanted the world. This was a girl who didn’t know what she wanted. Heckerman always had known what he wanted. It’s why he’d made the same decision, over and over - always reaching up. Always reaching forwards. “I like your watches,” she said, cutting through his silence. Estrella raised a pale wrist. “I’ve got one too, and it’s also fancy.” “A Van Cleef & Arpels Midnight Planetarium,” he said, recognising it. She nodded, pleased. “Neat, huh?” They sat for another moment, the silence hanging thickly between them. Then Heckerman took a breath. “There’s a Foundation Site where we train personnel with anomalous abilities,” he wasn’t sure whether he was allowed to tell her this much. But the need in her eyes - that hunger for something so simple as a purpose. He understood that more than anything. She wanted to be useful, even if Heckerman didn’t understand yet what her use was. Estrella’s eyes widened. “Would they help me?” Heckerman paused. “I don’t know,” he finally replied. Then he met her eyes, and smiled again. This time, it was genuine. This was his play, now. Cards on the table. “But I have a deal for you.” “Shoot,” she prompted, tilting her chin up. “You help us find and destroy the anomalies your Mother created. And we’ll help you train to regulate your abilities,” his smile deepened. “Unregulated power can turn sour over time. You could easily be destroyed by your own magic.” He wasn’t sure if this was true, but it made for a compelling argument - one he sensed Estrella wouldn’t be able to call out. She studied the table, the silence stretching on forever, and for never. Time folding itself into paper cranes, all contained in that small darkened coffeehouse. And nodded. “Deal.” @@ @@ @@ @@ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:earthworm">:scp-wiki:component:earthworm</a> \| first=true/false \| last=true/false \| hub=yes/no \| previous-url=https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/director-emerald-reynolds-guide-to-containing-reality-using/comments/show \| previous-title=Director Emerald Reynolds' Guide To Containing Reality Using Tetris \| next-url=https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/sage-west-s-guide-to-keeping-up-disappearances \| next-title=Sage West's Guide To Keeping Up Disappearances \| hub-url=https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/dr-vikki-lost \| hub-title=ALL TALES ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=Dr Vikki Lost]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-01-06T01:17:00	[ "_licensebox", "adventure", "mystery", "spy-fiction", "tale", "the-twin-sites" ]	The Deal of Agent Heckerman - SCP Foundation	8	[ "the-death-of-marilla-vega", "scp-7218", "director-emerald-reynolds-guide-to-containing-reality-using/comments/show", "dr-vikki-lost", "sage-west-s-guide-to-keeping-up-disappearances", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[]	[]	1452038128	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-deal-of-agent-heckerman
the-easter-funny	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div style="display: none"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">+ CODE</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">- CODE</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div style="text-align: left;"> <div class="code"> <div class="hl-main"> <pre><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BLANKSTYLE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CSS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">2021</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">Wikidot</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">Theme</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">By</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Placeholder</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">McD</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">HarryBlank</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Based</span><span class="hl-code"> on: </span><span class="hl-identifier">Paperstack</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Penumbra</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Montserrat</span><span class="hl-special">:ital</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">wght</span><span class="hl-var">@0</span><span class="hl-code">,800;1,800&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.9</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">1.6</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#container-wrap</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'Montserrat', </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-title, "R\</span><span class="hl-number">0026</span><span class="hl-code"> C SITE-43")</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">400</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-subtitle, "SUBVERTING COMMON PRACTICE")</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">700</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 707</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">a:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">1.6</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-title</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#footer</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#footer</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#efefef</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.empty</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#999999</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem!important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">7.9</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'Montserrat', </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.45</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#extra-div-1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">160</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Ablankstyle/</span><span class="hl-number">43</span><span class="hl-code">Head.png')</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> contain</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 707</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#extra-div-1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">body</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> linear-gradient( to </span><span class="hl-string">bottom</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">200</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">200</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-special">:root</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">timeScale:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">timeDelay:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">posX:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">358</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">13</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">fnLinger:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">12</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.35</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#DDD</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.open-menu</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 767</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-identifier">target</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">black</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FDF6D7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-var">#D7EFE7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.resources</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-var">#F5D8E0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.creditRate</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">PAGE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">RATING</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-points</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anchor</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> sticky</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.14</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc((</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vw - </span><span class="hl-number">870</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">)/</span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vh - </span><span class="hl-number">18</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">103.5</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 1290</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">visibility:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">h2:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">0.9</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">YUI</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TAB</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BASE</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">YUI</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TAB</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CUSTOMIZATION</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-wrap:</span><span class="hl-code"> wrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">.125</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">UNSELECTED</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#efefef</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">HOVER</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Listitem</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">relative</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-bottom</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">align-items:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.35</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.75</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> ellipsis</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">white-space:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">nowrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Selection</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">SELECTED</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:active</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">SCROLLBAR</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-track</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-thumb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#CCC</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-thumb</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#EEE</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">CENTER</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">IMAGES</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ON</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MOBILE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">courtesy</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">of</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">PeppersGhost</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.imagediv</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">right</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 540</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.imagediv</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">only</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">screen</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 600</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block.block-right</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">ACS-COLORED</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TABLE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">DIVS</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#D7EFE7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#D8ECF4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FDF6D7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFDABF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#F5D8E0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">146</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.wiki-content-table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-collapse:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">separate</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">img</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.top-left-box</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">.item</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">WORDS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">NO</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">LONGER</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BROKEN</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">THE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CROQUEMBOUCHE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">HAS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">SPOKEN</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">word-break:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">normal</span><span class="hl-code"> !important </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.avatar-hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#breadcrumbs</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.pseudocrumbs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> -- </span><span class="hl-identifier">FANCY</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">THINGS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">from</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Woedenaz</span><span class="hl-code">'</span><span class="hl-identifier">s</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Dustjacket</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> -- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fancyhr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--bright-accent), </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-source:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Aflopstyle-dark/wl_hr.png')</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> round round</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-slice:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-code"> fill</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fancyborder</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Aflopstyle-dark/wl_border.png') </span><span class="hl-number">600</span><span class="hl-code"> round</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span></pre></div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div> <div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc0"><span>The Easter Funny</span></h1> <h1 id="toc1"><span><span style="color: #990011">2024</span></span></h1> <h2 id="toc2"><span>1 April</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <p>William Wettle was giddy.</p> <p>It didn't happen often. It happened so rarely, in fact, that he was always caught off-guard. The feeling took time to identify. Was it gas? Was it nausea? Was he under the influence of some malign… no, no, it was none of those things. He was simply, temporarily, in a good mood.</p> <p>Things that put him in a good mood, as would logically follow, also didn't happen often. One of the rarest triggers had nevertheless been pulled on this chill spring day in April which had otherwise seemed entirely unprepossessing, its two coincidentally-coinciding holidays aside. Something marvellous had happened as he'd stepped out of the subway at Grand Bend, spotted the car they'd sent to pick him up, and fished out his phone to check for any last-minute messages.</p> <p>There had been one, from Harold Blank. His best friend. His <em>worst</em> friend. The president, if not hardly the founding father, of the Making Fun of William Wettle Fan Club. A man who prided himself on his intellect, despite possessing a humanities doctorate, and who loved little more than lording it over his accident-prone colleague. Harold Blank had sent him a text message, and wonder of wonders, within that text message Wettle had found a lovely little accidental Easter egg. A <em>typo.</em></p> <p>It hadn't had much room to hide.</p> <div class="text-container-wrap"> <div class="text-container"> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text"><strong>H_Blank</strong><br/> Watch out for the Easter Funny!</span></p> </div> </div> </div> <p>Wettle had tried three times during the hour-long ride from Site-43 to Sloth's Pit, Wisconsin to show that glorious error to the agent in the driver's seat. The man had glanced in his direction the first time, winced, and fixed his gaze back out the windshield again without comment. The second time, he'd merely grunted. He hadn't even acknowledged the third attempt. Wettle couldn't remember if he'd offended this particular agent, whose name tag said 'Nicholas Ewell', on his last trip to Sloth's Pit; he barely remembered the trip itself, bound up as it was in an event both too embarrassing to want to dwell on, and not nearly as <em>memorably</em> embarrassing as several which had occurred since. So he contented himself with cradling the phone in his lap, observing the visible evidence of his friend's cognitive fallibility, and drafting up potential responses.</p> <p>"How's this," Wettle said, typing on his phone with short, thick fingers.</p> <div class="text-container-wrap"> <div class="text-container"> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text"><strong>W_Wettle</strong><br/> Looks like your the Easter Funny today!</span></p> </div> </div> </div> <p>He hit SEND. It lacked a certain something, and he felt like there was something wrong with it besides, but… well. It wasn't <em>bad.</em></p> <p>Ewell grunted again.</p> <p>The message greyed out. Loss of signal, perhaps. Well, that was acceptable. Now he could do better.</p> <p>"Okay." Wettle scratched his beard. "Let's go deeper. He meant to type Easter Bunny, because it's Easter. He typed Easter <em>Funny,</em> which isn't <em>anything.</em> What would the Easter Funny be, if it… was?"</p> <p>This occupied the time until they crossed into Sloth's Pit proper. Wettle always had a hard time wrapping his head around the concept of humour.</p> <p>"Aha!" he shouted, and for a moment admired the agent's resolve in not leaping out of his skin, before continuing. "The Easter Funny is the holiday mascot for every time Easter lands on April Fools' Day!"</p> <p>The fact that it was even possible for this to happen had never crossed Wettle's mind, even if it had already happened before in his lifetime. He didn't know that it had; he just didn't know that it hadn't, either. Many things happened around, in front of, even <em>to</em> him that he didn't notice, so it was possible. But it had happened today, sort of.</p> <p>"Easter Monday isn't really a thing," Wettle mused. "It's just a federal holiday. The real deal is Sunday. That's why they think it's fine to send us out on this bullshit, right? We're not federal employees, we're…" He reached for a word higher up the totem pole than <em>federal,</em> and failed to find one. "…yeah. Still, it's part of Easter, even if it <em>is</em> the ass end. That's the angle. <em>That's</em> the angle." His fingers resumed their narrow hunt-and-peck.</p> <div class="text-container-wrap"> <div class="text-container"> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text"><strong>W_Wettle</strong><br/> The Easter Funny isn't real, unlike your tyops</span></p> </div> </div> </div> <p>He muttered each word as he stabbed it into existence, though there was a minor deviance which he didn't notice at the end. It was closer, but it still wasn't perfect.</p> <p>It still wouldn't send, either.</p> <p>Ewell exhaled heavily, and looked out his window.</p> <p>"What do you think the Easter Funny brings?" Wettle asked him. "Chocolate… jokes?"</p> <p>"We're here." The car swung into the approach to Site-87, perched on its hill overlooking the town where tales came to literal life. "You ready for a walk?"</p> <p>The tortuous route required for them to access the bottomless pit did nothing to crumple Wettle's spirits. It was Ewell's job to lead, since you could only find the thing once, and Wettle had found it once already; he'd wondered whether this would mean that he'd get lost and be eaten by a hodag or a goat man or whatever, but no, apparently the fact that he was still confused and disoriented when they stumbled into the clearing had been enough to satisfy the precondition. The agent took the drones out of their briefcase while Wettle continued to crow on what was by now the only topic his mind had room for.</p> <p>"I bet the Easter Funny brings chocolate eggs with little notes inside. Little notes with jokes on them. Like fortune cookies, only… not." Wettle found himself strolling to the plunging edge of the pit, and stepped back again. "Only the chocolate has laxative in it, right? Or maybe they just choke on the paper, because they <em>didn't get the joke.</em> Ha, ha. Because April Fools'."</p> <p>Wettle did not care for April Fools' Day. In his unique condition, it meant watching a variety of pranks intended for other people falling flat, then generally bouncing back and knocking <em>him</em> flat.</p> <p>"Or maybe it's a stand-up comedian. No, wait!" Wettle assumed an illustrative t-pose. "A <em>hang-up</em> comedian! Like Jesus. A big bunny nailed to a cross, who tells bad jokes. Joke's on you, Jesus bunny! There is no bunny god."</p> <p>Ewell was putting batteries in the drones. Wettle walked over, and knelt beside him. "There's no bunny god, right? That's not a thing?"</p> <p>"Do you have your tablet?" the agent asked.</p> <p>Wettle frowned. He didn't understand the purpose of this experiment, even though he'd dutifully signed off on it. The Director had passed it down, with a strict set of requirements, and he wasn't paid enough (even after all his years of excellent service) to bother interrogating the man's motives. They were going to confirm that the famous bottomless pit was still, indeed, bottomless. It had experienced a brief period of bottoming-out during Wettle's time in the limelight, back in 2022, and apparently the brass wanted to make certain it had merely been a fluke.</p> <p>Their methodology for doing so was obviously flawed, and he had protested, but as usual his concerns had been swept aside without so much as an explanation. He was the Deputy Chair of Replication Studies at Site-43, and although the confusing phraseology suggested otherwise, there was no-one above him in that particular food chain. He wasn't a real Chair, but he was the undisputed king of doing things twice, three times, and more. Only these days he didn't do the doing himself; his bad luck anomaly was almost always sufficient to disqualify him from personally carrying out the tests. Since the 7000 effect had been documented he'd been stuck on supervisory duty only, to avoid contaminating the results.</p> <p>And yet, here they were.</p> <p>Wettle removed his tablet from his labcoat pocket, only almost dropping it into the pit as he did so, and nodded. "Go for it. But I'm not gonna stop talking."</p> <p>Ewell tossed one of the drones into the pit. It sank below sight. The other man fiddled with a small control box as Wettle tracked its progress on his screen. He sat down on the grass, set the tablet down beside him, and pulled out his phone again.</p> <div class="text-container-wrap"> <div class="text-container"> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text"><strong>W_Wettle</strong><br/> I'm gonna cruxify you for that one when we get back, Mr. Easter Funny!</span></p> </div> </div> </div> <p>He chuckled, then stopped. "Fuck!" <em>Still</em> the message would not send. He checked his connection. It was fine. He looked up. Clear blue skies. Maddening. Almost enough to wear off the buzz from witnessing a Harold Blank typo out in the wild.</p> <p>Almost.</p> <p>Harry refused to admit that he was capable of making an error such as this. One time he'd even invented an anomaly just to weasel out of Wettle's righteous mockery. This should have been his chance for revenge. It wasn't fair. Even by his standards, it simply wasn't <em>fair.</em></p> <p>The drone was still falling. Wettle wrinkled his nose. "I wonder if the Easter Funny likes being the Easter Funny. I bet it's really tragic, being the butt of a joke like that."</p> <p>Ewell tossed in a second drone. They were meant to compare the relative trajectories and positions, to confirm the anomalous nature of the hole's depth. Wettle gave the new readout less than a quarter of his attention.</p> <p>"Maybe the Easter Funny wakes people up in bed by telling them bad jokes?" He'd just remembered that some people insisted April Fools' Day ended at noon, which would seriously reduce his theoretical holiday avatar's window of opportunity. In his experience, of course, April Fools' never ended at all. "Maybe it pees the bed for them. Maybe it's a big, stupid bunny that pees in your bed. Maybe that's what the Easter Funny is. That sounds about right." He spat on the grass. "That's the kind of—"</p> <p>Suddenly, he was standing up. There was something fuzzy all over his face, even more so than usual. He couldn't see, and then, awfully, he could. A massive, narrow, beady-eyed leporine face glared down at him, and then a vast and clawed paw swept across his jaw, and stars blossomed in the noonday sun.</p> <p>"STOP TALKING!" the giant rabbit shouted, kicking Wettle in the stomach at the moment he struck the grass. "STOP STICKING ME WITH ALL YOUR BULLSHIT! It's bad enough I only get to exist maybe four days every CENTURY, you're gonna make me piss on people's BEDS?" Another kick. "Feed paper to <em>children?</em>" Another kick. "Fucking CRUCIFY me?!" Another.</p> <p>Wettle's vision swam, but he could still clearly see the rabbit pick up the tablet, and Wettle's phone, and the briefcase full of drones, and chuck the entire mess into the pit, and then follow them down. He was almost certain he saw the creature pirouette as it plunged out of sight, flashing a single taloned digit at them both in a farewell salute.</p> <p>Ewell removed his earplugs, and walked over to offer Wettle a hand. "That <em>was</em> pretty funny," he smiled.</p> <div class="blockquote"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Site-43 Replication Studies Subsection</strong><br/> <strong>Experiment Proposal</strong></p> </div> <hr/> <p><strong>Premise:</strong> Nx-18, Sloth's Pit, Wisconsin, is among other things an engine for the generation of 'thoughtform' beings in direct proportion to the intensity of local belief in their existence. One manifestation avenue of interest is holiday traditions; after the 2013 <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/chapter-1-corvophobia">'turkey golem'/'Thanksgivukkah' incident</a>, the Department of Nexological Studies has expressed interest in the possibility of replicable hybrid occurrences.</p> <p>Dr. William Wallace Wettle, Deputy Chair of Replication Studies and <a href="/scp-7000">SCP-7000</a>, experiences an intense constellation of negative probability effects on and around his person. On a <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/not-my-sloths-not-my-pit">prior visit</a> to Nx-18, Dr. Wettle improbably <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/if-you-don-t-know-the-words">encountered</a> one such thoughtform (Chapman-392, "The Hum") which had not been encountered for a long period of time and had been believed neutralized. It is hypothesized that this entity was in fact brought back into existence by the confluence of these two distinct anomalies and their interaction.</p> <p>If there is a correlation, it should be possible to prove via the following experimental procedure.</p> <p><strong>Procedure:</strong> 1. Introduce a promising thoughtform concept to Dr. Wettle, in a manner irresistible to his peculiar psychological makeup; 2. Arrange for Dr. Wettle's transport to Nx-18; 3. Isolate Dr. Wettle's ruminations on the concept to his person alone, 4. Observe the resultant manifestation, if any.</p> <p><strong>Experiment Lead:</strong> Dr. Harold Blank.</p> <hr/> <p><strong>Results:</strong> Hypothesis holds.</p> <p><strong>Followup:</strong> Next St. Patrick's Day/Christmas Islands Labour Day, we will attempt to induce the creation of "Laborechaun" with Dr. Wettle's unwitting aid.</p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> </div> <div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-s-c-plastics-hub">Hub</a></strong></p> <div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-easter-funny">The Easter Funny</a>" by HarryBlank, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-easter-funny">https://scpwiki.com/the-easter-funny</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <div style="text-align: left;"> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> AFD2024.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/harryblank" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6479803); return false;"><img alt="HarryBlank" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6479803&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730032543" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6479803)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/harryblank" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6479803); return false;">HarryBlank</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0</p> <p>Reference materials were created by the author using <a href="https://www.daz3d.com/">Daz Studio</a>. The following additional reference was used:</p> <p><strong>Name:</strong> Scruffy self-portrait<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Nic McPhee<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 2.0<br/> <strong>Source:</strong> <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26406919@N00/2189606260">flickr</a></p> </blockquote> <hr/> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> SCAsterisk2.png<br/> <strong>Title:</strong> Official seal of Wisconsin<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Svgalbertian<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Public Domain<br/> <strong>Source:</strong> <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wisconsin#/media/File:Seal_of_Wisconsin.svg">Wikimedia Commons</a></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:blankstyle">:scp-wiki:theme:blankstyle</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:text-style">:scp-wiki:component:text-style</a>]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[div]] [[=]] + The Easter Funny [[=image http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/saiaepa/SCAsterisk2.png]] + ##990011\|2024## ++ 1 April [[/=]] ---- William Wettle was giddy. It didn't happen often. It happened so rarely, in fact, that he was always caught off-guard. The feeling took time to identify. Was it gas? Was it nausea? Was he under the influence of some malign... no, no, it was none of those things. He was simply, temporarily, in a good mood. Things that put him in a good mood, as would logically follow, also didn't happen often. One of the rarest triggers had nevertheless been pulled on this chill spring day in April which had otherwise seemed entirely unprepossessing, its two coincidentally-coinciding holidays aside. Something marvellous had happened as he'd stepped out of the subway at Grand Bend, spotted the car they'd sent to pick him up, and fished out his phone to check for any last-minute messages. There had been one, from Harold Blank. His best friend. His //worst// friend. The president, if not hardly the founding father, of the Making Fun of William Wettle Fan Club. A man who prided himself on his intellect, despite possessing a humanities doctorate, and who loved little more than lording it over his accident-prone colleague. Harold Blank had sent him a text message, and wonder of wonders, within that text message Wettle had found a lovely little accidental Easter egg. A //typo.// It hadn't had much room to hide. [[div class="text-container-wrap"]] [[div class="text-container"]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]H_Blank Watch out for the Easter Funny![[/span]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] Wettle had tried three times during the hour-long ride from Site-43 to Sloth's Pit, Wisconsin to show that glorious error to the agent in the driver's seat. The man had glanced in his direction the first time, winced, and fixed his gaze back out the windshield again without comment. The second time, he'd merely grunted. He hadn't even acknowledged the third attempt. Wettle couldn't remember if he'd offended this particular agent, whose name tag said 'Nicholas Ewell', on his last trip to Sloth's Pit; he barely remembered the trip itself, bound up as it was in an event both too embarrassing to want to dwell on, and not nearly as //memorably// embarrassing as several which had occurred since. So he contented himself with cradling the phone in his lap, observing the visible evidence of his friend's cognitive fallibility, and drafting up potential responses. "How's this," Wettle said, typing on his phone with short, thick fingers. [[div class="text-container-wrap"]] [[div class="text-container"]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]W_Wettle Looks like your the Easter Funny today![[/span]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] He hit SEND. It lacked a certain something, and he felt like there was something wrong with it besides, but... well. It wasn't //bad.// Ewell grunted again. The message greyed out. Loss of signal, perhaps. Well, that was acceptable. Now he could do better. "Okay." Wettle scratched his beard. "Let's go deeper. He meant to type Easter Bunny, because it's Easter. He typed Easter //Funny,// which isn't //anything.// What would the Easter Funny be, if it... was?" This occupied the time until they crossed into Sloth's Pit proper. Wettle always had a hard time wrapping his head around the concept of humour. "Aha!" he shouted, and for a moment admired the agent's resolve in not leaping out of his skin, before continuing. "The Easter Funny is the holiday mascot for every time Easter lands on April Fools' Day!" The fact that it was even possible for this to happen had never crossed Wettle's mind, even if it had already happened before in his lifetime. He didn't know that it had; he just didn't know that it hadn't, either. Many things happened around, in front of, even //to// him that he didn't notice, so it was possible. But it had happened today, sort of. "Easter Monday isn't really a thing," Wettle mused. "It's just a federal holiday. The real deal is Sunday. That's why they think it's fine to send us out on this bullshit, right? We're not federal employees, we're..." He reached for a word higher up the totem pole than //federal,// and failed to find one. "...yeah. Still, it's part of Easter, even if it //is// the ass end. That's the angle. //That's// the angle." His fingers resumed their narrow hunt-and-peck. [[div class="text-container-wrap"]] [[div class="text-container"]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]W_Wettle The Easter Funny isn't real, unlike your tyops[[/span]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] He muttered each word as he stabbed it into existence, though there was a minor deviance which he didn't notice at the end. It was closer, but it still wasn't perfect. It still wouldn't send, either. Ewell exhaled heavily, and looked out his window. "What do you think the Easter Funny brings?" Wettle asked him. "Chocolate... jokes?" "We're here." The car swung into the approach to Site-87, perched on its hill overlooking the town where tales came to literal life. "You ready for a walk?" [[=image http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/saiaepa/SCAsterisk2.png]] The tortuous route required for them to access the bottomless pit did nothing to crumple Wettle's spirits. It was Ewell's job to lead, since you could only find the thing once, and Wettle had found it once already; he'd wondered whether this would mean that he'd get lost and be eaten by a hodag or a goat man or whatever, but no, apparently the fact that he was still confused and disoriented when they stumbled into the clearing had been enough to satisfy the precondition. The agent took the drones out of their briefcase while Wettle continued to crow on what was by now the only topic his mind had room for. "I bet the Easter Funny brings chocolate eggs with little notes inside. Little notes with jokes on them. Like fortune cookies, only... not." Wettle found himself strolling to the plunging edge of the pit, and stepped back again. "Only the chocolate has laxative in it, right? Or maybe they just choke on the paper, because they //didn't get the joke.// Ha, ha. Because April Fools'." Wettle did not care for April Fools' Day. In his unique condition, it meant watching a variety of pranks intended for other people falling flat, then generally bouncing back and knocking //him// flat. "Or maybe it's a stand-up comedian. No, wait!" Wettle assumed an illustrative t-pose. "A //hang-up// comedian! Like Jesus. A big bunny nailed to a cross, who tells bad jokes. Joke's on you, Jesus bunny! There is no bunny god." Ewell was putting batteries in the drones. Wettle walked over, and knelt beside him. "There's no bunny god, right? That's not a thing?" "Do you have your tablet?" the agent asked. Wettle frowned. He didn't understand the purpose of this experiment, even though he'd dutifully signed off on it. The Director had passed it down, with a strict set of requirements, and he wasn't paid enough (even after all his years of excellent service) to bother interrogating the man's motives. They were going to confirm that the famous bottomless pit was still, indeed, bottomless. It had experienced a brief period of bottoming-out during Wettle's time in the limelight, back in 2022, and apparently the brass wanted to make certain it had merely been a fluke. Their methodology for doing so was obviously flawed, and he had protested, but as usual his concerns had been swept aside without so much as an explanation. He was the Deputy Chair of Replication Studies at Site-43, and although the confusing phraseology suggested otherwise, there was no-one above him in that particular food chain. He wasn't a real Chair, but he was the undisputed king of doing things twice, three times, and more. Only these days he didn't do the doing himself; his bad luck anomaly was almost always sufficient to disqualify him from personally carrying out the tests. Since the 7000 effect had been documented he'd been stuck on supervisory duty only, to avoid contaminating the results. And yet, here they were. Wettle removed his tablet from his labcoat pocket, only almost dropping it into the pit as he did so, and nodded. "Go for it. But I'm not gonna stop talking." Ewell tossed one of the drones into the pit. It sank below sight. The other man fiddled with a small control box as Wettle tracked its progress on his screen. He sat down on the grass, set the tablet down beside him, and pulled out his phone again. [[div class="text-container-wrap"]] [[div class="text-container"]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]W_Wettle I'm gonna cruxify you for that one when we get back, Mr. Easter Funny![[/span]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] He chuckled, then stopped. "Fuck!" //Still// the message would not send. He checked his connection. It was fine. He looked up. Clear blue skies. Maddening. Almost enough to wear off the buzz from witnessing a Harold Blank typo out in the wild. Almost. Harry refused to admit that he was capable of making an error such as this. One time he'd even invented an anomaly just to weasel out of Wettle's righteous mockery. This should have been his chance for revenge. It wasn't fair. Even by his standards, it simply wasn't //fair.// The drone was still falling. Wettle wrinkled his nose. "I wonder if the Easter Funny likes being the Easter Funny. I bet it's really tragic, being the butt of a joke like that." Ewell tossed in a second drone. They were meant to compare the relative trajectories and positions, to confirm the anomalous nature of the hole's depth. Wettle gave the new readout less than a quarter of his attention. "Maybe the Easter Funny wakes people up in bed by telling them bad jokes?" He'd just remembered that some people insisted April Fools' Day ended at noon, which would seriously reduce his theoretical holiday avatar's window of opportunity. In his experience, of course, April Fools' never ended at all. "Maybe it pees the bed for them. Maybe it's a big, stupid bunny that pees in your bed. Maybe that's what the Easter Funny is. That sounds about right." He spat on the grass. "That's the kind of--" Suddenly, he was standing up. There was something fuzzy all over his face, even more so than usual. He couldn't see, and then, awfully, he could. A massive, narrow, beady-eyed leporine face glared down at him, and then a vast and clawed paw swept across his jaw, and stars blossomed in the noonday sun. "STOP TALKING!" the giant rabbit shouted, kicking Wettle in the stomach at the moment he struck the grass. "STOP STICKING ME WITH ALL YOUR BULLSHIT! It's bad enough I only get to exist maybe four days every CENTURY, you're gonna make me piss on people's BEDS?" Another kick. "Feed paper to //children?//" Another kick. "Fucking CRUCIFY me?!" Another. Wettle's vision swam, but he could still clearly see the rabbit pick up the tablet, and Wettle's phone, and the briefcase full of drones, and chuck the entire mess into the pit, and then follow them down. He was almost certain he saw the creature pirouette as it plunged out of sight, flashing a single taloned digit at them both in a farewell salute. Ewell removed his earplugs, and walked over to offer Wettle a hand. "That //was// pretty funny," he smiled. [[=image http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/saiaepa/SCAsterisk2.png]] [[div class="blockquote"]] [[=]] Site-43 Replication Studies Subsection Experiment Proposal [[/=]] ---- Premise: Nx-18, Sloth's Pit, Wisconsin, is among other things an engine for the generation of 'thoughtform' beings in direct proportion to the intensity of local belief in their existence. One manifestation avenue of interest is holiday traditions; after the 2013 [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/chapter-1-corvophobia 'turkey golem'/'Thanksgivukkah' incident], the Department of Nexological Studies has expressed interest in the possibility of replicable hybrid occurrences. Dr. William Wallace Wettle, Deputy Chair of Replication Studies and [[[SCP-7000]]], experiences an intense constellation of negative probability effects on and around his person. On a [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/not-my-sloths-not-my-pit prior visit] to Nx-18, Dr. Wettle improbably [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/if-you-don-t-know-the-words encountered] one such thoughtform (Chapman-392, "The Hum") which had not been encountered for a long period of time and had been believed neutralized. It is hypothesized that this entity was in fact brought back into existence by the confluence of these two distinct anomalies and their interaction. If there is a correlation, it should be possible to prove via the following experimental procedure. Procedure: 1. Introduce a promising thoughtform concept to Dr. Wettle, in a manner irresistible to his peculiar psychological makeup; 2. Arrange for Dr. Wettle's transport to Nx-18; 3. Isolate Dr. Wettle's ruminations on the concept to his person alone, 4. Observe the resultant manifestation, if any. Experiment Lead: Dr. Harold Blank. ---- Results: Hypothesis holds. Followup: Next St. Patrick's Day/Christmas Islands Labour Day, we will attempt to induce the creation of "Laborechaun" with Dr. Wettle's unwitting aid. [[/div]] @@ @@ [[=image http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-2/AFD2024.jpg]] @@ @@ [[/div]] [[div]] [[=]] [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-s-c-plastics-hub Hub] [[div]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] ===== [[<]] > Filename: AFD2024.jpg > Author: [[user HarryBlank]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > > Reference materials were created by the author using [https://www.daz3d.com/ Daz Studio]. The following additional reference was used: > > Name: Scruffy self-portrait > Author: Nic McPhee > License: CC BY-SA 2.0 > Source: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/26406919@N00/2189606260 flickr] ---- > Filename: SCAsterisk2.png > Title: Official seal of Wisconsin > Author: Svgalbertian > License: Public Domain > Source: [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wisconsin#/media/File:Seal_of_Wisconsin.svg Wikimedia Commons] [[/<]] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]] [[/=]] [[/div]] [[/div]]	2024-04-01T05:33:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "comedy", "doctor-blank", "doctor-wettle", "illustrated", "on-guard-43", "s&c-plastics", "tale" ]	The Easter Funny - SCP Foundation	49	[ "chapter-1-corvophobia", "scp-7000", "not-my-sloths-not-my-pit", "if-you-don-t-know-the-words", "the-s-c-plastics-hub", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "the-s-c-plastics-hub", "holiday-hub" ]	[]	1453164737	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-easter-funny
the-easy-road	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=1&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Acreepypasta/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <div style="text-align: right; margin-right: 2em; margin-top: -20px;"> <p>by fabula</p> </div> <div class="blockquote"> <p><span style="color: red"><strong>capricornucopia</strong></span> 06/29/16 (Wed) 03:24:01 #86668047</p> <hr/> <p><br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/></p> </div> <blockquote> <p><span style="color: red"><strong>capricornucopia</strong></span> 06/29/16 (Wed) 03:24:54 #86668048</p> <hr/> <p>Seeping, writhing, warping;<br/> An object, a clod of flesh, once someone but never human;<br/> It gags in its infantilism,<br/> Improvements needed.<br/> 1. The skin<br/> Rip off the husk, destroy all else remaining<br/> Viscera longe nova vivat.<br/> 2. Sinew & marrow<br/> Hedge trimmers, thick & long & sturdy</p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><span style="color: red"><strong>capricornucopia</strong></span> 06/29/16 (Wed) 03:32:04 #86668049</p> <hr/> <p>These words crawl along the forgotten treatise of a nineteenth-century mystic that didn't exist. My edition appears on inspection to be a palimpsest of On Anger by Seneca, among others. How it predicted Cronenberg, as well as how such strikingly modern English might appear in the work of a Prussian attempting French, is utterly vague to me. Nonetheless, it sits there, on page 457 of a book living in pure anachronism.</p> <p>The meaning, at least, is clear. This strange passage shows the way & steps to holy salvation.</p> <p>As that side is transparent, I will leave it there. More important by far is, of course, whether it works. To that I must mournfully deny an affirmative response, but can still pride myself in having found a certain solution. For I am convinced a natural reader of the tome, largely dedicated to the identification of a universal language adequate for translating old alchemy, would be entirely sufficient. With this in mind, the task is cleanly identified as one of completing Herr Krüger's presumed reader, viz. that man who might fulfil these essential experiences any similar nineteenth-century French-speaking Prussian mystic with a palimpsest treatise on universal language concealing Seneca's On Anger might take for granted.</p> <p>Thus, with great experimentation & repetition of the base instruction, I came upon those steps the Teutonic invention had left out.</p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><span style="color: red"><strong>capricornucopia</strong></span> 06/29/16 (Wed) 03:45:57 #86668050</p> <hr/> <p>1. Love yourself, & all the things you are or may be, have done or may do, have thought or may think. Understand that you are a man of sin. Identify that part which enacts & is sin. Love it fuller than all else before has beared to love you. Do not simply accept that part which kills, the adulterer or adulteress. Even in our depreciated tongue, love has greater depth & hue.</p> <p>2. Imagine for yourself the greatest world that ever was or ever will be. Fantasise. Crannies, dewdrops, dirt in your hair & lungs—see them. Now create nihil. The whole lays before you in parts.</p> <p>3. Learn French, know German from a past life recovered.</p> <p>4. Mark the flesh with signs of one beyond you. Apprehend their supremacy & the reasons for their exceeding. Incantations may be sufficient; physical culture, preferred. If using a scalpel, remember to cut quick when deep.</p> <p>5. Those authors I found valuable to examine the works of were Poe, Proust, Homer, Heraclitus, Borges, Nin. Other authors read but found lost causes include Aristotle, Kafka, Borges. Prior to the project before you, I was far from well read, nearly unlettered. I was a schlemiel, as worthless as a pin cushion. As such, no text may find itself a shared presumption between me & Krüger, forgiving maybe the Huckleberry Finn of my long abandoned years. Interestingly, I gained nothing from my wanderings through the occult, & in fact might discourage the man fated to follow this account from bothering with Crowley & the other fiends.</p> <p>6. Instead, know that corrupted, heathen thing already within. Bring it out, not to extinguish nor unleash, nor to exploit in any way or sense of the word, but simply & hideously to understand. "Know thyself," a stupid old phrase, sapped of function long ago. Grasp it & don't let it go; keep it firm & force it to a grand return to form. Then you will be pure once more.</p> <p>& there we have the essential thing, taking the sojourner more than half-way there. Here is the more inward, immediate & general. To come is something still universal, but, same as the scent of spoiled meat, life's signature seeps through. The following section of my tale, going on some time but eventually coming back to our earlier place, much changed, must move to recounting certain childhood events. For the next steps I found, applied to myself & suffered require some personal explanation.</p> </blockquote> <div class="blockquote"> <p><span style="color: red"><strong>capricornucopia</strong></span> 06/29/16 (Wed) 03:59:24 #86668051</p> <hr/> <p>Exhibit one, my earliest memory, & surely the furthest back I might have deigned to go even at eight or nine: I am in a suitcase. My limbs are partly undeveloped, & this suitcase (which I must be clear was padded, open & in use as a portable crib) finds itself the perfect height to keep me put. Every few lifetimes I would crawl up, then slide back into my wooden abyss. Rise & fall, repeated, unending, a moment higher each try. But then I find it, that beautiful crest & apex & ecstasy. & I surpass it, & I fall. Not over sweet fabrics but grim wood, & my tender neck is split.</p> <p>I count this among my finest experiences, but enough has been said. It is time to progress from peak to nadir.</p> <p>I am eight, lying down in a redwood forest. It's damp, with a kind of moist I've only ever known among those trees. I could say it's like rain, but it's both so much lighter and more invasive. I can still see sheets of dew drops crashing down at the slightest touch, quick-footed like the Stanislaus of home. It's a beautiful sight, the best I'll ever know. Older than life should be, the titans stand proud and vicious. Or maybe just vicious to me, inventing secrets behind the bark. I'm looking up at the canopy, arms stretched out like I'm making angels. The dirt's yet to make mud, but it's gummy and I won't be allowed to rest my head on the drive back. This is where I long to be, every summer then and every day now.</p> <p>This specific park I've been to two or three times before. The main attraction is a central loop, creaking boardwalks that take pedestrians from one end to the other and back again. Mixing plastic and copper and wood, a few plaques are all the rest to take you through the scenery. The tallest tree, the largest tree, the oldest & the ugliest—these are the sorts of things they mark. I remember them all from last time we came, so I ooo at the big one and laugh at the one which looks like tumours.</p> <p>And then I see the eldest, and for whatever reason I just break down. Knees on wood, clammy and shaking hands. The little chunk of plastic nailed to the trunk tells me that trunk has stood a millennium. And instead of oooing or laughing or anything that makes any sense, I start to weep. And I think about all the lifetimes I could have if only I were made of wood. At eight, eight years seems so much of the eighty I can hope for, so I just fall lower and lower. It's when I'm cradling myself that my mother pulls me up. Big enough it bleeds, there's a splinter on my knee.</p> <p>My third recollection takes a middle path, not so tender, not so bittersweet, not so exultant, mournful nor at all human. I have already come across my great beauty, this noble thing I share with you now. But lo I am struck by the heavens, sent down to the below, never to rise again.</p> <p>Now, let us come back to the point at hand.</p> </div> <blockquote> <p><span style="color: red"><strong>capricornucopia</strong></span> 06/29/16 (Wed) 04:12:33 #86668052</p> <hr/> <p>7. Recount—internally, do not dare to let it find itself uttered or written down—the worst memory you have endured but never spoken. From now till resurrection, preserve it so, i.e., most shameful to come & out of sight from the other.</p> <p>8. See for yourself that meadow of elsewhere & new. Go out & into it. Write down your sensations, excitations, expectations, loves. Prance. If one with the majority, you will know it is here you belong. If so, estrange yourself, kill yourself & slaughter your essence. If not, return; you were cured in a lifetime before.</p> <p>Here I must spend some time expressing those immeasurable feelings which come at the point one knows he has met & known his fullest (which, as I have already stated, came for me at the age of two upon climbing over a suitcase & breaking my neck). For many, it is despondency which bursts forth next. For others, relief & an infinite quiescence more powerful by far than even death. For me, however, it was both a simpler & stranger affair. For I was in the pits of icy hell, where I was destined to stay eternal. & a man or some beast came up to me, recounting my life. Not as it happened, but as it was remembered. With such a perfect reproduction of my own thoughts, I could not help but be compelled to think in his wake & stride. Indeed, I still remember it all: the sultry glint of a young classmate’s eyes, the sorrow hidden by a sous chef one Thursday—mother, holding dirt and blood, comforting death—& all else of my life, now kept in perfect stasis. It was like this that the broken neck was identified as best, & my feelings, at first dull & now to me noble without tenderheartedness, came after & found themselves key.</p> <p>9. It is a thing that to look requires more than looking. Upon failure or surfeit, go back upon yourself & try once more. Once proper retroaction has occurred, you will know what looking is in that sense richer than the hues & mountains of the tongue.</p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><span style="color: red"><strong>capricornucopia</strong></span> 06/29/16 (Wed) 04:37:42 #86668053</p> <hr/> <p>& such, dear reader, are the steps as divined. To repeat, Herr Krüger's extract goes as follows:</p> <p>Seeping, writhing, warping;<br/> An object, a clod of flesh, once someone but never human;<br/> It gags in its infantilism,<br/> Improvements needed.<br/> 1. The skin<br/> Rip off the husk, destroy all else remaining<br/> Viscera longe nova vivat.<br/> 2. Sinew & marrow<br/> Hedge trimmers, thick & long & sturdy</p> <p>& there can be found that final procedure, having scarred my body much but only slightly for the proper enactor, fully prepared, which I will undertake. Goodnight, my darling world. Today I will know better.</p> </blockquote> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-easy-road">The Easy Road to Salvation, A Narrative Concerning the Moral and Psychological Development of Its Protagonist</a>" by fabula, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-easy-road">https://scpwiki.com/the-easy-road</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> TheEasyRoadtoSalvation.jpeg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> N8foo<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 4.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Trombiculid_mite_larvae_attached_to_human_skin.jpg">https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Trombiculid_mite_larvae_attached_to_human_skin.jpg</a><br/> <strong>Additional Notes:</strong> Renamed by fabula for the purposes of this article. Original title "Trombiculid mite larvae attached to human skin.jpg."</p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> TheEasyRoadtoSalvation.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> fabula<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY 2.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> N/A<br/> <strong>Derivative of:</strong> <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/amitp/16462634">https://www.flickr.com/photos/amitp/16462634</a><br/> <strong>Additional Notes:</strong> fabula cropped the photo above made by Amit Patel; the original is in CC BY 2.0 & titled "Fallen Redwood and a car."</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:creepypasta">:scp-wiki:theme:creepypasta</a>]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[div style="text-align: right; margin-right: 2em; margin-top: -20px;"]] by fabula [[/div]] [[div class="blockquote"]] ##red\|capricornucopia## 06/29/16 (Wed) 03:24:01 #86668047 ------ [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> \| name=TheEasyRoadtoSalvation.jpeg \| caption=@@@@ \| align=left]] @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ [[/div]] > ##red\|capricornucopia## 06/29/16 (Wed) 03:24:54 #86668048 > ------ > Seeping, writhing, warping; > An object, a clod of flesh, once someone but never human; > It gags in its infantilism, > Improvements needed. > 1. The skin > Rip off the husk, destroy all else remaining > Viscera longe nova vivat. > 2. Sinew & marrow > Hedge trimmers, thick & long & sturdy > ##red\|capricornucopia## 06/29/16 (Wed) 03:32:04 #86668049 > ------ > These words crawl along the forgotten treatise of a nineteenth-century mystic that didn't exist. My edition appears on inspection to be a palimpsest of On Anger by Seneca, among others. How it predicted Cronenberg, as well as how such strikingly modern English might appear in the work of a Prussian attempting French, is utterly vague to me. Nonetheless, it sits there, on page 457 of a book living in pure anachronism. > > The meaning, at least, is clear. This strange passage shows the way & steps to holy salvation. > > As that side is transparent, I will leave it there. More important by far is, of course, whether it works. To that I must mournfully deny an affirmative response, but can still pride myself in having found a certain solution. For I am convinced a natural reader of the tome, largely dedicated to the identification of a universal language adequate for translating old alchemy, would be entirely sufficient. With this in mind, the task is cleanly identified as one of completing Herr Krüger's presumed reader, viz. that man who might fulfil these essential experiences any similar nineteenth-century French-speaking Prussian mystic with a palimpsest treatise on universal language concealing Seneca's On Anger might take for granted. > > Thus, with great experimentation & repetition of the base instruction, I came upon those steps the Teutonic invention had left out. > ##red\|capricornucopia## 06/29/16 (Wed) 03:45:57 #86668050 > ------ > 1. Love yourself, & all the things you are or may be, have done or may do, have thought or may think. Understand that you are a man of sin. Identify that part which enacts & is sin. Love it fuller than all else before has beared to love you. Do not simply accept that part which kills, the adulterer or adulteress. Even in our depreciated tongue, love has greater depth & hue. > > 2. Imagine for yourself the greatest world that ever was or ever will be. Fantasise. Crannies, dewdrops, dirt in your hair & lungs—see them. Now create nihil. The whole lays before you in parts. > > 3. Learn French, know German from a past life recovered. > > 4. Mark the flesh with signs of one beyond you. Apprehend their supremacy & the reasons for their exceeding. Incantations may be sufficient; physical culture, preferred. If using a scalpel, remember to cut quick when deep. > > 5. Those authors I found valuable to examine the works of were Poe, Proust, Homer, Heraclitus, Borges, Nin. Other authors read but found lost causes include Aristotle, Kafka, Borges. Prior to the project before you, I was far from well read, nearly unlettered. I was a schlemiel, as worthless as a pin cushion. As such, no text may find itself a shared presumption between me & Krüger, forgiving maybe the Huckleberry Finn of my long abandoned years. Interestingly, I gained nothing from my wanderings through the occult, & in fact might discourage the man fated to follow this account from bothering with Crowley & the other fiends. > > 6. Instead, know that corrupted, heathen thing already within. Bring it out, not to extinguish nor unleash, nor to exploit in any way or sense of the word, but simply & hideously to understand. "Know thyself," a stupid old phrase, sapped of function long ago. Grasp it & don't let it go; keep it firm & force it to a grand return to form. Then you will be pure once more. > > & there we have the essential thing, taking the sojourner more than half-way there. Here is the more inward, immediate & general. To come is something still universal, but, same as the scent of spoiled meat, life's signature seeps through. The following section of my tale, going on some time but eventually coming back to our earlier place, much changed, must move to recounting certain childhood events. For the next steps I found, applied to myself & suffered require some personal explanation. [[div class="blockquote"]] ##red\|capricornucopia## 06/29/16 (Wed) 03:59:24 #86668051 ------ Exhibit one, my earliest memory, & surely the furthest back I might have deigned to go even at eight or nine: I am in a suitcase. My limbs are partly undeveloped, & this suitcase (which I must be clear was padded, open & in use as a portable crib) finds itself the perfect height to keep me put. Every few lifetimes I would crawl up, then slide back into my wooden abyss. Rise & fall, repeated, unending, a moment higher each try. But then I find it, that beautiful crest & apex & ecstasy. & I surpass it, & I fall. Not over sweet fabrics but grim wood, & my tender neck is split. I count this among my finest experiences, but enough has been said. It is time to progress from peak to nadir. [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> \| name=TheEasyRoadtoSalvation.jpg \| caption=@@@@ \| width=40% \| align=left]] I am eight, lying down in a redwood forest. It's damp, with a kind of moist I've only ever known among those trees. I could say it's like rain, but it's both so much lighter and more invasive. I can still see sheets of dew drops crashing down at the slightest touch, quick-footed like the Stanislaus of home. It's a beautiful sight, the best I'll ever know. Older than life should be, the titans stand proud and vicious. Or maybe just vicious to me, inventing secrets behind the bark. I'm looking up at the canopy, arms stretched out like I'm making angels. The dirt's yet to make mud, but it's gummy and I won't be allowed to rest my head on the drive back. This is where I long to be, every summer then and every day now. This specific park I've been to two or three times before. The main attraction is a central loop, creaking boardwalks that take pedestrians from one end to the other and back again. Mixing plastic and copper and wood, a few plaques are all the rest to take you through the scenery. The tallest tree, the largest tree, the oldest & the ugliest—these are the sorts of things they mark. I remember them all from last time we came, so I ooo at the big one and laugh at the one which looks like tumours. And then I see the eldest, and for whatever reason I just break down. Knees on wood, clammy and shaking hands. The little chunk of plastic nailed to the trunk tells me that trunk has stood a millennium. And instead of oooing or laughing or anything that makes any sense, I start to weep. And I think about all the lifetimes I could have if only I were made of wood. At eight, eight years seems so much of the eighty I can hope for, so I just fall lower and lower. It's when I'm cradling myself that my mother pulls me up. Big enough it bleeds, there's a splinter on my knee. My third recollection takes a middle path, not so tender, not so bittersweet, not so exultant, mournful nor at all human. I have already come across my great beauty, this noble thing I share with you now. But lo I am struck by the heavens, sent down to the below, never to rise again. Now, let us come back to the point at hand. [[/div]] > ##red\|capricornucopia## 06/29/16 (Wed) 04:12:33 #86668052 > ------ > 7. Recount—internally, do not dare to let it find itself uttered or written down—the worst memory you have endured but never spoken. From now till resurrection, preserve it so, i.e., most shameful to come & out of sight from the other. > > 8. See for yourself that meadow of elsewhere & new. Go out & into it. Write down your sensations, excitations, expectations, loves. Prance. If one with the majority, you will know it is here you belong. If so, estrange yourself, kill yourself & slaughter your essence. If not, return; you were cured in a lifetime before. > > Here I must spend some time expressing those immeasurable feelings which come at the point one knows he has met & known his fullest (which, as I have already stated, came for me at the age of two upon climbing over a suitcase & breaking my neck). For many, it is despondency which bursts forth next. For others, relief & an infinite quiescence more powerful by far than even death. For me, however, it was both a simpler & stranger affair. For I was in the pits of icy hell, where I was destined to stay eternal. & a man or some beast came up to me, recounting my life. Not as it happened, but as it was remembered. With such a perfect reproduction of my own thoughts, I could not help but be compelled to think in his wake & stride. Indeed, I still remember it all: the sultry glint of a young classmate’s eyes, the sorrow hidden by a sous chef one Thursday—mother, holding dirt and blood, comforting death—& all else of my life, now kept in perfect stasis. It was like this that the broken neck was identified as best, & my feelings, at first dull & now to me noble without tenderheartedness, came after & found themselves key. > > 9. It is a thing that to look requires more than looking. Upon failure or surfeit, go back upon yourself & try once more. Once proper retroaction has occurred, you will know what looking is in that sense richer than the hues & mountains of the tongue. > ##red\|capricornucopia## 06/29/16 (Wed) 04:37:42 #86668053 > ------ > & such, dear reader, are the steps as divined. To repeat, Herr Krüger's extract goes as follows: > > Seeping, writhing, warping; > An object, a clod of flesh, once someone but never human; > It gags in its infantilism, > Improvements needed. > 1. The skin > Rip off the husk, destroy all else remaining > Viscera longe nova vivat. > 2. Sinew & marrow > Hedge trimmers, thick & long & sturdy > > & there can be found that final procedure, having scarred my body much but only slightly for the proper enactor, fully prepared, which I will undertake. Goodnight, my darling world. Today I will know better. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=fabula]] ===== > Filename: TheEasyRoadtoSalvation.jpeg > Author: N8foo > License: CC BY-SA 4.0 > Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Trombiculid_mite_larvae_attached_to_human_skin.jpg > Additional Notes: Renamed by fabula for the purposes of this article. Original title "Trombiculid mite larvae attached to human skin.jpg." ===== > Filename: TheEasyRoadtoSalvation.jpg > Author: fabula > License: CC BY 2.0 > Source Link: N/A > Derivative of: https://www.flickr.com/photos/amitp/16462634 > Additional Notes: fabula cropped the photo above made by Amit Patel; the original is in CC BY 2.0 & titled "Fallen Redwood and a car." ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-02-28T19:22:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "bleak", "parawatch", "religious-fiction", "tale" ]	The Easy Road to Salvation, A Narrative Concerning the Moral and Psychological Development of Its Protagonist - SCP Foundation	14	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "parawatch-hub" ]	[]	1452840431	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-easy-road
the-essence-of-ghost	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <hr/> <hr/> <blockquote> <p>The crowded theater shouts <em>encore! encore!</em> So too does the mystic crave the return of the performer.</p> <p>The desire for a final word from the dead is one the undisciplined occultist should strive to resist. I did not always believe this, of course, but my life has yielded ample evidence for what I’ve come to regard as the most dangerous sorcery—not for its direct threat to life or liberty, for there will always be more accursed and wretched spells, but for its relative ease of access and tantalizing opportunities.</p> <p>I am speaking, of course, of the séance. The ultimate encore. And the ultimate fallacy.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><strong>- Lyle Burnley (<em>Collected Sayings of the Burnley Dynasty</em>, 2001)</strong></p> </div> </blockquote> <hr/> <p>We open to a dark room. A fireplace glows, illuminating the profile of a figure sitting in a rose-pink armchair, deep in thought. The individual—a man, tired, dressed in plain clothing—stokes the fire with a metal point. One hand on the fire iron. One on his temple. He reaches down with his ungloved hand and places another log into the pyre. The fire roars and the room’s personality becomes briefly visible.</p> <p>The architecture suggests late Victorian—a deep ruby floral wallpaper, two faded blue couches. A fractal gold rug weaves spirals forever. The armchairs form a ring around an oak coffee table, stained in bright crescent moons. An ancient book rests on its surface. It’s black as sin. Rainbow velvet tongues lap at notable passages.</p> <p>The man massages his head; a pounding, thousand-drummed army marches across the wastes. Their war cries ring in his ears. He feels a sharp pain—the snake chews at his heart, coiled and tight. It’s eaten through to the soul.</p> <p>Stairs lead up behind him to somewhere higher, a darkness shines from up there. Painful memories. He won’t be going back. In this room, there are no windows and no doors. All by design.</p> <p>Save for the fire, the air is cold. It hates. In a few days the creditors will be this house's final company, here to vulture off whatever they can.</p> <p>Damn it all. They can have whatever’s left of this place. Let them feast on dust.</p> <p>The figure places the iron to the side and faces the coffee table. It’s still early, says the cracked French clock on the mantle. A miniature Orpheus, bronze, meets his gaze. He opens the book and reads.</p> <hr/> <blockquote> <p>In my time I’ve witnessed many a novice subject himself to such base practices as the séance. Or, how it is written in the black books, <em>seoir</em>. Old French, to sit.</p> <p>When I was a child I was an unknowing witness to one of these sessions. It was led by my Uncle Edgar Bachran who was, at the time, a practicing medium. He and some club members of a certain Pollensbee society gathered one late October evening in the basement of the garden’s shed. I wasn’t supposed to be there, but neither were they. Edgar was dressed in some ridiculous costume in the center of the room, his hands gesticulating like rabid dogs. The others sat in a circle, all touching hands around mundane crystals, likely quartz, that they no doubt believed to be magic. Their faces bore the expressions of schoolboys. I knew not who they were. They were not friends of ours.</p> <p>Oh, the gathering was successful alright. Despite their amateur and insensitive procedures, they managed to conjure a spirit from the depths of Hell. But it was not their desired patron.</p> <p>In the place of King Charles the Mad, a known obsession of Uncle Edgar (who had at that point collected an extensive library of Medieval French texts), the crowd instead bore witness to a man named Huguet de Guisay, a 14th-century French noble known for his cruelty and his responsibility, in part, for the conflagration of four men and the near-death of the king.</p> <p>Huguet appeared in the seventh chair, burning with the heat of a star, a thing condemned to an eternity in the sea of flames, chained to the pillars of some insane sun. He appeared in that basement shed screaming in pain and confusion—he likely did not even know he had been conjured by the troupe of fools.</p> <p>I was close enough to the old shed’s stairs to escape before the building came down on top of me. The next day I sifted through the remains with my father and sisters, finding naught but ash and bone.</p> <p>I did not know what I had seen until I was much older. Needless to say it left quite the impression. My father was sure to make a lesson of it.</p> <p>Indeed, a séance is a delicate matter.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><strong>- Henry Burnley (<em>The Bal des Ardents Affair</em>, date unknown)</strong></p> </div> </blockquote> <hr/> <blockquote> <p>The first great shock of the séance comes from its simplicity. The ritual is quite easy, almost redundant. There are many variations, using the planchette or the Ouija, cabinets or tables or trumpets or any other such paraphernalia. These elements are purely aesthetic and completely accessory to the only true prerequisite; that of the medium, the channeler, the vessel for communion.</p> <p>The second revelation is that of risk. Would you stare at the sun? Open your mouth and drink the sea? Then answer, why would you bear your essence to the unabated divine, to the cosmic stream that carries us ever downward?</p> <p>I am reminded constantly of the final days of a contemporary I have regrettably come to know now only as a cautionary tale. His name was Eyroi Emmen Pasanique—a fantastic medium twenty-odd years ago, but you won’t find him in the records. For the best, I’d wager.</p> <p>He cornered me at a conference on Witch-Cults and insisted I shadow him at his coming séance, citing my recent publications on otherworlds. I was old enough to know better, not to mention that I knew to avoid his ilk—the type to terrorize the dead, to wring them dry and bleed their ink on a page.</p> <p>I said to him, “Do what you must. I will not stop you. But know this: What you seek is a fantasy. It is unforgivable.” I knew he had much to say about me and my father’s legacy, of our relationship with the supernatural. But he and I parted after that, and said nothing more to each other.</p> <p>I learned much later the fate of Eyroi and the others—of their deaths and subsequent abreactions.</p> <p>The séance had been conducted flawlessly from a technical perspective, or so I was told. Expert craftsmanship from the medium, as I had come to expect from him. I was called to investigate the integrity of the ritual, to identify if foul play had been responsible—there was, in that age, a great deal of theologic homicides. It was a known possibility that one in proximity to a medium could disrupt the service with a certain slipknot tied around the ring finger. I declined the invitation. I did not need to see to know why they had died.</p> <p>The attempted séance of Ivanhoe Martin ended in such dazzling failure for the medium and all attending guests because the most basic respect for the spirit was never observed. No one had ever asked if Martin <em>wanted</em> to be spoken to, especially by such a colorful crowd. Evidently, he did not.</p> <p>I was away at the time but the news of the incident managed to find me nonetheless; a pile of worthless letters, sentiments from another world. I was hounded by his posse, who presented me with his latest findings. Some of which were transcripts recorded from that very night. How people I could consider partners in the field are capable of such cruelty fills me to this day with great horror. His men wanted certain things published in accordance with his will—I won’t get into the details. His demands I simply could not accept. I would not let that man butcher my family’s name like that. Eyroi was gone, and I prayed his ideology would die with him.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><strong>- Henry Burnley (<em>Remembrances of the Ugly Fish</em>, unpublished, dated 1996).</strong></p> </div> </blockquote> <hr/> <blockquote> <p>No, I won't. I won't do it. Absolutely not. Oh, I could, yes. I could. But I won't.</p> <p>Alright, here. Let me show you—I’d like you to answer something for me right now. Look around at all these people. Take them in. Memorize where everyone stands. Memorize their clothing. Posture. The sound of their voices. Breathe it in, become intimate with that knowledge.</p> <p>Your brother's at this reception. Isn't he? That's him, right there?</p> <p>If I asked you to cover your hands in paint and walk and push your way through the crowd until you reach him, touching nothing but him and only him, could you do it? Maybe. Now what about doing it blindfolded? Covered in… in barbed wire, with the building burning to the ground around you. Could you do it then?</p> <p>Maybe. If you were smart, agile. If you had a good memory, if you could remember where your brother was standing and what he looked like, if you could withstand the pain.</p> <p>But if I asked you to find someone you had never seen before, never met, someone you didn't know outside of a name or a face—it would be impossible. You'd be searching blind on two fronts. Getting paint everywhere. Making a mess.</p> <p>I'm exaggerating of course. There isn't fire, not typically.</p> <p>I'm right about the crowd, though. There are so many people out there, who have or are yet to live. You wouldn't believe it. So many people. And out of all of them, you have to find one, with nothing else to go on but that stuff that flows in our blood. Some call it love. I prefer a more scientific definition.<br/> I had a friend once who wanted to play a song to Gram Parsons—she studied a while and practiced but when it came down to the navigation she missed completely and ended up talking to half a dozen piles of ash and twenty-odd dogs. It's a big waste of time if you ask me. Unless you’re Dad, I wouldn’t bother.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><strong>- Matilda Burnley (Overheard and transcribed by Paul Senreve, Recovery Office, 2010)</strong></p> </div> </blockquote> <hr/> <blockquote> <p>I have said many times and I shall say it once more: To trample on the finality of death is foolishness without cause, risk without reason. Nothing will be gained by defiling a life after its conclusion—natural or otherwise. Few pause to consider the reality of it. What more can be gained from a poem after its final line? A performance after its final act? There is a cosmic truth to finality that must be respected.</p> <p>I was instructed of this many times in my early studies by mystics much wiser and more accomplished than me—my father was one of them. He hated all of this. He told me once about his time on an investigatory committee formed to proof séances in the thirties and forties. He gave me all the statistics. Seventy percent of séances are staged, mostly for the purposes of exploiting grieving loved ones of the deceased for cash. Of the remaining known séances, over half were conducted by amateurs with no formal training, leading to a vastly disproportionate rate of injury and trauma—not for the medium or any of the living, as they’re rarely left with lingering damages, but for the deceased.<br/> I did not heed these warnings. Such is the nature of this art, and of childhood. I had my experimental years; I stole my share of texts from father’s study. He knew all of this, of course. He was counting on it. I had to learn the hard way when I was yet untrained so I would not carry such folly into my prime. Who else would take up the family mantle and spread our name across the world in this new century of science? He had instilled in me at a young age that seed of curiosity, had nurtured it tenderly. But he hid it behind a thousand curtains—endless warnings, forbidden rooms, cautionary tales.</p> <p>It wasn’t until I was much older that I learned he too was an avid medium in his age, one of the best. The anonymous passages from <em>The Imperial Poems of Han</em> that I had read a thousand times in my youth were collected from secret séances of the Music Bureau performed by none other than my own father, under fake names, for he could never be caught going against his teachings like that. He had accomplished what he set out to do—he had become a magnet for the fantastic. These secret works, never published in the Burnley name, were testaments to his skill and dedication to cultural preservation. Let no one claim he didn’t care for his craft.</p> <p>I never dredged up this history when I endured the many accusations in his later years—flung at me for being so utterly careless with my craft—whenever he caught me at my work, long after I promised I would quit that lifestyle. He called me dangerous, avaricious, and, worst of all, a scam artist, a pious fraud. Just a boy playing with knives and a family name.</p> <p>I will not lie about my actions; I have laid my sins out to dry, plain for all who care to look. I have atoned, I have made my reparations. I understand it will not be enough—can never be enough.</p> <p>The only difference between my father and I was that he never reconciled with his own mistakes. Even when he lectured me of danger and insensitivity he still longed to drink from that bitter cup to the dregs. He wore his twin faces seamlessly. But I never had the heart to remind him.</p> <p>I was going to ask him of it, why he never let me live as he did despite wanting nothing more from his firstborn. But then he died, and he was gone.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><strong>- Henry Burnley (diary entry, dated November 2012)</strong></p> </div> </blockquote> <hr/> <p>The clock reminds the man of his agency, and he sets the book down. The rites are in order; the book rests on the table, open to a page on séances written a long time ago by a once-great man. A pile of dust burns slowly nearby.</p> <p>The white dust's herb scent fills the air, and with its arrival, the man feels a deep stirring. On the page, some words are written. The instructions are followed, and with a simple stroke of the pen he parts the seas, opens his eyes and walks the haunted land. The hot red sand between his toes, he walks far in this sacred place. It takes a long while but eventually he is found, a shape in a place devoid of detail.</p> <p>The man is sitting twice, simultaneously. Two bodies bridged, and with a steady hand he turns to stoke the fireplace as he speaks to the air:</p> <hr/> <blockquote> <p>Hello, Dad.</p> <p>I don’t know if you’re hearing this. If you are and you just don’t want to talk, that’s okay. I’m burning some essence I stole to reach you right now so you better be getting this. Before you tell me, I know it’s a sin to burn another's essence but what’s one more curse, right?</p> <p>I don’t want to waste your time so I’ll tell you what I have to say.</p> <p>We buried Henry last week. The funeral was nice, simple. You’d have liked it. We tried to keep it short like he always said he wanted. He was so much like you, always brief on the formalities. Nothing like Matilda, her service was lavish. Can you believe a dean from every Ivy League showed up to say something? She was so smart. We buried Henry next to her, figured he would appreciate that. Their bond was… something incredible.</p> <p>I haven’t heard from Laura yet. I thought she might’ve been living in Nova Scotia but her name doesn’t come up. She’s probably moved on by now. She wasn’t at Matilda’s service but I know she was in town. Just had this feeling. Someone left flowers on the grave the morning after, but I don’t know if that was her. I don’t think she knows about Henry yet. I sent a bunch of letters out to her old addresses—I hope she sees one of them. She’ll be alright. She’s always strong in times like these.<br/> I’m here, same as always. I’m fighting with the city to get the house turned into that park you wanted, but they keep pushing it back, back. You know how government is. Malcolm came by asking about Henry and I just—I couldn’t tell him. Not after Matilda and Mom. I lied and said he was out chasing a lead in Greenland but I think he knew. He always could see through me. He just shared a drink and left me some books he thought I’d enjoy. He misses you. We all do.</p> <p>Henry, Matilda, Laura… and me. That’s everyone accounted for.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p>…</p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>I didn’t tell anyone I was doing this. I know it goes against everything you wanted in life and death. Do you remember when you sat us down at the table and told us how things were going to be once you were gone? You had all of this stuff out, books and files and keyrings, passing them all around. Most went to Matilda, but we all knew that was going to happen. Henry’s I never could figure out, but I knew he knew what it meant, and I didn’t press. Laura was Laura about it… you remember. But when you told me what was going to happen to me, how everything was going to change. And you told me whatever I do, never doubt that you did it out of love. Because you believed in me. Believed that I had some element of strength or spirit within me that no one else had, and that all of this would somehow rest easier on me. And you told me never to contact you, never to try it because it would never change what was about to happen.</p> <p>I don’t think I believed you. About the curses, I mean. You were always so strong about it, I would have never known anything was wrong except for the days you skipped dinner or flew out to the coast unannounced. But those were things that happened to Dad because Dad was special. That’s how Henry phrased it. Is it weird that I was a little excited? I remember all the things you would tell us about your work before you retired. You tried your best to bury it in metaphor but I was smart enough to know you weren’t borrowing the things you kept in your study.</p> <p>Years and years of a runaway imagination. I guess I wanted to have something I could claim was worth more than this life. You had all these stories, all this knowledge built up that we were forbidden from touching. When you said I would be getting a piece of that world I was <em>happy</em> to carry that weight. I was…</p> <p>I was so mad after you left. I even hated you for a time. I mean, how could you expect me to know what to do now? You never told me about these things, never told me how to find the will to keep going. I wanted the weight, sure, was happy to help carry the burden but only if <em>you</em> would be around to teach me, to show me the way. On my own I was lost. And then all that stuff with Mom and Matilda, and the fires at the school…</p> <p>Sorry. I’m sorry. It’s been so long since I’ve had someone to talk about it with. It hurts so much now, you know? Was it like this when you had them? It feels like this weight I carry, it lives in the chest and the stomach and the neck. I read what little you had on them, about how you said it was the spiritual becoming physical. But I think it’s gotten worse. There are days I can hardly move, and the light hurts, and Sweetgum is calling again asking for something else of yours and I just…</p> <p>God, why did everyone have to leave?</p> <p>Why did you think I could carry all of this on my own? The sins, the house, the family… Did you know? Or did it even matter to you? Why would it? Just pass the chain off to someone else, not your problem anymore. Live a life of careless appetite, who cares when you have your children to clean up after you—it’s easy to find solace in your mistakes when you’re not the one who has to inherit them.</p> <p>God, I hope you're comfortable now. What am I supposed to do when it's my turn? I have no kids, not that I would ever put them through what you did to me. Am I supposed to pass them off to Laura, make her do a little work around here for once? Carry it with me to the afterlife and live with it forever? You never asked yourself this, because you had so much faith in us that we would get it all figured out, that we would carry the torch farther and faster than you ever did in life. I bet you thought that I would free myself from this, that I’d sit with Matilda and puzzle it out, or chase a tome halfway across the world with Henry. Because that’s what you would’ve done.</p> <p>Well, Dad, I’m not you. None of us were. After you died we hardly talked, never saw each other. We each vanished into our own little worlds. And I was left here. Left with your mess. Your curse. Not my brother, not my sister, not mom, not you. Just me in this empty fucking house with your iron snake around my neck. While everyone else gets to grieve and drift away I have to keep this mess together because somebody has to. We can’t just let the legacy of the great Lyle Burnley fall apart, can we? What would they say about our family then? Someone has to represent this sinking ship. There are favors and laws and commitments now, things that you never bothered to clean up because you thought I could do it. That I was smart or clever or strong enough to figure it out, to do all the things you never got around to. You killed this family. You put your children through Hell. Because of your mistakes. Your failures. Your inability to take any responsibility for the things you did. How dare you drag me down with you.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p>…</p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>It hurts. It hurts so much now. I know you probably hate me for doing this, talking to you, but I had to. Everyone has left me. Everyone is gone. The family is gone. And I don’t know what to do. You told me I could carry this weight, that it would rest easier on me. And I—I don’t know why, and I don’t think I’ll ever know. You’re right, this will not answer any questions. It will not ease my burden. It was probably a waste of time. I don’t even know if you are listening to me. But if you are, hear this:</p> <p>When it's my time to go, and I know it will be soon, I will not subject another to this pain. This guilt. I’m not running anymore. This is what you wanted, right? For your sins to die with me? It’s all going to be over soon. I don’t know when exactly, or how, but I know it will. I’ll be with you soon, Dad. And then we can carry this weight together. We can carry it together. Because I love you, Dad. Because I love you, we will carry this weight together.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><strong>- Arthur Burnley (Transcribed from covert listening device, Burnley residence, subbasement level. Archived, 2015)</strong></p> </div> </blockquote> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-essence-of-ghost">The Essence of Ghost</a>" by Its a Bad Idea, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-essence-of-ghost">https://scpwiki.com/the-essence-of-ghost</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> seance2.jpeg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Richard Lewinsohn<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Public Domain<br/> <strong>Source:</strong> [<a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Erik_Jan_Hanussen_seance.png">https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Erik_Jan_Hanussen_seance.png</a>]</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="/theme:black-highlighter-theme">theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[=]] [[module rate]] [[/=]] ---- [[div class="scp-image-block block-center" style="width:100%;"]] [[image seance2.jpeg style="width:100%;" link=#]] [[/div]] ---- > The crowded theater shouts //encore! encore!// So too does the mystic crave the return of the performer. > > The desire for a final word from the dead is one the undisciplined occultist should strive to resist. I did not always believe this, of course, but my life has yielded ample evidence for what I’ve come to regard as the most dangerous sorcery—not for its direct threat to life or liberty, for there will always be more accursed and wretched spells, but for its relative ease of access and tantalizing opportunities. > > I am speaking, of course, of the séance. The ultimate encore. And the ultimate fallacy. > > @@ @@ > > [[>]] > - Lyle Burnley (//Collected Sayings of the Burnley Dynasty//, 2001) > [[/>]] ---- We open to a dark room. A fireplace glows, illuminating the profile of a figure sitting in a rose-pink armchair, deep in thought. The individual—a man, tired, dressed in plain clothing—stokes the fire with a metal point. One hand on the fire iron. One on his temple. He reaches down with his ungloved hand and places another log into the pyre. The fire roars and the room’s personality becomes briefly visible. The architecture suggests late Victorian—a deep ruby floral wallpaper, two faded blue couches. A fractal gold rug weaves spirals forever. The armchairs form a ring around an oak coffee table, stained in bright crescent moons. An ancient book rests on its surface. It’s black as sin. Rainbow velvet tongues lap at notable passages. The man massages his head; a pounding, thousand-drummed army marches across the wastes. Their war cries ring in his ears. He feels a sharp pain—the snake chews at his heart, coiled and tight. It’s eaten through to the soul. Stairs lead up behind him to somewhere higher, a darkness shines from up there. Painful memories. He won’t be going back. In this room, there are no windows and no doors. All by design. Save for the fire, the air is cold. It hates. In a few days the creditors will be this house's final company, here to vulture off whatever they can. Damn it all. They can have whatever’s left of this place. Let them feast on dust. The figure places the iron to the side and faces the coffee table. It’s still early, says the cracked French clock on the mantle. A miniature Orpheus, bronze, meets his gaze. He opens the book and reads. ---- > In my time I’ve witnessed many a novice subject himself to such base practices as the séance. Or, how it is written in the black books, //seoir//. Old French, to sit. > > When I was a child I was an unknowing witness to one of these sessions. It was led by my Uncle Edgar Bachran who was, at the time, a practicing medium. He and some club members of a certain Pollensbee society gathered one late October evening in the basement of the garden’s shed. I wasn’t supposed to be there, but neither were they. Edgar was dressed in some ridiculous costume in the center of the room, his hands gesticulating like rabid dogs. The others sat in a circle, all touching hands around mundane crystals, likely quartz, that they no doubt believed to be magic. Their faces bore the expressions of schoolboys. I knew not who they were. They were not friends of ours. > > Oh, the gathering was successful alright. Despite their amateur and insensitive procedures, they managed to conjure a spirit from the depths of Hell. But it was not their desired patron. > > In the place of King Charles the Mad, a known obsession of Uncle Edgar (who had at that point collected an extensive library of Medieval French texts), the crowd instead bore witness to a man named Huguet de Guisay, a 14th-century French noble known for his cruelty and his responsibility, in part, for the conflagration of four men and the near-death of the king. > > Huguet appeared in the seventh chair, burning with the heat of a star, a thing condemned to an eternity in the sea of flames, chained to the pillars of some insane sun. He appeared in that basement shed screaming in pain and confusion—he likely did not even know he had been conjured by the troupe of fools. > > I was close enough to the old shed’s stairs to escape before the building came down on top of me. The next day I sifted through the remains with my father and sisters, finding naught but ash and bone. > > I did not know what I had seen until I was much older. Needless to say it left quite the impression. My father was sure to make a lesson of it. > > Indeed, a séance is a delicate matter. > > @@ @@ > > [[>]] > - Henry Burnley (//The Bal des Ardents Affair//, date unknown) > [[/>]] ---- > The first great shock of the séance comes from its simplicity. The ritual is quite easy, almost redundant. There are many variations, using the planchette or the Ouija, cabinets or tables or trumpets or any other such paraphernalia. These elements are purely aesthetic and completely accessory to the only true prerequisite; that of the medium, the channeler, the vessel for communion. > > The second revelation is that of risk. Would you stare at the sun? Open your mouth and drink the sea? Then answer, why would you bear your essence to the unabated divine, to the cosmic stream that carries us ever downward? > > I am reminded constantly of the final days of a contemporary I have regrettably come to know now only as a cautionary tale. His name was Eyroi Emmen Pasanique—a fantastic medium twenty-odd years ago, but you won’t find him in the records. For the best, I’d wager. > > He cornered me at a conference on Witch-Cults and insisted I shadow him at his coming séance, citing my recent publications on otherworlds. I was old enough to know better, not to mention that I knew to avoid his ilk—the type to terrorize the dead, to wring them dry and bleed their ink on a page. > > I said to him, “Do what you must. I will not stop you. But know this: What you seek is a fantasy. It is unforgivable.” I knew he had much to say about me and my father’s legacy, of our relationship with the supernatural. But he and I parted after that, and said nothing more to each other. > > I learned much later the fate of Eyroi and the others—of their deaths and subsequent abreactions. > > The séance had been conducted flawlessly from a technical perspective, or so I was told. Expert craftsmanship from the medium, as I had come to expect from him. I was called to investigate the integrity of the ritual, to identify if foul play had been responsible—there was, in that age, a great deal of theologic homicides. It was a known possibility that one in proximity to a medium could disrupt the service with a certain slipknot tied around the ring finger. I declined the invitation. I did not need to see to know why they had died. > > The attempted séance of Ivanhoe Martin ended in such dazzling failure for the medium and all attending guests because the most basic respect for the spirit was never observed. No one had ever asked if Martin //wanted// to be spoken to, especially by such a colorful crowd. Evidently, he did not. > > I was away at the time but the news of the incident managed to find me nonetheless; a pile of worthless letters, sentiments from another world. I was hounded by his posse, who presented me with his latest findings. Some of which were transcripts recorded from that very night. How people I could consider partners in the field are capable of such cruelty fills me to this day with great horror. His men wanted certain things published in accordance with his will—I won’t get into the details. His demands I simply could not accept. I would not let that man butcher my family’s name like that. Eyroi was gone, and I prayed his ideology would die with him. > > @@ @@ > > [[>]] > - Henry Burnley (//Remembrances of the Ugly Fish//, unpublished, dated 1996). > [[/>]] ---- > No, I won't. I won't do it. Absolutely not. Oh, I could, yes. I could. But I won't. > > Alright, here. Let me show you—I’d like you to answer something for me right now. Look around at all these people. Take them in. Memorize where everyone stands. Memorize their clothing. Posture. The sound of their voices. Breathe it in, become intimate with that knowledge. > > Your brother's at this reception. Isn't he? That's him, right there? > > If I asked you to cover your hands in paint and walk and push your way through the crowd until you reach him, touching nothing but him and only him, could you do it? Maybe. Now what about doing it blindfolded? Covered in... in barbed wire, with the building burning to the ground around you. Could you do it then? > > Maybe. If you were smart, agile. If you had a good memory, if you could remember where your brother was standing and what he looked like, if you could withstand the pain. > > But if I asked you to find someone you had never seen before, never met, someone you didn't know outside of a name or a face—it would be impossible. You'd be searching blind on two fronts. Getting paint everywhere. Making a mess. > > I'm exaggerating of course. There isn't fire, not typically. > > I'm right about the crowd, though. There are so many people out there, who have or are yet to live. You wouldn't believe it. So many people. And out of all of them, you have to find one, with nothing else to go on but that stuff that flows in our blood. Some call it love. I prefer a more scientific definition. > > I had a friend once who wanted to play a song to Gram Parsons—she studied a while and practiced but when it came down to the navigation she missed completely and ended up talking to half a dozen piles of ash and twenty-odd dogs. It's a big waste of time if you ask me. Unless you’re Dad, I wouldn’t bother. > > @@ @@ > > [[>]] > - Matilda Burnley (Overheard and transcribed by Paul Senreve, Recovery Office, 2010) > [[/>]] ---- > I have said many times and I shall say it once more: To trample on the finality of death is foolishness without cause, risk without reason. Nothing will be gained by defiling a life after its conclusion—natural or otherwise. Few pause to consider the reality of it. What more can be gained from a poem after its final line? A performance after its final act? There is a cosmic truth to finality that must be respected. > > I was instructed of this many times in my early studies by mystics much wiser and more accomplished than me—my father was one of them. He hated all of this. He told me once about his time on an investigatory committee formed to proof séances in the thirties and forties. He gave me all the statistics. Seventy percent of séances are staged, mostly for the purposes of exploiting grieving loved ones of the deceased for cash. Of the remaining known séances, over half were conducted by amateurs with no formal training, leading to a vastly disproportionate rate of injury and trauma—not for the medium or any of the living, as they’re rarely left with lingering damages, but for the deceased. > > I did not heed these warnings. Such is the nature of this art, and of childhood. I had my experimental years; I stole my share of texts from father’s study. He knew all of this, of course. He was counting on it. I had to learn the hard way when I was yet untrained so I would not carry such folly into my prime. Who else would take up the family mantle and spread our name across the world in this new century of science? He had instilled in me at a young age that seed of curiosity, had nurtured it tenderly. But he hid it behind a thousand curtains—endless warnings, forbidden rooms, cautionary tales. > > It wasn’t until I was much older that I learned he too was an avid medium in his age, one of the best. The anonymous passages from //The Imperial Poems of Han// that I had read a thousand times in my youth were collected from secret séances of the Music Bureau performed by none other than my own father, under fake names, for he could never be caught going against his teachings like that. He had accomplished what he set out to do—he had become a magnet for the fantastic. These secret works, never published in the Burnley name, were testaments to his skill and dedication to cultural preservation. Let no one claim he didn’t care for his craft. > > I never dredged up this history when I endured the many accusations in his later years—flung at me for being so utterly careless with my craft—whenever he caught me at my work, long after I promised I would quit that lifestyle. He called me dangerous, avaricious, and, worst of all, a scam artist, a pious fraud. Just a boy playing with knives and a family name. > > I will not lie about my actions; I have laid my sins out to dry, plain for all who care to look. I have atoned, I have made my reparations. I understand it will not be enough—can never be enough. > > The only difference between my father and I was that he never reconciled with his own mistakes. Even when he lectured me of danger and insensitivity he still longed to drink from that bitter cup to the dregs. He wore his twin faces seamlessly. But I never had the heart to remind him. > > I was going to ask him of it, why he never let me live as he did despite wanting nothing more from his firstborn. But then he died, and he was gone. > > @@ @@ > > [[>]] > - Henry Burnley (diary entry, dated November 2012) > [[/>]] ---- The clock reminds the man of his agency, and he sets the book down. The rites are in order; the book rests on the table, open to a page on séances written a long time ago by a once-great man. A pile of dust burns slowly nearby. The white dust's herb scent fills the air, and with its arrival, the man feels a deep stirring. On the page, some words are written. The instructions are followed, and with a simple stroke of the pen he parts the seas, opens his eyes and walks the haunted land. The hot red sand between his toes, he walks far in this sacred place. It takes a long while but eventually he is found, a shape in a place devoid of detail. The man is sitting twice, simultaneously. Two bodies bridged, and with a steady hand he turns to stoke the fireplace as he speaks to the air: ---- > Hello, Dad. > > I don’t know if you’re hearing this. If you are and you just don’t want to talk, that’s okay. I’m burning some essence I stole to reach you right now so you better be getting this. Before you tell me, I know it’s a sin to burn another's essence but what’s one more curse, right? > > I don’t want to waste your time so I’ll tell you what I have to say. > > We buried Henry last week. The funeral was nice, simple. You’d have liked it. We tried to keep it short like he always said he wanted. He was so much like you, always brief on the formalities. Nothing like Matilda, her service was lavish. Can you believe a dean from every Ivy League showed up to say something? She was so smart. We buried Henry next to her, figured he would appreciate that. Their bond was… something incredible. > > I haven’t heard from Laura yet. I thought she might’ve been living in Nova Scotia but her name doesn’t come up. She’s probably moved on by now. She wasn’t at Matilda’s service but I know she was in town. Just had this feeling. Someone left flowers on the grave the morning after, but I don’t know if that was her. I don’t think she knows about Henry yet. I sent a bunch of letters out to her old addresses—I hope she sees one of them. She’ll be alright. She’s always strong in times like these. > > I’m here, same as always. I’m fighting with the city to get the house turned into that park you wanted, but they keep pushing it back, back. You know how government is. Malcolm came by asking about Henry and I just—I couldn’t tell him. Not after Matilda and Mom. I lied and said he was out chasing a lead in Greenland but I think he knew. He always could see through me. He just shared a drink and left me some books he thought I’d enjoy. He misses you. We all do. > > Henry, Matilda, Laura… and me. That’s everyone accounted for. > > @@ @@ > > [[=]] > … > [[/=]] > > @@ @@ > > I didn’t tell anyone I was doing this. I know it goes against everything you wanted in life and death. Do you remember when you sat us down at the table and told us how things were going to be once you were gone? You had all of this stuff out, books and files and keyrings, passing them all around. Most went to Matilda, but we all knew that was going to happen. Henry’s I never could figure out, but I knew he knew what it meant, and I didn’t press. Laura was Laura about it… you remember. But when you told me what was going to happen to me, how everything was going to change. And you told me whatever I do, never doubt that you did it out of love. Because you believed in me. Believed that I had some element of strength or spirit within me that no one else had, and that all of this would somehow rest easier on me. And you told me never to contact you, never to try it because it would never change what was about to happen. > > I don’t think I believed you. About the curses, I mean. You were always so strong about it, I would have never known anything was wrong except for the days you skipped dinner or flew out to the coast unannounced. But those were things that happened to Dad because Dad was special. That’s how Henry phrased it. Is it weird that I was a little excited? I remember all the things you would tell us about your work before you retired. You tried your best to bury it in metaphor but I was smart enough to know you weren’t borrowing the things you kept in your study. > > Years and years of a runaway imagination. I guess I wanted to have something I could claim was worth more than this life. You had all these stories, all this knowledge built up that we were forbidden from touching. When you said I would be getting a piece of that world I was //happy// to carry that weight. I was… > > I was so mad after you left. I even hated you for a time. I mean, how could you expect me to know what to do now? You never told me about these things, never told me how to find the will to keep going. I wanted the weight, sure, was happy to help carry the burden but only if //you// would be around to teach me, to show me the way. On my own I was lost. And then all that stuff with Mom and Matilda, and the fires at the school… > > Sorry. I’m sorry. It’s been so long since I’ve had someone to talk about it with. It hurts so much now, you know? Was it like this when you had them? It feels like this weight I carry, it lives in the chest and the stomach and the neck. I read what little you had on them, about how you said it was the spiritual becoming physical. But I think it’s gotten worse. There are days I can hardly move, and the light hurts, and Sweetgum is calling again asking for something else of yours and I just… > > God, why did everyone have to leave? > > Why did you think I could carry all of this on my own? The sins, the house, the family… Did you know? Or did it even matter to you? Why would it? Just pass the chain off to someone else, not your problem anymore. Live a life of careless appetite, who cares when you have your children to clean up after you—it’s easy to find solace in your mistakes when you’re not the one who has to inherit them. > > God, I hope you're comfortable now. What am I supposed to do when it's my turn? I have no kids, not that I would ever put them through what you did to me. Am I supposed to pass them off to Laura, make her do a little work around here for once? Carry it with me to the afterlife and live with it forever? You never asked yourself this, because you had so much faith in us that we would get it all figured out, that we would carry the torch farther and faster than you ever did in life. I bet you thought that I would free myself from this, that I’d sit with Matilda and puzzle it out, or chase a tome halfway across the world with Henry. Because that’s what you would’ve done. > > Well, Dad, I’m not you. None of us were. After you died we hardly talked, never saw each other. We each vanished into our own little worlds. And I was left here. Left with your mess. Your curse. Not my brother, not my sister, not mom, not you. Just me in this empty fucking house with your iron snake around my neck. While everyone else gets to grieve and drift away I have to keep this mess together because somebody has to. We can’t just let the legacy of the great Lyle Burnley fall apart, can we? What would they say about our family then? Someone has to represent this sinking ship. There are favors and laws and commitments now, things that you never bothered to clean up because you thought I could do it. That I was smart or clever or strong enough to figure it out, to do all the things you never got around to. You killed this family. You put your children through Hell. Because of your mistakes. Your failures. Your inability to take any responsibility for the things you did. How dare you drag me down with you. > > @@ @@ > > [[=]] > … > [[/=]] > > @@ @@ > > It hurts. It hurts so much now. I know you probably hate me for doing this, talking to you, but I had to. Everyone has left me. Everyone is gone. The family is gone. And I don’t know what to do. You told me I could carry this weight, that it would rest easier on me. And I—I don’t know why, and I don’t think I’ll ever know. You’re right, this will not answer any questions. It will not ease my burden. It was probably a waste of time. I don’t even know if you are listening to me. But if you are, hear this: > > When it's my time to go, and I know it will be soon, I will not subject another to this pain. This guilt. I’m not running anymore. This is what you wanted, right? For your sins to die with me? It’s all going to be over soon. I don’t know when exactly, or how, but I know it will. I’ll be with you soon, Dad. And then we can carry this weight together. We can carry it together. Because I love you, Dad. Because I love you, we will carry this weight together. > > @@ @@ > > [[>]] > - Arthur Burnley (Transcribed from covert listening device, Burnley residence, subbasement level. Archived, 2015) > [[/>]] ---- [[=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] ===== > Filename: seance2.jpeg > Author: Richard Lewinsohn > License: Public Domain > Source: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Erik_Jan_Hanussen_seance.png] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]] [[/=]]	2024-12-28T22:43:00	[ "_image", "_licensebox", "art-exchange", "journal", "no-dialogue", "tale" ]	The Essence of Ghost - SCP Foundation	11	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "tales-by-year", "shortest-pages-by-month", "news" ]	[]	1458145141	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-essence-of-ghost
the-fading-away	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=1&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Aclassic/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p>I am watching my oldest grandchild get ready to leave home for college. It is an overcast day with occasional sprinkles of rain, but the entire house feels bright and warm. While I chat with my daughter about how to stay occupied once the nest is empty, the teenager scampers around the house, looking for anything he might have forgotten to pack. He asks my daughter if she can think of anything, and she tells him not to forget his body wash. We laugh amongst ourselves as he flusters and scuttles to his bathroom. I tell her that she now knows what it was like for me when she went off to university decades ago, and a look of warm remembrance passes over her features, which have only begun to show signs of aging in the past few years. I smile. The pitter-patter of raindrops on the living room window breaks up the silence between us.</p> <p>I am falling. All around me is pitch black, and I am in free fall. I try to flail around for something to hold onto, but I cannot move anything, and no breath comes to me when I try to cry out into the dark. I feel something breathing on the back of my neck. I am helpless as I feel something wet trickle down my back, as a sharp pain courses through my body, as I feel something crawl up my spine and wriggle between the notches, as I feel it slowly make its way into my skull, as I jolt awake drenched in sweat. I look around my room, with its baby blue walls and thin white curtains, and feel relief wash over me as I realize that it was just a nightmare. I think that I see the glint of an eye or fang in the corner for a moment, but it disappears when I blink.</p> <p>I am going to the playground with my grandchildren. It is a warm August afternoon with only a few light gray clouds in the distance. My grandchildren are going to start school in a few weeks, and they want to go out for something fun with me one last time before the summer ends. The park is all bright colors and soft mulch. I watch as they sprint toward the big structure in the middle, hollering the whole way. I chuckle to myself as they stumble and quickly right themselves, sternly tell them no when they try to crawl the wrong way up the lime green slide, and stroll over to help them when they try to climb the multicolored rock wall to the top of the tallest tower. After a while of this, they tell me that they want to get on the swings. I make no effort to keep pace with them as they dash over to the swing set, which is some distance away from everything else in a corner of the mulch bed, and hop on next to each other. I give each of them as big a push as I can muster when I get there, and they are off. They have learned to use the swings without much help from me. I smile. The rusty chains squeak as they swing back and forth.</p> <p>I am doing a crossword in my living room. The rain is coming down hard outside, which is strange to me because I remember it being sunny not too long ago. While I am trying to think of an eleven-letter word for a curious person, I suddenly feel a sinister presence behind me, and I send my pen and newspaper tumbling to the floor as I dart out of my seat and turn around. For a moment, I think that I see a shadow, some kind of hazy creature waiting to be witnessed, but the moment quickly passes, and I find nothing behind me but the shadow of my chair. I take a deep breath, sit back down, and retrieve my things. When I look at my paper again, I find that I have no memory of what I was doing.</p> <p>I am picking my daughter up from her first day of preschool. The old building is surrounded by oak trees whose branches sway gently in the September breeze, sending reddening leaves fluttering to the sidewalk as I pull into the parking lot. I see her staring at me through one of the windows before I have even put my car in park. As I step out and begin making my way to the door, she disappears from my view, and I hear the teacher chiding her for being impatient as I wrap my hand around the cold door handle. When I appear before her in the doorway, she bounds toward me and leaps into my arms. I look up at the teacher and tell her that I am surprised because she had no problem leaving me in the morning. The teacher informs me that, after I drove off, she broke down in tears and was inconsolable for hours. I smile. Another car pulls into the lot behind me.</p> <p>I am lying in my bed at night. Rain is trickling down my bedroom windows, and I cannot sleep. Strange noises come to me from down the hall. I take a while to sit up at the foot of my bed and slide into my slippers, cursing my old body as I do so. The bottom drawer of my nightstand glides open without a sound when I go to retrieve the old kitchen knife. I would prefer to bring the pistol my husband kept in our safe, but he never taught me how to fire it before he died. I shuffle down the hall, blue light trickling out of a slightly ajar door on the left, and try to keep as quiet as possible. The door creaks a little as I slowly push it open, revealing a woman I do not recognize sitting on my couch and watching TV, her shadow seeming to grow longer as I approach. She notices me approaching with the knife raised above my head and springs to her feet. She puts her hands up while asking me what the Hell I am doing, and I demand to know who she is and how she got in my house. She looks at me with a mix of sadness and recognition. She tells me that she is an old friend of my daughter, and she was asked to look after me while my daughter left town to visit my grandchildren in Seattle. Confused, I gradually lower the knife, and she gently ushers me out of the TV room and back to bed.</p> <p>I am relaxing on a grassy hill with my husband. This hot, cloudless May afternoon is more than welcome after the long Minnesota winter. I can hear mourning doves cooing, children laughing, leaves rustling. We have been basking in the light and warmth in silence for a while when he suddenly rolls over to face me and begins tracing a figure eight on my navel with his pointer finger. I giggle and ask him what he is doing. He gives me a grave look, takes my hand in his, and tells me that he wants to try for a baby. For a while, I am too shocked to respond. When I finally find my voice, nothing coherent comes out for some time, and he stares intently at me all the while. Eventually, I manage to ask him if he is being serious. He brings his face intolerably close to mine, looks me in the eye, and says that he is as serious now as he has ever been. I think a while about the futures stretching before me now like tributaries flowing into a river, and I say yes. He smiles with tears welling in his eyes, pulls me into a tight embrace, and says thank you over and over. I smile. A plane passes silently overhead.</p> <p>I am trying to figure out where I am. Are these my baby blue walls, my thin white curtains? Everything is blurry, indistinct, and far, far too bright. I stumble around this strange room for a while before taking notice of a highlighter orange sticky note hanging from the edge of the nightstand. I peel it off the wood, and it tells me take meds, get the paper, eat breakfast. Recollection washes over me. This is my house, and I am being taken care of because I cannot remember things well anymore. I do as the note instructs, taking my medicine in the bathroom and retrieving the newspaper from the front porch, and I find a bowl of oatmeal sitting in the microwave when I make my way to the kitchen. I think that I see a shadow behind me when I go to warm it up, but nothing is there when I turn around. It takes me a moment to remember what I am doing in front of the microwave afterwards. Eventually, I remember to warm up the oatmeal and slowly work through it with the spoon placed on the table for me. It does not taste like much, but I can live with it. I wonder when that nice young lady will be back.</p> <p>I am working late in the lab with my partner. We are running out of time before our supervisors begin demanding results, so we need a breakthrough in the near future. I am analyzing a fresh sample of the anomalous microorganism we have been studying under a microscope when he suddenly looks up from his scribblings and makes his way to my workstation. I try to tell him that now is not the time, but he is having none of it. Despite my protests, he creeps up on me from behind, wraps his arms around me, and begins planting kisses on the top of my head. I try to contain myself, but a giggle eventually escapes my lips, and the jig is up. For a fleeting moment, my work is abandoned in favor of playing silly games with the man I am now certain will become my husband. The future holds more scribbling on printer paper, more straining my neck looking at samples on glass plates, and more scrutinizing supervisors, but this moment only holds laughter and visions of the sun. I smile. Fluorescent lights hum above us.</p> <p>I am trying to figure out who I am. These thin, jagged shapes in front of me, are these my hands? Little squares of neon color tell me put slippers on, go to bathroom, take meds, brush teeth, go to kitchen, eat breakfast, the lady is your daughter. I try to do what they say, but the words will not stay put in my mind. I imagine myself trying to grasp a stream of water as it trickles through the tiny gaps between my fingers. I shamble to and from the bathroom while straining to remember what I am supposed to do in there, frustration washing over me in waves. I should not struggle this much. I should just know what to do. I should not need someone else to usher me around and make sure I do everything. I open my mouth to curse myself, but the words do not come to me. I think I see my shadow growing longer behind me.</p> <p>I am making preparations for my high school graduation ceremony tomorrow. They have a very particular procedure that they want us to follow to make sure that everything goes as smoothly as possible, and I need to practice. I button up my gown, fasten my cap, make sure that the tassel is on the right side, and practice walking in that slow, dignified way they coached us on at rehearsal a couple weeks ago. My parents watch me from the other side of the living room with grins on their faces, my father occasionally remarking that he still cannot believe his little girl is already going to be a graduate, my mother just clapping whenever I do it especially well. When I am satisfied, I take my cap off and run a hand through my hair. My parents walk over, pull me into a powerful hug, and tell me over and over that they are so proud. I smile. My father pinches the tassel between his thumb and forefinger and turns it to the other side of the cap.</p> <p>I am trying to figure out what I am. Splotches of color, blues and greens, float across my vision. I hear faint whisperings from things beyond what I can see, but I cannot make out words. Hands emerge from unseen places to act on me without my asking. I am shed skin being blown about by the breeze. I am a stone at the bottom of a mighty river watching the current flow above. I am a twig on the forest floor feeling the heat from an approaching inferno. Have I always been mere object? I think I went to a park once. In the corner of my vision, I think I see a shadow looming over me. I am afraid.</p> <p>I am getting ready for the first day of school. As my grandmother watches from her chair in the living room, I slip some fresh notebooks into my backpack, zip it shut, and sling it over my shoulders. My mother walks out of my parents' bedroom, her flowing hazelnut hair done up in a bun. I was a little late getting out of bed, and she is eager to get going, but my grandmother will not let us leave without giving me a hug first. She pulls me into her warm embrace and whispers that I am going to do so well, only freeing me when she sees my mother trapping the invisible watch in mild irritation. I wave goodbye to her and briskly make my way to the garage with my mother. I slide into the backseat of our gray Chevy minivan, and we are off as soon as my seat belt buckle clicks into place. The September sun is rising above the pine trees as we pull out of the driveway. I smile. We drive towards the light.</p> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:classic">:scp-wiki:theme:classic</a>]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] I am watching my oldest grandchild get ready to leave home for college. It is an overcast day with occasional sprinkles of rain, but the entire house feels bright and warm. While I chat with my daughter about how to stay occupied once the nest is empty, the teenager scampers around the house, looking for anything he might have forgotten to pack. He asks my daughter if she can think of anything, and she tells him not to forget his body wash. We laugh amongst ourselves as he flusters and scuttles to his bathroom. I tell her that she now knows what it was like for me when she went off to university decades ago, and a look of warm remembrance passes over her features, which have only begun to show signs of aging in the past few years. I smile. The pitter-patter of raindrops on the living room window breaks up the silence between us. I am falling. All around me is pitch black, and I am in free fall. I try to flail around for something to hold onto, but I cannot move anything, and no breath comes to me when I try to cry out into the dark. I feel something breathing on the back of my neck. I am helpless as I feel something wet trickle down my back, as a sharp pain courses through my body, as I feel something crawl up my spine and wriggle between the notches, as I feel it slowly make its way into my skull, as I jolt awake drenched in sweat. I look around my room, with its baby blue walls and thin white curtains, and feel relief wash over me as I realize that it was just a nightmare. I think that I see the glint of an eye or fang in the corner for a moment, but it disappears when I blink. I am going to the playground with my grandchildren. It is a warm August afternoon with only a few light gray clouds in the distance. My grandchildren are going to start school in a few weeks, and they want to go out for something fun with me one last time before the summer ends. The park is all bright colors and soft mulch. I watch as they sprint toward the big structure in the middle, hollering the whole way. I chuckle to myself as they stumble and quickly right themselves, sternly tell them no when they try to crawl the wrong way up the lime green slide, and stroll over to help them when they try to climb the multicolored rock wall to the top of the tallest tower. After a while of this, they tell me that they want to get on the swings. I make no effort to keep pace with them as they dash over to the swing set, which is some distance away from everything else in a corner of the mulch bed, and hop on next to each other. I give each of them as big a push as I can muster when I get there, and they are off. They have learned to use the swings without much help from me. I smile. The rusty chains squeak as they swing back and forth. I am doing a crossword in my living room. The rain is coming down hard outside, which is strange to me because I remember it being sunny not too long ago. While I am trying to think of an eleven-letter word for a curious person, I suddenly feel a sinister presence behind me, and I send my pen and newspaper tumbling to the floor as I dart out of my seat and turn around. For a moment, I think that I see a shadow, some kind of hazy creature waiting to be witnessed, but the moment quickly passes, and I find nothing behind me but the shadow of my chair. I take a deep breath, sit back down, and retrieve my things. When I look at my paper again, I find that I have no memory of what I was doing. I am picking my daughter up from her first day of preschool. The old building is surrounded by oak trees whose branches sway gently in the September breeze, sending reddening leaves fluttering to the sidewalk as I pull into the parking lot. I see her staring at me through one of the windows before I have even put my car in park. As I step out and begin making my way to the door, she disappears from my view, and I hear the teacher chiding her for being impatient as I wrap my hand around the cold door handle. When I appear before her in the doorway, she bounds toward me and leaps into my arms. I look up at the teacher and tell her that I am surprised because she had no problem leaving me in the morning. The teacher informs me that, after I drove off, she broke down in tears and was inconsolable for hours. I smile. Another car pulls into the lot behind me. I am lying in my bed at night. Rain is trickling down my bedroom windows, and I cannot sleep. Strange noises come to me from down the hall. I take a while to sit up at the foot of my bed and slide into my slippers, cursing my old body as I do so. The bottom drawer of my nightstand glides open without a sound when I go to retrieve the old kitchen knife. I would prefer to bring the pistol my husband kept in our safe, but he never taught me how to fire it before he died. I shuffle down the hall, blue light trickling out of a slightly ajar door on the left, and try to keep as quiet as possible. The door creaks a little as I slowly push it open, revealing a woman I do not recognize sitting on my couch and watching TV, her shadow seeming to grow longer as I approach. She notices me approaching with the knife raised above my head and springs to her feet. She puts her hands up while asking me what the Hell I am doing, and I demand to know who she is and how she got in my house. She looks at me with a mix of sadness and recognition. She tells me that she is an old friend of my daughter, and she was asked to look after me while my daughter left town to visit my grandchildren in Seattle. Confused, I gradually lower the knife, and she gently ushers me out of the TV room and back to bed. I am relaxing on a grassy hill with my husband. This hot, cloudless May afternoon is more than welcome after the long Minnesota winter. I can hear mourning doves cooing, children laughing, leaves rustling. We have been basking in the light and warmth in silence for a while when he suddenly rolls over to face me and begins tracing a figure eight on my navel with his pointer finger. I giggle and ask him what he is doing. He gives me a grave look, takes my hand in his, and tells me that he wants to try for a baby. For a while, I am too shocked to respond. When I finally find my voice, nothing coherent comes out for some time, and he stares intently at me all the while. Eventually, I manage to ask him if he is being serious. He brings his face intolerably close to mine, looks me in the eye, and says that he is as serious now as he has ever been. I think a while about the futures stretching before me now like tributaries flowing into a river, and I say yes. He smiles with tears welling in his eyes, pulls me into a tight embrace, and says thank you over and over. I smile. A plane passes silently overhead. I am trying to figure out where I am. Are these my baby blue walls, my thin white curtains? Everything is blurry, indistinct, and far, far too bright. I stumble around this strange room for a while before taking notice of a highlighter orange sticky note hanging from the edge of the nightstand. I peel it off the wood, and it tells me take meds, get the paper, eat breakfast. Recollection washes over me. This is my house, and I am being taken care of because I cannot remember things well anymore. I do as the note instructs, taking my medicine in the bathroom and retrieving the newspaper from the front porch, and I find a bowl of oatmeal sitting in the microwave when I make my way to the kitchen. I think that I see a shadow behind me when I go to warm it up, but nothing is there when I turn around. It takes me a moment to remember what I am doing in front of the microwave afterwards. Eventually, I remember to warm up the oatmeal and slowly work through it with the spoon placed on the table for me. It does not taste like much, but I can live with it. I wonder when that nice young lady will be back. I am working late in the lab with my partner. We are running out of time before our supervisors begin demanding results, so we need a breakthrough in the near future. I am analyzing a fresh sample of the anomalous microorganism we have been studying under a microscope when he suddenly looks up from his scribblings and makes his way to my workstation. I try to tell him that now is not the time, but he is having none of it. Despite my protests, he creeps up on me from behind, wraps his arms around me, and begins planting kisses on the top of my head. I try to contain myself, but a giggle eventually escapes my lips, and the jig is up. For a fleeting moment, my work is abandoned in favor of playing silly games with the man I am now certain will become my husband. The future holds more scribbling on printer paper, more straining my neck looking at samples on glass plates, and more scrutinizing supervisors, but this moment only holds laughter and visions of the sun. I smile. Fluorescent lights hum above us. I am trying to figure out who I am. These thin, jagged shapes in front of me, are these my hands? Little squares of neon color tell me put slippers on, go to bathroom, take meds, brush teeth, go to kitchen, eat breakfast, the lady is your daughter. I try to do what they say, but the words will not stay put in my mind. I imagine myself trying to grasp a stream of water as it trickles through the tiny gaps between my fingers. I shamble to and from the bathroom while straining to remember what I am supposed to do in there, frustration washing over me in waves. I should not struggle this much. I should just know what to do. I should not need someone else to usher me around and make sure I do everything. I open my mouth to curse myself, but the words do not come to me. I think I see my shadow growing longer behind me. I am making preparations for my high school graduation ceremony tomorrow. They have a very particular procedure that they want us to follow to make sure that everything goes as smoothly as possible, and I need to practice. I button up my gown, fasten my cap, make sure that the tassel is on the right side, and practice walking in that slow, dignified way they coached us on at rehearsal a couple weeks ago. My parents watch me from the other side of the living room with grins on their faces, my father occasionally remarking that he still cannot believe his little girl is already going to be a graduate, my mother just clapping whenever I do it especially well. When I am satisfied, I take my cap off and run a hand through my hair. My parents walk over, pull me into a powerful hug, and tell me over and over that they are so proud. I smile. My father pinches the tassel between his thumb and forefinger and turns it to the other side of the cap. I am trying to figure out what I am. Splotches of color, blues and greens, float across my vision. I hear faint whisperings from things beyond what I can see, but I cannot make out words. Hands emerge from unseen places to act on me without my asking. I am shed skin being blown about by the breeze. I am a stone at the bottom of a mighty river watching the current flow above. I am a twig on the forest floor feeling the heat from an approaching inferno. Have I always been mere object? I think I went to a park once. In the corner of my vision, I think I see a shadow looming over me. I am afraid. I am getting ready for the first day of school. As my grandmother watches from her chair in the living room, I slip some fresh notebooks into my backpack, zip it shut, and sling it over my shoulders. My mother walks out of my parents' bedroom, her flowing hazelnut hair done up in a bun. I was a little late getting out of bed, and she is eager to get going, but my grandmother will not let us leave without giving me a hug first. She pulls me into her warm embrace and whispers that I am going to do so well, only freeing me when she sees my mother trapping the invisible watch in mild irritation. I wave goodbye to her and briskly make my way to the garage with my mother. I slide into the backseat of our gray Chevy minivan, and we are off as soon as my seat belt buckle clicks into place. The September sun is rising above the pine trees as we pull out of the driveway. I smile. We drive towards the light.	2024-10-09T02:01:00	[ "bleak", "first-person", "horror", "no-dialogue", "psychological-horror", "spook-nico-2024-unofficial", "tale" ]	The Fading Away - SCP Foundation	10	[]	[ "spook-nico-unnoficial-2024" ]	[]	1457042550	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-fading-away
the-feasting-day-of-klavigar-nadox	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><sub><a href="/xhawk77x">More by this Author</a></sub></p> </div> <p>Andrew sat at the table while Oz worked in the kitchen. He was making dumplings. The big, thick ones with casings made of normal dough. The ones you had to cut up because they were too big to eat in one bite. They were good. Impossibly good. Good in a way that only a person with a supernatural command over flesh could achieve.</p> <p>Oz swore there was no magic involved in any of his cooking, but Andrew didn’t know how else to explain it. Sure, there was a cultural difference. His own home hadn’t exactly valued bodily pleasures, but there was still a limit. Oz’s cooking was accomplished by sarkic magics. It was the only explanation.</p> <p><em>Nälkän</em> magics. <em>Nälkän</em>. They’d had that conversation. Andrew was still trying to unlearn the S word.</p> <p>“I’m almost done,” Oz said, as he fiddled with the steam-cooker.</p> <p>“It smells amazing,” Andrew said.</p> <p>Oz raised his hand to tip a hat that he wasn’t wearing. “A’thank you,” he said.</p> <p>It was only another minute or two before the food was ready. They served themselves on dark red plates. There was a strange sort of webby pattern on them, chaotic, stringy. When Andrew had first seen he’d, he’d thought they were mystical. Some kind of sarkic—<em>Nälkän</em> enchantment to enhance food. Oz had found this very funny. The set of plates had, in fact, been purchased at Walmart.</p> <p>“God, these things are nostalgic for me,” Oz said as he sat down. “My grandma always used to make these for the Feasting Day of Klavigar Nadox.”</p> <p>Nadox. Which one was Nadox? “That’s… that’s the nerdy one, right?”</p> <p>“Yeah, you’re thinking of the right one.”</p> <p>“See, I’m learning to keep them straight.”</p> <p>“Really? Which one is Orok?”</p> <p>“You didn’t warn me there was going to be a quiz.”</p> <p>“I did, actually.”</p> <p>“What? When?”</p> <p>“When I gave you that.” Oz gestured at the introductory book on Nälkä that was currently sitting on their coffee table. It was a thick book, bound in soft leather. When he’d first given it to Andrew, Oz had messed with him by saying it had been made from human skin, but the reality was, for fleshweavers, there was no need to use human skin to make it that soft. Heck, there was no need to use a cow, either. They could just sort of grow the skin to have whatever consistency they wanted.</p> <p>Andrew had been steadily going through the book since he got it. The two had agreed that they needed to learn more about each other’s faiths. Despite getting over their differences enough that they were able to be together, they still sometimes found out that one of them had retained a misconception, to say the least.</p> <p>There was, likewise, an old Mekhanite tome on Oz’s bedside table. Oz didn’t read much, but Andrew had managed to get him into the habit of reading before bed. There was a lamp on his bedside table, but Oz made a point of not using it, just to show off that he didn’t need to. His eyes had been the first thing he learned how to enhance. That was a choice he’d made when he was a kid. Even back then, long before he truly started to question his family’s values, some part of him had known that seeing the world more clearly was more important than being strong.</p> <p>“I’m waiting,” Oz said.</p> <p>Crap. Now it looked like Andrew had had to think about the question. “Orok is the big tough one,” Andrew said, quickly. “The one that was a pit fighter back when he was a slave in the Daevite empire.”</p> <p>“Correct,” Oz admitted. “I see you’re learning.”</p> <p>“That is supposed to be our whole thing,” Andrew said. “Learning. Thinking.”</p> <p>“No wonder Nadox was always the best at getting along with you guys.” Oz picked up a dumpling. He dipped it in the sauce he’d laid out for it. Andrew did the same. Both of their faces lit up at the taste of it.</p> <p>“I feel like this isn’t the first Nälkän ‘feasting day’ I’ve heard about,” Andrew said.</p> <p>“Heh. No. It definitely isn’t. All of our holidays are feasting days.”</p> <p>“How thematic.”</p> <p>Oz shrugged. “Humans are animals. We like to eat. Don’t you make that face. You’re doing it right now, and you’re <em>loving</em> it.”</p> <p>Andrew wasn’t in a position to deny that. He swallowed. “Is there more to the holiday, or is that all it consists of?”</p> <p>“Oh, no. There’s more. Dancing. Exchanging gifts. An orgy. The child sacrifice…”</p> <p>For just a second, Andrew’s old disgust for Oz’s religion flared in him, only to retreat when he realized Oz was joking.</p> <p>“You’re too easy to get, you know that?” Oz said. “It’s almost cheating.”</p> <p>“Maybe,” Andrew said. He ate another dumpling.</p> <p>“The gift exchange is the biggest thing,” Oz said. “You’re supposed to buy and do things for each other. You remember Nadox’s story, right?”</p> <p>“He was a dissident who preached a message of peace, kindness, and equality to the enslaved masses of the Daevite empire. As punishment, the Daevites marked him as a ‘sufferer,’ who everyone in the empire was commanded to torment and hurt, but not kill. From then on, he wandered, never able to find aid, solace, or comfort.”</p> <p>“Exactly. So, on his feast day, we give each other those things. We exchange gifts. We perform each other’s duties. We aid and comfort to each other in defiance of the Daevite mandate to deny those things to dissidents like us.”</p> <p>“That’s sweet,” Andrew observed. It still wasn’t intuitive to him for Nälkän practices to be sweet.</p> <p>“Yeah,” Oz said. “You know, Nadox’s feasting day is actually around a week from now.”</p> <p>“Is that why you made these?”</p> <p>“No. I didn’t think about it until a minute ago. It’s funny how the smell of something can be so good at bringing back memories.”</p> <p>“Oh, there’s actually a neurological explanation for that,” Andrew said. “It’s because the areas of the brain responsible for smell and memory happen to be closely wired together. It’s actually a really interesting area of neuroscience that… sorry. I’m sure it’s not that interesting to you.”</p> <p>“No. No. You can talk about it if you like talking about it.”</p> <p>Andrew shrugged. “I guess I’ve given the answer already. No need to say anything further.”</p> <p>“Fair.”</p> <p>“So, this holiday is something you would do with your family?”</p> <p>“Yeah.” Oz took a deep breath. “It was a day even my mom would be nice to people.” Oz looked away. “Maybe it coming back around will finally make her miss me.”</p> <p>Andrew reached across the table. “I’ll be here with you,” he said. “We could do something—”</p> <p>Oz shook his head. “It’s not something you’d be able to join in on. The traditional gifts are always flesh-crafted items. That’s part of the defiance. Not just helping each other but using our forbidden magic to do it.”</p> <p>Andrew squeezed Oz’s hand. They’d both chosen the other over their families. Andrew’s parents would have nothing to do with a child who dated a “filthy sarkite,” and Oz has rejected his place in the crime family he’d been born into.</p> <p>“I’m sorry you had to lose that,” Andrew said.</p> <p>“It’s not your fault.”</p> <p>“Technically, it is.”</p> <p>“Heh. Maybe. I wouldn’t take it back, though. I’d choose you over them a million times over.”</p> <p>“Me too.”</p> <hr/> <p>A proper gift for Nadox’s Feasting Day would be a fleshcrafted item.</p> <p>That meant getting one would be a challenge. Andrew couldn’t make one. If Andrew was going to get Oz the gift he deserved, Andrew was going to have to go exploring in another Nälkän community.</p> <p>Fortunately, Andrew did know of a shop where he’d be able to get that kind of thing. It was a place Oz had gone a few times to get things he could no longer get from his family.</p> <p>The ground floor of the shop didn’t look too extraordinary. This was the part that people on the wrong side of the veil could see. It was a bit eccentric, but not supernatural, full of nick-nacks and vaguely occult supplies like crystals and Ouija boards.</p> <p>One could almost think it was an ordinary store, except there was a smell in the air. One that an ordinary person wouldn’t be able to place, but that Andrew recognized. The smell of flesh. Not the smell of rotting. Not dead flesh. Living. An organic, sweaty tinge that, just a few years ago, would’ve made Andrew report this place to his church elders so they could come and clean out this nest of sarkites.</p> <p><em>Nälkäns</em>. <em>Nälkäns</em>. This was one place he absolutely could not use the S word. One slip-up would out him as an enemy of the faith, who these people would not only loathe, but also fear.</p> <p>It was hard to blame them for the fear. Andrew was occasionally shocked by the things Oz had been made to do as a child of Nälkän nobility, but moments like this made him wonder if he’d really been that much better. The people he was about to talk to and buy things from, there was a time when he would’ve had them killed.</p> <p>Hopefully, there would be no way for these people to know about Andrew’s religion. It wasn’t as though he was wearing a sign around his neck.</p> <p>Even as he thought that, he felt the gentle grinding of his mechanical heart. He wasn’t as modified as a lot of Mekhanites were. He looked normal enough that he could walk around in veiled public spaces. These weren’t veiled people, though. These people had also had their bodies enhanced in a variety of ways, some of which might improve their senses. Oz sometimes said that, when it was quiet enough, he could just barely hear the machinery at work inside Andrew.</p> <p>There was a chance the people here would hear the same.</p> <p>It was worth the risk. This meant a lot to Oz. Andrew needed to do it. He walked up to the store’s front desk. A while back, Oz had told him the password to get to the hidden area of the shop, in case there was an emergency where Andrew desperately needed something fleshwoven. Andrew approached the front desk “Hello,” said the clerk behind it, “What can I do for you?”</p> <p>“I wish to partake of the greatest of meats,” Andrew said.</p> <p>The clerk tilted his head. “Greatest?” he asked.</p> <p>“Yes.” Andrew said. There was a moment of silence. “Is… is that not it?”</p> <p>“‘Finest of meats,’” said the man.</p> <p>“Sure, then. To partake of the finest of meats.”</p> <p>The clerk shrugged. “Alright.” He motioned for another worker across the store to come over. “Mind taking the register. Got someone for the basement.”</p> <p>The other man agreed, and the clerk led Andrew through an ‘employees only’ door. From there, he went down a short hall and around a corner, where there was another door that opened to a set of stairs.</p> <p>The flesh stink, that sharp, wet smell, was stronger back here. He made a noise as he tried not to breathe it in for a second. The clerk looked over his shoulder and studied him. Andrew did his best to compose himself.</p> <p>The stairs didn’t look much better than they smelled. The walls were fleshy and pulsed gently. They were made of something reminiscent of skin, but hairless and inhumanly pale. Sporadic patches of this skin had a powerful bioluminescent glow, by which the hall was lit. The stairs themselves were made of something hard and dark that made Andrew think of collagen or hoof horn. Unlike the pulsing walls, the stairs seemed immobile and solid. The clerk didn’t think twice about trusting them as he led Andrew down. A bone-white door at the bottom of the staircase flexed out of the way as they entered it. “Here it is,” the clerk said.</p> <p>Andrew looked around. Things weren’t getting any less Nälkän down here. The floor was a solid, almost flat slab of the same hard substance as the stairs. So were the shelves and counters. The rest was made of more skin</p> <p>“You’re not a Nälkän, are you?” the clerk asked.</p> <p>“My partner is,” Andrew said. “I’m getting something for him.”</p> <p>“Alright,” the clerk said. “Go ahead and look around.”</p> <p>Andrew did.</p> <p>The whole underground area was essentially a single room, designed, probably deliberately, so that every part of it would be visible from the front desk. The clerk took his place there. Andrew walked to the far side of the room.</p> <p>Sitting on shelves built into the walls were various round, vaguely head-shaped objects. Some of them lacked so many features that no one would see them as heads if they’d been on their own. Others were lifelike, with eyes that followed Andrew as he approached. “You’re… you’re not, like, people, are you?” Andrew whispered to the heads.</p> <p>Back at the counter, the clerk laughed. “Don’t worry,” he said. “They were grown on fleshvines. They’re no more sentient than a Venus flytrap.”</p> <p>That was a relief.</p> <p>Andrew slowly perused the shelves. The heads whose eyes were tracking him were “security monitors.”</p> <p>There were several other head-like products. One of them had large tubular mouth and large tongue. Its name suggested it was an adult toy, something Oz and Andrew had no need of.</p> <p>There was one head labeled “Aria.” It had no eyes, but the rest of its facial features were present. It was bald, and on the top of its head was a large, round, dark mole, under which the word “push” had been tattooed. Andrew hesitated. Slowly, he lifted his finger, and pressed it.</p> <p>The mouth opened. In a feminine voice, the head sang a gentle, haunting aria. Andrew couldn’t understand the words, but he recognized the sounds of Adytite.</p> <p>The head sang well. Its voice overshadowed the quiet pulsing that had previously defined the sound of this room, an intrusion of beauty into this stinking, ugly, gruesome place. Andrew wondered if the words it was singing were as beautiful as its voice, or as ugly as the thing that sang them.</p> <p>There was only one problem with this gift. It looked too strange. If they were going to keep an object in their apartment, it needed to be okay for people on the wrong side of the veil, like their landlord, to see it. Andrew made a mental note to come back to the head if he could find nothing else, but for now he moved on.</p> <p>The decorative items were actually more veil-friendly than the functional ones. That made sense. If the point of these things was to be displayed, of course they needed to be something that people could see.</p> <p>A lot of the decorations were organs in jars. Some of these were still functioning, and the ones that looked normal, well, they were pretty much just organs in jars. Oz would probably be disappointed by an item that almost could’ve been made without any fleshcrafting at all.</p> <p>Then Andrew spotted it. A decorative object that looked promising. It was labeled “octopus skin painting.” Inside a brown frame was a colorful autumn forest. Every object in the picture had texture to it. The trunks on the orange and brown trees were hard and rough. Their leaves protruded slightly from the painting’s background. The gentle creek that flowed through the center was gelatinous and had a water-like sheen.</p> <p>There was a button on the side of the frame. Andrew pressed it.</p> <p>The painting changed. Its canvas morphed, every inch of it recoloring and retexturing itself. It now depicted a snowy mountain, lined by evergreen trees, with a cozy cabin in the distance.</p> <p>Andrew pressed the button several more times. Every time he did, the painting changed. Its color and texture completely rewrote themselves to depict a different landscape. One was a volcanic mound, bright orange lava gently trickling down its slopes. After that, a beach, where colorful birds nested in tall trees. Next, a field of bright yellow flowers with a mountain in the distance. After that, a tall, craggy canyon with a rushing river running down its center, then a harsh cliffside, heavy waves crashing against it. The final image was the signature of the Nälkän anartist who had created this object, and, from there, it cycled back to the first image.</p> <p>Andrew looked at the price tag. It was high, but not quite high enough that he couldn’t afford it. Andrew carefully picked the large painting up from the wall. He brought it to the clerk, who began to ring him up.</p> <p>While the clerk was processing his sale, the door, the same one Andrew had come through, swung open. Andrew glanced over. A woman was coming through, carrying a vat of what Andrew was pretty sure was blood. Clinging to the side of it was a living creature, a big, meaty worm, attached to the glass by a series of suckers. Its whole body pulsed as it gorged itself on the blood it was suspended in.</p> <p>Andrew couldn’t help but shudder in disgust.</p> <p>The clerk chuckled. “You’re gonna have to get a stronger stomach if you’re going to date a Nälkän.”</p> <p>“Probably,” Andrew admitted. “That’s not… that’s not someone’s blood is it? Like, they didn’t take it from someone?”</p> <p>“No clue,” the clerk said. “They probably didn’t kill someone for it, if that’s what you’re worried about. If the blood came from someone, it was probably replaced immediately.”</p> <p>“Why not just make the blood, then?”</p> <p>“Bones already make blood. The easiest way to get more blood is to get them to make it faster. Once you’ve started that process, you actually <em>need</em> to extract it, or the excess blood will make the person’s blood pressure dangerously high, and, then, well… I’ll leave the worst-case scenario to your imagination.”</p> <p>“That’s probably for the best.” Andrew took a deep breath. It wasn’t his job to judge these people. If they wanted to safely use their bodies as blood factories, it was none of his business.</p> <p>Apparently, Andrew’s efforts to remind himself of this did not keep his revulsion from showing on his face. “This shit really bothers you, doesn’t it?” the clerk asked.</p> <p>“Yes. I’m sorry. Other than my partner, I don’t spend a lot of time around sarkites.”</p> <p>The instant he said it, the very instant, he froze. The clerk’s eyes widened. “Nälkäns,” Andrew hurried to correct himself, but it was clearly too late. “I’m sorry,” Andrew added.</p> <p>“Quiet,” the clerk shouted. Andrew was. For a second, he expected to be rebuked, but the clerk wasn’t saying anything. He was listening. He glared at Andrew, and, with a voice dripping with venom, said, “Mekhanite.”</p> <p>“I can explain—”</p> <p>“What the fuck are you doing here?”</p> <p>“It’s like I said—”</p> <p>“Really? You’re sticking with that story? That you’re dating one of us? You expect me to believe that? How would that even happen?”</p> <p>“It’s a long story,” Andrew said.</p> <p>“I’m sure.”</p> <p>“You can call him.”</p> <p>“Call him?”</p> <p>“Yes. He’s been here before. He can come here, prove he’s a true Nälkän with some flesh magic, and confirm that I’m safe.”</p> <p>The clerk thought for a moment. “Fine. Phone number.”</p> <p>Andrew gave him Oz’s phone number. He called it. The woman who’d been carrying the vat set it down and went to get more people. She probably thought there was a chance this would come to blows. If it did, Andrew would be badly outnumbered.</p> <p>Oz picked up his phone. The clerk had put him on speaker. “Oh, hey,” Oz said, voice full of casual cheer, “Is this about my order?”</p> <p>The clerk hesitated for a moment. “Order?”</p> <p>“The one I placed last week. The kidney-worm.”</p> <p>The clerk glanced at the vat. He glanced at the computer next to him. He typed something into it. He looked at the screen for a moment. His expression shifted. “Wait, you’re Oswald Markovic?”</p> <p>“Uh, yeah. Why did you call me if you didn’t already know that?”</p> <p>“Are you dating a Mekhanite?”</p> <p>“What?”</p> <p>“There’s a Mekhanite in the store. He says you can vouch for him. Is that true?”</p> <p>“What? What the fuck is he… Yes, yes, he’s telling the truth. I’m dating him. It’s a long story, but… gods, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what would make him think it was okay for him to go there without me, but you don’t have to worry about him. He’s not even in good standing with their church anymore. Just let me come get him. I’ll talk to him.”</p> <p>“See that you do,” the clerk said. “And see that it’s the last time you visit our store.”</p> <p>“Understood,” Oz said, after a moment. “The kidney worm is for my grandma. The delivery address is hers, not mine. It’s for the feasting day. I hope you’re still willing to deliver that?”</p> <p>The clerk sighed, as though this were an extremely cumbersome request. “Fine,” he said.</p> <p>“Thank you. I’ll head over right away.” Oz hung up.</p> <p>He looked at Andrew again. His gaze was just as cold and piercing as before.</p> <p>“Can… can I still buy the painting?” Andrew asked.</p> <p>“No.”</p> <p>Andrew hesitated for a moment. “Please? It’s actually for the feasting day as well. That’s why I came here. You’ll never see us again either way. It’s not like it’s something we I could use against you. There’s no reason for you not to take my money.”</p> <p>The clerk thought about that for a second. “Double.”</p> <p>“What?”</p> <p>“Mekhanite filth pays double.”</p> <p>“But that’d be more than two-hundred… Fine. Done.”</p> <hr/> <p>Once he arrived, Oz couldn’t get downstairs fast enough. The painting was already in box, covered in red wrapping paper. The vat, and the worm inside it, hadn’t been moved. Oz ran up to Andrew and grabbed him, pulling him into a hug. Andrew hugged him back. Oz was warm. Warmer than an unaltered human. His enhanced body used more energy, which meant his cells generated more heat.</p> <p>“Don’t you ever worry me like that again.” Oz said.</p> <p>“I’m sorry,” Andrew said.</p> <p>“What the hell are you doing here?”</p> <p>“Getting you a gift,” Andrew said, gesturing at the wrapped red box.</p> <p>It took Oz a moment to understand. “For the Feasting Day?”</p> <p>“I’m surprised he knows what that is,” the clerk said.</p> <p>“I told him,” Oz said. “I’m so sorry about this. I’ll take him home.”</p> <p>“Good,” the clerk said. “And the next time anyone here sees either of you, you’ll end up on our shelves, in pieces.”</p> <p>Oz took a deep breath. “That’s understandable,” he said. “Thank you for letting us leave this once. I’m sorry for the distress we’ve caused you.”</p> <p>The clerk scoffed. Two of the other workers led them upstairs, and out to the car. Oz made Andrew sit in the passenger seat. “Gods,” he said, as he pulled away from the store, “what in the actual fuck is wrong with you? Aren’t you supposed to worship a god of intellect? Of reason? Of <em>good</em> ideas that <em>don’t</em> have better-than-even odds of getting you killed?”</p> <p>“I’m sorry,” Andrew said. “It just seemed like it meant a lot to you.”</p> <p>Oz took a deep breath. “It does,” Oz admitted. “Thank you for getting me something, but never go somewhere like this on your own again, understood? Gods, why wouldn’t you just take me with you?”</p> <p>Andrew looked down at the floor of the car. “I was shopping for a gift,” he muttered. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”</p> <p>Oz’s face softened.</p> <p>“I’ll bring you,” Andrew said. “I’ll bring you to the next Nälkän place I go, if I ever go to one again.”</p> <p>“Good,” Oz said. He pulled out of the parking lot, and onto the road.</p> <p>Andrew hesitated for a moment. “So, what <em>was</em> that worm thing?” Andrew asked.</p> <p>“A gift for my grandma,” Oz said. “She’s old school enough that she does actual charity work for the feasting day. That worm is an artificial kidney. Drinks blood from one end, cleans it, then secretes it back into your veins from the other. It’ll be a big help to the hospital she works with.”</p> <p>Andrew imagined for a moment what it would be like to have that thing latched onto you. To feel it devouring your blood, then secreting it back inside, all while its suckers gripped you, and the whole creature pulsed.</p> <p>“If we are doing stuff for the Feasting Day,” Oz said, “there are a couple of other things we’ll need to get. I’ll need to prepare a special meal. There would normally be decorations, but we’re in a veil-sensitive situation, so we’ll skip out on those. I suppose I’ll make you a gift, too.”</p> <p>“That’s very kind of you.”</p> <p>“No problem,” Oz said. “That just leaves the orgy.”</p> <p>Andrew waited for a moment for Oz to start laughing. He didn’t. Andrew’s eyes widened. “Wait… is… is the orgy real? I thought that part had been a joke. You said—”</p> <p>Oz smirked. “The child sacrifice was a joke. The orgy is very, very real.”</p> <p>“Oh,” Andrew said.</p> <p>Oz reached across the car and lay his hand on Andrew’s thigh. “It’ll just be the two of us, but, well, if we’re going to celebrate the holiday right…”</p> <p>“Okay,” Andrew said.</p> <p>“Good boy,” Oz said. He patted Andrew’s thigh twice, then pulled his hand back to the steering wheel.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><sub><a href="/xhawk77x">More by this Author</a></sub></p> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-feasting-day-of-klavigar-nadox">The Feasting Day of Klavigar Nadox</a>" by XHAWK77X, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-feasting-day-of-klavigar-nadox">https://scpwiki.com/the-feasting-day-of-klavigar-nadox</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:scp-pride">:scp-wiki:component:scp-pride</a>]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[=]] ,,[[[xhawk77x\|More by this Author]]],, [[/=]] Andrew sat at the table while Oz worked in the kitchen. He was making dumplings. The big, thick ones with casings made of normal dough. The ones you had to cut up because they were too big to eat in one bite. They were good. Impossibly good. Good in a way that only a person with a supernatural command over flesh could achieve. Oz swore there was no magic involved in any of his cooking, but Andrew didn’t know how else to explain it. Sure, there was a cultural difference. His own home hadn’t exactly valued bodily pleasures, but there was still a limit. Oz’s cooking was accomplished by sarkic magics. It was the only explanation. //Nälkän// magics. //Nälkän//. They’d had that conversation. Andrew was still trying to unlearn the S word. “I’m almost done,” Oz said, as he fiddled with the steam-cooker. “It smells amazing,” Andrew said. Oz raised his hand to tip a hat that he wasn’t wearing. “A’thank you,” he said. It was only another minute or two before the food was ready. They served themselves on dark red plates. There was a strange sort of webby pattern on them, chaotic, stringy. When Andrew had first seen he’d, he’d thought they were mystical. Some kind of sarkic—//Nälkän// enchantment to enhance food. Oz had found this very funny. The set of plates had, in fact, been purchased at Walmart. “God, these things are nostalgic for me,” Oz said as he sat down. “My grandma always used to make these for the Feasting Day of Klavigar Nadox.” Nadox. Which one was Nadox? “That’s… that’s the nerdy one, right?” “Yeah, you’re thinking of the right one.” “See, I’m learning to keep them straight.” “Really? Which one is Orok?” “You didn’t warn me there was going to be a quiz.” “I did, actually.” “What? When?” “When I gave you that.” Oz gestured at the introductory book on Nälkä that was currently sitting on their coffee table. It was a thick book, bound in soft leather. When he’d first given it to Andrew, Oz had messed with him by saying it had been made from human skin, but the reality was, for fleshweavers, there was no need to use human skin to make it that soft. Heck, there was no need to use a cow, either. They could just sort of grow the skin to have whatever consistency they wanted. Andrew had been steadily going through the book since he got it. The two had agreed that they needed to learn more about each other’s faiths. Despite getting over their differences enough that they were able to be together, they still sometimes found out that one of them had retained a misconception, to say the least. There was, likewise, an old Mekhanite tome on Oz’s bedside table. Oz didn’t read much, but Andrew had managed to get him into the habit of reading before bed. There was a lamp on his bedside table, but Oz made a point of not using it, just to show off that he didn’t need to. His eyes had been the first thing he learned how to enhance. That was a choice he’d made when he was a kid. Even back then, long before he truly started to question his family’s values, some part of him had known that seeing the world more clearly was more important than being strong. “I’m waiting,” Oz said. Crap. Now it looked like Andrew had had to think about the question. “Orok is the big tough one,” Andrew said, quickly. “The one that was a pit fighter back when he was a slave in the Daevite empire.” “Correct,” Oz admitted. “I see you’re learning.” “That is supposed to be our whole thing,” Andrew said. “Learning. Thinking.” “No wonder Nadox was always the best at getting along with you guys.” Oz picked up a dumpling. He dipped it in the sauce he’d laid out for it. Andrew did the same. Both of their faces lit up at the taste of it. “I feel like this isn’t the first Nälkän ‘feasting day’ I’ve heard about,” Andrew said. “Heh. No. It definitely isn’t. All of our holidays are feasting days.” “How thematic.” Oz shrugged. “Humans are animals. We like to eat. Don’t you make that face. You’re doing it right now, and you’re //loving// it.” Andrew wasn’t in a position to deny that. He swallowed. “Is there more to the holiday, or is that all it consists of?” “Oh, no. There’s more. Dancing. Exchanging gifts. An orgy. The child sacrifice…” For just a second, Andrew’s old disgust for Oz’s religion flared in him, only to retreat when he realized Oz was joking. “You’re too easy to get, you know that?” Oz said. “It’s almost cheating.” “Maybe,” Andrew said. He ate another dumpling. “The gift exchange is the biggest thing,” Oz said. “You’re supposed to buy and do things for each other. You remember Nadox’s story, right?” “He was a dissident who preached a message of peace, kindness, and equality to the enslaved masses of the Daevite empire. As punishment, the Daevites marked him as a ‘sufferer,’ who everyone in the empire was commanded to torment and hurt, but not kill. From then on, he wandered, never able to find aid, solace, or comfort.” “Exactly. So, on his feast day, we give each other those things. We exchange gifts. We perform each other’s duties. We aid and comfort to each other in defiance of the Daevite mandate to deny those things to dissidents like us.” “That’s sweet,” Andrew observed. It still wasn’t intuitive to him for Nälkän practices to be sweet. “Yeah,” Oz said. “You know, Nadox’s feasting day is actually around a week from now.” “Is that why you made these?” “No. I didn’t think about it until a minute ago. It’s funny how the smell of something can be so good at bringing back memories.” “Oh, there’s actually a neurological explanation for that,” Andrew said. “It’s because the areas of the brain responsible for smell and memory happen to be closely wired together. It’s actually a really interesting area of neuroscience that… sorry. I’m sure it’s not that interesting to you.” “No. No. You can talk about it if you like talking about it.” Andrew shrugged. “I guess I’ve given the answer already. No need to say anything further.” “Fair.” “So, this holiday is something you would do with your family?” “Yeah.” Oz took a deep breath. “It was a day even my mom would be nice to people.” Oz looked away. “Maybe it coming back around will finally make her miss me.” Andrew reached across the table. “I’ll be here with you,” he said. “We could do something—” Oz shook his head. “It’s not something you’d be able to join in on. The traditional gifts are always flesh-crafted items. That’s part of the defiance. Not just helping each other but using our forbidden magic to do it.” Andrew squeezed Oz’s hand. They’d both chosen the other over their families. Andrew’s parents would have nothing to do with a child who dated a “filthy sarkite,” and Oz has rejected his place in the crime family he’d been born into. “I’m sorry you had to lose that,” Andrew said. “It’s not your fault.” “Technically, it is.” “Heh. Maybe. I wouldn’t take it back, though. I’d choose you over them a million times over.” “Me too.” ----- A proper gift for Nadox’s Feasting Day would be a fleshcrafted item. That meant getting one would be a challenge. Andrew couldn’t make one. If Andrew was going to get Oz the gift he deserved, Andrew was going to have to go exploring in another Nälkän community. Fortunately, Andrew did know of a shop where he’d be able to get that kind of thing. It was a place Oz had gone a few times to get things he could no longer get from his family. The ground floor of the shop didn’t look too extraordinary. This was the part that people on the wrong side of the veil could see. It was a bit eccentric, but not supernatural, full of nick-nacks and vaguely occult supplies like crystals and Ouija boards. One could almost think it was an ordinary store, except there was a smell in the air. One that an ordinary person wouldn’t be able to place, but that Andrew recognized. The smell of flesh. Not the smell of rotting. Not dead flesh. Living. An organic, sweaty tinge that, just a few years ago, would’ve made Andrew report this place to his church elders so they could come and clean out this nest of sarkites. //Nälkäns//. //Nälkäns//. This was one place he absolutely could not use the S word. One slip-up would out him as an enemy of the faith, who these people would not only loathe, but also fear. It was hard to blame them for the fear. Andrew was occasionally shocked by the things Oz had been made to do as a child of Nälkän nobility, but moments like this made him wonder if he’d really been that much better. The people he was about to talk to and buy things from, there was a time when he would’ve had them killed. Hopefully, there would be no way for these people to know about Andrew’s religion. It wasn’t as though he was wearing a sign around his neck. Even as he thought that, he felt the gentle grinding of his mechanical heart. He wasn’t as modified as a lot of Mekhanites were. He looked normal enough that he could walk around in veiled public spaces. These weren’t veiled people, though. These people had also had their bodies enhanced in a variety of ways, some of which might improve their senses. Oz sometimes said that, when it was quiet enough, he could just barely hear the machinery at work inside Andrew. There was a chance the people here would hear the same. It was worth the risk. This meant a lot to Oz. Andrew needed to do it. He walked up to the store’s front desk. A while back, Oz had told him the password to get to the hidden area of the shop, in case there was an emergency where Andrew desperately needed something fleshwoven. Andrew approached the front desk “Hello,” said the clerk behind it, “What can I do for you?” “I wish to partake of the greatest of meats,” Andrew said. The clerk tilted his head. “Greatest?” he asked. “Yes.” Andrew said. There was a moment of silence. “Is… is that not it?” “‘Finest of meats,’” said the man. “Sure, then. To partake of the finest of meats.” The clerk shrugged. “Alright.” He motioned for another worker across the store to come over. “Mind taking the register. Got someone for the basement.” The other man agreed, and the clerk led Andrew through an ‘employees only’ door. From there, he went down a short hall and around a corner, where there was another door that opened to a set of stairs. The flesh stink, that sharp, wet smell, was stronger back here. He made a noise as he tried not to breathe it in for a second. The clerk looked over his shoulder and studied him. Andrew did his best to compose himself. The stairs didn’t look much better than they smelled. The walls were fleshy and pulsed gently. They were made of something reminiscent of skin, but hairless and inhumanly pale. Sporadic patches of this skin had a powerful bioluminescent glow, by which the hall was lit. The stairs themselves were made of something hard and dark that made Andrew think of collagen or hoof horn. Unlike the pulsing walls, the stairs seemed immobile and solid. The clerk didn’t think twice about trusting them as he led Andrew down. A bone-white door at the bottom of the staircase flexed out of the way as they entered it. “Here it is,” the clerk said. Andrew looked around. Things weren’t getting any less Nälkän down here. The floor was a solid, almost flat slab of the same hard substance as the stairs. So were the shelves and counters. The rest was made of more skin “You’re not a Nälkän, are you?” the clerk asked. “My partner is,” Andrew said. “I’m getting something for him.” “Alright,” the clerk said. “Go ahead and look around.” Andrew did. The whole underground area was essentially a single room, designed, probably deliberately, so that every part of it would be visible from the front desk. The clerk took his place there. Andrew walked to the far side of the room. Sitting on shelves built into the walls were various round, vaguely head-shaped objects. Some of them lacked so many features that no one would see them as heads if they’d been on their own. Others were lifelike, with eyes that followed Andrew as he approached. “You’re… you’re not, like, people, are you?” Andrew whispered to the heads. Back at the counter, the clerk laughed. “Don’t worry,” he said. “They were grown on fleshvines. They’re no more sentient than a Venus flytrap.” That was a relief. Andrew slowly perused the shelves. The heads whose eyes were tracking him were “security monitors.” There were several other head-like products. One of them had large tubular mouth and large tongue. Its name suggested it was an adult toy, something Oz and Andrew had no need of. There was one head labeled “Aria.” It had no eyes, but the rest of its facial features were present. It was bald, and on the top of its head was a large, round, dark mole, under which the word “push” had been tattooed. Andrew hesitated. Slowly, he lifted his finger, and pressed it. The mouth opened. In a feminine voice, the head sang a gentle, haunting aria. Andrew couldn’t understand the words, but he recognized the sounds of Adytite. The head sang well. Its voice overshadowed the quiet pulsing that had previously defined the sound of this room, an intrusion of beauty into this stinking, ugly, gruesome place. Andrew wondered if the words it was singing were as beautiful as its voice, or as ugly as the thing that sang them. There was only one problem with this gift. It looked too strange. If they were going to keep an object in their apartment, it needed to be okay for people on the wrong side of the veil, like their landlord, to see it. Andrew made a mental note to come back to the head if he could find nothing else, but for now he moved on. The decorative items were actually more veil-friendly than the functional ones. That made sense. If the point of these things was to be displayed, of course they needed to be something that people could see. A lot of the decorations were organs in jars. Some of these were still functioning, and the ones that looked normal, well, they were pretty much just organs in jars. Oz would probably be disappointed by an item that almost could’ve been made without any fleshcrafting at all. Then Andrew spotted it. A decorative object that looked promising. It was labeled “octopus skin painting.” Inside a brown frame was a colorful autumn forest. Every object in the picture had texture to it. The trunks on the orange and brown trees were hard and rough. Their leaves protruded slightly from the painting’s background. The gentle creek that flowed through the center was gelatinous and had a water-like sheen. There was a button on the side of the frame. Andrew pressed it. The painting changed. Its canvas morphed, every inch of it recoloring and retexturing itself. It now depicted a snowy mountain, lined by evergreen trees, with a cozy cabin in the distance. Andrew pressed the button several more times. Every time he did, the painting changed. Its color and texture completely rewrote themselves to depict a different landscape. One was a volcanic mound, bright orange lava gently trickling down its slopes. After that, a beach, where colorful birds nested in tall trees. Next, a field of bright yellow flowers with a mountain in the distance. After that, a tall, craggy canyon with a rushing river running down its center, then a harsh cliffside, heavy waves crashing against it. The final image was the signature of the Nälkän anartist who had created this object, and, from there, it cycled back to the first image. Andrew looked at the price tag. It was high, but not quite high enough that he couldn’t afford it. Andrew carefully picked the large painting up from the wall. He brought it to the clerk, who began to ring him up. While the clerk was processing his sale, the door, the same one Andrew had come through, swung open. Andrew glanced over. A woman was coming through, carrying a vat of what Andrew was pretty sure was blood. Clinging to the side of it was a living creature, a big, meaty worm, attached to the glass by a series of suckers. Its whole body pulsed as it gorged itself on the blood it was suspended in. Andrew couldn’t help but shudder in disgust. The clerk chuckled. “You’re gonna have to get a stronger stomach if you’re going to date a Nälkän.” “Probably,” Andrew admitted. “That’s not… that’s not someone’s blood is it? Like, they didn’t take it from someone?” “No clue,” the clerk said. “They probably didn’t kill someone for it, if that’s what you’re worried about. If the blood came from someone, it was probably replaced immediately.” “Why not just make the blood, then?” “Bones already make blood. The easiest way to get more blood is to get them to make it faster. Once you’ve started that process, you actually //need// to extract it, or the excess blood will make the person’s blood pressure dangerously high, and, then, well… I’ll leave the worst-case scenario to your imagination.” “That’s probably for the best.” Andrew took a deep breath. It wasn’t his job to judge these people. If they wanted to safely use their bodies as blood factories, it was none of his business. Apparently, Andrew’s efforts to remind himself of this did not keep his revulsion from showing on his face. “This shit really bothers you, doesn’t it?” the clerk asked. “Yes. I’m sorry. Other than my partner, I don’t spend a lot of time around sarkites.” The instant he said it, the very instant, he froze. The clerk’s eyes widened. “Nälkäns,” Andrew hurried to correct himself, but it was clearly too late. “I’m sorry,” Andrew added. “Quiet,” the clerk shouted. Andrew was. For a second, he expected to be rebuked, but the clerk wasn’t saying anything. He was listening. He glared at Andrew, and, with a voice dripping with venom, said, “Mekhanite.” “I can explain—” “What the fuck are you doing here?” “It’s like I said—” “Really? You’re sticking with that story? That you’re dating one of us? You expect me to believe that? How would that even happen?” “It’s a long story,” Andrew said. “I’m sure.” “You can call him.” “Call him?” “Yes. He’s been here before. He can come here, prove he’s a true Nälkän with some flesh magic, and confirm that I’m safe.” The clerk thought for a moment. “Fine. Phone number.” Andrew gave him Oz’s phone number. He called it. The woman who’d been carrying the vat set it down and went to get more people. She probably thought there was a chance this would come to blows. If it did, Andrew would be badly outnumbered. Oz picked up his phone. The clerk had put him on speaker. “Oh, hey,” Oz said, voice full of casual cheer, “Is this about my order?” The clerk hesitated for a moment. “Order?” “The one I placed last week. The kidney-worm.” The clerk glanced at the vat. He glanced at the computer next to him. He typed something into it. He looked at the screen for a moment. His expression shifted. “Wait, you’re Oswald Markovic?” “Uh, yeah. Why did you call me if you didn’t already know that?” “Are you dating a Mekhanite?” “What?” “There’s a Mekhanite in the store. He says you can vouch for him. Is that true?” “What? What the fuck is he… Yes, yes, he’s telling the truth. I’m dating him. It’s a long story, but… gods, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what would make him think it was okay for him to go there without me, but you don’t have to worry about him. He’s not even in good standing with their church anymore. Just let me come get him. I’ll talk to him.” “See that you do,” the clerk said. “And see that it’s the last time you visit our store.” “Understood,” Oz said, after a moment. “The kidney worm is for my grandma. The delivery address is hers, not mine. It’s for the feasting day. I hope you’re still willing to deliver that?” The clerk sighed, as though this were an extremely cumbersome request. “Fine,” he said. “Thank you. I’ll head over right away.” Oz hung up. He looked at Andrew again. His gaze was just as cold and piercing as before. “Can… can I still buy the painting?” Andrew asked. “No.” Andrew hesitated for a moment. “Please? It’s actually for the feasting day as well. That’s why I came here. You’ll never see us again either way. It’s not like it’s something we I could use against you. There’s no reason for you not to take my money.” The clerk thought about that for a second. “Double.” “What?” “Mekhanite filth pays double.” “But that’d be more than two-hundred… Fine. Done.” ---- Once he arrived, Oz couldn’t get downstairs fast enough. The painting was already in box, covered in red wrapping paper. The vat, and the worm inside it, hadn’t been moved. Oz ran up to Andrew and grabbed him, pulling him into a hug. Andrew hugged him back. Oz was warm. Warmer than an unaltered human. His enhanced body used more energy, which meant his cells generated more heat. “Don’t you ever worry me like that again.” Oz said. “I’m sorry,” Andrew said. “What the hell are you doing here?” “Getting you a gift,” Andrew said, gesturing at the wrapped red box. It took Oz a moment to understand. “For the Feasting Day?” “I’m surprised he knows what that is,” the clerk said. “I told him,” Oz said. “I’m so sorry about this. I’ll take him home.” “Good,” the clerk said. “And the next time anyone here sees either of you, you’ll end up on our shelves, in pieces.” Oz took a deep breath. “That’s understandable,” he said. “Thank you for letting us leave this once. I’m sorry for the distress we’ve caused you.” The clerk scoffed. Two of the other workers led them upstairs, and out to the car. Oz made Andrew sit in the passenger seat. “Gods,” he said, as he pulled away from the store, “what in the actual fuck is wrong with you? Aren’t you supposed to worship a god of intellect? Of reason? Of //good// ideas that //don’t// have better-than-even odds of getting you killed?” “I’m sorry,” Andrew said. “It just seemed like it meant a lot to you.” Oz took a deep breath. “It does,” Oz admitted. “Thank you for getting me something, but never go somewhere like this on your own again, understood? Gods, why wouldn’t you just take me with you?” Andrew looked down at the floor of the car. “I was shopping for a gift,” he muttered. “I wanted it to be a surprise.” Oz’s face softened. “I’ll bring you,” Andrew said. “I’ll bring you to the next Nälkän place I go, if I ever go to one again.” “Good,” Oz said. He pulled out of the parking lot, and onto the road. Andrew hesitated for a moment. “So, what //was// that worm thing?” Andrew asked. “A gift for my grandma,” Oz said. “She’s old school enough that she does actual charity work for the feasting day. That worm is an artificial kidney. Drinks blood from one end, cleans it, then secretes it back into your veins from the other. It’ll be a big help to the hospital she works with.” Andrew imagined for a moment what it would be like to have that thing latched onto you. To feel it devouring your blood, then secreting it back inside, all while its suckers gripped you, and the whole creature pulsed. “If we are doing stuff for the Feasting Day,” Oz said, “there are a couple of other things we’ll need to get. I’ll need to prepare a special meal. There would normally be decorations, but we’re in a veil-sensitive situation, so we’ll skip out on those. I suppose I’ll make you a gift, too.” “That’s very kind of you.” “No problem,” Oz said. “That just leaves the orgy.” Andrew waited for a moment for Oz to start laughing. He didn’t. Andrew’s eyes widened. “Wait… is… is the orgy real? I thought that part had been a joke. You said—” Oz smirked. “The child sacrifice was a joke. The orgy is very, very real.” “Oh,” Andrew said. Oz reached across the car and lay his hand on Andrew’s thigh. “It’ll just be the two of us, but, well, if we’re going to celebrate the holiday right…” “Okay,” Andrew said. “Good boy,” Oz said. He patted Andrew’s thigh twice, then pulled his hand back to the steering wheel. [[=]] ,,[[[xhawk77x\|More by this Author]]],, [[/=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-06-27T21:44:00	[ "_licensebox", "body-horror", "broken-god", "heartwarming", "horror", "lgbtq", "pridefest2024", "religious-fiction", "romance", "sarkic", "slice-of-life", "tale" ]	The Feasting Day of Klavigar Nadox - SCP Foundation	22	[ "xhawk77x", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "sarkicism-hub", "pridefest", "church-of-the-broken-god-hub" ]	[]	1454331447	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-feasting-day-of-klavigar-nadox
the-first-free-and-ignorant	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p>When I first came to be, I found myself in a vastness of nothingness, colored in darkness. I tried to look at my body, but I wasn't physical; I had nothing to see. I tried to move; I got the sensation of moving somewhere, but I couldn't tell.</p> <p>So I waited, but I figured time wasn't a thing yet. But I waited, either way, waited for something to happen. And I waited for a long, long time. If time existed, it would be equal to 70 billion years, and maybe even more.</p> <p>But nothing came; nothing happened. Not here yet, at least. I developed emotions here, but they weren't enjoyable feelings to have. If a human or a superhuman were to be in my position, they would have gone mad from the lack of stimuli until they were in a vegetative state within the first year. The emotions kept building up; I didn't know if they were good or bad; those were the only feelings I knew of back then, so I couldn't create a duality of good feelings and bad feelings.</p> <p>But I wouldn't say I liked the sensation they gave me. Looking back at it now, they were terrible feelings.</p> <p>Then, finally, I saw something—a little sparkle, a little source of light. I watched it grow bigger and bigger until it shined through my formless body and this place I existed in. It was beautiful.</p> <p>Then, I got to open my eyes for the first time. I looked down and at my hands. I touched my body, feeling a sensation I had never felt before. I was wearing a suit, a fedora, and a briefcase next to me. I didn't know what they were back then, but I carried them anyway.</p> <p>I looked at the realm I existed in; despite the light, only I existed and nothing else. I thought that something just <em>had</em> to exist here; if it didn't, I would make something exist. I roamed through this infinite realm, and it was empty, so dreadfully empty.</p> <p>I tried to imagine anything that came to mind. But I had nothing to feed my mind on for all these timeless years. I looked at my briefcase; that was the only image I knew of, the only image I had ever seen.</p> <p>I took that image inside my mind and played with it. It turned it into a stick, then a brick, then a box, then a cup, then a piece of clothing, then a painting.</p> <p>I kept whatever I created in my mind, mixing them to help me create new images inside my head. Then, perhaps, another numberless amount of years had passed. I never got bored of it; it distracted me from my bad emotions.</p> <p>Then, before I knew it, I had created infinite images inside my head. I looked back into the realm and said, "Be!" and there they were.</p> <p>I didn't know what they were called back then, but now I know that they're called "universes." But I didn't know how laws functioned back then, so if you were to look at them now, you would see a lot of… nonsense. Many laws were broken; even the laws that weren't discovered or given a name for, I created things I didn't know I could create nor knew how they worked. But I've had infinite shots at it, so I was able to create infinite possible and impossible universes.</p> <p>I decided to keep them for myself. But I wanted to know more. Sorry, I was just very curious back then. I created a thing that encompassed these universes. It would hold all the information of these universes, down to the smallest of details: the lives, the space and time, the mathematics, every physical possibility, quantum mechanics, everything dimensional related, everything logically possible and impossible for modal logic. Everything that made sense and didn't make sense. I wanted them for myself.</p> <p>I named this thing "Master Emulator."</p> <p>Then I stayed here. For a long, long time.</p> <p>…</p> <p>But something felt missing. As if I had forgotten about something. And it was… me.</p> <p>I hadn't given myself a name. I hadn't known about myself yet. I named myself "Apsel." I didn't like it, but it would do wonders for a nickname.</p> <p>I went to one of these universes I created. It was… much less lifeful than I had expected. But I found a mirror in there, and I saw myself for the first time. My eyes widened; I saw my hat, my… non-existent face, my suit. I pulled my sleeves up in an attempt to see my skin, but it was just… blurry.</p> <p>Maybe it was never meant to be seen. It saddened me, but… I managed to shrug it off. This was the first time I felt the emotion called "disappointment," and I didn't like it.</p> <p>I roamed this universe. But, again, it was lifeless. It was lonely. So I ascended back to my position. And stayed there for another numberless years. It was uneventful. It was… boring.</p> <p>Then I saw that light again, shining through my creation. My eyes hurt; it was bright—so, so, so bright. But I was desperate for a change. Then, the light ceased. I looked back at my creation; nothing had changed again.</p> <p>But, by intuition, I knew this was meant to tell me something. I looked at my Master Emulator. It was now attached to something called "Infosphere." I was confused, excited, and scared. I felt new emotions with this discovery, and I felt… <em>happy</em>. Did I find a way to finally escape the doom of the limits of my imagination? Did I finally get the chance to explore the other side of the creation? I asked myself a lot of questions back then. I was simply excited. I enjoyed that feeling.</p> <p>When I was gone to see whatever this Infosphere thing was, I saw something that cannot be rationalized by the human mind, so let me put it like this: I saw a majestic, large, cosmic bridge, expanding infinitely to the other side. I took my first steps forward; it was stable and secure. I continued and looked at my sides and saw stars, galaxies, and black holes. I saw many beautiful things.</p> <p>I tightened my grip on my briefcase, looked at the infinity that expanded before my eyes, and saw the end of it. It filled me with even more excitement; my mind screamed at me to just run, but I held my patience. I simply continued to walk, and walk, and walk. Then, after the blink of an eye, I reached the other side.</p> <p>I was inside the Infosphere now, and I saw… many things, many pieces of information. I was amazed by it. I looked beneath the Infosphere since I guessed that it must function like how I created my Master Emulator.</p> <p>I descended, past the many glorious creations, but then I had to stop my passage unfinished. I saw a realm that looked very similar to mine. It was what people had named "Oneiorosphere," the realm of all human dreams. It was rather a confusing place for those who were accustomed to the laws of their reality.</p> <p>They had nightmares there, too. Those nightmares were dangerous, having the potential to kill the dreamer. I took note of this place and disappeared before I was noticed by anybody.</p> <p>I continued to descend before I reached what they call "baseline reality," where I saw humans, humanity, animals, art, the clouds, the sun, younglings, adults, skyscrapers, businesses, constructions, automobiles, civilizations, and cultures.</p> <p>I was overwhelmed, but I <em>loved</em> that feeling.</p> <p>I tried to talk to people, but it seemed like I was… invisible. I tried to do everything to get their attention, whether it be directly or indirectly; I was simply unable to be detected by any sense or system.</p> <p>But I hadn't given up; even if I was unnoticeable, I would continue to spend time with humans. I would "sleep" and "wake up" according to their timings; I would watch movies with them; I would go to restaurants with them; and I would be with them when they were at their lowest and highest point of their lives.</p> <p>Even if I was not the one living that life, I could feel the emotions as if I did. I loved this side of the creation. Nobody was there for me when I was inside that motionless, cosmic void. So, I wanted to make them feel company even if I could not be seen or felt.</p> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-4999">But I figured that someone had taken that role for me—an aspect of it, at least.</a> Even then, I didn't want to leave here.</p> <p>But then, suddenly, I felt a feeling of… <em>pain, a sharp, cutting pain.</em> As if something just stabbed me in the back and moved it downwards to my spine. My eyes widened as I bled metaphorically. My intuition told me that someone… <em>something</em> had just attacked MY creation.</p> <p>Before even the smallest unit of a second, I immediately went all the way back to my realm and saw a <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-3812">star</a>, emitting light and shockwaves that damaged MY creation.</p> <p>As I watched that star lay its light on my creation, I felt a new emotion; it felt like something was boiling inside me. It made my mind violent. I dropped my suitcase into the vastness of emptiness and unleashed my power on the threat. I didn't know how he came here, but I didn't care about that at that point. I was mad, and I could use this emotion to my advantage. I felt anger for the first time, and I was not too fond of it.</p> <p>It was… not easy, trying to fight it off and not have MY creation destroyed, but at last, the star had stopped shining and, shortly after, I made him cease not from existence but non-existence as well. I didn't want it here, and they wouldn't want it either. It was only then that I felt that boiling sensation cool down.</p> <p>I looked at my creation again; more than a quarter of it was gone, almost half of it. It was wounded, bleeding. Oh, my dear creation, I'm sorry I failed you. I felt… <em>sadness</em>—an immense quality of <em>sadness</em>. I didn't know why; this place was the only place I could call "home." Even if it was not entertaining, it was MY creation, and I would have no mercy on anybody trying to mess with MY creation.</p> <p>From this point onward, I decided not to leave here. I fixed the damaged parts of MY creation and promised to stay here. But I wanted to continue to experience life, too.</p> <p>I stayed here for a long, long time. I saw the reflection of myself flash before my eyes—a blurry face, eyes covered by a permanent shadow from the unremovable fedora, a permanently attached suit, and a briefcase.</p> <p>I closed my eyes. I relived those moments of humanity inside my head; I wanted to go back, but I was just too attached to MY creation.</p> <p>I remembered how I was ignored by everyone; I remembered how I couldn't get the attention of anybody. I was practically a nobody…</p> <p>Then, I opened my eyes in a heartbeat, nonexistent pupils sparkling in determination. I went back to the Infosphere and emanated all of <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/nobody-hub">Nobodys</a> into the other side of the creation, and I made the concept very cleverly so that they can be flexible in goals and personality but still suffer from the same root issue and share common interests and similarities. I gave them a small essence of myself so that they could recognize each other.</p> <p>Once that was done, I sent a direct projection into the oneiorosphere. They called him—or me—the "Hatman," a sleep paralysis demon. A man in pure pitch black with a fedora and red-dot eyes, watching people from the corners of their rooms. I replaced the "nightmares" that could kill them, so this was a gift from me, even if they deemed it "scary"</p> <p>Now, I am able to watch everything from the Master Emulator; thanks to its connection to the Infosphere, I don't need to go there anymore.</p> <p>I renamed Master Emulator to "Anti-Infosphere.", I found it fitting.</p> <p>I have decided to name myself "Humanoid Inaccessible Mascot."</p> <p>I am humanoid.</p> <p>I am inaccessible to anything while I am in MY realm, MY creation.</p> <p>I am a mascot for all the Nobodys.</p> <p>I am not God.</p> <p>I am something far greater.</p> <p>And until the day the light erases everything, I will continue to stay here and protect what made me discover myself.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>« <a href="/the-first-free-and-ignorant">The First, Free and Ignorant</a> \| <a href="/when-god-wept">When God Wept</a> »</strong></p> </div> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] When I first came to be, I found myself in a vastness of nothingness, colored in darkness. I tried to look at my body, but I wasn't physical; I had nothing to see. I tried to move; I got the sensation of moving somewhere, but I couldn't tell. So I waited, but I figured time wasn't a thing yet. But I waited, either way, waited for something to happen. And I waited for a long, long time. If time existed, it would be equal to 70 billion years, and maybe even more. But nothing came; nothing happened. Not here yet, at least. I developed emotions here, but they weren't enjoyable feelings to have. If a human or a superhuman were to be in my position, they would have gone mad from the lack of stimuli until they were in a vegetative state within the first year. The emotions kept building up; I didn't know if they were good or bad; those were the only feelings I knew of back then, so I couldn't create a duality of good feelings and bad feelings. But I wouldn't say I liked the sensation they gave me. Looking back at it now, they were terrible feelings. Then, finally, I saw something—a little sparkle, a little source of light. I watched it grow bigger and bigger until it shined through my formless body and this place I existed in. It was beautiful. Then, I got to open my eyes for the first time. I looked down and at my hands. I touched my body, feeling a sensation I had never felt before. I was wearing a suit, a fedora, and a briefcase next to me. I didn't know what they were back then, but I carried them anyway. I looked at the realm I existed in; despite the light, only I existed and nothing else. I thought that something just //had// to exist here; if it didn't, I would make something exist. I roamed through this infinite realm, and it was empty, so dreadfully empty. I tried to imagine anything that came to mind. But I had nothing to feed my mind on for all these timeless years. I looked at my briefcase; that was the only image I knew of, the only image I had ever seen. I took that image inside my mind and played with it. It turned it into a stick, then a brick, then a box, then a cup, then a piece of clothing, then a painting. I kept whatever I created in my mind, mixing them to help me create new images inside my head. Then, perhaps, another numberless amount of years had passed. I never got bored of it; it distracted me from my bad emotions. Then, before I knew it, I had created infinite images inside my head. I looked back into the realm and said, "Be!" and there they were. I didn't know what they were called back then, but now I know that they're called "universes." But I didn't know how laws functioned back then, so if you were to look at them now, you would see a lot of... nonsense. Many laws were broken; even the laws that weren't discovered or given a name for, I created things I didn't know I could create nor knew how they worked. But I've had infinite shots at it, so I was able to create infinite possible and impossible universes. I decided to keep them for myself. But I wanted to know more. Sorry, I was just very curious back then. I created a thing that encompassed these universes. It would hold all the information of these universes, down to the smallest of details: the lives, the space and time, the mathematics, every physical possibility, quantum mechanics, everything dimensional related, everything logically possible and impossible for modal logic. Everything that made sense and didn't make sense. I wanted them for myself. I named this thing "Master Emulator." Then I stayed here. For a long, long time. ... But something felt missing. As if I had forgotten about something. And it was... me. I hadn't given myself a name. I hadn't known about myself yet. I named myself "Apsel." I didn't like it, but it would do wonders for a nickname. I went to one of these universes I created. It was... much less lifeful than I had expected. But I found a mirror in there, and I saw myself for the first time. My eyes widened; I saw my hat, my... non-existent face, my suit. I pulled my sleeves up in an attempt to see my skin, but it was just... blurry. Maybe it was never meant to be seen. It saddened me, but... I managed to shrug it off. This was the first time I felt the emotion called "disappointment," and I didn't like it. I roamed this universe. But, again, it was lifeless. It was lonely. So I ascended back to my position. And stayed there for another numberless years. It was uneventful. It was... boring. Then I saw that light again, shining through my creation. My eyes hurt; it was bright—so, so, so bright. But I was desperate for a change. Then, the light ceased. I looked back at my creation; nothing had changed again. But, by intuition, I knew this was meant to tell me something. I looked at my Master Emulator. It was now attached to something called "Infosphere." I was confused, excited, and scared. I felt new emotions with this discovery, and I felt... //happy//. Did I find a way to finally escape the doom of the limits of my imagination? Did I finally get the chance to explore the other side of the creation? I asked myself a lot of questions back then. I was simply excited. I enjoyed that feeling. When I was gone to see whatever this Infosphere thing was, I saw something that cannot be rationalized by the human mind, so let me put it like this: I saw a majestic, large, cosmic bridge, expanding infinitely to the other side. I took my first steps forward; it was stable and secure. I continued and looked at my sides and saw stars, galaxies, and black holes. I saw many beautiful things. I tightened my grip on my briefcase, looked at the infinity that expanded before my eyes, and saw the end of it. It filled me with even more excitement; my mind screamed at me to just run, but I held my patience. I simply continued to walk, and walk, and walk. Then, after the blink of an eye, I reached the other side. I was inside the Infosphere now, and I saw... many things, many pieces of information. I was amazed by it. I looked beneath the Infosphere since I guessed that it must function like how I created my Master Emulator. I descended, past the many glorious creations, but then I had to stop my passage unfinished. I saw a realm that looked very similar to mine. It was what people had named "Oneiorosphere," the realm of all human dreams. It was rather a confusing place for those who were accustomed to the laws of their reality. They had nightmares there, too. Those nightmares were dangerous, having the potential to kill the dreamer. I took note of this place and disappeared before I was noticed by anybody. I continued to descend before I reached what they call "baseline reality," where I saw humans, humanity, animals, art, the clouds, the sun, younglings, adults, skyscrapers, businesses, constructions, automobiles, civilizations, and cultures. I was overwhelmed, but I //loved// that feeling. I tried to talk to people, but it seemed like I was... invisible. I tried to do everything to get their attention, whether it be directly or indirectly; I was simply unable to be detected by any sense or system. But I hadn't given up; even if I was unnoticeable, I would continue to spend time with humans. I would "sleep" and "wake up" according to their timings; I would watch movies with them; I would go to restaurants with them; and I would be with them when they were at their lowest and highest point of their lives. Even if I was not the one living that life, I could feel the emotions as if I did. I loved this side of the creation. Nobody was there for me when I was inside that motionless, cosmic void. So, I wanted to make them feel company even if I could not be seen or felt. [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-4999 \| But I figured that someone had taken that role for me—an aspect of it, at least.]]] Even then, I didn't want to leave here. But then, suddenly, I felt a feeling of... //pain, a sharp, cutting pain.// As if something just stabbed me in the back and moved it downwards to my spine. My eyes widened as I bled metaphorically. My intuition told me that someone... //something// had just attacked MY creation. Before even the smallest unit of a second, I immediately went all the way back to my realm and saw a [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-3812 \|star]]], emitting light and shockwaves that damaged MY creation. As I watched that star lay its light on my creation, I felt a new emotion; it felt like something was boiling inside me. It made my mind violent. I dropped my suitcase into the vastness of emptiness and unleashed my power on the threat. I didn't know how he came here, but I didn't care about that at that point. I was mad, and I could use this emotion to my advantage. I felt anger for the first time, and I was not too fond of it. It was... not easy, trying to fight it off and not have MY creation destroyed, but at last, the star had stopped shining and, shortly after, I made him cease not from existence but non-existence as well. I didn't want it here, and they wouldn't want it either. It was only then that I felt that boiling sensation cool down. I looked at my creation again; more than a quarter of it was gone, almost half of it. It was wounded, bleeding. Oh, my dear creation, I'm sorry I failed you. I felt... //sadness//—an immense quality of //sadness//. I didn't know why; this place was the only place I could call "home." Even if it was not entertaining, it was MY creation, and I would have no mercy on anybody trying to mess with MY creation. From this point onward, I decided not to leave here. I fixed the damaged parts of MY creation and promised to stay here. But I wanted to continue to experience life, too. I stayed here for a long, long time. I saw the reflection of myself flash before my eyes—a blurry face, eyes covered by a permanent shadow from the unremovable fedora, a permanently attached suit, and a briefcase. I closed my eyes. I relived those moments of humanity inside my head; I wanted to go back, but I was just too attached to MY creation. I remembered how I was ignored by everyone; I remembered how I couldn't get the attention of anybody. I was practically a nobody... Then, I opened my eyes in a heartbeat, nonexistent pupils sparkling in determination. I went back to the Infosphere and emanated all of [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/nobody-hub \| Nobodys]]] into the other side of the creation, and I made the concept very cleverly so that they can be flexible in goals and personality but still suffer from the same root issue and share common interests and similarities. I gave them a small essence of myself so that they could recognize each other. Once that was done, I sent a direct projection into the oneiorosphere. They called him—or me—the "Hatman," a sleep paralysis demon. A man in pure pitch black with a fedora and red-dot eyes, watching people from the corners of their rooms. I replaced the "nightmares" that could kill them, so this was a gift from me, even if they deemed it "scary" Now, I am able to watch everything from the Master Emulator; thanks to its connection to the Infosphere, I don't need to go there anymore. I renamed Master Emulator to "Anti-Infosphere.", I found it fitting. I have decided to name myself "Humanoid Inaccessible Mascot." I am humanoid. I am inaccessible to anything while I am in MY realm, MY creation. I am a mascot for all the Nobodys. I am not God. I am something far greater. And until the day the light erases everything, I will continue to stay here and protect what made me discover myself. [[div class="footer-wikiwalk-nav"]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]] [[/div]] [[=]] << [[[ The First, Free and Ignorant ]]] \| [[[When God Wept]]] >> [[/=]]	2024-09-28T08:29:00	[ "first-person", "nobody", "tale" ]	The First, Free and Ignorant - SCP Foundation	4	[ "scp-4999", "scp-3812", "nobody-hub", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide", "when-god-wept" ]	[ "nobody-hub" ]	[]	1456946546	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-first-free-and-ignorant
the-fountainhead	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=1&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Amcd/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p>In the dark, separated by multiple capacious halls from the plate-glass windows of the mansion, a fountain rises, roaring loud. It sits at the center of a great, vacant room with marble flooring and sixteen identical chandeliers at regular intervals across its ceiling, four by four. (Not that one can see any of it; it’s black as night, and all the lights are out.)</p> <p>The property is dusted every few days, faithfully, like a shrine to a god. The cleaners reach this room by filing down the thin back-hallways where they know they will never run into any of the people who might hypothetically come. But nobody’s been in the mansion in years but the cleaners, and they know it. It might be the case- it must at some point have been the case- that some cleaner looked at some item of finery a little too long, and let some urge bloom deep within his chest, but if this happened (and it must have happened; Marshall can’t imagine that it would never have happened,) they would have recalled the cameras that lurked in each corner, and continued their tasks.</p> <p>When the cleaners arrive in the room, the motion sensors flick all the lights on in one movement, like the start of a play. And then the fountain, whose central plumes rise thirty feet into the air, is bathed at once in holy light, as is the ballroom, as are the vacant cedar tables. A few hours pass, each time, in that light. Then the cleaners leave, and fifteen minutes after the cessation of motion within the room, the fountain, still roiling, passes back into the dark.</p> <p>The cleaners can’t turn off the fountain. It takes a key to turn off the fountain. They see the key-hole on the central panel, the one you get open by pressing a hidden button in the marble wall; they have to dust the central panel, to get it ready if someone should require it. They don’t know who has the key. Nor is it something about which they have the authority to ask. So the fountain keeps going, in a room that comprises perhaps 5% of the area of Judd Marshall’s Florida mansion, a home that has never seen Marshall, who lives in New York, nor his wife, who lives with his minor children in Los Angeles. It does not see his other children, who live all over the world; it neither sees the ones he calls who do not answer, or the ones that call and are not answered. (They shift, at times, from the former to the latter; one tires so quickly of what one has.)</p> <p>None whose names are known to Marshall have ever seen the house. No guests have ever seen the house. But the expense associated with the maintenance of the fountain is recorded; it sits down some series of figures, linked in turn to some series of figures, all of which are counterbalanced by an intake that gets larger every year.</p> <p>So the fountain pulses, pulses, beating like a human heart.</p> <p>Two hundred feet from it, the windows of the house run floor-to-ceiling, forty feet in height. They are blind almost always for lack of any to see through them, and they rear out over an azure gulf; beneath them, waves push up against a stretch of sand as white as gypsum; palm trees dot that stretch like filigree, and it is beautiful, beautiful. It is so lovely that the cleaners sometimes pause to gaze upon it, though their downtime is closely measured and deducted from their wage, and consequently they do not look for very long.</p> <p><br/></p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-fountainhead">The Fountainhead</a>" by habaniah, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-fountainhead">https://scpwiki.com/the-fountainhead</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:mcd">:scp-wiki:theme:mcd</a>]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] In the dark, separated by multiple capacious halls from the plate-glass windows of the mansion, a fountain rises, roaring loud. It sits at the center of a great, vacant room with marble flooring and sixteen identical chandeliers at regular intervals across its ceiling, four by four. (Not that one can see any of it; it’s black as night, and all the lights are out.) The property is dusted every few days, faithfully, like a shrine to a god. The cleaners reach this room by filing down the thin back-hallways where they know they will never run into any of the people who might hypothetically come. But nobody’s been in the mansion in years but the cleaners, and they know it. It might be the case- it must at some point have been the case- that some cleaner looked at some item of finery a little too long, and let some urge bloom deep within his chest, but if this happened (and it must have happened; Marshall can’t imagine that it would never have happened,) they would have recalled the cameras that lurked in each corner, and continued their tasks. When the cleaners arrive in the room, the motion sensors flick all the lights on in one movement, like the start of a play. And then the fountain, whose central plumes rise thirty feet into the air, is bathed at once in holy light, as is the ballroom, as are the vacant cedar tables. A few hours pass, each time, in that light. Then the cleaners leave, and fifteen minutes after the cessation of motion within the room, the fountain, still roiling, passes back into the dark. The cleaners can’t turn off the fountain. It takes a key to turn off the fountain. They see the key-hole on the central panel, the one you get open by pressing a hidden button in the marble wall; they have to dust the central panel, to get it ready if someone should require it. They don’t know who has the key. Nor is it something about which they have the authority to ask. So the fountain keeps going, in a room that comprises perhaps 5% of the area of Judd Marshall’s Florida mansion, a home that has never seen Marshall, who lives in New York, nor his wife, who lives with his minor children in Los Angeles. It does not see his other children, who live all over the world; it neither sees the ones he calls who do not answer, or the ones that call and are not answered. (They shift, at times, from the former to the latter; one tires so quickly of what one has.) None whose names are known to Marshall have ever seen the house. No guests have ever seen the house. But the expense associated with the maintenance of the fountain is recorded; it sits down some series of figures, linked in turn to some series of figures, all of which are counterbalanced by an intake that gets larger every year. So the fountain pulses, pulses, beating like a human heart. Two hundred feet from it, the windows of the house run floor-to-ceiling, forty feet in height. They are blind almost always for lack of any to see through them, and they rear out over an azure gulf; beneath them, waves push up against a stretch of sand as white as gypsum; palm trees dot that stretch like filigree, and it is beautiful, beautiful. It is so lovely that the cleaners sometimes pause to gaze upon it, though their downtime is closely measured and deducted from their wage, and consequently they do not look for very long. @@ @@ @@ @@ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-12-27T05:23:00	[ "marshall-carter-and-dark", "tale" ]	The Fountainhead - SCP Foundation	12	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "tales-by-year", "shortest-pages-by-month", "marshall-carter-and-dark-hub", "shortest-pages-this-month", "news" ]	[]	1458135820	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-fountainhead
the-golden-threads-weaving-us-together	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="preview"> <p>Love endures.</p> </div> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=1&theme=https://cdn.scpwiki.com/theme/en/basalt/normalize-min.css&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=2&theme=https://cdn.scpwiki.com/theme/en/basalt/basalt-bedrock-min.css&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=3&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Abasalt/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=4&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Abasalt/2&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <div style="display: none;"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="scp-image-block block-center" style="width:100%;"><img alt="Pride_SCPclip.png" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-golden-threads-weaving-us-together/Pride_SCPclip.png"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="byline"> <p><span>by <a href="/miss-lapis">Miss Lapis</a> and <a href="/who-s-afraid-of-ulrike-meinhof">Nonacherontia</a></span><br/> <span>Happy Pride</span></p> </div> </div> <p>Whenever she visited Qaya-Ram, Rahima was awestruck at how different it was from Amoni-Ram: so much smaller, more compact, more labyrinthine. There was no constant roar of the vehicles, no ambient chatter, only the soft hum of the railway, the occasional scholar's footsteps, and trees, grass, shrubs… So much greenery.</p> <p>The air whipped at her face as she dove through the sky, her headscarf and long purple gown fluttering behind her like the tail of a comet. The two tightly sealed bags on her were heavy with everything she needed for her extended weeklong visits there. So sharp was her descent that, were she not careful in securing them, their contents would have rained down with her.</p> <p>The guards at the gate welcomed her with a salute. The procedure was familiar to her: she showed her visiting permit to them, waiting until they marked and signed it, taking it back from them with a <em>thank you</em>, and crossing the gates into the city proper.</p> <p>She had two ways to get to the main academy at the maze-like city's heart: the train or her wings. Waiting for the train was tiresome, but flying was a spectacle, drawing the stares of all Qaya-Ram. Wings were much rarer there.</p> <p>It took all of an instant before she returned to the air. <em>What's the harm in their awe?</em> It would not be long until her relocation application was approved. After that, they would see so much of her that her flying would be novel no longer. Moving from Amoni-Ram to here would allow her to spend more time with her love. Her beautiful, quiet darling with that lithe body and those gentle smiling eyes…</p> <p>The bright sunlight reflected itself off the fuladh tiling of the academy's dome, probably the only other building in the Mekhanite empire to rival the beauty of the Great Palace of Amoni-Ram. Its stained glass windows and mosaics depicted Mekhane herself, schematics of various machinery (many of which she could recognize, thanks to spending so much time with Jawahir), or abstract, carefully crafted patterns. It housed knowledge, wisdom, scholars, being at the center of science and religion. Science <em>was</em> religion, and religion was science.</p> <p>Her landing was so graceful that her footfall scarcely made a sound. The guard answered her customary bow.</p> <p>"She's in the library on Floor Two." They had done this so often the question was already understood. The Academy's staff was very familiar with her, flying and destination alike.</p> <p>The kindness warmed Rahima, and she repaid the courtesy with a nod and smile, "Thank you!"</p> <p>The silence of the place was disturbed by her fuladh footsteps, each step ringing out with a sharp <em>clink</em>.</p> <p>Scholars and clerks lazed around in the ever-quiet library with their blueprints and books. Those not sketching or reading were asleep or holding quiet discussions with their peers. A little old lady was napping at the front desk: Jawahir's mother.</p> <p>In the far end of the library sat the girl herself, the light of her life, in the company of her friends. Unlike the corridor, a soft, fuzzy carpet covered the room's floor, muffling Rahima's footsteps while she tiptoed onward.</p> <p>Her lips slid open in a mischievous grin. Reaching forward, her hands covered Jawahir's eyes. "Guess who?"</p> <p>Jawahir yelped and bolted out of the seat in shock, and the tumult caused all of her scholar friends to burst into laughter. It took Rahima the greatest effort not to join them. When the girl turned around to spot the agent of her surprise, the shock was replaced with joy.</p> <p>"Rahima!" Jawahir's voice was full of adoration as she joined to her in a strong, four-armed embrace. Rahima wanted to melt into the warmth of her body.</p> <p>Her mouth inches from her lover's ear, her lips breathed, "Just the sight of you and my tongue is broken." She grinned as Jawahir shivered. "Every moon between us feels like a longing without end."</p> <p>Jawahir gave a flustered giggle. "I wish I had your tongue for words. All my heart can do is scream…" Rahima nuzzled into her shoulders, inhaling her precious scent: a combination of the sweet, soft aroma of her perfume, the verdant musk of books around her, the sweet machine oil quickening in their embracing metal.</p> <p>After a week apart, every second felt too dear to water down with restraint. They could not contain themselves to fit in the library's silence anymore. With a breathless farewell to the scholars, they giddily made for the door. Jawahir gave a quick squeeze to her mom's hand before leaving. The little old lady woke up and smiled at the two girls before dozing off again.</p> <p>Once returning to the corridor, Rahima immediately ran into her love's embrace again with a happy squeal, who lifted her in the air with her four arms. She felt Jawahir's two flesh arms tremble as she carried her, and not from her weight.</p> <p>The two descended into the courtyard, serene and peaceful as always, filled with the rustling of the leaves and the sound of flowing water. Rahima felt truly weightless.</p> <div class="fancyborder"> <p>The courtyard of the Academy brimmed with lecturers and students, spending time together or alone, relaxing or studying under the canopies. Like much about Amoni-Ram, those were a compromise after the last tree in the yard got cut down. They would never fully be able to replace the greenery, but the shadow they provided was good enough.</p> <p>Under one such canopy sat Rahima. Her Jawahir lay her head in her lap, tracing the patterns on her gown: golden constellations and geometric patterns painted on a nicely contrasting dark blue fabric.</p> <p>"And that's Mekhane's Eye." The girl's voice was quiet and low as her fingers caressed one of the constellations on Rahima's chest. "I look for it in the stars before I sleep. The Goddess' watch comforts me. What say you?"</p> <p>"Of course. At night, I see our Goddess's eyes amidst the heavens, and by day," her voice dimmed to a playful husk, "I see Her eyes when I look at my Jawahir, whether she is above or below."</p> <p>This caught Jawahir off-guard. Big-eyed and flushed, she slowly wrapped her hands around Rahima's delicate neck and pulled her down, first touching her lips against those of her love, then sealing into their kiss with a passionate squeal. Breathless and panting when they fell apart, they looked at each other, breaking out in small giggles.</p> <p>The bliss did not last long, though, the same way as a passing cloud hid the sun's rays within a moment's notice. Jawahir's face darkened, and Rahima knew the reason behind it. With Emperor Ansool's passing, many of their fellow woman-students shared one worry among them:</p> <p>"Will we graduate in time…?"</p> <p>"Before Emperor Qiqyn bars us from the Academy once again?" Rahima knew her so well she could finish her sentences. A tear flowed down her love's cheeks, and a sad, choked-back <em>m-hm</em> followed. The idea alone was too terrible for Jawahir, let alone the thought of having to say this out loud. Her scholarly career meant everything to her. In an attempt to comfort her, Rahima ran her fingers through Jawahir's short, beautiful, deep brown hair, caressing her with a gentle touch. Smiling down at the girl with sadness filling her eyes, she finished her thought. "Hopefully… He has only been on the throne for a couple of years, and this would anger too many people. He would need a lot more time to consolidate his position."</p> <p>Jawahir's response was but a ragged whisper: "Even if I never make it to Qaya-Ram because—because of him… I'll always have you by my side. That's enough for me." A couple more tears followed, and then, after a shaky inhale, her silent crying ceased. She returned Rahima's somber smile, and her hand slowly drifted to her face, cradling it gently.</p> <p>Rahima's cheeks got a little redder. They had been seeing each other for two years now, but her darling's affectionate touch never failed to make her blush.</p> <p>Bathed in tranquility, she mindlessly played with the patterns on her love's clothes. Nothing as fancy as hers, just a simple red linen gown decorated with a golden stripe. Scraping her nails against the embroidery felt good. Definitely better than the painted-on stars on her own gown and headscarf.</p> <p>The feeling of threads on linen was good, but on silk was even better. She could get Jawahir a silken scarf for their anniversary. Maybe even a full-on dress.</p> <p>"What thought possesses you?" Jawahir asked with a small giggle.</p> <p>Rahima didn't even notice herself zoning out. She responded with a truth: "You."</p> <p>Always you.</p> <p>The bell rang. The recess ended.</p> <p>The courtyard descended into a flurry as the students and lecturers rushed to their classes for fear of being late. The multidisciplinary Academy held its courses in its different wings. Rahima studied literature, while Jawahir's field of choice was theological engineering. That meant they wouldn't see each other until the end of the day.</p> <p>That was not a lot of time, but it felt just a bit too long for both of their liking.</p> <p>Many couples parted in front of the main entrance or one of the side entrances. The luckier ones went to their classes hand in hand. Rahima and Jawahir exchanged one more quick kiss and embrace before they parted to resume their studies.</p> </div> <p>The courtyard's fountain was dedicated to Mekhane, its centerpiece showcased the Goddess in her battle armor and helmet, her beauty and glory. The rim, on the other hand, was covered in mathematical formulae, the likes of which Rahima would never understand in her lifetime, not even with her love's interest in it.</p> <p>Other than a gardener prettying the trees with his built-in hedge trimmer, they had the place to themselves. He minded not their presence, waving at them and resuming his work as if nobody else was there.</p> <p>The girls did not mind his presence either. This silence and solitude brought them at ease.</p> <p>After they sat down on the fountain's edge, Jawahir's voice and gaze took on a serious tone. Looking in front of herself with furrowed brows, her voice was but a hoarse whisper. "How fares your household? What do your parents intend for you? Have the men stopped bothering you?"</p> <p>Rahima shook her head. "They know I have been visiting Qaya-Ram but know not of my reasons. And as for my suitors… Yes, thank Mekhane, their interest has waned with time and more eager prospects."</p> <p>She did not like how tense her love had become. In the same manner she used to do when they both were studying at Amoni-Ram's Great Academy, she pulled Jawahir's head into her lap and began to caress her hair lovingly. Slightly longer than her own, even with her curls. And it was framing her face so lovely… That beautiful tan face, with a skin so soft and delicate. It was a blessing to graze that warm skin with her lips.</p> <p>"Under our care, the reactors grow more perfect." Slowly, the girl's tensions dissipated, with her now leaning into Rahima's touch with comfort. "In due time, they will be a suitable foundation for Empress Bileath's own reactor design, a leap into unseen heights of power-"</p> <p>"Empress Bileath?" Hearing this baffled her so much she had to interrupt her lover's words. Squinting, her speech's tempo slowed as if she was busy trying to recall something. "Was it not Emperor Ansool who-"</p> <p>"No," Jawahir slowly shook her head. "Empress Bileath. Emperor Ansool designed a <em>share</em> of the recent technology. Empress Bileath designed the <em>lion's</em> share of all of it. She was good friends with the academy… For her, no standard but the Academy's would do for her blueprints…"</p> <p>And off she went, rambling on and on. Rahima loved it when she rambled, partly because her stilted, uncertain voice gained more confidence. Her beautiful dark eyes were almost glistening when she got oh so heated into explaining her favorite schematics or the history of Qaya-Ram.</p> <p>But how did Rahima forget that? After Jawahir's words she began remembering it, but… Of course, Empress Bileath made the blueprints. Who else could have made them? Did Emperor Qiqyn do something?</p> <p>"My love, what troubles you?" Jawahir broke her troubled thoughts, her eyes nudging toward Rahima's hands.</p> <p>That was when Rahima noticed it as well. The golden embroidery of her dress was nearly scratched apart under her fuladh fingers.</p> <p>"Qiqyn's grasp seems to be the tyranny of the body <em>and</em> soul." Rahima plucked what was left of a yellow shape torn by her wayward fingers. "Thank goodness it has not breached Qaya-Ram. If my resolve to move here was not compelled by my longing, it is forced by my necessity."</p> <p>Jawahir's eyes lit up again. "To Qaya-Ram… You mean, with me?"</p> <p>"With you, next to you, always! Though my specialization is literature, an academy is nothing without its texts. I will be able to make myself useful analyzing them, and then-"</p> <p>As soon as she uttered those words, her darling immediately squealed and hugged her again.</p> <p>"Promise me. Under the same roof. Eating at my table. Warming my bed. Please, promise me."</p> <p>"I swear." Rahima laughed. "This was going to be an anniversary surprise, but…"</p> <p>Now Jawahir squealed again, sliding her four arms around the girl. Rahima pressed herself onto her and she answered by wrapping her more firmly with her arms and body. Rahima could feel their heartbeats race, she <em>felt</em> herself glow.</p> <p>Their anniversaries were always special.</p> <div class="fancyborder"> <p>The moonlight on their fifth anniversary shone just as bright as on their first.</p> <p>Ever since they met in the last years of school, the two girls have been inseparable. Jawahir was always somewhat quiet, just quiet enough to start unsettling people. That was one of the reasons she dreamed of Qaya-Ram: silence was not a vice there but a virtue.</p> <p>And even despite her off-putting quiet demeanor, there was one girl who saw through it, who perhaps even found it endearing: the endlessly kind and loving Rahima. The two grew close almost immediately after their first meeting. Following their graduation from school, they held a small celebration for their successful enrollment into the Academy, and that was when they first confessed their feelings toward each other. Their hearts bloomed in a union of friendship and love.</p> <p>Rahima arrived at their meeting spot in advance, hoping everything would go perfectly. A luxurious dark red dress adorned her body, embroidered with the schematics of a pair of fuladh wings, and her long curly hair was freely swaying in the gentle wind.</p> <p>Her gift was tucked away in her pockets: a scroll decorated with meticulous care, holding a poem she wrote for Jawahir. Each stroke of her pen and brush contained a piece of herself: her heart, her soul, her love.</p> <p>She was never going to let the precious girl go.</p> <p>No matter what Emperor one was born under, traditions and politics were strong in Amoni-Ram. Those rubbed off on her family as well. They had slowly begun their attempts at finding her a suitable husband. Those men, her suitors, were nice and handsome. They would certainly make some other girl happy.</p> <p>Not her. <em>Her</em> heart belonged to Jawahir and Jawahir only.</p> <p>"Rahima!"</p> <p>Her darling's voice shook her back to the present. The time of their meeting was approaching even while she was lost in contemplation, and now the girl was nearly there, waving from just a couple of blocks away. Two of her hands were clearly behind her back, most likely in an attempt to hide something from her. The thing she was holding — a box — was just a bit too big to fit unnoticeably. Rahima couldn't help but giggle a bit at the sight.</p> <p>Making sure she dressed for the occasion, Jawahir came wearing the silken scarf her love gifted her, as well as a dress she commissioned from her own savings. Yellow, with a translucent lower half. Hardly luxurious among the nobility, but within her own circles, buying something like that was quite the flashy endeavor.</p> <p>Rahima waved at her, and she returned the gesture — not with her two hands hidden behind her back, but with her free third hand. One of the perks of being a theological engineer was the ability to get frisky with augmentations. Which Jawahir did, with an extra pair of arms that she crafted for herself as a graduation gift.</p> <p>She joked that she got them to embrace Rahima with twice the force. Only Rahima knew this wasn't entirely in jest.</p> <p>While Jawahir was nearing the meeting spot, one crossing away, Rahima couldn't help but think back to her husband-candidates. Worry filled her heart, bringing the mental image of her nice and handsome suitors harming Jawahir in retaliation, all because she got in the way of their marriage. She could very easily see them stooping this low, especially Al-Wadim, the most determined of them all. It felt as if he had made it his life's mission to make her his and would spare no expense or effort. She tried to ignore him and his advances, and, to her relief, so did her family.</p> <p>Her joy was marred by dread. If the men so much as laid a finger on Jawahir, Rahima would never forgive herself.</p> <p>It would not come to that. It <em>could not come to that.</em></p> </div> <p>When Rahima offered herself as Jawahir's ride home at the end of the day, Jawahir's dark eyes lit up with excitement. She loved being flown by her darling almost as much as her darling liked to fly her. They snuggled in the air as though draped over each other on a chaise lounge.</p> <p>Since excitement tended to loosen Jawahir's stiff tongue, they were not long in flight before she filled Rahima's ears with a history lesson. "<em>Habibiti</em>, Qaya-Ram's design was not without purpose. The architects-"</p> <p>"-conceived the style from the enigmas of a holy algorithm." Rahima winked down at her love, and the girl stared at her with awe. She did her homework — now it was <em>her</em> turn to impress. "Quoth Scholar Sabiha: <em>'Mathematics are prayer to Mekhane, the Ever-Intrigued. Those who consider construction and invention identical honors to Her mislead themselves, for both require an infinite and perfect foundation to save them from their imperfection. Mathematics is that very foundation.'</em> Master Sabiha would then become one of the three forebearers of the Mekhanite mathematics."</p> <p>"She would become one of the three forebearers of the Mekhanite Mathematics, and by her own logic, became a prophet…" Jawahir quietly repeated and completed the last sentence, nodding to herself.</p> <p>Rahima saw the awe bubble in her love's open-mouthed awe. The effect on her was incredible. She looked at Jawahir with a satisfied smile, and when saw her love's realization of what she'd said grow in her eyes, she knew the rapture was more than worth the effort.</p> <p>"Did my Rahima anticipate and memorize what I'd say for this occasion? You little schemer!" The girls began laughing, pulling each other into their embrace tighter. It was not long until they arrived at Jawahir's apartment, beaming with joy. They entered through the balcony, its door left unlocked, maybe on purpose, maybe out of forgetfulness. Scholarly knowledge stuck to the girl's brain more easily than the mundane, much to her dismay.</p> <p>"Go, make yourself at home. I'll prepare some drinks. Coffee, tea?"</p> <p>"Tea, please."</p> <p>"Four sugars?"</p> <p>"You know me too well."</p> <p>With that, she left the kitchen and opened the door to the living room. Even the interiors here were different from both Amoni-Ram and Ulma-Ram. The design was much more open, with the windows taking up the entirety of the outer wall.</p> <p>In the capital, most of the window space was occupied by wall decorations: sandstone carvings of geometric patterns, ancient battles, quotes from the Scriptures, or Mekhane, depending on preference.</p> <p>Ulma-Ram had no decorations at all, with the city being so bulky and oppressive that after her one visit, Rahima lost all desire to return there again.</p> <p>The light blue walls of the room were also different from the other places' dull orange or yellow. A lot lighter and easier on the eyes, giving the interior an illusion of spaciousness together with the large window. Many scholars even opted to paint them or to inlay them with mosaics. Jawahir did both. The wall next to the entrance had a mosaic pattern started in the corner (with independent pieces laid out on a newspaper, waiting to be glued on), and the one opposite to it depicted a mural of two Mekhanite maidens floating downriver in a boat, their faces almost touching above the pomegranate slice shared between them.</p> <p>Walking to the shelf, Rahima opened her larger bag to retrieve a beautiful mechanical sculpture. When she pressed its button, the harmonious clanking noises of a wind-up mechanism sounded out, cogs turning in synchronicity to collapse and refold the statue into a heart. These beautiful sounds and the transformation process alike tickled her senses in the best possible way, always leaving her fuzzy and giddy. Sometimes, while analyzing scriptures or working on poems at home, she would find herself absentmindedly opening and closing it.</p> <p>A poem was inscribed on the unfolded heart:</p> <p><em>Was this how Bumaro felt when He first gazed upon Mekhane?<br/> Was this how Hedara felt when she first gazed upon her husband?<br/> With heavenly nectar my heart overfills when I think about you,<br/> Seeing your body brings me peace and warmth<br/> And hearing your speech is akin to being filled with the blessed voice of the divine.<br/> Jawahir, my own crown jewel.</em></p> <p>She chuckled to herself when she read it. It was nearly two years ago, back when they still lived in Amoni-Ram unbothered. She agreed to combine Jawahir's anniversary gift with hers and allowed her both to etch her poem into the mechanical heart, and to place the scroll into the little compartment on the back. It was in Rahima's possession for long enough. Time has come for her to pass it on to her love. She won't be parting with it for long either; after all, she will be joining Jawahir soon, right?</p> <p>A gasp was heard from the doorway. Jawahir was holding the tea can and the little tea cups on a tray, and her mouth was hanging agape.</p> <p>"Rahima! Is that-"</p> <p>"It is, for it belongs with you, in my home and yours. Just like you're mine and I'm yours."</p> <p>Her love set down the tray and embraced her softly.</p> <p>"You're so wonderful… this means everything to me!"</p> <p>This mechanical heart was the favorite thing she ever made, and when she was forced to leave Amoni-Ram and this sculpture behind, she felt like she'd abandoned her actual one. But, like everything else dear to her, it returned to her now.</p> <div class="fancyborder"> <p>It all happened so fast. In the morning, she was enjoying a cup of tea with her mother. In the evening, she got arrested and detained.</p> <p>No trials were held for her, for they intended to bury the whole affair in Ulma-Ram. And now here she was, sitting in the prisoners' cart, being transported. She didn't even know why she was detained in the first place. Not that it mattered. The charges had to be contrived.</p> <p>It was hard not to cry. She was sprawled out on the floor, defeated, trying to wipe her eyes free of tears through her chained hands. Her hair stuck to her face, wet with her sweat and tears.</p> <p>The saddest of all was that she would never see Rahima again. She knew very well how trials in Ulma-Ram went. They would bring her in, list what she was accused of, beg her to make it easy on herself, and when the begging failed, the beatings would take over until she broke and confessed to whatever, and they could use the confession to lock her up, never to see the sunlight again. Certainties were everything in Ulma-Ram. If they weren't sure, they <em>made</em> sure.</p> <p>A soft thump on the roof of her cart shook her out of her thoughts. Knowing the road they were passing through, it was not unheard of for small rocks to be falling here and there. She curled back up and continued weeping.</p> <p>Was Rahima even aware she was being taken away? There was no doubt it was arranged by one of the suitors — maybe even more of them. She knew what they were probably going to tell her. Something like "Oh, Jawahir ran away without ever telling you! She probably hates your guts! Let's get married, you and me, and strengthen the bonds between our families." And she would not be able to prove them wrong.</p> <p>The doors to her cart began rattling, startling her into a near heart attack. Was somebody from the guards here to check up on her? Most likely not. The checkups happened once every two hours and never while the vehicles moved. Robbers then? Most likely. She was half-hoping that some criminals hijacked them. That way, she will at least be able to tell Rahima she was alive and well and was taken against her will and that she would never leave her of her own volition.</p> <p>"Jawahir?"</p> <p>She nearly jumped up from the voice. Was it…</p> <p>"Rahi-"</p> <p>She could barely contain her scream of surprise, so she hid her face in her pillow.</p> <p>"It is me," her love whispered, quietly walking in and closing the door behind herself, pulling her into her embrace and… wrapping her wings around her?</p> <p>"How did you… When did you…?"</p> <p>"We do not have much time. Listen to me, please." Rahima began unlocking her chains, with what Jawahir assumed to be a built-in lockpick. Then, she withdrew a shield from her pocket and showed it to her: "Two minutes until I approached the cart on wings. Half a minute until I made it inside. We will have the same amount of time after we depart. And once we fly to a safe distance…"</p> <p>Rahima pulled out another shield from her gown and handed it to Jawahir.</p> <p>"Use this to get to Qaya-Ram undetected. I have arranged everything, there will be people waiting for you. You will be free, and you will live happily and be a scholar as you always wanted to."</p> <p>"But what about you?" Jawahir asked with her eyes wide. It was unbelievable that Rahima really made it here. Was it really her? Was it a mirage? The way she was holding her, it felt very real. "Won't they punish you for breaking me out?"</p> <p>"They will not know. I will be back in Amoni-Ram by the time anybody has the chance to notice, and I will take off my wings. As for the guards… I do not know what they will do, but I doubt they will turn to Qaya-Ram. They know not your dream is to become a scholar there, right?"</p> <p>That was true. Jawahir didn't really get to tell anyone she was aiming for Qaya-Ram. She either kept forgetting or nobody asked her, and she wasn't one to share her heart without being asked unless it was with Rahima.</p> <p>She chuckled to herself. Just this once, her unsettling silence was beneficial.</p> <p>"Thank you…" she squeezed Rahima's hand. "I don't know where I'd be without you."</p> <p>"We will be moving now. The pleasantries will have to be saved for later, is that fine?"</p> <p>Jawahir nodded and pressed herself close to her. The shield turned on, and Rahima moved the two of them out of the cart. After making sure the door was locked close, they leaped off the cart's platform and were soaring high in the air within a moment's notice.</p> <p>Before their shield ran out of charge, they landed behind an off-the-route dune. The abrupt landing left them laying face-first in the sand. After coughing herself into shape, Jawahir rolled into Rahima's arms and let her tears and sobs flow. Those of relief, of joy.</p> <p>"I thought I'd- I'd never see you again!"</p> <p>"My beautiful Jawahir… You are safe now."</p> <p>"But why the wings? Since… since when did you have them?" This question had been on her mind since she entered her cart, but she didn't feel like asking it while there were more pressing issues.</p> <p>"Do you like these?" The girl flexed them with a proud smile. "I made them myself! I have been working on them for weeks now, wanted to impress you! But I was forced to finish them earlier because of…"</p> <p>She gestured at Jawahir's handcuffs.</p> <p>And she was right! Jawahir <strong>was</strong> impressed. A poet learned to craft a pair of wings this good! And it was not just any run off the mill poet. It was <strong>her</strong> poet.</p> <p>"This is incredible… You're incredible."</p> <p>Just being in each other's presence after such a sudden hardship was enough for them. They both wanted to know they were safe, they were together, they were there for each other.</p> <p>"Please… Take your shield and go. We will meet again in a month, for I will want to ensure you are doing well."</p> <p>"Do you know who was responsible for my arrest?" Another important question Jawahir felt like she needed to know the answer to.</p> <p>Hearing this question, Rahima's face fell.</p> <p>"Some of my suitors… Al-Wadim, Ihab, their circle. They thought they could pull some strings and arrest you on some false pretenses!" She shook her fist at the sky in anger, then sighed. "My beautiful Jawahir… This is all my fault… If I did not confess my love to you, my suitors would not have bothered you, and-"</p> <p>Jawahir interrupted her with a kiss, pressing her charred from crying lips against her love's soft, delicate ones.</p> <p>"Rahima… You aren't the one at fault. It's them. And their jealousy… What happened happened. You went all the way to rescue me. Even built yourself a pair of wings! All for me. I'm blessed to have you. I don't know how many others have a love who'd be willing to risk their life as such."</p> <p>Moments of silence passed. Jawahir rested her chin on her hands; she had to contemplate. There was no turning back now. If she ran away to Qaya-Ram, like her love suggested, it would have amounted to her exiling herself. She most likely would never be able to return to Amoni-Ram and would never see her mother again.</p> <p>After some further thought, she found it to still be favorable. The alternative would have been her getting subject to horrific interrogation and then being left to rot in a cell for the rest of her life. Here though, in Qaya-Ram, she would be able to live her life on her own terms. Not to mention setting her feet in the city was one of the biggest dreams in her life.</p> <p>She just wasn't prepared for it to happen like this.</p> <p>"Well then." She stood up, dusted off the sack-like dress they gave her when she got detained, and squeezed Rahima's hands. "Thank you for doing all of this for me. For saving me… I'll go now, alright? I'll go, so your efforts to save me wouldn't be wasted. We'll meet in Qaya-Ram in a month."</p> <p>"We will meet there in a month…" One last hug between the two as Rahima stood up as well. "The city is a half hour from her on land, even less on wings. I will fly you there, for the sun is far from rising, and the night will shroud my return."</p> </div> <p>Eventually, Jawahir fell asleep, wrapped in tangled sheets, sweat, and sweet dreams. Rahima tried to fall asleep with her but soon surrendered to her restlessness and tiptoed to the balcony, letting her eyes settle on the view of the Qayan desert. The chill creeping through her skin was not just from the cold air of the desert. Dusk approached her very own heart.</p> <p>Her warped memories loomed large in her mind. Just a year ago, Qiqyn's mere disposition emboldened her suitors — all of whom had as much reason to assault one another as they had to attack anyone else — to work as one to destroy her beloved. That such a man may hold sovereignty over her memories was a nightmare Rahima chose to set aside.</p> <p>"Mekhane would not burden a soul beyond that it can bear," she decided.</p> <p>The laws and customs of their covenant with Mekhane stopped Qiqyn's shadow well short of the walls of Qaya-Ram, but those laws were made to restrain an Emperor. What of a monster?</p> <p>A harder truth had wrapped its coils around Rahima's heart ever since she liberated her precious and, in moments like this, would squeeze it tighter. <em>What if I had failed?</em></p> <p>When she first succeeded in freeing Jawahir, Rahima felt charged with both joy and pride at her grand design. Reflecting on it now, she felt a pang of guilt for just how many fragile cogs and brittle screws were in her bold conspiracy, how many ways her Jawahir could have been brought to harm. It felt like blasphemy to so greedily depend on so many of their Goddess' miracles. It felt like betrayal to stake the girl's life on Her granting them.</p> <p><em>What have I done? Am I her lover or destroyer? What if Mekhane's patience with me runs out?</em></p> <p>Something akin to a warm blanket wrapped around her, something not unlike a tender zephyr tickled her neck and lobe. "What troubles you, <em>habibiti</em>?"</p> <p>"I feel like I've turned your life into my gambling parlor." Rahima swallowed the lump, which suddenly gathered in her throat. "I made you the object of my suitors' rage-"</p> <p>"Sweet desert spring-"</p> <p>"-I might as well have signed your arrest warrant myself-"</p> <p>"Darling-"</p> <p>"-you are a fugitive because of me! I could have gotten you killed! You're a prisoner even now, whether to spend the rest of your life here or end it in Ulma-Ram!"</p> <p>Jawahir's voice grew unexpectedly bold. "Rahima!" Her racing thoughts were quelled. "I knew loving you could ruin me." She felt the most pleasurable ache as Jawahir's teeth playfully grazed her ear. "I made my choice with that in mind. So, too, did Mekhane, the Irrefutable, when She chose to Fall. Was it the desert who gave Her to us, who gave me to you?"</p> <p>"The only reason we yet live is Mekhane pardoning my reckless stupidity. When will She collect on the many miracles I've asked of Her?"</p> <p>Jawahir laughed. "Is Mekhane a Goddess or bank? Do you believe Her to be so short-sighted? To waste Her favor on someone unworthy of it?" She kissed Rahima's cheek playfully. "It's science. Mekhane believes the world is far more interesting with us in it."</p> <p>This time, it was Rahima whose doubts melted under Jawahir's charms. <em>An abyss may lay ahead, but we have clawed back our lives from it for a time. That may be enough for me.</em></p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-golden-threads-weaving-us-together">The Golden Threads Weaving Us Together</a>" by Miss Lapis and Nonacherontia, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-golden-threads-weaving-us-together">https://scpwiki.com/the-golden-threads-weaving-us-together</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Pride_SCPclip.png<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/kurtbroppa" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(9060326); return false;"><img alt="kurtbroppa" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=9060326&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730032284" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=9060326)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/kurtbroppa" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(9060326); return false;">kurtbroppa</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-golden-threads-weaving-us-together">SCP Foundation Wiki</a></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	===== [[include <a href="/component:preview">component:preview</a> text=Love endures.]] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:basalt">:scp-wiki:theme:basalt</a> darkmode=a\|centertitle=a\|wide=a]] [[module css]] @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Iceberg&display=swap'); @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Philosopher&display=swap'); @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Domine&display=swap'); /* the background and the header color, as well as select elements (the byline and the fancyborder) were taken from Flopstyle DARK. The fonts were selected based on FRATRICIDE and SCP-8166/ :root{ --header-gold: 211, 166, 71; --header-light: 255, 234, 190; --dark-yellow: 126, 103, 53; --body-font-primary: 'Philosopher'; / ----------------- colors ----------------- / --basalt-primary-color: 47, 51, 60; --basalt-secondary-color: 36, 39, 46; --basalt-tertiary-color: 211, 166, 71; --basalt-undertone: 162, 68, 127; --basalt-bright-element-color: 198, 93, 160; --basalt-dark-element-color: 198, 93, 160; --basalt-UI-dark-palette: 90, 38, 71; --basalt-light-text-color: 182, 165, 129; --basalt-alternate-color: 126, 82, 32; --basalt-positive-color: 236, 160, 208; --basalt-negative-color: 176, 164, 228; --general-border-color: 128, 92, 21; / ----------------- header ----------------- / --header-logo: url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/her-golden-wings/image.png'); --header-title: 'Amoni-Ram'; --header-font-primary: 'Iceberg'; --header-title-color: var(--header-gold); --header-background-color: 21, 24, 30; --base-header-height: calc((var(--title-size) + var(--subtitle-size)) 1.325 + 1rem); --subtitle-size: 1rem; /* ----------------- top bar ----------------- / --top-bar-link-color: var(--basalt-light-text-color); --top-bar-dropdown-background: var(--basalt-UI-dark-palette); --top-bar-dropdown-background-hover: var(--basalt-undertone); / ----------------- sidebar ----------------- / --side-bar-background-color: 36, 39, 46; --side-bar-heading-text-color: var(--header-gold); --side-bar-heading-text-color-hover: var(--header-gold); --side-bar-heading-background-color: var(--header-background-color); --side-bar-link-color: var(--top-bar-link-color); --side-bar-link-background-hover: var(--top-bar-dropdown-background); / ----------------- edit box, footer, rate module ----------------- / --rate-module-background-color: var(--dark-yellow); --bottom-area-text-color: var(--top-bar-link-color); --footer-link-color: var(--header-gold); --license-area-divider-color: var(--basalt-tertiary-color); --edit-area-toolbar-background-color: var(--dark-yellow); --edit-area-ancillary-background-color: var(--edit-area-toolbar-background-color); / ----------------- misc ----------------- / --hr-color: 128, 92, 21; --title-border-color: 128, 92, 21; --button-text-color: var(--top-bar-link-color); --blockquote-background-color: var(--header-background-color); --scrollbar-track-color: var(--dark-yellow); --scrollbar-thumb-color: var(--basalt-light-text-color); } #header h1 a span::after { display: none; } #page-title, .meta-title { margin-top: 1em; border-bottom: solid 0.125rem rgb(128, 92, 21); color: rgb(var(--header-gold)); font-size: 3em; } :is(#side-bar, #interwiki) .heading { font-size: calc(var(--header-UI-font-size) .5); } p { font-size: 1.15rem; line-height: 1.3; text-indent: 2rem; text-align: justify; } blockquote, div.blockquote { background-color: rgba(var(--blockquote-background-color), 0.5); } .collapsible-block-content p { font-size: var(--true-font-size); text-indent: unset; } #html-body .hovertip { font-family: var(--UI-font); color: rgb(var(--basalt-light-text-color))!important; } div[id="page-options-bottom"] > a { color: rgb(var(--basalt-light-text-color))!important; } #more-options-button, #delete-button { background-color: rgb(var(--dark-yellow))!important; color: rgb(var(--basalt-main-text-color))!important; } #delete-button { color: rgb(var(--basalt-light-text-color))!important; } div[id="page-options-bottom"] > a:is(:hover,:focus) { color: rgb(var(--basalt-light-text-color))!important; } #license-area::after { background-image: unset; } /* ---- BYLINE from Flopstyle DARK ---- / .byline { display: flex; margin-top: -.13rem; text-align: center; } .byline p { display: flex; flex-direction: column; align-items: center; max-width: 55%; margin: auto; font-size: 95%; text-indent: unset; line-height: 0.5; } @media (max-width: 767px) { .byline p { max-width: unset; } } .byline span:nth-of-type(1):before, .byline span:nth-of-type(2):before { padding-right: .27rem; color: var(--header-light); font: 100%/1 "Lucida Sans Unicode", "Lucida Grande", "Arial Unicode MS", sans-serif; } .byline span:nth-of-type(1):before { color: rgb(128, 92, 21); content: "✎" } .byline span:nth-of-type(2):before { content: " " } .byline span:nth-of-type(2):after { content: " " } / ---- FANCYBORDER from Flopstyle DARK ---- / .fancyborder { margin: auto 3vw; padding: 2vw; font-family: 'Domine', var(--body-font-fallback); border: 2vw solid; border-image: url(https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/theme:flopstyle-dark/wl_border.png) 600 round; border-image-width: 6; } .fancyborder p { font-size: 1rem; font-style: italic; } [[/module]] [[div style="display: none;"]] [[=]] [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> name=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-golden-threads-weaving-us-together/Pride_SCPclip.png\|caption=.\|width=100%\|align=center]] [[/=]] [[/div]] [[=]] [[module Rate]] [[div class="byline"]] [[span]] by [[[miss-lapis\|Miss Lapis]]] and [[[who-s-afraid-of-ulrike-meinhof\|Nonacherontia]]] [[/span]] [[span]] Happy Pride [[/span]] [[/div]] [[/=]] Whenever she visited Qaya-Ram, Rahima was awestruck at how different it was from Amoni-Ram: so much smaller, more compact, more labyrinthine. There was no constant roar of the vehicles, no ambient chatter, only the soft hum of the railway, the occasional scholar's footsteps, and trees, grass, shrubs... So much greenery. The air whipped at her face as she dove through the sky, her headscarf and long purple gown fluttering behind her like the tail of a comet. The two tightly sealed bags on her were heavy with everything she needed for her extended weeklong visits there. So sharp was her descent that, were she not careful in securing them, their contents would have rained down with her. The guards at the gate welcomed her with a salute. The procedure was familiar to her: she showed her visiting permit to them, waiting until they marked and signed it, taking it back from them with a //thank you//, and crossing the gates into the city proper. She had two ways to get to the main academy at the maze-like city's heart: the train or her wings. Waiting for the train was tiresome, but flying was a spectacle, drawing the stares of all Qaya-Ram. Wings were much rarer there. It took all of an instant before she returned to the air. //What's the harm in their awe?// It would not be long until her relocation application was approved. After that, they would see so much of her that her flying would be novel no longer. Moving from Amoni-Ram to here would allow her to spend more time with her love. Her beautiful, quiet darling with that lithe body and those gentle smiling eyes... The bright sunlight reflected itself off the fuladh tiling of the academy's dome, probably the only other building in the Mekhanite empire to rival the beauty of the Great Palace of Amoni-Ram. Its stained glass windows and mosaics depicted Mekhane herself, schematics of various machinery (many of which she could recognize, thanks to spending so much time with Jawahir), or abstract, carefully crafted patterns. It housed knowledge, wisdom, scholars, being at the center of science and religion. Science //was// religion, and religion was science. Her landing was so graceful that her footfall scarcely made a sound. The guard answered her customary bow. "She's in the library on Floor Two." They had done this so often the question was already understood. The Academy's staff was very familiar with her, flying and destination alike. The kindness warmed Rahima, and she repaid the courtesy with a nod and smile, "Thank you!" The silence of the place was disturbed by her fuladh footsteps, each step ringing out with a sharp //clink//. Scholars and clerks lazed around in the ever-quiet library with their blueprints and books. Those not sketching or reading were asleep or holding quiet discussions with their peers. A little old lady was napping at the front desk: Jawahir's mother. In the far end of the library sat the girl herself, the light of her life, in the company of her friends. Unlike the corridor, a soft, fuzzy carpet covered the room's floor, muffling Rahima's footsteps while she tiptoed onward. Her lips slid open in a mischievous grin. Reaching forward, her hands covered Jawahir's eyes. "Guess who?" Jawahir yelped and bolted out of the seat in shock, and the tumult caused all of her scholar friends to burst into laughter. It took Rahima the greatest effort not to join them. When the girl turned around to spot the agent of her surprise, the shock was replaced with joy. "Rahima!" Jawahir's voice was full of adoration as she joined to her in a strong, four-armed embrace. Rahima wanted to melt into the warmth of her body. Her mouth inches from her lover's ear, her lips breathed, "Just the sight of you and my tongue is broken." She grinned as Jawahir shivered. "Every moon between us feels like a longing without end." Jawahir gave a flustered giggle. "I wish I had your tongue for words. All my heart can do is scream..." Rahima nuzzled into her shoulders, inhaling her precious scent: a combination of the sweet, soft aroma of her perfume, the verdant musk of books around her, the sweet machine oil quickening in their embracing metal. After a week apart, every second felt too dear to water down with restraint. They could not contain themselves to fit in the library's silence anymore. With a breathless farewell to the scholars, they giddily made for the door. Jawahir gave a quick squeeze to her mom's hand before leaving. The little old lady woke up and smiled at the two girls before dozing off again. Once returning to the corridor, Rahima immediately ran into her love's embrace again with a happy squeal, who lifted her in the air with her four arms. She felt Jawahir's two flesh arms tremble as she carried her, and not from her weight. The two descended into the courtyard, serene and peaceful as always, filled with the rustling of the leaves and the sound of flowing water. Rahima felt truly weightless. [[div class="fancyborder"]] The courtyard of the Academy brimmed with lecturers and students, spending time together or alone, relaxing or studying under the canopies. Like much about Amoni-Ram, those were a compromise after the last tree in the yard got cut down. They would never fully be able to replace the greenery, but the shadow they provided was good enough. Under one such canopy sat Rahima. Her Jawahir lay her head in her lap, tracing the patterns on her gown: golden constellations and geometric patterns painted on a nicely contrasting dark blue fabric. "And that's Mekhane's Eye." The girl's voice was quiet and low as her fingers caressed one of the constellations on Rahima's chest. "I look for it in the stars before I sleep. The Goddess' watch comforts me. What say you?" "Of course. At night, I see our Goddess's eyes amidst the heavens, and by day," her voice dimmed to a playful husk, "I see Her eyes when I look at my Jawahir, whether she is above or below." This caught Jawahir off-guard. Big-eyed and flushed, she slowly wrapped her hands around Rahima's delicate neck and pulled her down, first touching her lips against those of her love, then sealing into their kiss with a passionate squeal. Breathless and panting when they fell apart, they looked at each other, breaking out in small giggles. The bliss did not last long, though, the same way as a passing cloud hid the sun's rays within a moment's notice. Jawahir's face darkened, and Rahima knew the reason behind it. With Emperor Ansool's passing, many of their fellow woman-students shared one worry among them: "Will we graduate in time...?" "Before Emperor Qiqyn bars us from the Academy once again?" Rahima knew her so well she could finish her sentences. A tear flowed down her love's cheeks, and a sad, choked-back //m-hm// followed. The idea alone was too terrible for Jawahir, let alone the thought of having to say this out loud. Her scholarly career meant everything to her. In an attempt to comfort her, Rahima ran her fingers through Jawahir's short, beautiful, deep brown hair, caressing her with a gentle touch. Smiling down at the girl with sadness filling her eyes, she finished her thought. "Hopefully... He has only been on the throne for a couple of years, and this would anger too many people. He would need a lot more time to consolidate his position." Jawahir's response was but a ragged whisper: "Even if I never make it to Qaya-Ram because—because of him... I'll always have you by my side. That's enough for me." A couple more tears followed, and then, after a shaky inhale, her silent crying ceased. She returned Rahima's somber smile, and her hand slowly drifted to her face, cradling it gently. Rahima's cheeks got a little redder. They had been seeing each other for two years now, but her darling's affectionate touch never failed to make her blush. Bathed in tranquility, she mindlessly played with the patterns on her love's clothes. Nothing as fancy as hers, just a simple red linen gown decorated with a golden stripe. Scraping her nails against the embroidery felt good. Definitely better than the painted-on stars on her own gown and headscarf. The feeling of threads on linen was good, but on silk was even better. She could get Jawahir a silken scarf for their anniversary. Maybe even a full-on dress. "What thought possesses you?" Jawahir asked with a small giggle. Rahima didn't even notice herself zoning out. She responded with a truth: "You." Always you. The bell rang. The recess ended. The courtyard descended into a flurry as the students and lecturers rushed to their classes for fear of being late. The multidisciplinary Academy held its courses in its different wings. Rahima studied literature, while Jawahir's field of choice was theological engineering. That meant they wouldn't see each other until the end of the day. That was not a lot of time, but it felt just a bit too long for both of their liking. Many couples parted in front of the main entrance or one of the side entrances. The luckier ones went to their classes hand in hand. Rahima and Jawahir exchanged one more quick kiss and embrace before they parted to resume their studies. [[/div]] The courtyard's fountain was dedicated to Mekhane, its centerpiece showcased the Goddess in her battle armor and helmet, her beauty and glory. The rim, on the other hand, was covered in mathematical formulae, the likes of which Rahima would never understand in her lifetime, not even with her love's interest in it. Other than a gardener prettying the trees with his built-in hedge trimmer, they had the place to themselves. He minded not their presence, waving at them and resuming his work as if nobody else was there. The girls did not mind his presence either. This silence and solitude brought them at ease. After they sat down on the fountain's edge, Jawahir's voice and gaze took on a serious tone. Looking in front of herself with furrowed brows, her voice was but a hoarse whisper. "How fares your household? What do your parents intend for you? Have the men stopped bothering you?" Rahima shook her head. "They know I have been visiting Qaya-Ram but know not of my reasons. And as for my suitors... Yes, thank Mekhane, their interest has waned with time and more eager prospects." She did not like how tense her love had become. In the same manner she used to do when they both were studying at Amoni-Ram's Great Academy, she pulled Jawahir's head into her lap and began to caress her hair lovingly. Slightly longer than her own, even with her curls. And it was framing her face so lovely... That beautiful tan face, with a skin so soft and delicate. It was a blessing to graze that warm skin with her lips. "Under our care, the reactors grow more perfect." Slowly, the girl's tensions dissipated, with her now leaning into Rahima's touch with comfort. "In due time, they will be a suitable foundation for Empress Bileath's own reactor design, a leap into unseen heights of power-" "Empress Bileath?" Hearing this baffled her so much she had to interrupt her lover's words. Squinting, her speech's tempo slowed as if she was busy trying to recall something. "Was it not Emperor Ansool who-" "No," Jawahir slowly shook her head. "Empress Bileath. Emperor Ansool designed a //share// of the recent technology. Empress Bileath designed the //lion's// share of all of it. She was good friends with the academy... For her, no standard but the Academy's would do for her blueprints..." And off she went, rambling on and on. Rahima loved it when she rambled, partly because her stilted, uncertain voice gained more confidence. Her beautiful dark eyes were almost glistening when she got oh so heated into explaining her favorite schematics or the history of Qaya-Ram. But how did Rahima forget that? After Jawahir's words she began remembering it, but... Of course, Empress Bileath made the blueprints. Who else could have made them? Did Emperor Qiqyn do something? "My love, what troubles you?" Jawahir broke her troubled thoughts, her eyes nudging toward Rahima's hands. That was when Rahima noticed it as well. The golden embroidery of her dress was nearly scratched apart under her fuladh fingers. "Qiqyn's grasp seems to be the tyranny of the body //and// soul." Rahima plucked what was left of a yellow shape torn by her wayward fingers. "Thank goodness it has not breached Qaya-Ram. If my resolve to move here was not compelled by my longing, it is forced by my necessity." Jawahir's eyes lit up again. "To Qaya-Ram... You mean, with me?" "With you, next to you, always! Though my specialization is literature, an academy is nothing without its texts. I will be able to make myself useful analyzing them, and then-" As soon as she uttered those words, her darling immediately squealed and hugged her again. "Promise me. Under the same roof. Eating at my table. Warming my bed. Please, promise me." "I swear." Rahima laughed. "This was going to be an anniversary surprise, but..." Now Jawahir squealed again, sliding her four arms around the girl. Rahima pressed herself onto her and she answered by wrapping her more firmly with her arms and body. Rahima could feel their heartbeats race, she //felt// herself glow. Their anniversaries were always special. [[div class="fancyborder"]] The moonlight on their fifth anniversary shone just as bright as on their first. Ever since they met in the last years of school, the two girls have been inseparable. Jawahir was always somewhat quiet, just quiet enough to start unsettling people. That was one of the reasons she dreamed of Qaya-Ram: silence was not a vice there but a virtue. And even despite her off-putting quiet demeanor, there was one girl who saw through it, who perhaps even found it endearing: the endlessly kind and loving Rahima. The two grew close almost immediately after their first meeting. Following their graduation from school, they held a small celebration for their successful enrollment into the Academy, and that was when they first confessed their feelings toward each other. Their hearts bloomed in a union of friendship and love. Rahima arrived at their meeting spot in advance, hoping everything would go perfectly. A luxurious dark red dress adorned her body, embroidered with the schematics of a pair of fuladh wings, and her long curly hair was freely swaying in the gentle wind. Her gift was tucked away in her pockets: a scroll decorated with meticulous care, holding a poem she wrote for Jawahir. Each stroke of her pen and brush contained a piece of herself: her heart, her soul, her love. She was never going to let the precious girl go. No matter what Emperor one was born under, traditions and politics were strong in Amoni-Ram. Those rubbed off on her family as well. They had slowly begun their attempts at finding her a suitable husband. Those men, her suitors, were nice and handsome. They would certainly make some other girl happy. Not her. //Her// heart belonged to Jawahir and Jawahir only. "Rahima!" Her darling's voice shook her back to the present. The time of their meeting was approaching even while she was lost in contemplation, and now the girl was nearly there, waving from just a couple of blocks away. Two of her hands were clearly behind her back, most likely in an attempt to hide something from her. The thing she was holding -- a box -- was just a bit too big to fit unnoticeably. Rahima couldn't help but giggle a bit at the sight. Making sure she dressed for the occasion, Jawahir came wearing the silken scarf her love gifted her, as well as a dress she commissioned from her own savings. Yellow, with a translucent lower half. Hardly luxurious among the nobility, but within her own circles, buying something like that was quite the flashy endeavor. Rahima waved at her, and she returned the gesture -- not with her two hands hidden behind her back, but with her free third hand. One of the perks of being a theological engineer was the ability to get frisky with augmentations. Which Jawahir did, with an extra pair of arms that she crafted for herself as a graduation gift. She joked that she got them to embrace Rahima with twice the force. Only Rahima knew this wasn't entirely in jest. While Jawahir was nearing the meeting spot, one crossing away, Rahima couldn't help but think back to her husband-candidates. Worry filled her heart, bringing the mental image of her nice and handsome suitors harming Jawahir in retaliation, all because she got in the way of their marriage. She could very easily see them stooping this low, especially Al-Wadim, the most determined of them all. It felt as if he had made it his life's mission to make her his and would spare no expense or effort. She tried to ignore him and his advances, and, to her relief, so did her family. Her joy was marred by dread. If the men so much as laid a finger on Jawahir, Rahima would never forgive herself. It would not come to that. It //could not come to that.// [[/div]] When Rahima offered herself as Jawahir's ride home at the end of the day, Jawahir's dark eyes lit up with excitement. She loved being flown by her darling almost as much as her darling liked to fly her. They snuggled in the air as though draped over each other on a chaise lounge. Since excitement tended to loosen Jawahir's stiff tongue, they were not long in flight before she filled Rahima's ears with a history lesson. "//Habibiti//, Qaya-Ram's design was not without purpose. The architects-" "-conceived the style from the enigmas of a holy algorithm." Rahima winked down at her love, and the girl stared at her with awe. She did her homework -- now it was //her// turn to impress. "Quoth Scholar Sabiha: //'Mathematics are prayer to Mekhane, the Ever-Intrigued. Those who consider construction and invention identical honors to Her mislead themselves, for both require an infinite and perfect foundation to save them from their imperfection. Mathematics is that very foundation.'// Master Sabiha would then become one of the three forebearers of the Mekhanite mathematics." "She would become one of the three forebearers of the Mekhanite Mathematics, and by her own logic, became a prophet..." Jawahir quietly repeated and completed the last sentence, nodding to herself. Rahima saw the awe bubble in her love's open-mouthed awe. The effect on her was incredible. She looked at Jawahir with a satisfied smile, and when saw her love's realization of what she'd said grow in her eyes, she knew the rapture was more than worth the effort. "Did my Rahima anticipate and memorize what I'd say for this occasion? You little schemer!" The girls began laughing, pulling each other into their embrace tighter. It was not long until they arrived at Jawahir's apartment, beaming with joy. They entered through the balcony, its door left unlocked, maybe on purpose, maybe out of forgetfulness. Scholarly knowledge stuck to the girl's brain more easily than the mundane, much to her dismay. "Go, make yourself at home. I'll prepare some drinks. Coffee, tea?" "Tea, please." "Four sugars?" "You know me too well." With that, she left the kitchen and opened the door to the living room. Even the interiors here were different from both Amoni-Ram and Ulma-Ram. The design was much more open, with the windows taking up the entirety of the outer wall. In the capital, most of the window space was occupied by wall decorations: sandstone carvings of geometric patterns, ancient battles, quotes from the Scriptures, or Mekhane, depending on preference. Ulma-Ram had no decorations at all, with the city being so bulky and oppressive that after her one visit, Rahima lost all desire to return there again. The light blue walls of the room were also different from the other places' dull orange or yellow. A lot lighter and easier on the eyes, giving the interior an illusion of spaciousness together with the large window. Many scholars even opted to paint them or to inlay them with mosaics. Jawahir did both. The wall next to the entrance had a mosaic pattern started in the corner (with independent pieces laid out on a newspaper, waiting to be glued on), and the one opposite to it depicted a mural of two Mekhanite maidens floating downriver in a boat, their faces almost touching above the pomegranate slice shared between them. Walking to the shelf, Rahima opened her larger bag to retrieve a beautiful mechanical sculpture. When she pressed its button, the harmonious clanking noises of a wind-up mechanism sounded out, cogs turning in synchronicity to collapse and refold the statue into a heart. These beautiful sounds and the transformation process alike tickled her senses in the best possible way, always leaving her fuzzy and giddy. Sometimes, while analyzing scriptures or working on poems at home, she would find herself absentmindedly opening and closing it. A poem was inscribed on the unfolded heart: //Was this how Bumaro felt when He first gazed upon Mekhane? Was this how Hedara felt when she first gazed upon her husband? With heavenly nectar my heart overfills when I think about you, Seeing your body brings me peace and warmth And hearing your speech is akin to being filled with the blessed voice of the divine. Jawahir, my own crown jewel.// She chuckled to herself when she read it. It was nearly two years ago, back when they still lived in Amoni-Ram unbothered. She agreed to combine Jawahir's anniversary gift with hers and allowed her both to etch her poem into the mechanical heart, and to place the scroll into the little compartment on the back. It was in Rahima's possession for long enough. Time has come for her to pass it on to her love. She won't be parting with it for long either; after all, she will be joining Jawahir soon, right? A gasp was heard from the doorway. Jawahir was holding the tea can and the little tea cups on a tray, and her mouth was hanging agape. "Rahima! Is that-" "It is, for it belongs with you, in my home and yours. Just like you're mine and I'm yours." Her love set down the tray and embraced her softly. "You're so wonderful... this means everything to me!" This mechanical heart was the favorite thing she ever made, and when she was forced to leave Amoni-Ram and this sculpture behind, she felt like she'd abandoned her actual one. But, like everything else dear to her, it returned to her now. [[div class="fancyborder"]] It all happened so fast. In the morning, she was enjoying a cup of tea with her mother. In the evening, she got arrested and detained. No trials were held for her, for they intended to bury the whole affair in Ulma-Ram. And now here she was, sitting in the prisoners' cart, being transported. She didn't even know why she was detained in the first place. Not that it mattered. The charges had to be contrived. It was hard not to cry. She was sprawled out on the floor, defeated, trying to wipe her eyes free of tears through her chained hands. Her hair stuck to her face, wet with her sweat and tears. The saddest of all was that she would never see Rahima again. She knew very well how trials in Ulma-Ram went. They would bring her in, list what she was accused of, beg her to make it easy on herself, and when the begging failed, the beatings would take over until she broke and confessed to whatever, and they could use the confession to lock her up, never to see the sunlight again. Certainties were everything in Ulma-Ram. If they weren't sure, they //made// sure. A soft thump on the roof of her cart shook her out of her thoughts. Knowing the road they were passing through, it was not unheard of for small rocks to be falling here and there. She curled back up and continued weeping. Was Rahima even aware she was being taken away? There was no doubt it was arranged by one of the suitors -- maybe even more of them. She knew what they were probably going to tell her. Something like "Oh, Jawahir ran away without ever telling you! She probably hates your guts! Let's get married, you and me, and strengthen the bonds between our families." And she would not be able to prove them wrong. The doors to her cart began rattling, startling her into a near heart attack. Was somebody from the guards here to check up on her? Most likely not. The checkups happened once every two hours and never while the vehicles moved. Robbers then? Most likely. She was half-hoping that some criminals hijacked them. That way, she will at least be able to tell Rahima she was alive and well and was taken against her will and that she would never leave her of her own volition. "Jawahir?" She nearly jumped up from the voice. Was it... "Rahi-" She could barely contain her scream of surprise, so she hid her face in her pillow. "It is me," her love whispered, quietly walking in and closing the door behind herself, pulling her into her embrace and... wrapping her wings around her? "How did you... When did you...?" "We do not have much time. Listen to me, please." Rahima began unlocking her chains, with what Jawahir assumed to be a built-in lockpick. Then, she withdrew a shield from her pocket and showed it to her: "Two minutes until I approached the cart on wings. Half a minute until I made it inside. We will have the same amount of time after we depart. And once we fly to a safe distance..." Rahima pulled out another shield from her gown and handed it to Jawahir. "Use this to get to Qaya-Ram undetected. I have arranged everything, there will be people waiting for you. You will be free, and you will live happily and be a scholar as you always wanted to." "But what about you?" Jawahir asked with her eyes wide. It was unbelievable that Rahima really made it here. Was it really her? Was it a mirage? The way she was holding her, it felt very real. "Won't they punish you for breaking me out?" "They will not know. I will be back in Amoni-Ram by the time anybody has the chance to notice, and I will take off my wings. As for the guards... I do not know what they will do, but I doubt they will turn to Qaya-Ram. They know not your dream is to become a scholar there, right?" That was true. Jawahir didn't really get to tell anyone she was aiming for Qaya-Ram. She either kept forgetting or nobody asked her, and she wasn't one to share her heart without being asked unless it was with Rahima. She chuckled to herself. Just this once, her unsettling silence was beneficial. "Thank you..." she squeezed Rahima's hand. "I don't know where I'd be without you." "We will be moving now. The pleasantries will have to be saved for later, is that fine?" Jawahir nodded and pressed herself close to her. The shield turned on, and Rahima moved the two of them out of the cart. After making sure the door was locked close, they leaped off the cart's platform and were soaring high in the air within a moment's notice. Before their shield ran out of charge, they landed behind an off-the-route dune. The abrupt landing left them laying face-first in the sand. After coughing herself into shape, Jawahir rolled into Rahima's arms and let her tears and sobs flow. Those of relief, of joy. "I thought I'd- I'd never see you again!" "My beautiful Jawahir... You are safe now." "But why the wings? Since... since when did you have them?" This question had been on her mind since she entered her cart, but she didn't feel like asking it while there were more pressing issues. "Do you like these?" The girl flexed them with a proud smile. "I made them myself! I have been working on them for weeks now, wanted to impress you! But I was forced to finish them earlier because of..." She gestured at Jawahir's handcuffs. And she was right! Jawahir was* impressed. A poet learned to craft a pair of wings this good! And it was not just any run off the mill poet. It was her poet. "This is incredible... You're incredible." Just being in each other's presence after such a sudden hardship was enough for them. They both wanted to know they were safe, they were together, they were there for each other. "Please... Take your shield and go. We will meet again in a month, for I will want to ensure you are doing well." "Do you know who was responsible for my arrest?" Another important question Jawahir felt like she needed to know the answer to. Hearing this question, Rahima's face fell. "Some of my suitors... Al-Wadim, Ihab, their circle. They thought they could pull some strings and arrest you on some false pretenses!" She shook her fist at the sky in anger, then sighed. "My beautiful Jawahir... This is all my fault... If I did not confess my love to you, my suitors would not have bothered you, and-" Jawahir interrupted her with a kiss, pressing her charred from crying lips against her love's soft, delicate ones. "Rahima... You aren't the one at fault. It's them. And their jealousy... What happened happened. You went all the way to rescue me. Even built yourself a pair of wings! All for me. I'm blessed to have you. I don't know how many others have a love who'd be willing to risk their life as such." Moments of silence passed. Jawahir rested her chin on her hands; she had to contemplate. There was no turning back now. If she ran away to Qaya-Ram, like her love suggested, it would have amounted to her exiling herself. She most likely would never be able to return to Amoni-Ram and would never see her mother again. After some further thought, she found it to still be favorable. The alternative would have been her getting subject to horrific interrogation and then being left to rot in a cell for the rest of her life. Here though, in Qaya-Ram, she would be able to live her life on her own terms. Not to mention setting her feet in the city was one of the biggest dreams in her life. She just wasn't prepared for it to happen like this. "Well then." She stood up, dusted off the sack-like dress they gave her when she got detained, and squeezed Rahima's hands. "Thank you for doing all of this for me. For saving me... I'll go now, alright? I'll go, so your efforts to save me wouldn't be wasted. We'll meet in Qaya-Ram in a month." "We will meet there in a month..." One last hug between the two as Rahima stood up as well. "The city is a half hour from her on land, even less on wings. I will fly you there, for the sun is far from rising, and the night will shroud my return." [[/div]] Eventually, Jawahir fell asleep, wrapped in tangled sheets, sweat, and sweet dreams. Rahima tried to fall asleep with her but soon surrendered to her restlessness and tiptoed to the balcony, letting her eyes settle on the view of the Qayan desert. The chill creeping through her skin was not just from the cold air of the desert. Dusk approached her very own heart. Her warped memories loomed large in her mind. Just a year ago, Qiqyn's mere disposition emboldened her suitors -- all of whom had as much reason to assault one another as they had to attack anyone else -- to work as one to destroy her beloved. That such a man may hold sovereignty over her memories was a nightmare Rahima chose to set aside. "Mekhane would not burden a soul beyond that it can bear," she decided. The laws and customs of their covenant with Mekhane stopped Qiqyn's shadow well short of the walls of Qaya-Ram, but those laws were made to restrain an Emperor. What of a monster? A harder truth had wrapped its coils around Rahima's heart ever since she liberated her precious and, in moments like this, would squeeze it tighter. //What if I had failed?// When she first succeeded in freeing Jawahir, Rahima felt charged with both joy and pride at her grand design. Reflecting on it now, she felt a pang of guilt for just how many fragile cogs and brittle screws were in her bold conspiracy, how many ways her Jawahir could have been brought to harm. It felt like blasphemy to so greedily depend on so many of their Goddess' miracles. It felt like betrayal to stake the girl's life on Her granting them. //What have I done? Am I her lover or destroyer? What if Mekhane's patience with me runs out?// Something akin to a warm blanket wrapped around her, something not unlike a tender zephyr tickled her neck and lobe. "What troubles you, //habibiti//?" "I feel like I've turned your life into my gambling parlor." Rahima swallowed the lump, which suddenly gathered in her throat. "I made you the object of my suitors' rage-" "Sweet desert spring-" "-I might as well have signed your arrest warrant myself-" "Darling-" "-you are a fugitive because of me! I could have gotten you killed! You're a prisoner even now, whether to spend the rest of your life here or end it in Ulma-Ram!" Jawahir's voice grew unexpectedly bold. "Rahima!" Her racing thoughts were quelled. "I knew loving you could ruin me." She felt the most pleasurable ache as Jawahir's teeth playfully grazed her ear. "I made my choice with that in mind. So, too, did Mekhane, the Irrefutable, when She chose to Fall. Was it the desert who gave Her to us, who gave me to you?" "The only reason we yet live is Mekhane pardoning my reckless stupidity. When will She collect on the many miracles I've asked of Her?" Jawahir laughed. "Is Mekhane a Goddess or bank? Do you believe Her to be so short-sighted? To waste Her favor on someone unworthy of it?" She kissed Rahima's cheek playfully. "It's science. Mekhane believes the world is far more interesting with us in it." This time, it was Rahima whose doubts melted under Jawahir's charms. //An abyss may lay ahead, but we have clawed back our lives from it for a time. That may be enough for me.// [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=Miss Lapis and Nonacherontia]] > Filename: Pride_SCPclip.png > Author: [[user kurtbroppa]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-golden-threads-weaving-us-together SCP Foundation Wiki] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-06-26T03:31:00	[ "_licensebox", "broken-god", "co-authored", "heartwarming", "lgbtq", "period-piece", "pridefest2024", "romance", "slice-of-life", "tale" ]	The Golden Threads Weaving Us Together - SCP Foundation	32	[ "miss-lapis", "who-s-afraid-of-ulrike-meinhof", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "scp-series-1-tales-edition", "pridefest", "church-of-the-broken-god-hub" ]	[ "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-golden-threads-weaving-us-together/Pride_SCPclip.png" ]	1454323430	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-golden-threads-weaving-us-together
the-great-orb	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="preview"> <p>Once, there was nothing but a great darkness, and a Great Orb to rule over it all. But Darkness does not last…</p> </div> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=3&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Ajakstyle/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <div class="info-container"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div> <p>Darkness was all there was, once. But the dark does not last. Sometimes, it is exiled…</p> <p>A companion piece to SCP-8250.</p> </div> <hr/> <div id="u-author_block"> <p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/freezermonkey-s-personnel-dossier">▸ More by this Author ◂</a></p> </div> <hr/> <div id="u-comments2" style="display: none;"> <p>{$comments2}</p> </div> <div class="u-faq"> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:info-ayers">F.A.Q.</a></p> </div> <div style="display: none;"> <p>{$doesthisfixthebug}</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div class="blockquote"> <p><em>…and lo and behold, God was all there was, a great darkness presiding over all that came before and was to come. And so God was content in this darkness.</em></p> <p>~ Williams 10:18</p> </div> <p>Darkness. If one were to view creation from the <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-8250" target="_blank">Great Orb's</a> perspective, they'd see darkness. It was in the dark that great things happened. It was in the dark that greatness occurred. It was in the darkness that creation was born. And the Orb was content, if such a concept could ever apply to a being like it. But darkness does not last forever.</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p><em>…and so it was that the void exploded with light. And so it was that God became aware of these false prophets, fradulent gods. Evil creatures, all of them, as they tried to bring down the one True God. Yet God was more than such small, false gods. It reigned supreme even then.</em></p> <p>~ Tenbris 9:12</p> </div> <p>Darkness. That is what used to be. But evolution remains a constant for all things. And that was especially true of the gods. From the essence of the Orb came a spark of light in the darkness, and existence exploded into reality. From it came the false gods, the fraudulent deities. And they looked upon their creator and felt not love, but raw hatred, for the Orb was a reminder of all they were not. And so they attacked. And yet the Orb laughed and laughed and laughed. What could such tiny creatures do to such a supreme being?</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p><em>God reigned supreme. The false gods were no match for such awe-inspiring power. And so they pulled one last trick. And such a cruel trick it was, the likes of which had never been seen. Our God was exiled, dragged down into the mortal world, rendered a shadow of what once was. And it shall have it's revenge.</em></p> <p>~ Tenebris 11:12</p> </div> <br/> Darkness. No longer a state of being, but a thing of the past. The light, the false gods, had overtaken it. And so a plan was hatched, one that would forever alter the balance of power within reality. God was to be rendered nothing, its power ripped away from it. And so the gods attacked one. Last. Time. God struck down many gods that day. But for every one god struck down, an infinity of others took its place. The battle raged for both an eternity and an instant, for time, chaotic as it was, had no. hold over such beings. <p>But then it happened. The false gods began to latch upon to the True God, the Orb weighing it down. Oh, how it fought. But nevertheless, their weight dragged him down. And God fell, losing what once made him the True God. We mourn to this day.</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p><em>Confined to the mortal world, God did not give up. No, with generosity beyond what mortals were capable of, God decided to help them evolve. Life evolved in the dark, and in the dark it shall evolve more. And God shall help us do it.</em></p> <p>~ Tenebris 11:13</p> </div> <p>Landing in a strange forest, the Orb didn't give up. What is a God of Darkness and Evolution without helping things evolve? And as the strange creatures approached it, and the darkness enveloped the forest, God smiled.</p> <p>We evolved in the dark, and in the dark we will evolve more. And God will help us do it.</p> <p>Amen.</p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-great-orb">The Great Orb</a>" by FreezerMonkey, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-great-orb">https://scpwiki.com/the-great-orb</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> DNA and Man.png<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Man in DNA<br/> <strong>Author:</strong><br/> <strong>License:</strong> Public Domain<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://publicdomainvectors.org/en/free-clipart/Man-in-DNA/71287.html">https://publicdomainvectors.org/en/free-clipart/Man-in-DNA/71287.html</a><br/> <strong>Additional Notes:</strong> Changed the mans color from black to white, and removed the black background</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	===== [[include <a href="/component:preview">component:preview</a> text=Once, there was nothing but a great darkness, and a Great Orb to rule over it all. But Darkness does not last...]] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:black-highlighter-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:jakstyle">:scp-wiki:theme:jakstyle</a>]] [[module CSS]] :root { --header-title: "Church of Evolutionism"; --header-subtitle: "We Evolved in the Dark"; --lgurl: url('https://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/freezermonkey-the-great-orb/DNA%20and%20Man.png'); } .info-container{ --barColour: #434242; — this is the colour of the bar and the author button --linkColour: #FFF; — this is the colour of the "i" and the text within the author button } #page-title {display: none;} [[/module]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:info-ayers">:scp-wiki:component:info-ayers</a> \|lang=en[!-- EN --] \|page=scp-XXXX[!-- https://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/s7-test-code --] \|authorPage=https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/freezermonkey-s-personnel-dossier[!-- link to your author page --] \|comments= Darkness was all there was, once. But the dark does not last. Sometimes, it is exiled... A companion piece to SCP-8250. ]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[div class="blockquote"]] //...and lo and behold, God was all there was, a great darkness presiding over all that came before and was to come. And so God was content in this darkness.// ~ Williams 10:18 [[/div]] Darkness. If one were to view creation from the [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-8250 \| Great Orb's]]] perspective, they'd see darkness. It was in the dark that great things happened. It was in the dark that greatness occurred. It was in the darkness that creation was born. And the Orb was content, if such a concept could ever apply to a being like it. But darkness does not last forever. [[div class="blockquote"]] //...and so it was that the void exploded with light. And so it was that God became aware of these false prophets, fradulent gods. Evil creatures, all of them, as they tried to bring down the one True God. Yet God was more than such small, false gods. It reigned supreme even then.// ~ Tenbris 9:12 [[/div]] Darkness. That is what used to be. But evolution remains a constant for all things. And that was especially true of the gods. From the essence of the Orb came a spark of light in the darkness, and existence exploded into reality. From it came the false gods, the fraudulent deities. And they looked upon their creator and felt not love, but raw hatred, for the Orb was a reminder of all they were not. And so they attacked. And yet the Orb laughed and laughed and laughed. What could such tiny creatures do to such a supreme being? [[div class="blockquote"]] //God reigned supreme. The false gods were no match for such awe-inspiring power. And so they pulled one last trick. And such a cruel trick it was, the likes of which had never been seen. Our God was exiled, dragged down into the mortal world, rendered a shadow of what once was. And it shall have it's revenge.// ~ Tenebris 11:12 [[/div]] Darkness. No longer a state of being, but a thing of the past. The light, the false gods, had overtaken it. And so a plan was hatched, one that would forever alter the balance of power within reality. God was to be rendered nothing, its power ripped away from it. And so the gods attacked one. Last. Time. God struck down many gods that day. But for every one god struck down, an infinity of others took its place. The battle raged for both an eternity and an instant, for time, chaotic as it was, had no. hold over such beings. But then it happened. The false gods began to latch upon to the True God, the Orb weighing it down. Oh, how it fought. But nevertheless, their weight dragged him down. And God fell, losing what once made him the True God. We mourn to this day. [[div class="blockquote"]] //Confined to the mortal world, God did not give up. No, with generosity beyond what mortals were capable of, God decided to help them evolve. Life evolved in the dark, and in the dark it shall evolve more. And God shall help us do it.// ~ Tenebris 11:13 [[/div]] Landing in a strange forest, the Orb didn't give up. What is a God of Darkness and Evolution without helping things evolve? And as the strange creatures approached it, and the darkness enveloped the forest, God smiled. We evolved in the dark, and in the dark we will evolve more. And God will help us do it. Amen. > [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] > Filename:* DNA and Man.png > Name: Man in DNA > Author: > License: Public Domain > Source Link: https://publicdomainvectors.org/en/free-clipart/Man-in-DNA/71287.html > Additional Notes: Changed the mans color from black to white, and removed the black background [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-06-03T23:25:00	[ "_licensebox", "no-dialogue", "religious-fiction", "tale" ]	The Great Orb - SCP Foundation	4	[ "freezermonkey-s-personnel-dossier", "component:info-ayers", "scp-8250", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "young-and-under-30" ]	[]	1453856538	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-great-orb
the-greatest-mathematician-to-never-exist	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p>Doctor Medes sat in his white wooden chair, staring blackly in front of him. They were coming for him. He could feel it. He knew it. He could tell from the look that Dr. Pitas gave him that morning. Not that he did not expect it. He was certain the moment he started his forbidden journey into the heart of mathematics that this would be the tragic finale. How could he hope to outsmart the Foundation forever? Dr. Medes felt grateful that he had enough time to achieve his incredible results.</p> <p>And now, his revolutionary discoveries would cost him everything. The Foundation would have probably kept its research and worked on it, improving it. But the public would never know. The amount of knowledge accessible to humankind would remain the same, and his theorems would probably remain conjectures for years to come. And naturally, his name would be erased from history. Once back in the normal world, he could still have a good career as a mathematician, maybe he could even come close to solving Goldbach's conjecture and Riemann's hypothesis without the use of anomalous mathematics. But deep down he had already realized for a long time that he had spent his best and most productive years working at the Foundation and that his mind was slowly but surely deteriorating. And even if he did come to a solution, that would be in reality only a small piece of the entire puzzle, comprised of bears and missing numbers and other oddities.</p> <p>And yet, despite all of this, he did not feel particularly sad or angry. He felt simple and pure satisfaction, even as he started reminiscing about his life until that point.</p> <p>Archie Medes was born in a small and uninteresting village. Uninteresting for most people, at least. Archie instead, was incredibly fascinated by his hometown, with its precise geometrical homes, its beautiful leaves full of repeating patterns, and the fresh spring breeze moving his hair in such a chaotic and fascinating way. He was, according to everyone who knew him, a child prodigy. He often visited the small library near him and took home books on biology, chemistry, astronomy, geometry and arithmetics, and even basic algebra. For him, the only thing more interesting than the world around him was trying to understand how and why it functioned in a certain way. He loved to come up with theories and test them out to see if they were correct. Most of the time, they probably were not, but that certainly did not discourage him.</p> <p>At school, everyone soon realized that he was extremely talented and incredibly intelligent for his age and overall, but that did not stop Archie from making new friends. He had a solar and positive personality, a trait that he kept for all of his life, and classmates and teachers alike could not help but like him, even though he sometimes was a bit aloof and concentrated on his research. After high school, he graduated from Princeton University, where he eventually got his Doctorate. When asked why he chose to study mathematics, he would reply: "Ever since I was a kid, I loved animals, plants, clouds, stars, and numbers. When I grew older, I found out that by studying the latter I could learn more about everything else."</p> <p>And between all of the branches of maths, one stood out in his mind and piqued his interest: number theory. As previously mentioned, Archie really liked numbers. They were not complicated at all, they were just small and simple lines constantly repeating over and over again. And yet, with those lines, mathematicians could recreate and explain our extremely complex world. And then from those lines questions we did not know the answer to continuously arose. The culprits were often a specific set of lines: primes. Were all numbers the sum of two or three primes? Were primes so close to each other to be called twins infinite? And how were primes distributed? Like so many before him, Archie Medes was determined to finally shed light on these conjectures.</p> <p>He made significant progress already at a young age, while he was still a teen, and by his early twenties he was already one of the leading experts of the so-called "Queen of Mathematics". At the age of 25, he was awarded the Fields Medal for his "exciting and original ways of tackling Goldbach's conjecture that have helped to uncover some of the deepest truths on natural numbers, the foundation of mathematics".</p> <p>Soon after, he was contacted by the Foundation. At first, he did not know its purpose, but once he had agreed to work with them under the promise of uncovering mankind's greatest secrets, he came to learn about the anomalous and how it even extended to his beloved number theory. This naturally did not discourage Archie, but it gave him even more motivation. Every day as a junior researcher he kept telling colleagues about the fire burning inside him like never before. He could seem a bit odd at first, but everyone who had the luck to work with him will surely remember him as a lovable person.</p> <p>His talent was certainly uncommon and he quickly rose the ranks. By the time he was 27, he was one of the leaders of the Mathematics Department, officially known as the Department of Studies of Anomalous Mathematics, Logic and Computer Science (DSAMLCS). He had the habit of saying the full name whenever he met a new researcher. He said it gave him an aura of importance. He used to make a lot of similar jokes. In reality, he never cared about fame and was certainly a humble individual. When he was little, he was ostracized and sometimes ridiculed by others for being too good, and too unreachable. That's why, even though he could usually always add several observations during talks and meetings, he remained quiet most of the time. That is if the subject was not number theory.</p> <p>Two anomalies interested Dr. Medes more than any immortal lizard or creepy old man: SCP-033 and SCP-1313. They were natural numbers, the bricks of math, what he had been studying for years! Most importantly, they could have been puzzle pieces, missing pieces that could have helped him in completing his masterpiece: demonstrating Goldbach's conjecture. There were just two problems: bureaucracy and interests.</p> <p>Researching in a conceptual and non-experimental field such as mathematics, where there is no physical and tangible boundary to an experiment is extremely restrictive. The amount of time you are allowed to study a specific anomaly is fairly short and the objective needs to be clear, achievable, and typically not particularly ambitious. This is because there is always the risk of unknown properties causing great damage either to researchers, to the Foundation, or mathematics as a whole. Unfortunately, this has indeed happened before, and ever since the Foundation has been overly cautious, taking away a good deal of freedom from the MD. All because, as Archie would put it, mathematics is not a science enslaved by glass containers, by cells, or by the limits of the Universe. Its only limitation is in the head of us mathematicians.</p> <p>Moreover, the Foundation tends to search for explanations not on how an anomaly can be useful, but on how it works. Of course, it makes sense, since the "C" stands for "Contain". But in our field, it spells more like "Limit". Instead of encouraging researchers to ask "How can an equation that creates a bear be integrated and used in studies and theorems?", the Foundation often forces us to try to understand why that particular equation produces a bear and how. Finally, solving problems such as the twin primes or Goldbach's conjectures was not a priority nor was it advised. On the contrary, these were seen as unimportant distractions, obstacles that prevented mathematicians working at the SCP Foundation from giving total attention to their job: study the anomalous.</p> <p>These reasons, while without a doubt strong enough to discourage anyone else, did not affect Archie Medes. He would not have spent his whole career chasing bears or staring at vanishing papers. That was not why he became a mathematician. All he wished for was to walk in a park one day with the knowledge that no matter how many flowers bloomed around him, he always could have found 2 or 3 prime numbers that when added together would have given him the number of flowers. He became a mathematician because he wanted to advance the knowledge of humankind so that when he was older, he could look at his wrinkly face and tell himself: "You did well. Thanks to you, everyone is a bit smarter."</p> <p>On the day of his 28th birthday, he decided what he would do: he would become the scientist he always sought to be. He started researching in secret, on his own, in his free time. Every day, after returning home, he would take his dairy and continue where he left off. He did not care for the consequences of his actions and he knew that being an esteemed researcher and a reserved person, suspicions would not arise for some time, maybe even years. So without any hesitation, he began exploring and learning about SCP-033 and SCP-1313.</p> <p>His initial research on SCP-033 was not very fruitful: sure, he knew the two whole numbers before and after the anomaly, but he could not deduct much from so little information. The "Bear Equation", on the other hand, was easier to study: first of all, a bear could be represented as a square, and possibly be a centered octagonal number. Further research in the field of bear topology and bear packing confirmed his theory. Since Archie was pretty keen on not getting mauled by a bear, he analyzed each logical step of the equation separately. He discovered some curious things:<br/> 1. The square root of a bear was a Sophie Germain prime, so the number after its double was also prime;<br/> 2. The square root of a bear was not a Mersenne prime, so it was not one less than a power of 2;<br/> 3. The square root of a bear was a Pythagorean prime, so it could be written as the sum of two squares;<br/> 4. The square root of a bear was a twin prime.<br/> 5. The number after a bear was a multiple of 24, like for every square of a prime.</p> <p>Then, three months later, the first big discovery. While he was observing a typical appearance of SCP-033, he looked at some of the symbols and started to think about them. Then all of a sudden he started gasping, afterward he became serious once again, as if he was deeply reflecting on something, followed by a series of smiles and a joyous laugh. He forgot about everything: his concerned colleagues, the point of the experiment, what he was going to have for lunch. Nothing else mattered. He had found a connection between the two anomalies he was studying, a way to express one using the other. He rushed home and started to work on what that implied: he now knew where all of the anomalous numbers were on the natural number line. Every single one of them. He felt like a Renaissance explorer, discovering and mapping incredible jungles in South America, or encountering animals straight out of his wildest dreams in Africa.</p> <p>Archie soon came to realize that some problems that had puzzled mathematicians for centuries were not inherently hard, but what truly made them difficult was the fact that they were playing unfairly: humans simply lacked the tools and knowledge to completely understand them. It was as if every attempt to reach the top of the mountain did not have the final, crucial rope. This was the final crucial rope. Within the span of half a year, Dr. Medes had solved the longest-standing problem in number theory: there were indeed infinite twin primes. Certainly an important and very exciting result, but not Archie's end goal. He was the type of person to not brag about anything. In fact, him doing something appeared to strike him as a drawback or an unfortunate event. After solving a problem, although he did not deny the importance of it, he would minimize the importance of solving it. So, after some joyful months of celebration, he embarked once more on his quest.</p> <p>Contrary to the twin prime problem, Goldbach's conjecture was still a tough nut to crack. Despite his best efforts, its solution continued to be only one of his dreams, his most cherished. He most definitely tried: in his notebook, some days there were written down 10 separate approaches, not just quick ideas, but fully developed hypotheses that often led to him reaching impressive results in numerous fields. And yet, Goldbach's conjecture kept on fighting back. With his confidence starting to shatter, the cheerful, friendly researcher transformed into a secluded, lonely man, caught up in his own personal struggle. He started to hate his job, hate the Foundation, hate mathematics, hate the world for which he had fought for.</p> <p>Then one day, on 2nd December, he brushed his teeth as always and noticed he was bleeding from the mouth. What shocked him was that he had just remembered that the same thing had happened a year and a half ago, and then again three months prior. He had not cleaned his mouth for three months. His nails were long and dirty, his hair was an untidied mess, his face looked tired, and long deep wrinkles had appeared on it. He was ugly. Not unattractive or bad-looking. Ugly. His face, and most of all his sad expression looked so ugly. He hated it. It was so ugly that he started crying. He glanced at the calendar and realized he had been neglecting his life for three years. For three years, following his first great discovery, he had been a slave, a zombie, a non-living being. This was not life. He did not want this. Never. Never again.</p> <p>On that day, Archie Medes made his greatest finding: he was not only a mathematician, he was also a human. First and foremost. He wrote this phrase down with the title "The Axiom of Life". The next day, he arrived early at the site he worked in, well dressed, cleaned, and smiling.</p> <p>Naturally, he kept on wanting to study math. All he wished for was to run away from Goldbach's conjecture. Far, far away. He did not want to talk about it, or even mention its name. For a little while, he focused only on his official duties as a Foundation researcher. In the meantime, he started to talk about other notorious problems with his colleagues, especially with his best friend, Dr. Delph. Jack Delph was considered by many the leader of the MD. He was a charismatic, organized, middle-of-the-road mathematician, who had the great luck to meet a charming and unordinary person like Dr. Medes. On multiple occasions, he would discuss with Archie Riemann's Hypotheses, one of the most stubborn and challenging problems ever. Solving it would mean reaching a near-total understanding of prime numbers, the building blocks of number theory.<br/> "There is no connection with Goldbach's conjecture, right?" "Not that I heard of." After this conversation, Archie got up with a smile—the smile of someone about to do something reckless.</p> <p>Unlike many may think, working on this new problem was not nearly as stressful for Archie. For him, this was a recreational activity, something to distract his brain with, a game. Some people like to keep their minds fresh and active by playing chess or solving puzzles. Archie kept his mind active by trying to solve Riemann's Hypotheses. It was a long game, a fun game, as he stated in his diary. The game challenged him out of his comfort zone, into branches of math he had paid very little attention to. At the same time, he read books about his puzzle, finding out the beauties that made it the greatest problem of mathematics, and the most beautiful.<br/> It was, without a doubt, a magnificent game. But all games must come to an end, resulting in either the loss or the triumph of the player. And in Archie's case, it was a resounding victory.<br/> The puzzle was complete, and the secret of the distribution of prime numbers was uncovered. Riemann, poor Riemann, who perhaps had already reached this conclusion, was right all along.</p> <p>Medes wrote in his diary: "I believe that if there is a Heaven for mathematicians, it should include a library, full of books, with all past, present, and future theories, conjectures and theorems. Dear Riemann, if you are in such a Heaven, I'm sure you have already seen it. The answer to your greatest question, the completion of your greatest achievement, the most splendid theorem of all time: the solution to your hypotheses. It's beautiful, isn't it? It's the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I hope one day to stand by your side, in this Heaven, and marvel with you at the beauty of our theorem. Forevermore."</p> <p>In the following days, Archie was extremely cheerful. He kept saying to everyone that he had met up again with an old friend. "Who?" everyone would ask. "Rie, man." Nobody would laugh. He was horrible at making jokes. He had several adventures at the Foundation that don't regard our story. Once he tried to express SCP-682 as an equation and entered into a fierce battle with the "Adaptive Equation". He neutralized it in the end. His father died a few weeks after his 35th birthday. He dedicated one of his many secret theorems to him. Sometimes he would ask to Delph to go for a smoke and cry a bit in my arms. He never smoked and drank rarely. He was however addicted to coffee and though he wasn't a playboy, he enjoyed women's company. He ended up marrying a janitor. That's a story for another day.</p> <p>As I mentioned before, Archie hated slacking off. So, after around one year completely focused on his occupation, he felt like he was ready to fight one more time against his best friend and his worst enemy: Goldbach's conjecture. The knowledge he had obtained on his journey to solve Riemann's Hypotheses proved crucial. He soon realised that the solution was there. He hadn't reached it, but he knew it existed and that it was within reach. It's as if he could feel like it was behind a wall of fragile rocks and he had a scalpel in his hands. All he had to do was push forward.</p> <p>It was for this observation, that some may regard as arrogance, that his second attempt caused him significantly less stress than his first despite being just as difficult. He challenged the conjecture with much more serenity and peace. He never was obsessive, though he surely was determined. Sometimes he would pull all-nighters. Not too many, since his wife would often drag him to bed. He never was someone who didn't enjoy life. He often made Dr. Lambert, the Head of the MD, furious because he would take several vacations and he would always send to everyone postcards to everyone and souvenirs to his best friends. He had a kid just before his 36th Christmas. Andrew. Claire immediately forbade her husband to introduce him to two things: the Foundation and math.</p> <p>On his 37th birthday, we had a great party for him, despite Dr. Lambert's objections. Some colleagues made a cake with the first digits of π, others brought alcohol and we all played a drinking game in which the slowest one at solving a problem would drink a shot. Archie looked at the problems of others, solved them and then his problem, then changed his answer to his problem so that he would have to drink. Over and over again. Towards the end of the day, he pushed me to the side, a bit drunk, and told me: "Jack…I'm so happy… GC is no more…I did it…I helped the world…Dad…I helped the world…" He cried a bit and I carried him to his car. Claire was also tipsy, so I drove them home. When he went inside, he looked at me with a serious expression, the same expression my mother gave me three days before dying.<br/> "Thank you, Jack. For everything. Please remember me."</p> <p>He knew it was a matter of time. When you know about the Foundation and you know something that they don't, you can be sure that, sooner or later, they'll find out. You never really understand how they manage. They just…do. Simple as that. And Archie knew that too. He wrote as much in his notebook, adding: "The fact that after a decade, the Foundation still hasn't found out about this is probably one of the most flattering compliments the world has given me."</p> <p>13th of May. It was a pretty hot day. Summer was close. He was talking with Dr. Delph. He told me he wanted to go on a trip to Africa in July. He talked about Andrew. About Claire. He wanted a daughter. We discussed the idea of a pet Komodo dragon. And of course, we had a conversation about mathematics. He said the heptagon was better than the hexagon—a clear provocation. Our debate dragged on as we entered the MD wing of the site. Out of nowhere, a hand appeared on Archie's shoulder. It was Lambert. He looked at him dead in the eyes, an expression of anger, compassion, concern, sadness. He merely said: "Tonight. 6 pm." Archie became a bit pale, but still found the strength of smiling a bit. "I understand. Thanks." He dodged my questions regarding what had happened. Before our meeting started, he put a USB in my pocket. "The data you asked for." He said with a gentle grin.</p> <p>He arrived home at 4 pm and started writing down his thoughts and impressions. He didn't seem sad. Sure, he would have liked to work at the Foundation for all his life, and leaving his colleagues and friends and the fact that he would forget about everything that he had accomplished, that he had made the world slightly better… ok, maybe he was a bit sad. But he accepted it. He had accepted this fate since the very beginning. He simply hoped that the people he had met and known throughout the best years of his life would remember him fondly and perhaps pass down his memory to their children, so that maybe, just maybe…someone would remember him. Not just as a mathematician, but also as a person.</p> <p>Four men knocked at his door. He opened up to them and immediately followed them without putting up a fight. He later said to me that the only thing he asked them was to be gentle with his wife. He had told her everything two months after they had gotten married. They had left Andrew with Claire's brother. Their memory erasure was scheduled to be performed a week later. Lambert fought with all the might an old man could have to have him prepare a specific amnestic that would only cancel his memories about the Foundation. During one of his many fights with the Site Director, I heard him scream: "I can take away the achievements of the greatest mind of my field, but I refuse to take his life!" In the end he succeeded.</p> <p>20th May, 10 am. From the setup, he looked like a death row inmate who was about to be lethally injected. The whole Mathematics Department watched from a glass. Before they brought him inside the room, he looked at me and giggled softly, then he whispered softly: "I had to." I looked him in the eye, trying to smile weakly.</p> <p>They strapped him down and prepared the amnestic. They asked if he had any last words. He looked at the ceiling and smiled. 7 lights. He turned slightly towards us and said:<br/> "I'm sorry I was too human. I will never regret it. Thank you and… farewell."<br/> They injected him. He closed his eyes.<br/> He was still smiling.</p> <p>There was a second USB in my pocket. It was his notebook transcribed. I stored it away for years. I didn't want the Foundation to take it from me.</p> <p>He, Claire and Andrew were reintroduced into society after all the necessary precautions. They didn't get their names changed. The last favor Dr. Lambert insisted to be given to his former colleague. Whenever someone mentioned Archie, he would always say that he was an idiot, that if he had told the Foundation from the start they would have surely let him study the anomalies as he pleased. I'm more skeptical than he was.</p> <p>He moved to Europe and often visited Africa. I always kept myself updated on what he was doing. I visited him sometimes, as a fellow mathematician. He was still as cheerful as ever. Of course. Nothing had happened. At least according to him. He had two daughters, Luise and Emma. Andrew now has a son called Jack. Oh, fate, you twisted beast. Archie Medes passed away at the age of 63 from throat cancer. In the eyes of mathematicians, he was a great mind. In the eyes of the world, he never existed. Claire gave me a copy of his new notebook. Among many things, there was the start of a solution to Goldbach's conjecture that used a group of numbers he had hypothesised, the "anomalous numbers". He thought that no one would pay this result any mind, since no one else would accept those numbers.<br/> "My mind gives me no reason why these numbers should exist, but my heart keeps screaming that they do. Perhaps a better mathematician will translate in brain waves my palpitations."</p> <p>And now, even after all of these years, thinking back to my whole life and to those moments I spent with him, I can't help but cry a bit. I gave my everything for the Foundation and I keep telling myself that I did good, that I helped humanity, that I protected the world. And yet, despite all this, I can't help but feel like my talent, my passion, the very desire that led me to study mathematics, my one true love, I just can't help thinking that it all was… wasted…that I could have spent my time better, that I could have been greater, better…happier.</p> <p>I often wish I had Archie's resolve. He knew how to be a mathematician and a man. He explored and understood the universe of numbers better than everyone else, and yet that didn't stop him from being a just and honest man, a man who enjoyed real life to its fullest and wanted all the people he cared about to do the same.</p> <p>The world had forgotten him, but he never forgot the world.<br/> He managed to live in harmony and happiness in two places simultaneously.<br/> That's why, to me, among all mathematicians and friends…</p> <p>He was the greatest.</p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-greatest-mathematician-to-never-exist">The greatest mathematician to never exist</a>" by Uncertaindyplodocus, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-greatest-mathematician-to-never-exist">https://scpwiki.com/the-greatest-mathematician-to-never-exist</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module rate]] [[/>]] Doctor Medes sat in his white wooden chair, staring blackly in front of him. They were coming for him. He could feel it. He knew it. He could tell from the look that Dr. Pitas gave him that morning. Not that he did not expect it. He was certain the moment he started his forbidden journey into the heart of mathematics that this would be the tragic finale. How could he hope to outsmart the Foundation forever? Dr. Medes felt grateful that he had enough time to achieve his incredible results. And now, his revolutionary discoveries would cost him everything. The Foundation would have probably kept its research and worked on it, improving it. But the public would never know. The amount of knowledge accessible to humankind would remain the same, and his theorems would probably remain conjectures for years to come. And naturally, his name would be erased from history. Once back in the normal world, he could still have a good career as a mathematician, maybe he could even come close to solving Goldbach's conjecture and Riemann's hypothesis without the use of anomalous mathematics. But deep down he had already realized for a long time that he had spent his best and most productive years working at the Foundation and that his mind was slowly but surely deteriorating. And even if he did come to a solution, that would be in reality only a small piece of the entire puzzle, comprised of bears and missing numbers and other oddities. And yet, despite all of this, he did not feel particularly sad or angry. He felt simple and pure satisfaction, even as he started reminiscing about his life until that point. Archie Medes was born in a small and uninteresting village. Uninteresting for most people, at least. Archie instead, was incredibly fascinated by his hometown, with its precise geometrical homes, its beautiful leaves full of repeating patterns, and the fresh spring breeze moving his hair in such a chaotic and fascinating way. He was, according to everyone who knew him, a child prodigy. He often visited the small library near him and took home books on biology, chemistry, astronomy, geometry and arithmetics, and even basic algebra. For him, the only thing more interesting than the world around him was trying to understand how and why it functioned in a certain way. He loved to come up with theories and test them out to see if they were correct. Most of the time, they probably were not, but that certainly did not discourage him. At school, everyone soon realized that he was extremely talented and incredibly intelligent for his age and overall, but that did not stop Archie from making new friends. He had a solar and positive personality, a trait that he kept for all of his life, and classmates and teachers alike could not help but like him, even though he sometimes was a bit aloof and concentrated on his research. After high school, he graduated from Princeton University, where he eventually got his Doctorate. When asked why he chose to study mathematics, he would reply: "Ever since I was a kid, I loved animals, plants, clouds, stars, and numbers. When I grew older, I found out that by studying the latter I could learn more about everything else." And between all of the branches of maths, one stood out in his mind and piqued his interest: number theory. As previously mentioned, Archie really liked numbers. They were not complicated at all, they were just small and simple lines constantly repeating over and over again. And yet, with those lines, mathematicians could recreate and explain our extremely complex world. And then from those lines questions we did not know the answer to continuously arose. The culprits were often a specific set of lines: primes. Were all numbers the sum of two or three primes? Were primes so close to each other to be called twins infinite? And how were primes distributed? Like so many before him, Archie Medes was determined to finally shed light on these conjectures. He made significant progress already at a young age, while he was still a teen, and by his early twenties he was already one of the leading experts of the so-called "Queen of Mathematics". At the age of 25, he was awarded the Fields Medal for his "exciting and original ways of tackling Goldbach's conjecture that have helped to uncover some of the deepest truths on natural numbers, the foundation of mathematics". Soon after, he was contacted by the Foundation. At first, he did not know its purpose, but once he had agreed to work with them under the promise of uncovering mankind's greatest secrets, he came to learn about the anomalous and how it even extended to his beloved number theory. This naturally did not discourage Archie, but it gave him even more motivation. Every day as a junior researcher he kept telling colleagues about the fire burning inside him like never before. He could seem a bit odd at first, but everyone who had the luck to work with him will surely remember him as a lovable person. His talent was certainly uncommon and he quickly rose the ranks. By the time he was 27, he was one of the leaders of the Mathematics Department, officially known as the Department of Studies of Anomalous Mathematics, Logic and Computer Science (DSAMLCS). He had the habit of saying the full name whenever he met a new researcher. He said it gave him an aura of importance. He used to make a lot of similar jokes. In reality, he never cared about fame and was certainly a humble individual. When he was little, he was ostracized and sometimes ridiculed by others for being too good, and too unreachable. That's why, even though he could usually always add several observations during talks and meetings, he remained quiet most of the time. That is if the subject was not number theory. Two anomalies interested Dr. Medes more than any immortal lizard or creepy old man: SCP-033 and SCP-1313. They were natural numbers, the bricks of math, what he had been studying for years! Most importantly, they could have been puzzle pieces, missing pieces that could have helped him in completing his masterpiece: demonstrating Goldbach's conjecture. There were just two problems: bureaucracy and interests. Researching in a conceptual and non-experimental field such as mathematics, where there is no physical and tangible boundary to an experiment is extremely restrictive. The amount of time you are allowed to study a specific anomaly is fairly short and the objective needs to be clear, achievable, and typically not particularly ambitious. This is because there is always the risk of unknown properties causing great damage either to researchers, to the Foundation, or mathematics as a whole. Unfortunately, this has indeed happened before, and ever since the Foundation has been overly cautious, taking away a good deal of freedom from the MD. All because, as Archie would put it, mathematics is not a science enslaved by glass containers, by cells, or by the limits of the Universe. Its only limitation is in the head of us mathematicians. Moreover, the Foundation tends to search for explanations not on how an anomaly can be useful, but on how it works. Of course, it makes sense, since the "C" stands for "Contain". But in our field, it spells more like "Limit". Instead of encouraging researchers to ask "How can an equation that creates a bear be integrated and used in studies and theorems?", the Foundation often forces us to try to understand why that particular equation produces a bear and how. Finally, solving problems such as the twin primes or Goldbach's conjectures was not a priority nor was it advised. On the contrary, these were seen as unimportant distractions, obstacles that prevented mathematicians working at the SCP Foundation from giving total attention to their job: study the anomalous. These reasons, while without a doubt strong enough to discourage anyone else, did not affect Archie Medes. He would not have spent his whole career chasing bears or staring at vanishing papers. That was not why he became a mathematician. All he wished for was to walk in a park one day with the knowledge that no matter how many flowers bloomed around him, he always could have found 2 or 3 prime numbers that when added together would have given him the number of flowers. He became a mathematician because he wanted to advance the knowledge of humankind so that when he was older, he could look at his wrinkly face and tell himself: "You did well. Thanks to you, everyone is a bit smarter." On the day of his 28th birthday, he decided what he would do: he would become the scientist he always sought to be. He started researching in secret, on his own, in his free time. Every day, after returning home, he would take his dairy and continue where he left off. He did not care for the consequences of his actions and he knew that being an esteemed researcher and a reserved person, suspicions would not arise for some time, maybe even years. So without any hesitation, he began exploring and learning about SCP-033 and SCP-1313. His initial research on SCP-033 was not very fruitful: sure, he knew the two whole numbers before and after the anomaly, but he could not deduct much from so little information. The "Bear Equation", on the other hand, was easier to study: first of all, a bear could be represented as a square, and possibly be a centered octagonal number. Further research in the field of bear topology and bear packing confirmed his theory. Since Archie was pretty keen on not getting mauled by a bear, he analyzed each logical step of the equation separately. He discovered some curious things: 1. The square root of a bear was a Sophie Germain prime, so the number after its double was also prime; 2. The square root of a bear was not a Mersenne prime, so it was not one less than a power of 2; 3. The square root of a bear was a Pythagorean prime, so it could be written as the sum of two squares; 4. The square root of a bear was a twin prime. 5. The number after a bear was a multiple of 24, like for every square of a prime. Then, three months later, the first big discovery. While he was observing a typical appearance of SCP-033, he looked at some of the symbols and started to think about them. Then all of a sudden he started gasping, afterward he became serious once again, as if he was deeply reflecting on something, followed by a series of smiles and a joyous laugh. He forgot about everything: his concerned colleagues, the point of the experiment, what he was going to have for lunch. Nothing else mattered. He had found a connection between the two anomalies he was studying, a way to express one using the other. He rushed home and started to work on what that implied: he now knew where all of the anomalous numbers were on the natural number line. Every single one of them. He felt like a Renaissance explorer, discovering and mapping incredible jungles in South America, or encountering animals straight out of his wildest dreams in Africa. Archie soon came to realize that some problems that had puzzled mathematicians for centuries were not inherently hard, but what truly made them difficult was the fact that they were playing unfairly: humans simply lacked the tools and knowledge to completely understand them. It was as if every attempt to reach the top of the mountain did not have the final, crucial rope. This was the final crucial rope. Within the span of half a year, Dr. Medes had solved the longest-standing problem in number theory: there were indeed infinite twin primes. Certainly an important and very exciting result, but not Archie's end goal. He was the type of person to not brag about anything. In fact, him doing something appeared to strike him as a drawback or an unfortunate event. After solving a problem, although he did not deny the importance of it, he would minimize the importance of solving it. So, after some joyful months of celebration, he embarked once more on his quest. Contrary to the twin prime problem, Goldbach's conjecture was still a tough nut to crack. Despite his best efforts, its solution continued to be only one of his dreams, his most cherished. He most definitely tried: in his notebook, some days there were written down 10 separate approaches, not just quick ideas, but fully developed hypotheses that often led to him reaching impressive results in numerous fields. And yet, Goldbach's conjecture kept on fighting back. With his confidence starting to shatter, the cheerful, friendly researcher transformed into a secluded, lonely man, caught up in his own personal struggle. He started to hate his job, hate the Foundation, hate mathematics, hate the world for which he had fought for. Then one day, on 2nd December, he brushed his teeth as always and noticed he was bleeding from the mouth. What shocked him was that he had just remembered that the same thing had happened a year and a half ago, and then again three months prior. He had not cleaned his mouth for three months. His nails were long and dirty, his hair was an untidied mess, his face looked tired, and long deep wrinkles had appeared on it. He was ugly. Not unattractive or bad-looking. Ugly. His face, and most of all his sad expression looked so ugly. He hated it. It was so ugly that he started crying. He glanced at the calendar and realized he had been neglecting his life for three years. For three years, following his first great discovery, he had been a slave, a zombie, a non-living being. This was not life. He did not want this. Never. Never again. On that day, Archie Medes made his greatest finding: he was not only a mathematician, he was also a human. First and foremost. He wrote this phrase down with the title "The Axiom of Life". The next day, he arrived early at the site he worked in, well dressed, cleaned, and smiling. Naturally, he kept on wanting to study math. All he wished for was to run away from Goldbach's conjecture. Far, far away. He did not want to talk about it, or even mention its name. For a little while, he focused only on his official duties as a Foundation researcher. In the meantime, he started to talk about other notorious problems with his colleagues, especially with his best friend, Dr. Delph. Jack Delph was considered by many the leader of the MD. He was a charismatic, organized, middle-of-the-road mathematician, who had the great luck to meet a charming and unordinary person like Dr. Medes. On multiple occasions, he would discuss with Archie Riemann's Hypotheses, one of the most stubborn and challenging problems ever. Solving it would mean reaching a near-total understanding of prime numbers, the building blocks of number theory. "There is no connection with Goldbach's conjecture, right?" "Not that I heard of." After this conversation, Archie got up with a smile—the smile of someone about to do something reckless. Unlike many may think, working on this new problem was not nearly as stressful for Archie. For him, this was a recreational activity, something to distract his brain with, a game. Some people like to keep their minds fresh and active by playing chess or solving puzzles. Archie kept his mind active by trying to solve Riemann's Hypotheses. It was a long game, a fun game, as he stated in his diary. The game challenged him out of his comfort zone, into branches of math he had paid very little attention to. At the same time, he read books about his puzzle, finding out the beauties that made it the greatest problem of mathematics, and the most beautiful. It was, without a doubt, a magnificent game. But all games must come to an end, resulting in either the loss or the triumph of the player. And in Archie's case, it was a resounding victory. The puzzle was complete, and the secret of the distribution of prime numbers was uncovered. Riemann, poor Riemann, who perhaps had already reached this conclusion, was right all along. Medes wrote in his diary: "I believe that if there is a Heaven for mathematicians, it should include a library, full of books, with all past, present, and future theories, conjectures and theorems. Dear Riemann, if you are in such a Heaven, I'm sure you have already seen it. The answer to your greatest question, the completion of your greatest achievement, the most splendid theorem of all time: the solution to your hypotheses. It's beautiful, isn't it? It's the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I hope one day to stand by your side, in this Heaven, and marvel with you at the beauty of our theorem. Forevermore." In the following days, Archie was extremely cheerful. He kept saying to everyone that he had met up again with an old friend. "Who?" everyone would ask. "Rie, man." Nobody would laugh. He was horrible at making jokes. He had several adventures at the Foundation that don't regard our story. Once he tried to express SCP-682 as an equation and entered into a fierce battle with the "Adaptive Equation". He neutralized it in the end. His father died a few weeks after his 35th birthday. He dedicated one of his many secret theorems to him. Sometimes he would ask to Delph to go for a smoke and cry a bit in my arms. He never smoked and drank rarely. He was however addicted to coffee and though he wasn't a playboy, he enjoyed women's company. He ended up marrying a janitor. That's a story for another day. As I mentioned before, Archie hated slacking off. So, after around one year completely focused on his occupation, he felt like he was ready to fight one more time against his best friend and his worst enemy: Goldbach's conjecture. The knowledge he had obtained on his journey to solve Riemann's Hypotheses proved crucial. He soon realised that the solution was there. He hadn't reached it, but he knew it existed and that it was within reach. It's as if he could feel like it was behind a wall of fragile rocks and he had a scalpel in his hands. All he had to do was push forward. It was for this observation, that some may regard as arrogance, that his second attempt caused him significantly less stress than his first despite being just as difficult. He challenged the conjecture with much more serenity and peace. He never was obsessive, though he surely was determined. Sometimes he would pull all-nighters. Not too many, since his wife would often drag him to bed. He never was someone who didn't enjoy life. He often made Dr. Lambert, the Head of the MD, furious because he would take several vacations and he would always send to everyone postcards to everyone and souvenirs to his best friends. He had a kid just before his 36th Christmas. Andrew. Claire immediately forbade her husband to introduce him to two things: the Foundation and math. On his 37th birthday, we had a great party for him, despite Dr. Lambert's objections. Some colleagues made a cake with the first digits of π, others brought alcohol and we all played a drinking game in which the slowest one at solving a problem would drink a shot. Archie looked at the problems of others, solved them and then his problem, then changed his answer to his problem so that he would have to drink. Over and over again. Towards the end of the day, he pushed me to the side, a bit drunk, and told me: "Jack…I'm so happy… GC is no more…I did it…I helped the world…Dad…I helped the world…" He cried a bit and I carried him to his car. Claire was also tipsy, so I drove them home. When he went inside, he looked at me with a serious expression, the same expression my mother gave me three days before dying. "Thank you, Jack. For everything. Please remember me." He knew it was a matter of time. When you know about the Foundation and you know something that they don't, you can be sure that, sooner or later, they'll find out. You never really understand how they manage. They just…do. Simple as that. And Archie knew that too. He wrote as much in his notebook, adding: "The fact that after a decade, the Foundation still hasn't found out about this is probably one of the most flattering compliments the world has given me." 13th of May. It was a pretty hot day. Summer was close. He was talking with Dr. Delph. He told me he wanted to go on a trip to Africa in July. He talked about Andrew. About Claire. He wanted a daughter. We discussed the idea of a pet Komodo dragon. And of course, we had a conversation about mathematics. He said the heptagon was better than the hexagon—a clear provocation. Our debate dragged on as we entered the MD wing of the site. Out of nowhere, a hand appeared on Archie's shoulder. It was Lambert. He looked at him dead in the eyes, an expression of anger, compassion, concern, sadness. He merely said: "Tonight. 6 pm." Archie became a bit pale, but still found the strength of smiling a bit. "I understand. Thanks." He dodged my questions regarding what had happened. Before our meeting started, he put a USB in my pocket. "The data you asked for." He said with a gentle grin. He arrived home at 4 pm and started writing down his thoughts and impressions. He didn't seem sad. Sure, he would have liked to work at the Foundation for all his life, and leaving his colleagues and friends and the fact that he would forget about everything that he had accomplished, that he had made the world slightly better… ok, maybe he was a bit sad. But he accepted it. He had accepted this fate since the very beginning. He simply hoped that the people he had met and known throughout the best years of his life would remember him fondly and perhaps pass down his memory to their children, so that maybe, just maybe…someone would remember him. Not just as a mathematician, but also as a person. Four men knocked at his door. He opened up to them and immediately followed them without putting up a fight. He later said to me that the only thing he asked them was to be gentle with his wife. He had told her everything two months after they had gotten married. They had left Andrew with Claire's brother. Their memory erasure was scheduled to be performed a week later. Lambert fought with all the might an old man could have to have him prepare a specific amnestic that would only cancel his memories about the Foundation. During one of his many fights with the Site Director, I heard him scream: "I can take away the achievements of the greatest mind of my field, but I refuse to take his life!" In the end he succeeded. 20th May, 10 am. From the setup, he looked like a death row inmate who was about to be lethally injected. The whole Mathematics Department watched from a glass. Before they brought him inside the room, he looked at me and giggled softly, then he whispered softly: "I had to." I looked him in the eye, trying to smile weakly. They strapped him down and prepared the amnestic. They asked if he had any last words. He looked at the ceiling and smiled. 7 lights. He turned slightly towards us and said: "I'm sorry I was too human. I will never regret it. Thank you and… farewell." They injected him. He closed his eyes. He was still smiling. There was a second USB in my pocket. It was his notebook transcribed. I stored it away for years. I didn't want the Foundation to take it from me. He, Claire and Andrew were reintroduced into society after all the necessary precautions. They didn't get their names changed. The last favor Dr. Lambert insisted to be given to his former colleague. Whenever someone mentioned Archie, he would always say that he was an idiot, that if he had told the Foundation from the start they would have surely let him study the anomalies as he pleased. I'm more skeptical than he was. He moved to Europe and often visited Africa. I always kept myself updated on what he was doing. I visited him sometimes, as a fellow mathematician. He was still as cheerful as ever. Of course. Nothing had happened. At least according to him. He had two daughters, Luise and Emma. Andrew now has a son called Jack. Oh, fate, you twisted beast. Archie Medes passed away at the age of 63 from throat cancer. In the eyes of mathematicians, he was a great mind. In the eyes of the world, he never existed. Claire gave me a copy of his new notebook. Among many things, there was the start of a solution to Goldbach's conjecture that used a group of numbers he had hypothesised, the "anomalous numbers". He thought that no one would pay this result any mind, since no one else would accept those numbers. "My mind gives me no reason why these numbers should exist, but my heart keeps screaming that they do. Perhaps a better mathematician will translate in brain waves my palpitations." And now, even after all of these years, thinking back to my whole life and to those moments I spent with him, I can't help but cry a bit. I gave my everything for the Foundation and I keep telling myself that I did good, that I helped humanity, that I protected the world. And yet, despite all this, I can't help but feel like my talent, my passion, the very desire that led me to study mathematics, my one true love, I just can't help thinking that it all was… wasted…that I could have spent my time better, that I could have been greater, better…happier. I often wish I had Archie's resolve. He knew how to be a mathematician and a man. He explored and understood the universe of numbers better than everyone else, and yet that didn't stop him from being a just and honest man, a man who enjoyed real life to its fullest and wanted all the people he cared about to do the same. The world had forgotten him, but he never forgot the world. He managed to live in harmony and happiness in two places simultaneously. That's why, to me, among all mathematicians and friends… He was the greatest. [[div]] [[>]] [[module rate]] [[/>]] [[/div]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-05-24T14:24:00	[ "_licensebox", "bittersweet", "science-fiction", "slice-of-life", "tale" ]	The greatest mathematician to never exist - SCP Foundation	5	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[]	[]	1453793930	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-greatest-mathematician-to-never-exist
the-guilty-of-the-unkown-past	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <br/> "So… you received the note yesterday, right? Doctor Sebastien." - <em>Dr. Alexei asks him while he ignites his own cigarette under the cover of a great darkness that was present in all the area, the only source of light come from the moon and the flame of a lighter that Alexei posses. On the other hand, Dr. Sebastien seems cold, and waving into the shadows, no emotion seen in his face, like someone took his own will of life that he once had.</em> <p>"I know what you feel… jus-" <em>Dr. Alexei was immediately interrupted when Dr. Sebastien lifted his voice and shouted.</em></p> <p>"¡SHUT UP!" - <em>The voice of Dr. Sebastien stumbles the surrounding trees and the echo disturbed some crows and owls that were present through the woods. A dense and cold wind has been lifted up that night, the cloud surrounds the moon and slowly destroying the only source of light that was present. And now, the only light that exists comes from a cigarette that smokes Dr. Alexei. Alexei closed his eyes once he had enough watching the moon, which was fully covered by the clouds by that time. While Dr. Sebastien tries to not cry in tears…</em></p> <p><em>Dr. Alexei lifts his hand, opens his eyes and watches once again to Dr. Sebastien.</em> "Look, it's not your fault, Sebastien. And I'm very sorry for that, but if you are still escaping. You kn- "</p> <p>"I know…"- <em>Once again Dr. Sebastien interrupts Dr. Alexei, with a calm and sudden voice. But his softness, transform into a one with anger that resides in his inside</em> - "They will terminate me.” - <em>Dr. Sebastien yells while watching to Dr. Alexei and grabbing his head</em>- “They will grab me and meet me at the council." - <em>A grasp of time was been tighten the tension between the two Doctors.</em>- "Or worse."- <em>Dr. Sebastien looks to the ground while his body is still facing to Dr. Alexei, who was standing right in front of him, doing nothing but to watch.</em> -"They will erase my memories and they will assign me to the Class-D''- <em>He made a few steps, his legs was tingling and stumble to the ground, twinkling like an old man, that his fears has been cover on his own body</em> - “and I will suffer"- <em>his heart beat up fast, and became to sweat</em> -"the Class-D will know me, but I will not know them, neither you, nor my family. I prefer to be terminated… Or just escape, and … and…" - <em>At this point, his hand was shaking, covering his own face, as if that would cover his own crime from the past. The fear was present in his own world. Dr. Alexei took a breath, and watched to his friend that was among his own horror.</em></p> <p>"Then what?" - <em>Dr. Alexei shout</em> -"Being chased by the MTF and maybe grab you to be terminated in front of the O5 Council?"- <em>Dr. Alexei watch him as he walk to close distance against Dr. Sebastien, while rising his two hands to his chest</em> - “Or maybe the Chaos or the Global will find you and torture you into death, just to take some information. What do you choose? After all, you will die" - <em>Dr Sebastien did not respond, as Dr. Alexei closed his eyes again, hearing once again the sound of the crickets that invaded the surroundings. He lifts his eyes and watches the skies once more. Then, the silence of that brief time stopped, the crickets was no longer hearing it in his ears, and focused once more to see how, Dr. Sebastien struggled with his own decision of life.</em></p> <p>"Look, I'm your closest friend here, Sebastien." - <em>Dr. Alexei looked at Dr. Sebastien while crouching</em> - "As long as I'm here, I will be with you in the worst escenario that you have brought to you life."- <em>take a stiff stop to poke the cigarrate in his mouth.</em> -"You can't quit your life here, my friend, you know very well that it wasn't your fault, you can explain and tell the truth, they will always hear you." - <em>Dr. Sebastien tries to not to cry, but he breaks when Dr. Alexei touches his shoulder and hugs Dr. Alexei and cries for about a minutes straight.</em></p> <p><em>The cold winds grim down once the soft and warm air has liften, his tears cover his eyes and face, shouting and blaming him for the actions of his unknown past. He shouted at the whispears that hide in the darkness and once the voices was silent into spirits and respond, his ears went softer when the trees started to dance with the winds and while the crickets stood a beautiful melody that night, like if he was begging to have something that could hear in that final minutes. And when finally the clouds was wide open, the moon show his brightness again.</em></p> <p>"I… c-can’t go back to the Foundation… I can’t John… I… I ju-ust"- <em>Saids Dr. Sebastien while he is grasping his words trought his mouth. And a soft voice of Dr. Alexei rose again to calm Dr. Sebastien of his doom.</em></p> <p>"We all know James, we all know…" - <em>Suddenly, that warm and soft sound of the dancing wind of the trees transforms into a stumble of horses, and figures of all sizes surround Dr. James Sebastien. He didn't manage to think, as he watched how Dr. John Alexei disappears in the woods, as the following winds carry his own spirit to the faraway land, when he knows that he will rest in peace.</em></p> <p><em>Dr. Sebastien heard some voices from the sides, but he didn't understand or was not conscious of the situation that he is in now facing. He stand still, he didnt listen anything while the voices of the unkown individuals say something to him. But his ear was grimmed, and try to follow the path witch walk Dr. Alexei in his way. But while doing it, he saw lighting of some of the individuals that still stand on. It was warm, the lighting was so beautiful for his ears. While he walked two steps on front and fell back when his body couldn't respond anymore. Like if his soul said that it is time to get a rest from that lighting… He can now feels how his body is sleeping in the grass. Tears came from his eyes, as he saw the great full moon above him, and the skies of that night with all the stars present, and his body, is now painting the floor with a crimson liquid. He knows that his life will be given from the faraway… He knows very well… and he closes his eyes slowly, as see how those figures surround him knowing meeting his own faith, that it was drawn once he was born.</em></p> <p><em>His pain its written in his face, his eyes once again will be shut down, and his lips, almost trying to say something, can be heard by this words…</em></p> <p>"For…forgive..me"- <em>Whispears Dr. Sebastien while his eyes were once closed, but he heard something that came, like a warm and soft wind that came from his back…</em></p> <p>"I…"<em>A soft, comfortable voice came</em> "… forgive you…" - // the whispers of an unknown voice heard from Dr. Sebastien's ears. He barely opens his eyes and almost sees smoke and some flares of fire cross in front of him.//</p> <p><em>Dr. Sebastien, has his tears up to the floor, where the grass will grace his own drops of tears and… he smiles. He can’t feel his body anymore, but he can feel his own warmth when he is surrounded. He now knows that he can rest in peace… forever…</em></p> <p><span style="color: transparent">I know that you can hear me… <em>my friend</em></span></p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-guilty-of-the-unkown-past">The Guilty of the Unknown Past</a>" by RoadFires, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-guilty-of-the-unkown-past">https://scpwiki.com/the-guilty-of-the-unkown-past</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] "So… you received the note yesterday, right? Doctor Sebastien." - //Dr. Alexei asks him while he ignites his own cigarette under the cover of a great darkness that was present in all the area, the only source of light come from the moon and the flame of a lighter that Alexei posses. On the other hand, Dr. Sebastien seems cold, and waving into the shadows, no emotion seen in his face, like someone took his own will of life that he once had.// "I know what you feel… jus-" //Dr. Alexei was immediately interrupted when Dr. Sebastien lifted his voice and shouted.// "¡SHUT UP!" - //The voice of Dr. Sebastien stumbles the surrounding trees and the echo disturbed some crows and owls that were present through the woods. A dense and cold wind has been lifted up that night, the cloud surrounds the moon and slowly destroying the only source of light that was present. And now, the only light that exists comes from a cigarette that smokes Dr. Alexei. Alexei closed his eyes once he had enough watching the moon, which was fully covered by the clouds by that time. While Dr. Sebastien tries to not cry in tears…// //Dr. Alexei lifts his hand, opens his eyes and watches once again to Dr. Sebastien.// "Look, it's not your fault, Sebastien. And I'm very sorry for that, but if you are still escaping. You kn- " "I know…"- //Once again Dr. Sebastien interrupts Dr. Alexei, with a calm and sudden voice. But his softness, transform into a one with anger that resides in his inside// - "They will terminate me.” - //Dr. Sebastien yells while watching to Dr. Alexei and grabbing his head//- “They will grab me and meet me at the council." - //A grasp of time was been tighten the tension between the two Doctors.//- "Or worse."- //Dr. Sebastien looks to the ground while his body is still facing to Dr. Alexei, who was standing right in front of him, doing nothing but to watch.// -"They will erase my memories and they will assign me to the Class-D''- //He made a few steps, his legs was tingling and stumble to the ground, twinkling like an old man, that his fears has been cover on his own body// - “and I will suffer"- //his heart beat up fast, and became to sweat// -"the Class-D will know me, but I will not know them, neither you, nor my family. I prefer to be terminated… Or just escape, and … and…" - //At this point, his hand was shaking, covering his own face, as if that would cover his own crime from the past. The fear was present in his own world. Dr. Alexei took a breath, and watched to his friend that was among his own horror.// "Then what?" - //Dr. Alexei shout// -"Being chased by the MTF and maybe grab you to be terminated in front of the O5 Council?"- //Dr. Alexei watch him as he walk to close distance against Dr. Sebastien, while rising his two hands to his chest// - “Or maybe the Chaos or the Global will find you and torture you into death, just to take some information. What do you choose? After all, you will die" - //Dr Sebastien did not respond, as Dr. Alexei closed his eyes again, hearing once again the sound of the crickets that invaded the surroundings. He lifts his eyes and watches the skies once more. Then, the silence of that brief time stopped, the crickets was no longer hearing it in his ears, and focused once more to see how, Dr. Sebastien struggled with his own decision of life.// "Look, I'm your closest friend here, Sebastien." - //Dr. Alexei looked at Dr. Sebastien while crouching// - "As long as I'm here, I will be with you in the worst escenario that you have brought to you life."- //take a stiff stop to poke the cigarrate in his mouth.// -"You can't quit your life here, my friend, you know very well that it wasn't your fault, you can explain and tell the truth, they will always hear you." - //Dr. Sebastien tries to not to cry, but he breaks when Dr. Alexei touches his shoulder and hugs Dr. Alexei and cries for about a minutes straight.// //The cold winds grim down once the soft and warm air has liften, his tears cover his eyes and face, shouting and blaming him for the actions of his unknown past. He shouted at the whispears that hide in the darkness and once the voices was silent into spirits and respond, his ears went softer when the trees started to dance with the winds and while the crickets stood a beautiful melody that night, like if he was begging to have something that could hear in that final minutes. And when finally the clouds was wide open, the moon show his brightness again.// "I… c-can’t go back to the Foundation… I can’t John… I… I ju-ust"- //Saids Dr. Sebastien while he is grasping his words trought his mouth. And a soft voice of Dr. Alexei rose again to calm Dr. Sebastien of his doom.// "We all know James, we all know…" - //Suddenly, that warm and soft sound of the dancing wind of the trees transforms into a stumble of horses, and figures of all sizes surround Dr. James Sebastien. He didn't manage to think, as he watched how Dr. John Alexei disappears in the woods, as the following winds carry his own spirit to the faraway land, when he knows that he will rest in peace.// //Dr. Sebastien heard some voices from the sides, but he didn't understand or was not conscious of the situation that he is in now facing. He stand still, he didnt listen anything while the voices of the unkown individuals say something to him. But his ear was grimmed, and try to follow the path witch walk Dr. Alexei in his way. But while doing it, he saw lighting of some of the individuals that still stand on. It was warm, the lighting was so beautiful for his ears. While he walked two steps on front and fell back when his body couldn't respond anymore. Like if his soul said that it is time to get a rest from that lighting... He can now feels how his body is sleeping in the grass. Tears came from his eyes, as he saw the great full moon above him, and the skies of that night with all the stars present, and his body, is now painting the floor with a crimson liquid. He knows that his life will be given from the faraway... He knows very well… and he closes his eyes slowly, as see how those figures surround him knowing meeting his own faith, that it was drawn once he was born.// //His pain its written in his face, his eyes once again will be shut down, and his lips, almost trying to say something, can be heard by this words...// "For…forgive..me"- //Whispears Dr. Sebastien while his eyes were once closed, but he heard something that came, like a warm and soft wind that came from his back…// "I..."//A soft, comfortable voice came// "... forgive you…" - // the whispers of an unknown voice heard from Dr. Sebastien's ears. He barely opens his eyes and almost sees smoke and some flares of fire cross in front of him.// //Dr. Sebastien, has his tears up to the floor, where the grass will grace his own drops of tears and... he smiles. He can’t feel his body anymore, but he can feel his own warmth when he is surrounded. He now knows that he can rest in peace… forever…// ##transparent\|I know that you can hear me... //my friend//## [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-02-21T17:17:00	[ "_licensebox", "tale" ]	The Guilty of the Unknown Past - SCP Foundation	-5	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "lowest-rated-articles", "lowest-rated-pages" ]	[]	1452746094	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-guilty-of-the-unkown-past
the-hard-to-define-reptile	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="preview"> <p>"Is SCP-682 even a reptile?"</p> </div> <div style="display: none"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">+ CODE</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">- CODE</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div style="text-align: left;"> <div class="code"> <div class="hl-main"> <pre><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BLANKSTYLE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CSS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">2021</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">Wikidot</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">Theme</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">By</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Placeholder</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">McD</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">HarryBlank</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Based</span><span class="hl-code"> on: </span><span class="hl-identifier">Paperstack</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Penumbra</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Montserrat</span><span class="hl-special">:ital</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">wght</span><span class="hl-var">@0</span><span class="hl-code">,800;1,800&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.9</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">1.6</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#container-wrap</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'Montserrat', </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-title, "R\</span><span class="hl-number">0026</span><span class="hl-code"> C SITE-43")</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">400</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-subtitle, "SUBVERTING COMMON PRACTICE")</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">700</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 707</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">a:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">1.6</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-title</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#footer</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#footer</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#efefef</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.empty</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#999999</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem!important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">7.9</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'Montserrat', </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.45</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#extra-div-1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">160</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Ablankstyle/</span><span class="hl-number">43</span><span class="hl-code">Head.png')</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> contain</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 707</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#extra-div-1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">body</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> linear-gradient( to </span><span class="hl-string">bottom</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">200</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">200</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-special">:root</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">timeScale:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">timeDelay:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">posX:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">358</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">13</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">fnLinger:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">12</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.35</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#DDD</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.open-menu</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 767</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-identifier">target</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">black</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FDF6D7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-var">#D7EFE7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.resources</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-var">#F5D8E0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.creditRate</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">PAGE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">RATING</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-points</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anchor</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> sticky</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.14</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc((</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vw - </span><span class="hl-number">870</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">)/</span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vh - </span><span class="hl-number">18</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">103.5</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 1290</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">visibility:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">h2:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">0.9</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">YUI</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TAB</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BASE</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">YUI</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TAB</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CUSTOMIZATION</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-wrap:</span><span class="hl-code"> wrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">.125</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">UNSELECTED</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#efefef</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">HOVER</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Listitem</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">relative</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-bottom</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">align-items:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.35</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.75</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> ellipsis</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">white-space:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">nowrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Selection</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">SELECTED</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:active</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">SCROLLBAR</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-track</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-thumb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#CCC</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-thumb</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#EEE</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">CENTER</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">IMAGES</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ON</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MOBILE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">courtesy</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">of</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">PeppersGhost</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.imagediv</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">right</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 540</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.imagediv</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">only</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">screen</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 600</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block.block-right</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">ACS-COLORED</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TABLE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">DIVS</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#D7EFE7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#D8ECF4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FDF6D7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFDABF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#F5D8E0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">146</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.wiki-content-table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-collapse:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">separate</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">img</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.top-left-box</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">.item</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">WORDS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">NO</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">LONGER</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BROKEN</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">THE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CROQUEMBOUCHE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">HAS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">SPOKEN</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">word-break:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">normal</span><span class="hl-code"> !important </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.avatar-hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#breadcrumbs</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.pseudocrumbs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> -- </span><span class="hl-identifier">FANCY</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">THINGS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">from</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Woedenaz</span><span class="hl-code">'</span><span class="hl-identifier">s</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Dustjacket</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> -- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fancyhr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--bright-accent), </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-source:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Aflopstyle-dark/wl_hr.png')</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> round round</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-slice:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-code"> fill</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fancyborder</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Aflopstyle-dark/wl_border.png') </span><span class="hl-number">600</span><span class="hl-code"> round</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span></pre></div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div> <div style="display: none;"> <div style="display: none"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">+ CODE</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">- CODE</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div style="text-align: left;"> <div class="code"> <div class="hl-main"> <pre><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BLANKSTYLE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CSS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">2021</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">Wikidot</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">Theme</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">By</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Placeholder</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">McD</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">HarryBlank</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Based</span><span class="hl-code"> on: </span><span class="hl-identifier">Paperstack</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Penumbra</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Montserrat</span><span class="hl-special">:ital</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">wght</span><span class="hl-var">@0</span><span class="hl-code">,800;1,800&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.9</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">1.6</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#container-wrap</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'Montserrat', </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-title, "R\</span><span class="hl-number">0026</span><span class="hl-code"> C SITE-43")</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">400</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-subtitle, "SUBVERTING COMMON PRACTICE")</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">700</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 707</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">a:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">1.6</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-title</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#footer</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#footer</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#efefef</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.empty</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#999999</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem!important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">7.9</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'Montserrat', </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.45</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#extra-div-1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">160</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Ablankstyle/</span><span class="hl-number">43</span><span class="hl-code">Head.png')</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> contain</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 707</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#extra-div-1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">body</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> linear-gradient( to </span><span class="hl-string">bottom</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">200</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">200</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-special">:root</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">timeScale:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">timeDelay:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">posX:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">358</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">13</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">fnLinger:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">12</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.35</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#DDD</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.open-menu</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 767</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-identifier">target</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">black</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FDF6D7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-var">#D7EFE7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.resources</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-var">#F5D8E0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.creditRate</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">PAGE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">RATING</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-points</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anchor</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> sticky</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.14</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc((</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vw - </span><span class="hl-number">870</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">)/</span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vh - </span><span class="hl-number">18</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">103.5</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 1290</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">visibility:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">h2:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">0.9</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">YUI</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TAB</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BASE</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">YUI</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TAB</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CUSTOMIZATION</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-wrap:</span><span class="hl-code"> wrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">.125</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">UNSELECTED</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#efefef</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">HOVER</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Listitem</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">relative</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-bottom</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">align-items:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.35</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.75</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> ellipsis</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">white-space:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">nowrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Selection</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">SELECTED</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:active</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">SCROLLBAR</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-track</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-thumb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#CCC</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-thumb</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#EEE</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">CENTER</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">IMAGES</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ON</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MOBILE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">courtesy</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">of</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">PeppersGhost</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.imagediv</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">right</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 540</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.imagediv</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">only</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">screen</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 600</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block.block-right</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">ACS-COLORED</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TABLE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">DIVS</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#D7EFE7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#D8ECF4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FDF6D7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFDABF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#F5D8E0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">146</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.wiki-content-table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-collapse:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">separate</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">img</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.top-left-box</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">.item</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">WORDS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">NO</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">LONGER</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BROKEN</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">THE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CROQUEMBOUCHE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">HAS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">SPOKEN</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">word-break:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">normal</span><span class="hl-code"> !important </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.avatar-hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#breadcrumbs</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.pseudocrumbs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> -- </span><span class="hl-identifier">FANCY</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">THINGS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">from</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Woedenaz</span><span class="hl-code">'</span><span class="hl-identifier">s</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Dustjacket</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> -- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fancyhr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--bright-accent), </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-source:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Aflopstyle-dark/wl_hr.png')</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> round round</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-slice:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-code"> fill</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fancyborder</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Aflopstyle-dark/wl_border.png') </span><span class="hl-number">600</span><span class="hl-code"> round</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span></pre></div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div> </div> <div style="display: none"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">+ CODE</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">- CODE</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div style="text-align: left;"> <div class="code"> <div class="hl-main"> <pre><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">QUEERSTYLE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CSS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">By</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Queerious</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Forked</span><span class="hl-code"> from: </span><span class="hl-identifier">Blankstyle</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CSS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Placeholder</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">McD</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">HarryBlank</span><span class="hl-code"> Using: </span><span class="hl-identifier">White</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Outline</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Classic</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">LGBTQ</span><span class="hl-code">+ </span><span class="hl-identifier">Pride</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Logo</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Woedenaz</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">from</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">scp-wiki.wikidot.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">component</span><span class="hl-special">:pride-highlighter</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Vast</span><span class="hl-code">+</span><span class="hl-identifier">Shadow</span><span class="hl-code">&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.9</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-special">:root</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">header-title:</span><span class="hl-code"> "SCP Foundation"</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">header-subtitle:</span><span class="hl-code"> "SECURE, CONTAIN, PROTECT"</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 707</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">a:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">9</span><span class="hl-code">vw</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.75</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.75</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#extra-div-1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">150</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/component:pride-highlighter/gp_logo.svg')</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.creditButton</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">p</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-var">#373737</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Pseudogenesis</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Formats</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.pseudo-div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#B22A2A</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-var">#403450</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> "Vast Shadow", </span><span class="hl-string">serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.pseudo-div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-special">:is</span><span class="hl-code">(</span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">h3</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">h4</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">h5</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">h6</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> "Vast Shadow", </span><span class="hl-string">serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">normal</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">white</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span></pre></div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc0"><span>The Hard-to-Define Reptile</span></h1> </div> <hr/> <p>What do we know about <a href="/scp-682">SCP-682</a>? And I mean, <em>really</em> know about it?</p> <p>SCP-682 is a frequent topic of rumor, speculation and tall tales, but how does one separate fact from fiction? Sure, there are major traits that seem to be consistent between depictions, but what do we actually know about the 'hard-to-destroy reptile'? Is it even a reptile?</p> <blockquote> <p>SCP-682 is a large, vaguely reptile-like creature</p> </blockquote> <p>Maybe not.</p> <p>As a special feature for the latest edition of <em>Anomalies</em>, we gathered a panel of experts from across the Foundation and beyond to help us analyze just what we know about our beloved beast — but what will we have them analyze? What can we provide that is as unbiased as possible, to ensure a fair analysis? If we want the truth, then we need to get as close to the original perspective as possible; we need to find a primary source.</p> <p>Unfortunately, those who get too close to SCP-682 have a tendency to no longer be available for interview or publication; where else can we turn? Of course, we can go straight to the source. In a single recording, SCP-682 was captured as speaking — this is the only such instance available to the general research body. It said:</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>SCP-682:</strong> (Appearing to assault D-085's body) …they were… disgusting…</p> </blockquote> <p>Three words. These three simple words will unlock the secret behind SCP-682.</p> <hr/> <div class="blockquote" style="background: rgb(124,175,230);margin-bottom:0;padding-bottom:0em;text-align:center;"> <h3 id="toc1"><span><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><strong>Luca Armaros — Site-19 Literary Sciences Department</strong></span></span></h3> <h4 id="toc2"><span>Literary Analysis</span></h4> </div> <div class="blockquote" style="margin-top:0;padding-top:0em;text-align:left;"> <p>When analyzing a piece of written text, the context in which the story was written is critical to understanding the meaning. Therefore, it must follow that to understand the meaning of spoken words, the context of the speaker is key. Our speaker, however, is a massive reptile with a penchant for murder; in literary terms, we call that a 'complication'.</p> <p>So, instead, we look at only these three words; when choosing these specific three, what choices did SCP-682 make, and what meaning can we extrapolate from their usage?</p> <p><strong>"…they"</strong></p> <p>We start with the first word, and already we have a major revelation. 'They' is a third-person plural nominative word defined as an aforementioned group of entities. This reveals that SCP-682 has the ability to understand English, has a sense of past and present events, and most importantly, appears to have a sense of self.</p> <p>So we know that SCP-682 has a consciousness.</p> <p><strong>"were…"</strong></p> <p>This word implies that SCP-682 has an understanding of temporal causation, and is able to understand the flow of time in a linear way, similar to our understanding. 'Were' is also plural past indicative verb; the use of an indicative means that SCP-682 understands the difference between objective and subjective descriptions.</p> <p>Thus, we know that SCP-682 understands time, objective facts and is capable of perceiving others.</p> <p><strong>"disgusting…"</strong></p> <p>Examining the etymology, 'disgusting' is a participle of disgust, from the Old French <em>desgouster</em>, "to put off one's appetite", which was derived from the Latin <em>gustus</em>, "a tasting", which was originally derived from the Proto-Indo-European <em>ǵews</em>, "to taste". By following this chain of etymology, we are able to surmise the potential historical migration patterns of SCP-682, in line with the evolution of it's own language. Additionally, 'disgusting' implies that SCP-682 has subjective opinions, personal preferences, and, most importantly, compares their present events with prior, related ones.</p> <p>From three words, we know that SCP-682 is a reptilianesque individual with a consciousness, capable of perceiving linear time as well as maintaining the memory of others, subjective attributes and opinions. Are we all that different, then?</p> </div> <hr/> <div class="blockquote" style="background: rgb(124,175,230);margin-bottom:0;padding-bottom:0em;text-align:center;"> <h3 id="toc3"><span><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><strong>Rita Yelna — Head Chef, Ambrose By The Caldera</strong></span></span></h3> <h4 id="toc4"><span>Culinary Analysis</span></h4> </div> <div class="blockquote" style="margin-top:0;padding-top:0em;text-align:left;"> <p>Every day, I hear the same three words.</p> <p>"They were disgusting!"</p> <p>Ambrose By The Caldera prides itself on the "Magma Cavern to Table" ethos, and sources all of our ingredients hyper-locally — our signature dish is 'Magma-Poached Iguana', and despite that fact, every day at least one person will complain to their server that the iguana was undercooked, raw, disgusting, and burned a hole in their throats. By focusing on what they expect out of food, they fail to miss the fundamental message behind the 'Magma-Poached Iguana' — the rawness is integral to properly understanding the biological adaptations required to live within a volcano. We make the guest live like the food; that is what makes us special.</p> <p>SCP-682 appears to believe in a similar approach. The cuisine it creates is focused on the authenticity of the moment, and on the fundamental aspects of the ingredients. By choosing to consume their food raw, the emphasis is placed on the natural flavors; a refusal to season their meals points to their tastes as minimalistic and essential. The fact that SCP-682 found a meal of humans 'disgusting' points towards two important things: not only is SCP-682 a discerning food critic, they are also <em>right</em>.</p> <p>If I were to prepare human for SCP-682, using the resources available to the Foundation, I would make the following:</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><strong>Deconstructed D-Class — Market Price</strong></span></p> <p>A deconstruction of the human form, highlighting the unique tastes and gustatory adventures present in this recreation of the human form. Through rendering tallow from the corpse, reconstituting the bones into the dinnerware, and through the use of distilled emotional essences, a complete tasting experience is guaranteed.</p> <p><em>Roasted Rack of D-Class, frenched, served with simmered stomach jus, hemoglobin gelée, reverse-spherification 'eyeballs', and assorted seared viscera, served on 'Bone' China.</em></p> </div> </div> <hr/> <div class="blockquote" style="background: rgb(124,175,230);margin-bottom:0;padding-bottom:0em;text-align:center;"> <h3 id="toc5"><span><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><strong>Bogs Centers — Department of Anomalous Crimes</strong></span></span></h3> <h4 id="toc6"><span>Criminal Profile</span></h4> </div> <div class="blockquote" style="margin-top:0;padding-top:0em;text-align:left;"> <p>I'll be honest. I've seen my fair share of fucking weird situations; killers are getting more and more creative, you would not believe the anomalies I've profiled before. So when <em>Anomalies</em> reached out and asked me to create a forensic profile, I couldn't wait. When they send me thousands of crime scene photographs, countless autopsy reports, a pile of viscera taller than I am, and a single sentence quotation — I'll be honest, it was a bit overwhelming.</p> <p><strong>"They were disgusting."</strong></p> <p>God, what a creep, am I right? Anyways, I said I was going to do this, so I'll do it. Time to hike up my trousers, gather my red string, and begin my analysis. And you'll never guess it, but — I found that our criminal subject likes killing people! More specifically, as my bosses say, 'the subject kills indiscriminately, consumes their victims partially, and enjoys the hyperviolence they employ'. So with that, here's the profile:</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p><strong>Unknown Subject Forensic Profile</strong><br/> Subject is a being of unknown culture and age, estimated between 65kg and 2000kg. Unknown shoe and pant size. Subject is likely to be cold-blooded, and hairless, due to lack of fiber evidence found at scenes. Based on crime scene photos, it appears that the subject does not expect the quantity of blood present in the human body, suggesting that they are less humanoid in nature — by this, I mean they leave massive fucking puddles of blood and don't seem to care.</p> <p>This freak— I'm sorry, the subject appears to have sociopathic tendencies, and psychopathic behaviors, predominantly manifesting as a 'disgust' towards human life. This is evident in how it finds us fucking disgusting. This also manifests in how the victims are slaughtered, how the remains are treated disrespectfully, and in the disregard for bystanders. The subject appears to be indiscriminate in how they choose their victims, though they seem to be more of a killer of opportunity than one with premeditated crimes.</p> <p>You know. They're stupid.</p> <p>If I had to guess, they're probably a loser. You know, they most likely struggle to maintain relationships with both men and women, and is definitely a loner or outsider. They most likely had a difficult childhood, and will probably have had a history of bullying, both as a victim and perpetrator. They're lashing out, in the only way they know. Pain and violence is control; that is the only language the killer knows.</p> <p>Based on the above profile, the subject likely dropped out of school, and does not have a complete high school education. They are most likely a traveler, potentially unhoused, or otherwise considered a drifter. I'd suggest checking bogs, swamps, or other large, stagnant bodies of water to locate them.</p> </div> </div> <hr/> <div class="blockquote" style="background: rgb(124,175,230);margin-bottom:0;padding-bottom:0em;text-align:center;"> <h3 id="toc7"><span><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><strong>Susanne Barr — Ethics Committee</strong></span></span></h3> <h4 id="toc8"><span>Ethical and Moral Analysis</span></h4> </div> <div class="blockquote" style="margin-top:0;padding-top:0em;text-align:left;"> <p>I was asked to give an ethical and moral analysis of the anomaly that said 'they were disgusting', and expected to evaluate the subject as objectively as possible, without allowing other contextual items to influence my decision making.</p> <p>That's not how ethics works, though.</p> <p>Everything we see is filtered through a lens of what is moral or immoral — but ethics does not examine in isolation, it examines the breadth of behaviors. It would be a failure to analyze the subject purely on those three words; so I won't.</p> <p>We're talking about 682, and I want this moment to discuss two questions:</p> <ol> <li>Is it moral for us to continue to attempt to decommission SCP-682?</li> <li>Does SCP-682 understand morality?</li> </ol> <p>These are actually highly related questions: both point towards the same truth, being, the morality of trying to kill SCP-682 is directly linked to understanding if it sees morality.</p> <p>In simpler terms, we can narrow the debate down to a single question: if SCP-682 can feel regret, is it moral to continue termination attempts? Let me explain.</p> <p>If SCP-682 can feel regret, then we know it can show remorse. If it can show remorse, then it is capable of reflecting on previous events, and has a moral understanding of the difference between right and wrong. If it knows the difference between right and wrong, then we know that it must either view its own actions as morally correct, or else it views its murderous actions as immoral.</p> <p>If SCP-682 considered murder to be immoral, the containment procedures would look <em>very</em> different. Given that it does not appear to perceive murder as immoral, that leaves us with two situations. If SCP-682 regrets the actions it takes that result in the death of others, then it would be immoral for us to continue termination attempts; regret tells the ethics committee that the individual is aware of their shortcomings, and is at the start of their road to recovery. It would be immoral to continue to try and kill a being that is capable of change.</p> <p>But that's not SCP-682. Yes, it can adapt to new environments, survive extreme scenarios, weather unending devastation — but throughout all of that, it is consistent. It is the same. No matter what we do, no matter how many times we try to kill SCP-682, nothing changes; it simply remains, hating humanity and trying to slaughter us, just as it always has.</p> <p>SCP-682 is what I would consider to be irredeemable; not only have they shown zero remorse, they also fail to show any evidence that they want to change their actions and grow. As such, I would argue that, assuming termination attempts are ethical to the other involved individuals, it would be immoral of the Foundation <strong>not</strong> to keep trying to kill SCP-682.</p> <p>And hey, maybe we'll get lucky?</p> </div> <hr/> <div class="blockquote" style="background: rgb(124,175,230);margin-bottom:0;padding-bottom:0em;text-align:center;"> <h3 id="toc9"><span><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><strong>Faeowynn Wilson — Wilson's Wildlife Solutions</strong></span></span></h3> <h4 id="toc10"><span>Cryptozoological Analysis</span></h4> </div> <div class="blockquote" style="margin-top:0;padding-top:0em;text-align:left;"> <p>I never expected to be writing this. I'll be honest, I didn't even expect to still be here. Even with The Boring Agreement, I had always assumed the Supervisors preferred full separation. We care for our critters properly thanks to their funding, and in return, ignore the cryptozoological abuse happening every day in the rest of the Foundation.</p> <p>That never stopped me from dreaming, planning, and plotting.</p> <p>When we're talking about 682, it's important to remember it's not an object, it's not a concept — it's an animal. When we think about the kinds of needs the Foundation prioritizes for their captive anomalies, there's a noticeable gap; while yes, the Foundation provides adequate nutrition, exercise and space for 682, where it is notably lacking is in enrichment.</p> <p>Or at least, that was what I thought when I first started writing this. Of course, they keep 682 locked up in a containment cell constantly, what chances for enrichment could the Foundation possibly be prioritizing? Talking to Foundation Psychologists, a very common trend in contained anomalies is constant and severe depression — we even see that with the new critters as soon as they arrive within containment. A depressed critter is lethargic, apathetic, and is much more likely to lash out at their caregivers.</p> <p>At first, you would think that 682 is clearly depressed, displaying telltale signs and fitting all of the right boxes. In cryptozoology, the expectation is that the cause is a lack of enrichment within the enclosure, typically solved by locating another critter of that species, or by providing entertainment and new challenges for the critter to face. But look at 682; it doesn't have a companion, it is constantly locked up, and yet — can you really say that it lacks enrichment?</p> <p>I don't think we can.</p> <p>Sure, I wouldn't ever consider this as enrichment for any other critter, but, I believe that for SCP-682, the decommissioning attempts serve as 'enrichment'. They provide a variety to the daily routine, challenge 682 with new and exciting stimuli, and appear to have minimal long-term consequences for the lizard's health. I cannot debate whether or not the decommissioning attempts are morally correct, however, from the perspective of what is best for the animal?</p> <p>I can't believe I'm saying this, but, it's in SCP-682's best interest that we keep trying to kill it.</p> <p>It <em>really</em> seems to have fun.</p> </div> <p>So what was the point of all of this? As researchers at the Foundation, we tend to specialize. We silo into our individual ivory brutalist towers, tossing publications and research over the side to the scavenging workers below. We sit, debate, and argue; of course, the subject matter experts may have greater insights, but there is no single perspective that holds true for all interpretations.</p> <p>It is only through the chorus of voices that creates the Foundation, that we are able to accomplish as much as we can. Our voices set the course of the future.</p> <p><span style="font-size:90%;"><em>This article was originally published in the Spring 2024 Issue of Anomalies.</em></span></p> <hr/> <div class="collection"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">More From This Author</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">More From This Author</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <table style="1px solid black; width: 100%;"> <tr> <th class="namerow" colspan="2"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p>Queerious's Works</p> </div> </div></th> </tr> <tr> <th class="titlecolumn">SCPs</th> <th class="articlecolumn"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-7748">SCP-7748</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-7643">SCP-7643</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-8688">SCP-8688</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-8480">SCP-8480</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-8478">SCP-8478</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-2346-ex">SCP-2346-EX</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-8811">SCP-8811</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-7238">SCP-7238</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-821">SCP-821</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-5632">SCP-5632</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-1611">SCP-1611</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-8887">SCP-8887</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-8740">SCP-8740</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-8843">SCP-8843</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> </div></th> </tr> <tr> <th class="titlecolumn">Tales/GoI Formats</th> <th class="articlecolumn"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/the-bowe-transition">The Bowe Transition</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/kill-agents-and-you">Don't Die: Kill Agents and You</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/love-between-the-margins">Love Between The Margins</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/bystander-s-guilt">Bystander's Guilt</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/the-heart-grows-fonder">The Heart Grows Fonder</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/no-reason">No Reason</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/a-tale-of-two-mailrooms">A Tale Of Two Mailrooms</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/the-legend-of-the-iron-goat">The Legend Of The Iron Goat</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/because-of-the-shame">Because of The Shame</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/critter-profile-corey">Critter Profile: Corey!</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/anomalous-ontology-orientation">An Orientation on Anomalous Ontology</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/dreams-of-crimson-and-azure">Dreams of Crimson and Azure</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/keelee-dies-at-the-end">KeeLee Dies at the End</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/asset-florida-grey">ASSET 'FLORIDA GREY'</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/don-t-let-me-forget">Don't Let Me Forget</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> </div></th> </tr> <tr> <th class="titlecolumn">Other</th> <th class="articlecolumn"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/queerious">Cabinet of Queerious-ities</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> </div></th> </tr> </table> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-hard-to-define-reptile">The Hard-to-Define Reptile</a>" by Queerious, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-hard-to-define-reptile">https://scpwiki.com/the-hard-to-define-reptile</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Name:</strong> <a href="/scp-682">SCP-682</a><br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Dr Gears and Epic Phail Spy<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC-BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-682">https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-682</a><br/> <strong>Additional Notes:</strong> This article contains an excerpt from this piece.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	===== [[include <a href="/component:preview">component:preview</a> text="Is SCP-682 even a reptile?"]] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:blankstyle">:scp-wiki:theme:blankstyle</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:queerstyle">:scp-wiki:theme:queerstyle</a>]] [[module css]] :root { --fade-in-delay: 0s; } .blockquote { border: 1px solid #999 !important; } .blockquote > .blockquote { background-color: rgb(46,92,142); color: rgb(230,229,220); border: 2px solid rgb(124,175,230) !important; } .excerpt { font-family: ui-monospace, monospace; } [[/module]] [[>]] [[module rate]] [[/>]] [[=]] + The Hard-to-Define Reptile [[/=]] ------ What do we know about [[[SCP-682]]]? And I mean, //really// know about it? SCP-682 is a frequent topic of rumor, speculation and tall tales, but how does one separate fact from fiction? Sure, there are major traits that seem to be consistent between depictions, but what do we actually know about the 'hard-to-destroy reptile'? Is it even a reptile? > SCP-682 is a large, vaguely reptile-like creature Maybe not. As a special feature for the latest edition of //Anomalies//, we gathered a panel of experts from across the Foundation and beyond to help us analyze just what we know about our beloved beast -- but what will we have them analyze? What can we provide that is as unbiased as possible, to ensure a fair analysis? If we want the truth, then we need to get as close to the original perspective as possible; we need to find a primary source. Unfortunately, those who get too close to SCP-682 have a tendency to no longer be available for interview or publication; where else can we turn? Of course, we can go straight to the source. In a single recording, SCP-682 was captured as speaking -- this is the only such instance available to the general research body. It said: > SCP-682: (Appearing to assault D-085's body) …they were… disgusting… Three words. These three simple words will unlock the secret behind SCP-682. ----- [[div class="blockquote" style="background: rgb(124,175,230);margin-bottom:0;padding-bottom:0em;text-align:center;"]] +++ __Luca Armaros -- Site-19 Literary Sciences Department__ ++++ Literary Analysis [[/div]] [[div class="blockquote" style="margin-top:0;padding-top:0em;text-align:left;"]] When analyzing a piece of written text, the context in which the story was written is critical to understanding the meaning. Therefore, it must follow that to understand the meaning of spoken words, the context of the speaker is key. Our speaker, however, is a massive reptile with a penchant for murder; in literary terms, we call that a 'complication'. So, instead, we look at only these three words; when choosing these specific three, what choices did SCP-682 make, and what meaning can we extrapolate from their usage? "...they" We start with the first word, and already we have a major revelation. 'They' is a third-person plural nominative word defined as an aforementioned group of entities. This reveals that SCP-682 has the ability to understand English, has a sense of past and present events, and most importantly, appears to have a sense of self. So we know that SCP-682 has a consciousness. "were..." This word implies that SCP-682 has an understanding of temporal causation, and is able to understand the flow of time in a linear way, similar to our understanding. 'Were' is also plural past indicative verb; the use of an indicative means that SCP-682 understands the difference between objective and subjective descriptions. Thus, we know that SCP-682 understands time, objective facts and is capable of perceiving others. "disgusting..." Examining the etymology, 'disgusting' is a participle of disgust, from the Old French //desgouster//, "to put off one's appetite", which was derived from the Latin //gustus//, "a tasting", which was originally derived from the Proto-Indo-European //ǵews//, "to taste". By following this chain of etymology, we are able to surmise the potential historical migration patterns of SCP-682, in line with the evolution of it's own language. Additionally, 'disgusting' implies that SCP-682 has subjective opinions, personal preferences, and, most importantly, compares their present events with prior, related ones. From three words, we know that SCP-682 is a reptilianesque individual with a consciousness, capable of perceiving linear time as well as maintaining the memory of others, subjective attributes and opinions. Are we all that different, then? [[/div]] ----- [[div class="blockquote" style="background: rgb(124,175,230);margin-bottom:0;padding-bottom:0em;text-align:center;"]] +++ __Rita Yelna -- Head Chef, Ambrose By The Caldera__ ++++ Culinary Analysis [[/div]] [[div class="blockquote" style="margin-top:0;padding-top:0em;text-align:left;"]] Every day, I hear the same three words. "They were disgusting!" Ambrose By The Caldera prides itself on the "Magma Cavern to Table" ethos, and sources all of our ingredients hyper-locally -- our signature dish is 'Magma-Poached Iguana', and despite that fact, every day at least one person will complain to their server that the iguana was undercooked, raw, disgusting, and burned a hole in their throats. By focusing on what they expect out of food, they fail to miss the fundamental message behind the 'Magma-Poached Iguana' -- the rawness is integral to properly understanding the biological adaptations required to live within a volcano. We make the guest live like the food; that is what makes us special. SCP-682 appears to believe in a similar approach. The cuisine it creates is focused on the authenticity of the moment, and on the fundamental aspects of the ingredients. By choosing to consume their food raw, the emphasis is placed on the natural flavors; a refusal to season their meals points to their tastes as minimalistic and essential. The fact that SCP-682 found a meal of humans 'disgusting' points towards two important things: not only is SCP-682 a discerning food critic, they are also //right//. If I were to prepare human for SCP-682, using the resources available to the Foundation, I would make the following: [[div class="blockquote"]] = __Deconstructed D-Class -- Market Price__ A deconstruction of the human form, highlighting the unique tastes and gustatory adventures present in this recreation of the human form. Through rendering tallow from the corpse, reconstituting the bones into the dinnerware, and through the use of distilled emotional essences, a complete tasting experience is guaranteed. //Roasted Rack of D-Class, frenched, served with simmered stomach jus, hemoglobin gelée, reverse-spherification 'eyeballs', and assorted seared viscera, served on 'Bone' China.// [[/div]] [[/div]] ----- [[div class="blockquote" style="background: rgb(124,175,230);margin-bottom:0;padding-bottom:0em;text-align:center;"]] +++ __Bogs Centers -- Department of Anomalous Crimes__ ++++ Criminal Profile [[/div]] [[div class="blockquote" style="margin-top:0;padding-top:0em;text-align:left;"]] I'll be honest. I've seen my fair share of fucking weird situations; killers are getting more and more creative, you would not believe the anomalies I've profiled before. So when //Anomalies// reached out and asked me to create a forensic profile, I couldn't wait. When they send me thousands of crime scene photographs, countless autopsy reports, a pile of viscera taller than I am, and a single sentence quotation -- I'll be honest, it was a bit overwhelming. "They were disgusting." God, what a creep, am I right? Anyways, I said I was going to do this, so I'll do it. Time to hike up my trousers, gather my red string, and begin my analysis. And you'll never guess it, but -- I found that our criminal subject likes killing people! More specifically, as my bosses say, 'the subject kills indiscriminately, consumes their victims partially, and enjoys the hyperviolence they employ'. So with that, here's the profile: [[div class="blockquote"]] Unknown Subject Forensic Profile Subject is a being of unknown culture and age, estimated between 65kg and 2000kg. Unknown shoe and pant size. Subject is likely to be cold-blooded, and hairless, due to lack of fiber evidence found at scenes. Based on crime scene photos, it appears that the subject does not expect the quantity of blood present in the human body, suggesting that they are less humanoid in nature -- by this, I mean they leave massive fucking puddles of blood and don't seem to care. This freak-- I'm sorry, the subject appears to have sociopathic tendencies, and psychopathic behaviors, predominantly manifesting as a 'disgust' towards human life. This is evident in how it finds us fucking disgusting. This also manifests in how the victims are slaughtered, how the remains are treated disrespectfully, and in the disregard for bystanders. The subject appears to be indiscriminate in how they choose their victims, though they seem to be more of a killer of opportunity than one with premeditated crimes. You know. They're stupid. If I had to guess, they're probably a loser. You know, they most likely struggle to maintain relationships with both men and women, and is definitely a loner or outsider. They most likely had a difficult childhood, and will probably have had a history of bullying, both as a victim and perpetrator. They're lashing out, in the only way they know. Pain and violence is control; that is the only language the killer knows. Based on the above profile, the subject likely dropped out of school, and does not have a complete high school education. They are most likely a traveler, potentially unhoused, or otherwise considered a drifter. I'd suggest checking bogs, swamps, or other large, stagnant bodies of water to locate them. [[/div]] [[/div]] ----- [[div class="blockquote" style="background: rgb(124,175,230);margin-bottom:0;padding-bottom:0em;text-align:center;"]] +++ __Susanne Barr -- Ethics Committee__ ++++ Ethical and Moral Analysis [[/div]] [[div class="blockquote" style="margin-top:0;padding-top:0em;text-align:left;"]] I was asked to give an ethical and moral analysis of the anomaly that said 'they were disgusting', and expected to evaluate the subject as objectively as possible, without allowing other contextual items to influence my decision making. That's not how ethics works, though. Everything we see is filtered through a lens of what is moral or immoral -- but ethics does not examine in isolation, it examines the breadth of behaviors. It would be a failure to analyze the subject purely on those three words; so I won't. We're talking about 682, and I want this moment to discuss two questions: # Is it moral for us to continue to attempt to decommission SCP-682? # Does SCP-682 understand morality? These are actually highly related questions: both point towards the same truth, being, the morality of trying to kill SCP-682 is directly linked to understanding if it sees morality. In simpler terms, we can narrow the debate down to a single question: if SCP-682 can feel regret, is it moral to continue termination attempts? Let me explain. If SCP-682 can feel regret, then we know it can show remorse. If it can show remorse, then it is capable of reflecting on previous events, and has a moral understanding of the difference between right and wrong. If it knows the difference between right and wrong, then we know that it must either view its own actions as morally correct, or else it views its murderous actions as immoral. If SCP-682 considered murder to be immoral, the containment procedures would look //very// different. Given that it does not appear to perceive murder as immoral, that leaves us with two situations. If SCP-682 regrets the actions it takes that result in the death of others, then it would be immoral for us to continue termination attempts; regret tells the ethics committee that the individual is aware of their shortcomings, and is at the start of their road to recovery. It would be immoral to continue to try and kill a being that is capable of change. But that's not SCP-682. Yes, it can adapt to new environments, survive extreme scenarios, weather unending devastation -- but throughout all of that, it is consistent. It is the same. No matter what we do, no matter how many times we try to kill SCP-682, nothing changes; it simply remains, hating humanity and trying to slaughter us, just as it always has. SCP-682 is what I would consider to be irredeemable; not only have they shown zero remorse, they also fail to show any evidence that they want to change their actions and grow. As such, I would argue that, assuming termination attempts are ethical to the other involved individuals, it would be immoral of the Foundation not to keep trying to kill SCP-682. And hey, maybe we'll get lucky? [[/div]] ----- [[div class="blockquote" style="background: rgb(124,175,230);margin-bottom:0;padding-bottom:0em;text-align:center;"]] +++ __Faeowynn Wilson -- Wilson's Wildlife Solutions__ ++++ Cryptozoological Analysis [[/div]] [[div class="blockquote" style="margin-top:0;padding-top:0em;text-align:left;"]] I never expected to be writing this. I'll be honest, I didn't even expect to still be here. Even with The Boring Agreement, I had always assumed the Supervisors preferred full separation. We care for our critters properly thanks to their funding, and in return, ignore the cryptozoological abuse happening every day in the rest of the Foundation. That never stopped me from dreaming, planning, and plotting. When we're talking about 682, it's important to remember it's not an object, it's not a concept -- it's an animal. When we think about the kinds of needs the Foundation prioritizes for their captive anomalies, there's a noticeable gap; while yes, the Foundation provides adequate nutrition, exercise and space for 682, where it is notably lacking is in enrichment. Or at least, that was what I thought when I first started writing this. Of course, they keep 682 locked up in a containment cell constantly, what chances for enrichment could the Foundation possibly be prioritizing? Talking to Foundation Psychologists, a very common trend in contained anomalies is constant and severe depression -- we even see that with the new critters as soon as they arrive within containment. A depressed critter is lethargic, apathetic, and is much more likely to lash out at their caregivers. At first, you would think that 682 is clearly depressed, displaying telltale signs and fitting all of the right boxes. In cryptozoology, the expectation is that the cause is a lack of enrichment within the enclosure, typically solved by locating another critter of that species, or by providing entertainment and new challenges for the critter to face. But look at 682; it doesn't have a companion, it is constantly locked up, and yet -- can you really say that it lacks enrichment? I don't think we can. Sure, I wouldn't ever consider this as enrichment for any other critter, but, I believe that for SCP-682, the decommissioning attempts serve as 'enrichment'. They provide a variety to the daily routine, challenge 682 with new and exciting stimuli, and appear to have minimal long-term consequences for the lizard's health. I cannot debate whether or not the decommissioning attempts are morally correct, however, from the perspective of what is best for the animal? I can't believe I'm saying this, but, it's in SCP-682's best interest that we keep trying to kill it. It //really// seems to have fun. [[/div]] So what was the point of all of this? As researchers at the Foundation, we tend to specialize. We silo into our individual ivory brutalist towers, tossing publications and research over the side to the scavenging workers below. We sit, debate, and argue; of course, the subject matter experts may have greater insights, but there is no single perspective that holds true for all interpretations. It is only through the chorus of voices that creates the Foundation, that we are able to accomplish as much as we can. Our voices set the course of the future. [[size 90%]]//This article was originally published in the Spring 2024 Issue of Anomalies.//[[/size]] ------ [[footnoteblock]] [[include <a href="/component:wikimodule">component:wikimodule</a> \|normal= --]]] [[=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] ===== > Name: [[[SCP-682]]] > Author: Dr Gears and Epic Phail Spy > License: CC-BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-682 > Additional Notes: This article contains an excerpt from this piece. ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]] [[/=]]	2024-08-27T20:22:00	[ "_licensebox", "ambrose-restaurant", "comedy", "ethics-committee", "faeowynn-wilson", "hard-to-destroy-reptile", "tale", "wilsons-wildlife", "worldbuilding" ]	The Hard-to-Define Reptile - SCP Foundation	60	[ "scp-682", "scp-7748", "scp-7643", "scp-8688", "scp-8480", "scp-8478", "scp-2346-ex", "scp-8811", "scp-7238", "scp-821", "scp-5632", "scp-1611", "scp-8887", "scp-8740", "scp-8843", "the-bowe-transition", "kill-agents-and-you", "love-between-the-margins", "bystander-s-guilt", "the-heart-grows-fonder", "no-reason", "a-tale-of-two-mailrooms", "the-legend-of-the-iron-goat", "because-of-the-shame", "critter-profile-corey", "anomalous-ontology-orientation", "dreams-of-crimson-and-azure", "keelee-dies-at-the-end", "asset-florida-grey", "don-t-let-me-forget", "queerious", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "wilson-s-wildlife-solutions-hub", "ambrose-restaurant-hub" ]	[]	1456586052	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-hard-to-define-reptile
the-heart-grows-fonder	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="preview"> <p>"We'll just have to write our own ending instead."</p> </div> <div style="display: none"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">+ CODE</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">- CODE</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div style="text-align: left;"> <div class="code"> <div class="hl-main"> <pre><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BLANKSTYLE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CSS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">2021</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">Wikidot</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">Theme</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">By</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Placeholder</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">McD</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">HarryBlank</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Based</span><span class="hl-code"> on: </span><span class="hl-identifier">Paperstack</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Penumbra</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Montserrat</span><span class="hl-special">:ital</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">wght</span><span class="hl-var">@0</span><span class="hl-code">,800;1,800&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.9</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">1.6</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#container-wrap</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'Montserrat', </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-title, "R\</span><span class="hl-number">0026</span><span class="hl-code"> C SITE-43")</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">400</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-subtitle, "SUBVERTING COMMON PRACTICE")</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">700</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 707</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">a:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">1.6</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-title</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#footer</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#footer</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#efefef</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.empty</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#999999</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem!important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">7.9</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'Montserrat', </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.45</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#extra-div-1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">160</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Ablankstyle/</span><span class="hl-number">43</span><span class="hl-code">Head.png')</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> contain</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 707</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#extra-div-1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">body</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> linear-gradient( to </span><span class="hl-string">bottom</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">200</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">200</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-special">:root</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">timeScale:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">timeDelay:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">posX:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">358</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">13</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">fnLinger:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">12</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.35</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#DDD</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.open-menu</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 767</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-identifier">target</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">black</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FDF6D7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-var">#D7EFE7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.resources</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-var">#F5D8E0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.creditRate</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">PAGE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">RATING</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-points</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anchor</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> sticky</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.14</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc((</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vw - </span><span class="hl-number">870</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">)/</span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vh - </span><span class="hl-number">18</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">103.5</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 1290</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">visibility:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">h2:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">0.9</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">YUI</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TAB</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BASE</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">YUI</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TAB</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CUSTOMIZATION</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-wrap:</span><span class="hl-code"> wrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">.125</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">UNSELECTED</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#efefef</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">HOVER</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Listitem</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">relative</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-bottom</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">align-items:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.35</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.75</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> ellipsis</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">white-space:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">nowrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Selection</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">SELECTED</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:active</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">SCROLLBAR</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-track</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-thumb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#CCC</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-thumb</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#EEE</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">CENTER</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">IMAGES</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ON</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MOBILE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">courtesy</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">of</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">PeppersGhost</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.imagediv</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">right</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 540</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.imagediv</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">only</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">screen</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 600</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block.block-right</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">ACS-COLORED</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TABLE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">DIVS</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#D7EFE7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#D8ECF4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FDF6D7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFDABF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#F5D8E0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">146</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.wiki-content-table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-collapse:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">separate</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">img</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.top-left-box</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">.item</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">WORDS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">NO</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">LONGER</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BROKEN</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">THE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CROQUEMBOUCHE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">HAS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">SPOKEN</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">word-break:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">normal</span><span class="hl-code"> !important </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.avatar-hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#breadcrumbs</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.pseudocrumbs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> -- </span><span class="hl-identifier">FANCY</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">THINGS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">from</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Woedenaz</span><span class="hl-code">'</span><span class="hl-identifier">s</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Dustjacket</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> -- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fancyhr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--bright-accent), </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-source:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Aflopstyle-dark/wl_hr.png')</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> round round</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-slice:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-code"> fill</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fancyborder</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Aflopstyle-dark/wl_border.png') </span><span class="hl-number">600</span><span class="hl-code"> round</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span></pre></div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div> <div style="display: none;"> <div style="display: none"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">+ CODE</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">- CODE</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div style="text-align: left;"> <div class="code"> <div class="hl-main"> <pre><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BLANKSTYLE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CSS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">2021</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">Wikidot</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">Theme</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">By</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Placeholder</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">McD</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">HarryBlank</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Based</span><span class="hl-code"> on: </span><span class="hl-identifier">Paperstack</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Penumbra</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Montserrat</span><span class="hl-special">:ital</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">wght</span><span class="hl-var">@0</span><span class="hl-code">,800;1,800&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.9</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">1.6</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#container-wrap</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'Montserrat', </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-title, "R\</span><span class="hl-number">0026</span><span class="hl-code"> C SITE-43")</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">400</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-subtitle, "SUBVERTING COMMON PRACTICE")</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">700</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 707</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">a:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">1.6</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-title</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#footer</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#footer</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#efefef</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.empty</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#999999</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem!important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">7.9</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'Montserrat', </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.45</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#extra-div-1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">160</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Ablankstyle/</span><span class="hl-number">43</span><span class="hl-code">Head.png')</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> contain</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 707</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#extra-div-1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">body</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> linear-gradient( to </span><span class="hl-string">bottom</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">200</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">200</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-special">:root</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">timeScale:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">timeDelay:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">posX:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">358</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">13</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">fnLinger:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">12</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.35</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#DDD</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.open-menu</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 767</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-identifier">target</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">black</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FDF6D7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-var">#D7EFE7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.resources</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-var">#F5D8E0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.creditRate</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">PAGE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">RATING</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-points</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anchor</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> sticky</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.14</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc((</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vw - </span><span class="hl-number">870</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">)/</span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vh - </span><span class="hl-number">18</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">103.5</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 1290</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">visibility:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">h2:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">0.9</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">YUI</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TAB</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BASE</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">YUI</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TAB</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CUSTOMIZATION</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-wrap:</span><span class="hl-code"> wrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">.125</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">UNSELECTED</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#efefef</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">HOVER</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Listitem</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">relative</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-bottom</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">align-items:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.35</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.75</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> ellipsis</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">white-space:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">nowrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Selection</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">SELECTED</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:active</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">SCROLLBAR</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-track</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-thumb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#CCC</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-thumb</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#EEE</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">CENTER</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">IMAGES</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ON</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MOBILE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">courtesy</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">of</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">PeppersGhost</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.imagediv</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">right</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 540</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.imagediv</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">only</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">screen</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 600</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block.block-right</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">ACS-COLORED</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TABLE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">DIVS</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#D7EFE7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#D8ECF4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FDF6D7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFDABF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#F5D8E0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">146</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.wiki-content-table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-collapse:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">separate</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">img</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.top-left-box</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">.item</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">WORDS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">NO</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">LONGER</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BROKEN</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">THE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CROQUEMBOUCHE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">HAS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">SPOKEN</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">word-break:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">normal</span><span class="hl-code"> !important </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.avatar-hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#breadcrumbs</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.pseudocrumbs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> -- </span><span class="hl-identifier">FANCY</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">THINGS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">from</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Woedenaz</span><span class="hl-code">'</span><span class="hl-identifier">s</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Dustjacket</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> -- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fancyhr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--bright-accent), </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-source:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Aflopstyle-dark/wl_hr.png')</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> round round</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-slice:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-code"> fill</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fancyborder</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Aflopstyle-dark/wl_border.png') </span><span class="hl-number">600</span><span class="hl-code"> round</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span></pre></div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div> </div> <div style="display: none"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">+ CODE</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">- CODE</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div style="text-align: left;"> <div class="code"> <div class="hl-main"> <pre><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">QUEERSTYLE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CSS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">By</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Queerious</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Forked</span><span class="hl-code"> from: </span><span class="hl-identifier">Blankstyle</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CSS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Placeholder</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">McD</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">HarryBlank</span><span class="hl-code"> Using: </span><span class="hl-identifier">White</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Outline</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Classic</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">LGBTQ</span><span class="hl-code">+ </span><span class="hl-identifier">Pride</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Logo</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Woedenaz</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">from</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">scp-wiki.wikidot.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">component</span><span class="hl-special">:pride-highlighter</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Vast</span><span class="hl-code">+</span><span class="hl-identifier">Shadow</span><span class="hl-code">&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.9</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-special">:root</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">header-title:</span><span class="hl-code"> "SCP Foundation"</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">header-subtitle:</span><span class="hl-code"> "SECURE, CONTAIN, PROTECT"</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 707</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">a:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">9</span><span class="hl-code">vw</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.75</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.75</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#extra-div-1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">150</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/component:pride-highlighter/gp_logo.svg')</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.creditButton</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">p</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-var">#373737</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Pseudogenesis</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Formats</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.pseudo-div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#B22A2A</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-var">#403450</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> "Vast Shadow", </span><span class="hl-string">serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.pseudo-div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-special">:is</span><span class="hl-code">(</span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">h3</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">h4</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">h5</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">h6</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> "Vast Shadow", </span><span class="hl-string">serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">normal</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">white</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span></pre></div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> </div> <div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc0"><span>The Heart Grows Fonder</span></h1> </div> </div> <hr/> <div class="blockquote"> <p>What does it mean for an idea to be 'dangerous'? That depends on who you ask. The Foundation believes that an idea that threatens the veil is 'dangerous'. Politicians believe that talking about unions or protests can be 'dangerous' ideas. Thinking about your partner can be 'dangerous' depending on where you live.</p> <p>We have always focused on the Noosphere as having been created <em>by</em> human consciousness, but what if that's wrong? What if the Noosphere came before us, and will keep existing long after our extinction?</p> <p>If that's true, what does a 'dangerous' idea mean to the Noosphere? Unfortunately, you can't ask the Noosphere, but you can ask us; we'll tell you that the most 'dangerous' idea is one that threatens the Noosphere itself.</p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><em>The Noosphere is Alive: A New Framework for Countermemetics</em><br/> - Dr. Heather Garrison & Dr. Lillian Lillihammer</p> </div> </div> <p>Dr. Heather Garrison was unprepared. It wasn't that her present situation was a major departure from the dismal level of preparedness she usually maintained, but rather, she was in a completely unknown territory.</p> <p>Her and Lillian were moving in together.</p> <p><em>When did I become such a lesbian stereotype?</em> Heather thought as she looked at the closed door in front of her, key dangling from the lock. The door was as non-descript as the rest of the site, in start contrast to the ornate key inserted into the keyhole, a rose gold chain dangling from it, an anchor covered in gold filigree, hanging from the end. Ever since she and Lillian had told HR about their relationship, their lives were moving forward at a breakneck speed, disparate strands being intertwined into one. <em>How did she have the time to put this all together?</em></p> <p>"So. You going to open that door? Or did you suddenly develop cold feet, or dare I say… Hesitation?"</p> <p>Lillian, to the untrained eye, seemed to be bored. Cracking a joke, because she had nothing better to do. To Heather, however, it was obvious that Lillian was anxious about this. She saw it in Lillian's jaw, the tightness that trailed out into the slight twitching of her shoulders; a knuckle, slightly red, from where she had been idly picking at it.</p> <p><em>Lillian anxious? What's next, <a href="/reostiation">Wettle gets a win</a>?</em> Heather turned and looked at her girlfriend; Lillian was in her casual weekend outfit; leggings and a tank top that she knew drove Heather crazy, hugging her curves in just the right places, teasing Heather with little glimpses of her soft skin underneath. Lillian was carrying a box under each arm, lifting them with ease. A glistening bead of sweat dripped down the side of her face, off of her chin, and landing straight on her—</p> <p>"Heath? The door?"</p> <p><em>Shit.</em></p> <p>"Coming right up, m'lady." Heather responded cheekily, accompanied by an over-the-top curtsey.</p> <p>"Hey, Heath? Never say that again."</p> <p><em>God, I love her.</em></p> <p>Heather grabbed the door handle and gave it a turn.</p> <hr/> <p>The dorm was larger than either had been expecting. When HR had told them they could move into a shared unit, they expected something shitty, maybe a little bigger than their current dorms but essentially no different.</p> <p>This was not that.</p> <p>The door opened into a bright, wide, atrium. The concrete walls that normally filled Site-43 were replaced with a softer stucco, complimenting the open-concept layout: empty spaces, perfect for flowing between the main rooms of their unit, an airiness to the space. Light streamed in from above through what appeared to be skylights; to their right was a large living room that opened directly into the fully furnished kitchen. On the opposite side of the atrium was a set of heavy, intricately carved oak doors. Directly ahead of them were two more rooms, each open — Heather could see that one room would be their shared home office, while the other looked like a powder room.</p> <p>"Where are we, Lil?" Heather asked, jaw hanging open as she stared in disbelief at their new dorm.</p> <p>"We're in Canada last time I checked." Lillian answered, setting the boxes down beside her on the floor, a dark hardwood that would soon be covered with a plush oriental rug.</p> <p>"I mean — what the hell is this dorm room? Were our old dorms just really fucking terrible?"</p> <p>"Oh. Yeah."</p> <p>"Yeah?"</p> <p>"I might have pulled some strings. You wouldn't believe how many people in the Foundation owe me favors." Lillian said, wandering into the middle of the atrium. The light bounced off of her ethereal skin, and Heather couldn't help but get lost in the vision of grace before her.</p> <p><em>Note to self, make a list of everybody who owes <strong>you</strong> a favor.</em></p> <p>"Some strings? This is incredible!" Heather said, practically spinning around the room. Lillian beamed at the praise, reaching out her hand for Heather to take. Without hesitation, Heather grabbed her girlfriend tight, a subtle nod that said 'lead the way.'</p> <p>Lillian began to walk across the atrium, each stride a graceful dance; Heather trailed behind, looking around in a daze.</p> <p>"You know, I had talked about the layout, and even saw the plans in advance but… finally, a place befitting of my princess, wouldn't you say?" Lillian said, a proud satisfaction on her face. Sure, it was still an underground box, but…</p> <p><em>It could be home.</em> Heather hoped.</p> <p>Lillian stopped as Heather caught up, the pair standing abreast in front of the large wooden double doors, carved with, on closer inspection, subtle memetic patterns intermixed with mundane Celtic patterns. The doorknobs were a polished bronze, a carved crystal set into the fixture. A spot of creativity, hidden in the mire of monotony that filled the rest of the site.</p> <p>"Well? These doors should lead to the bedroom. Shall we break it in?"</p> <p><em>Gods yes.</em> There was nowhere she would rather be.</p> <hr/> <p>A persistent artificial pinging rang through Lillian's ears, as she was pulled out of a complex chain of thoughts, just as she was about to solve a memetic mystery. The noise echoed, taunting Lillian with the knowledge that she had forgotten the answe—</p> <p><em>Wait. There it is.</em> Lillian thought to herself, having remembered the conclusion to her train of thought, her fingers flying across the keys, carving it into the digital stone. Looking up from her terminal, she began to hunt for the offending source.</p> <p>Glancing around, Lillian was confused. Her standard mess of memetics, the squalls of chaotic notation that only made sense to her — they were nowhere to be seen. <em>This isn't my office. It's too… clean.</em></p> <p>She wasn't <em>quite</em> right, as she reminded herself a few moments later. <em>Right, Heather and I have a home office now.</em></p> <p>It had only been a few days since the two had moved in, and they were only partially unpacked; unfortunately, the many crises she solved on a daily basis refused to wait for her to be done. Thus, she was back to work, answering mind-numbing emails and restating the obvious to the oblivious.</p> <p>Lillian let out a guttural groan, an unease settling over her body, like a sheet on their office chaise, the walls having been freshly repainted by Heather earlier that day.</p> <p><em>It is strange,</em> Lillian mused, <em>I would have never painted the walls this shade of— what did Heather call it? 'Cosmic Latte'? But…</em> The thought trailed off, as Lillian suddenly felt very small. Surrounded by a space that was not exclusively her own, memories that belonged to another, the careful routines she had become familiar with having been shattered — she would never admit it, but Lillian was anxious.</p> <p>Lillian and long-term relationships were distant acquaintances, having lived on her own for many years at this point. That was the way she liked it, she said. Independent. Alone.</p> <p><em>No. You're happy, remember? You wanted to move in with Heather, you love her and well… so what if you need to make a new morning routine? You solve problems all the time, it's not strange. So, brain, tell me this: what the hell is going on?</em></p> <p>It wasn't that Lillian had never been in a relationship before; but even when she was hooking up with somebody for months, it had always been her, and then them.</p> <p><em>So why is Heather different?</em> Lillian thought, as her mind began to race through their months of dating and— that's when it hit her. For her past <em>distractions</em>, she barely gave them a second thought. They were there, and neither of them was doing anything, so why not — it wasn't meaningful, it was just fun.</p> <p>Heather was <em>very</em> fun. But she was so much more than that.</p> <p><em>Lillian. Being in a stable relationship is a good thing. It's healthy.</em> She thought, Harry's past advice for a former relationship ringing through her mind, as if her inner Lillian needed the lecture. She hated when Harry was right. <em>Don't fuck this up. Don't let—</em></p> <p>The chime pinged again, throwing her off mid-thought.</p> <p>"Motherfucker!" Lillian shouted in frustration, right as Heather poked her head in.</p> <p>"Something wrong babe?" Heather asked, leaning on the door frame. Lillian looked at the graceful form of her girlfriend, a loose blouse hanging down over a flowing maxi skirt, a simple silver belt tying the outfit together. Her hair billowed behind her, beachy waves cascading over her shoulders, framing her tanned face, a subtle knowing smile creeping in.</p> <p><em>She's smirking. Asshole.</em></p> <p>"Well <em>babe</em>," Lillian started, "I just don't understand why you are the way you are."</p> <p>"Neither do I, remember? I don't." The sparkling smirk did nothing to make Heather less of a brat.</p> <p>"Okay, who the fuck has their phone notifications on, and with maximum volume?" Lillian snapped back, the disbelief clear in her voice. "Lunatics, that's who."</p> <p>"I like to know where my phone is!" Heather snapped back.</p> <p>"You know, if you didn't lose it, you wouldn't need to keep the volume on."</p> <p>"Well excuse me for forgetting."</p> <p>Neither of them had tried to, but the distance between them had closed. Heather stared at Lillian, and, for once, Lillian didn't feel scrutinized. She didn't feel different, observed like she was something to be solved, an anomaly, a freak, a force of nature that terrified onlookers with her mind; no, she didn't feel that from Heather, she never did.</p> <p>She felt seen.</p> <p>Heather bent down and pulled Lillian into a slow kiss— which was interrupted, once again, by another grating chime. Heather pulled back as Lillian lingered.</p> <p><em>I am going to break Heather's phone.</em> Lillian thought, as Heather walked over to her phone, picking it up and beginning to swipe, having been completely distracted from what the two of them had just been doing.</p> <hr/> <p><em>How do I turn off the notification sounds again?</em> Heather thought to herself as she picked up her cellphone. It was weird for both of them, having lived alone for so long — each had their own little quirks and habits that drove the other insane.</p> <p>Lillian hated machines that made noise.</p> <p>As Heather unlocked her phone, her train of thought flew away immediately when she saw what caused the notification, the persistent pinging a reminder she had set up because of how easily she was distracted: it was an email, with the subject line "<em>RE: Princess Poem?</em>"</p> <p><em>Finally.</em></p> <p>Without thinking, she let go of her phone, tumbling down to the warm, wooden floor. It plummeted, a sharp metallic thud, quickly followed by the melodic sound of glass shattering as a crack ran across the face of the smartphone. Heather didn't even notice, having spun on the spot, heading to her terminal.</p> <p>"Babe, is everything alri—"</p> <p>"Lilli, come quick!"</p> <p>"What's wrong?" Lillian asked, a flurry of worry passing over her face.</p> <p>"Nothing's wrong." She replied, looking up and, after a brief pause, realized the events of the past 10 seconds, and blushed with embarrassment. "Fuck. I need a new phone, don't I?"</p> <p>"Yeah babe, probably. But don't get distracted, what's going on?" Lillian asked, sitting down onto the arm of Heather's wide, leather desk chair, leaning against her girlfriend.</p> <p>"Right. So remember that <a href="/love-between-the-margins">scrap of paper</a> I showed you, about the 'nameless princess' and the 'silver alchemist'? Well, I sent it to Luca, to see if there were any other documents like it at 19."</p> <p>"Luca?" Lillian asked, as she pulled up the internal information in her mindscape, memories rushing to the forefront. "Oh right! He used to be your boss?"</p> <p>"Kinda?" Heather answered, unsure herself. "He's a friend. I never really worked under him, but—"</p> <p>"That's fine. I prefer it when you only work under me." Lillian's whispered, her soft tones pouring into Heather's ears like honey. Heather rolled her eyes, the subtle shiver down her spine undetectable to most, their hidden language of slight clues only visible to one another.</p> <p>"Babe — not right now, you know how long I've been waiting for his reply."</p> <p>"Yeah, fine, fine." Lillian said, frustrated at Heather's single-track mind.</p> <p><em>We can make out afterwards, gods, she's ravenous. As as much as I would love to fall back into our sensual haze, I just need to…</em> Heather thought, as she navigated her cursor to the email client, pulling up Luca's response.</p> <div class="dyna-email-container"> <div class="dyna-email"> <div class="header-box"> <div class="top-left-box cc-none"> <div class="from-box">From:</div> <div class="to-box">To:</div> <div class="cc-box cc-none">CC:</div> <div class="subject-box">Subject:</div> </div> <div class="top-middle-box cc-none"> <div class="from-name-box"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">[email protected]</span></div> <div class="to-name-box"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">[email protected]</span></div> <div class="cc-text-box cc-none"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">none</span></div> <div class="subject-text-box">RE: Princess Poem?</div> </div> </div> <div class="content-box"> <hr/> <p>Heather!</p> <p>It <em>has</em> been too long, we should set up a time to connect. Perhaps you would like to video call and we can talk about how you're doing at Site-43 — you had mentioned a 'Lilli' in your text messages, is that your special somebody? I have so much to tell you.</p> <p>Oh, right, and the reason you emailed me. I checked out the scan you sent me, and while I couldn't place it at first, I printed a copy and pinned it in my 'nest'.</p> <p>A day or two ago, I was trying to find references to a very specific group of witches from Ireland, and after going through my usual sources, went into the back of our book archives. You remember? The place you called: 'scary as shit, why the fuck would I go there Luca?'</p> I saw a book, with the same lettering, ink, and flourish as the scrap you had forwarded. You need to check this out.</div> <div class="footer-box"> <div class="bottom-left-box"> <div class="name-box">Luca Armaros</div> <div class="title-box">Literary Sciences Department Head, Site 19</div> <div class="sign-off-box">Secure, Contain, Protect</div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <hr/> <div class="storybook"> <p>Once upon a time, the <span style="color: rgba(130,81,145,0.7); text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #848484;">nameless princess</span> and the <span style="color: #626a6c; text-shadow: 2px 2px 1px #c3d1d7;">silver alchemist</span> lived far away, in a castle protected from monotony. Their kingdom was well known throughout the land, and they had developed many enemies; especially <span style="color: rgba(130,81,145,0.7); text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #848484;">The One of Nothing.</span></p> <p>Now, the <span style="color: rgba(130,81,145,0.7); text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #848484;">absent princess</span> had a special talent — she could write words into being, and, through her prose, change the world. Where other court magicians performed feats of transfiguration, only one truly understood what the the <span style="color: rgba(130,81,145,0.7); text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #848484;">princess</span> could do — her loyal companion, the <span style="color: #626a6c; text-shadow: 2px 2px 1px #c3d1d7;">silver alchemist</span>.</p> <p>None understood the extent of the powers the two could wield — misunderstood, they were alone, isolated from all, but each other. Naturally, they drifted into each others' orbit, spiraling around in a delicate dance. Neither the <span style="color: #626a6c; text-shadow: 2px 2px 1px #c3d1d7;">silver alchemist</span> nor the <span style="color: rgba(130,81,145,0.7); text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #848484;">nameless princess</span> had encountered another like them. In an explosive moment, they collided, and history was set — the two would be intertwined with each other, through storms, chills, reverberating together throughout all eternity.</p> <p><span style="color: rgba(130,81,145,0.7); text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #848484;">The One of Nothing</span> was jealous of the <span style="color: rgba(130,81,145,0.7); text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #848484;">forgotten royalty</span>, wishing to become her. After all, <span style="color: rgba(130,81,145,0.7); text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #848484;">the <em>absence</em></span> had never had a name — and yet, that emptiness had been stolen, modified, rewritten. Transformed through an unknown power into an affront; the <span style="color: rgba(130,81,145,0.7); text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #848484;">princess</span> did not know of what she had wrought, nor of the forces set into motion when she first inked her words into its realm.</p> <p><span style="color: rgba(130,81,145,0.7); text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #848484;">The One of Nothing</span> cursed the <span style="color: rgba(130,81,145,0.7); text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #848484;">princess</span>, dooming her to become the same. Time, after time, after time — it would always come back to <span style="color: rgba(130,81,145,0.7); text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #848484;">The Empty Princess, and her <em>absence</em></span>. Soon, the kingdom began to forget — the <span style="color: rgba(130,81,145,0.7); text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #848484;">princess</span> herself began to fade. She was disappearing.</p> <p>The <span style="color: #626a6c; text-shadow: 2px 2px 1px #c3d1d7;">alchemist</span> refused to let their opposite fade away; how dare another try to intertwine with <em>her</em> <span style="color: rgba(130,81,145,0.7); text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #848484;">princess</span>? So, the two began to plot in secret.</p> <p>While the <span style="color: #626a6c; text-shadow: 2px 2px 1px #c3d1d7;">mercurial alchemist</span> toiled away underground, searching for a cure to save her <span style="color: rgba(130,81,145,0.7); text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #848484;">precious patron</span>, the world above was blissfully unaware of the lurking <span style="color: rgba(130,81,145,0.7); text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #848484;">shadow</span> that would soon cast nothingness over the kingdom. She dove further and further into the annals of the castle keep, searching for a tome that could grant her a portent panacea, a way to save her love. Each time, she failed. Each time, she would try again. Again and again and again, day after night lost — all in service of their future. Until one day, in her alchemical fervor, the <span style="color: #626a6c; text-shadow: 2px 2px 1px #c3d1d7;">dutiful researcher</span> uncovered an aspect lost to time, lost to even herself.</p> <p>A prophecy.</p> <p>The legend, etched into earthly parchment, ethereal text dancing across the page — it wavered and shifted as she watched, but it never disappeared. And the ending never changed.</p> <p>For the legend told that, when the <span style="color: rgba(130,81,145,0.7); text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #848484;">nameless princess</span> lost her beginnings, and embraced the <span style="color: #626a6c; text-shadow: 2px 2px 1px #c3d1d7;">silver alchemist</span>, the two finding solace and love in the darkest of times; then <span style="color: rgba(130,81,145,0.7); text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #848484;">The One of Nothing</span> would envelop the whole world, beginning a reign of emptiness, meaninglessness, and nothingness. Silver, shadow, and nothing, fated to intertwine at the apex of abstraction; when the voiceless become faceless, the final battle shall begin.</p> </div> <p>There was no second page.</p> <hr/> <p>The story hung in the air between the two women like a problem in search of a question. Both had their minds racing as the tried to process what they had just read, each independently spiraling in their minds until the moment of realization where they would, as always, reach the answer to the question at the exact same time.</p> <p>Neither of them said anything.</p> <p><em>I don't like this.</em> Lillian thought, the irritation bubbling just below the surface. <em>There's nothing here. It's a fucking children's story—</em></p> <p>"So why does this feel so familiar?" Heather said, unknowingly finishing the thought for her.</p> <p>"You too?"</p> <p>"Yeah. I… is this memetic?"</p> <p>Lillian looked at the computer for a brief moment before shaking her head.</p> <p>"No. Look at the computer again; see how your mind feels nothing when you look? That's how I tell, generally."</p> <p>Heather looked back at the screen, squinting her eyes, as if concentrating on the words in the hope that they would rearrange themselves and reveal the answer.</p> <p><em>She's pouting. That's adorable,</em> Lillian thought as she watched her girlfriend get progressively more annoyed, glaring more and more at the screen. They were in a perfect symmetry, in some ways.</p> <p>"Weird. I've never thought of it like that before. I guess you're right. It… my mind feels itchy?"</p> <p>"Itchy? How scientific of you." Lillian teased, grinning ear to ear.</p> <p>"Shut up. I mean, like… okay, when I'm trying to remember something that was from…" Heather trailed off, Lillian knowing exactly what she was implying. "Well, when I'm trying to remember those, it feels the same. Like picking at a scab."</p> <p><em>She's right.</em> Lillian thought as she focused on her mind and found a similar feeling. The vision of the page in her mind was clear, each word seared in eternally. And yet, it felt… incomplete. Intangible. <em>Itchy.</em></p> <p>"You're right. But why do I feel the same way?" Lillian asked, sitting on the desk as Heather leaned back in her office chair. "I didn't lose my memories. Scratch that, I <em>don't</em> lose my memories. Even amnesticized ones— and yes, before you can ask, I'll teach you how to do that one day."</p> <p>Heather dropped the hand she had jokingly raised, a devious look on her face.</p> <p>"I assumed that it was possible, but I never put too much thought into it. You'd just be reconnecting the contextual links, right?" Heather asked, as Lillian saw the mental gymnastics Heather was pulling off — eyes flickering around, as if pulling down files from a shelf.</p> <p><em>A perfect 10.</em> Lillian thought, unable to stop the smile from leaking through.</p> <p>"Yeah, basically." Lillian answered. "God, I love you."</p> <p>Heather laughed.</p> <p>"Love you too babe. But wait, you're telling me that you think <em>you've</em> forgotten something? How does that happen?"</p> <p>"I don't know."</p> <p>Lillian truly didn't. And that pissed her off.</p> <p>"Then let's figure it out." Heather said, having stood up from her chair, and was now towering over her girlfriend. Lillian stared up at the face of the woman who had gone to the brink of nonexistence, <em>just</em> to stay with her. Heather reached out, and Lillian took it without hesitation, being pulled to her feet and into an intimate distance; the two women inches apart.</p> <p><em>Fuck.</em> Lillian thought, blushing. <em>Why is that so hot?</em></p> <p>"Shall we, my 'loyal companion'?"</p> <p>Lillian laughed, but inside, she was screaming. <em>I would follow you until the ends of existence.</em></p> <p>Heather smiled at her brilliantly, as if she could read Lillian's mind. They were together, no matter what the world threw at them.</p> <hr/> <p>"Any luck?" Lillian asked as Heather looked up from the pile of periodicals, ancient almanacs, and thick tomes of fairy tales. They had been at this for hours at this point, and Heather was royally pissed off.</p> <p>"Fun fact: there are tons of princesses in fairy tales! Shocking, right?" Heather slammed a book in frustration, looking up at Lillian. "They all have names! Imagine that, a woman? With a name? Outrageous, right?"</p> <p>Lillian tittered in amusement before tossing herself down onto a low couch they had placed in their office — she lounged atop it, hair cascading over her shoulder, gently wavering. "So, you had about as much success as I did?"</p> <p>"I've found nothing. No Nameless Princess, hell, not even a reference. Just your standard Cinderella and junk." Heather scowled, leaning onto the chaise. "You too?"</p> <p>Lillian raised her eyebrows, the slight and gentle curve that Heather couldn't help but find adorable. "Worse. I found a <em>lot</em>."</p> <p>"And?" Heather asked, knowing there was a 'but' coming. <em>Lillian would have been much more smug otherwise.</em></p> <p>"Well. First I read that the 'silver alchemist' was the nickname for a famed herbalist in 800s Europe. Oh. And also a witch from France, a madwoman from the Urals, a goddess in Mesoamerica—"</p> <p>"I bet you liked that."</p> <p>"Who wouldn't?" Lillian said, smiling. "Oh, and did I mention, about at least 30 other sources all with contradictory information?"</p> <p><em>Great. This is just fucking fantastic.</em> Heather thought as she threw her head back, staring at the books scattered before them. "So. Useless, in different ways."</p> <p>"Yep! What's next Heather?"</p> <p>"Oh, you don't have a plan?" She teased, tracing her finger on Lillian's forearm. Heather watched as the lines she drew stayed on Lillian's skin, a slowly fading view of their combined histories. <em>What if we just… what if we just lounged here? Wouldn't that be nice?</em></p> <p>Heather knew that would be impossible. Not today.</p> <p>"A good boss delegates babe."</p> <p>Heather narrowed her eyes as Lillian smirked.</p> <p>"Eww. Gross. Don't call yourself my boss, that's so weird babe." Heather laughed awkwardly. "I know that it's not like that but…"</p> <p>"But you don't want to be the woman who screwed her boss for a promotion."</p> <p>"Yeah."</p> <p>Heather and Lillian gazed into each other's eyes, the intimacy of their shared dorm, the lives that they decided to combine sprawling out before them. Lillian's reaction was hard to place.</p> <p><em>Is Lillian… upset? Anxious?</em></p> <p>"I'm sorry." Lillian said, interrupting her thoughts. "Can I be honest with you?"</p> <p>"Of course." Heather said, panicking internally. <em>We just moved in together, what the fuck, I can't—</em></p> <p>"I wish that… I wish I hadn't put you in this position."</p> <p>"I thought you liked putting me into positions?" Heather remarked, the internal doubt covered by bravado. "I'm sorry, it's a dumb joke."</p> <p>Lillian blushed in return.</p> <p>"I just… babe, I never meant to put you into a position where it could be argued that you only got your job because you're sleeping with the boss. You… you are brilliant. You deserve recognition for the insane things you do with memetics, the absurd witchcraft you pull with names, the answers you find to my unsolvable problems; you have earned your place, and I refuse to let that be taken from you."</p> <p>Lillian grabbed both of Heather's hands and pulled them in tight.</p> <p>"Look, Heath. I know that we started on a whim, but, well… I think we both know that this could be so much more. We…"</p> <p>"We work."</p> <p>Lillian smiled.</p> <p>"Exactly. Synchronicity. I've never had this before, not with anybody else and—"</p> <p>Heather knew what Lillian was going to say. She knew because she had the same thought every day, each time she looked around the cafeteria, and heard the whispers, the rumors, the snide remarks. She knew what they all thought. <em>Who gives a fuck?</em></p> <p>"Babe, you know that nothing will keep me from being with you." Heather said. "I'll just have to become your boss, that way we'll be even, okay?"</p> <p>"You? The boss of me?" Lillian said, laughing. "Sure."</p> <p>When Heather took Lillian's hand, pinned it behind her head against the wall. She leaned in, desperately pressing Lillian up against the cool wall, the women locked into a passionate kiss; Lillian shivered. Heather pulled away, her lips tracing along Lillian's jawline, gentle caresses rewarded with a pleasurable shudder and moan. In a low, sultry tone, she whispered in Lillian's ear. "So you don't think I'm the boss of you? Come to the bedroom."</p> <p>Lillian swallowed shakily. Heather walked away, hips swaying, leading the way to their bedroom. She paused at the door, looking back. "Oh, was I unclear? That was an order."</p> <p><em>I'll show her who's in charge.</em></p> <hr/> <p>And Heather did show Lillian who was in charge. Multiple times. They spent hours going over the power structure, interpersonal dynamics, and disciplinary policies; and each woman loved every minute of it. Now, in the daze of a post-coital bliss, Heather sat on the ground of their closet in her bra, digging through boxes trying to find a shirt to throw on.</p> <p><em>I think… I think I could get used to this.</em> Lillian thought to herself as she stared longingly at her partner.</p> <p>"Hey, Lillian?" Heather's concerned voice called out, "Why is there a kill agent in our closet?"</p> <p>"What?" Lillian asked, ready to jump into action.</p> <p>"You have a fucking shirt with a kill agent on i— you mother fucker." Heather glared back, but couldn't stop a smile from creeping in. "Seriously?"</p> <p><em>Oh,</em> Lillian thought, <em>She found the shirt.</em></p> <p>"Hey, that's my favorite shirt! Where did you find that?"</p> <p>"Lillian, why does your favorite shirt look like a kill agent?" Heather responded, asking the only question she cared about.</p> <p>"Because it's funny."</p> <p>"Seriously?"</p> <p>"Oh my god, you sound just like Harry. It's not even a real kill agent, it's just—"</p> <p>"Yeah, I can see it now. Memetics that make people think its a kill agent. Why would you…" Heather trailed off, eyes glazing over as she stared at the elusive patterns that decorated the crimson red top.</p> <p>Lillian gazed around their bedroom, having recognized the look on Heather's face. It was a look she knew all too well, one she had worn many times. <em>Heather is solving a problem. It doesn't matter if I try and speak to her, it's not like she would hear it.</em></p> <p>Each women lost in their own musings, Lillian thought back to her previous relationships. <em>Am I overanalyzing this? Probably. Am I going to anyways? Oh, most definitely. Lillian, don't you find it weird how much you two just… click?</em></p> <p>She scowled at her inner voice. <em>Jackass. You're just scared because every other relationship we've been in before is like drinking sludge compared to the ambrosia that— No, you know what? Cutting that thought off before it gets too cringey. Right, maybe…</em></p> <p>Lillian looked back at her girlfriend, who was still in the closet, her memetic shirt held at arms length, watching as she mentally connected the dots. If Lillian focused, she could almost hear Heather's thoughts, figuratively speaking.</p> <p><em>Right about now, she's tying it all together, and…</em></p> <p>"We're fucking idiots. God damn, it's just like your shirt."</p> <p><em>Welcome back, Heath.</em> Lillian raised an eyebrow. "My shirt? Why are you dragging her into this, she did nothing wrong."</p> <p>"Her?" Heather asked, with a tilt of the head. "It's just like your shirt. We assumed one thing and missed the big picture."</p> <p>"Am I right to assume that you have a plan?"</p> <p>Heather tossed the shirt onto the floor, and practically ran to the bed, tossing herself onto it, ignoring her state of undress. "Of course I do. Remember the last time we had to deal with 'absence'?"</p> <p>"No, I forgot." Lillian answered sarcastically, a slight nod of her head signaling for Heather to continue.</p> <p>"Thanks babe. It consumes context, right?"</p> <p>"Right. That's why it was so hard to find any texts, because everything else was…" Lillian said, trailing off, as the pieces started to take shape in her mind. <em>If everything surrounding 'absence' is abstracted, then—</em></p> <p>"Of course the 'nameless princess' and the 'silver alchemist' meant nothing — they've lost the contextual meaning."</p> <p>"So we look for 'absence' again?" Lillian frowned. "I'm not going to search for a second needle in the same haystack as last time, and I'm still not sure what the… wait. You think so?"</p> <p>Heather nodded. "I do. Think about it like this. We were focused on finding the exact characters, right?"</p> <p>"Well yeah," Lillian answered, "That's how we found this first page. So we just need to find the next part of the story."</p> <p>"What if there is no next part?"</p> <p><em>Now <strong>that's</strong> interesting.</em></p> <p>"So the story is complete?"</p> <p>"Not complete. It—"</p> <p>"It faded." Lillian said, the answer revealing itself slowly.</p> <p>"Exactly!" Heather leaned her head on Lillian's lap, staring up at Lillian, who looked down and subconsciously began to stroke her hair.</p> <p>"So we won't be able to find anything else about that story."</p> <p>Lillian was putting the pieces together in her mind, as Heather watched with a knowing smirk, the smile you have when you know the right answer, and you're just dangling it in front of somebody else. <em>God she's a brat.</em></p> <p>"But…"</p> <p>"But all stories, all old fairy tales, they… oh my god. It's a metaphor."</p> <p>Lillian almost slapped herself for how obvious the answer was.</p> <p>"Yeah. Exactly." The pair's eyes met, the same intensity, curiosity and determination to find a solution reflected in each woman; for a second, Lillian forgot about her worries with their relationship, stopped doubting herself, stopped trying to self-sabotage the best thing that had— no, the best person she had ever met.</p> <p>"The story is about us." Lillian said breathily. "Were we destined to be together?"</p> <p>"How can we know? The story could have changed when we met, it could have always been like that. Why should we let a fairy tale tell us what to do? Fuck, Lil, you don't even let the O5 council tell you what to do."</p> <p>Lillian laughed, brushing a loose strand of hair behind Heather's ear.</p> <p>"You really think we wrote our own story? That somehow, we shattered the strings of fate, and found each other? Babe, that's adorable!"</p> <p>Heather rolled her eyes.</p> <p>"Come on. You read the page, the 'The One of Nothing' has to be 'absence', right? And if that's true—"</p> <p>"Then it's going to come back." Lillian filled in, already running the calculations internally. "Do you think we can find out how to story ends?"</p> <p>"No." Heather paused. "We'll just have to write our own ending instead."</p> <hr/> <p>It was a simple idea, really.</p> <p><em>It's a stupid idea,</em> Heather thought, staring at the blank page before her. <em>I don't know why Lillian listens to me.</em></p> <p>Heather and Lillian prided themselves on lateral problem solving. If somebody expects you to zig, you punch them in the gut. This solution was the dumbest, and yet, most logical solution that they could think of. Neither woman knew if it would work, but both had the same blind confidence in the other that anything was worth a shot.</p> <p>"You're sure you don't want me to do this?" Lillian asked, sitting down beside Heather. They were back in their old haunt, The Smokestacks, a piece of parchment neatly laid out onto the table in front of Heather. To the side sat three small opaque bottles and a set of fountain pens.</p> <p>"We talked about it, I have the best chance of making it work." Heather answered, the unspoken meaning clear. <em>It has to be me. I'm the one absence is linked to, I'm the one who got rid of my deadname.</em></p> <p>Despite everything, Heather still didn't regret that.</p> <p>"Okay well," Lillian began, "I have the inks ready for you, except— well, I had an idea."</p> <p>"Oh? How exciting, you never have those." Heather teased, the tension of the situation bubbling in the background.</p> <p>"Ha ha. The inks are colour matched, but they just… it feels dead. It's sterile."</p> <p>"How do we fix that?"</p> <p>"Easy. We pollute the sterile environment."</p> <p><em>Really? You read one metaphor, and all of the sudden, everything she says is a riddle.</em></p> <p>"Lilli, can you just say your idea?"</p> <p>"Fine. Spoilsport. We bleed into the ink. It's about us, right? So we put ourselves into it and—"</p> <p>"And it ties the story to us. Conceptually."</p> <p>"Exactly."</p> <p>Heather didn't hesitate, pulling a small blade from her pocket. She flipped it open, nicked her thumb, and squeezed a drop of blood into the purple ink pot; the blood swirled with ink, until there was nothing left separated. It had become as one.</p> <p>Heather turned to see Lillian still staring at the knife in surprise.</p> <p>"What?" Heather asked, passing the blade to her girlfriend. "Can't a girl have hobbies?"</p> <p>"Do you carry that on you? Every day?"</p> <p><em>Yes.</em> Heather thought. "Not every day, just—"</p> <p>"Right. So you do." Lillian laughed, grabbing Heather's hand and licking a bead of blood off of the tip. "My turn then."</p> <p>With that, Lillian turned and did the same, her blood mixing with the silver, the tone shimmering, but refusing to shift. When the two women were done, it was undeniable to them; something was different.</p> <p>"I can't believe that worked." Heather remarked, feeling a presence radiating from the ink pots that was missing before. "Did we just—"</p> <p>"Perform an unknown ritual? I think so. Let's… we can worry about that later."</p> <p>"Right. The story."</p> <p><em>Who needs an outline, right?</em></p> <p>Heather picked up a pen, holding it delicately, as she stared at her girlfriend. Lillian gave an encouraging squeeze, and nodded. It was time to write their own fates.</p> <hr/> <div class="storybook"> <p>Once upon a time, the <span style="color: rgba(130,81,145,0.7); text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #848484;">nameless princess</span> and the <span style="color: #626a6c; text-shadow: 2px 2px 1px #c3d1d7;">silver alchemist</span> found themselves in a familiar place. They knew the song, they felt the melody echoing through the world in their hearts. They had been called to each other, destined to prove themselves as worthy. Each skilled in feats of magic and ideas; each with their own art. They were fluid, two rivers coursing side by side, mixing and swirling together, a true force of nature.</p> <p>They had defeated <span style="color: rgba(130,81,145,0.7); text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #848484;">The One of Nothing,</span> the monster that tried to hide within the <span style="color: rgba(130,81,145,0.7); text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #848484;">princess herself,</span> so much so that the two became as one; one could not exist as long as the other remained. They were antithesis, opposites; a being of creation and a being of <em>not</em>, their meaning interwoven into a tightly inescapable straightjacket. But our <span style="color: rgba(130,81,145,0.7); text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #848484;">beloved royal</span> had one thing that the dark one could never know. For she had the <span style="color: #626a6c; text-shadow: 2px 2px 1px #c3d1d7;">mercurial memeticist</span> on her side, not just an ally, but a life-long companion. A soulmate.</p> <p>Something, someone who would keep the princess here, no matter what happened. With their forces combined, <span style="color: rgba(130,81,145,0.7); text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #848484;">The One of Nothing</span> became just that — nothing. It was pushed back into the abyss; or so they thought. For just as an idea cannot be killed, so too is true for the concepts that live; to kill an idea is to prevent it from existence. You cannot kill an idea; no mortal can — but you can push it back into The Margins. Seal it away. Break the eternal cyclical curse, and give way to a new era. Only then will the world be safe.</p> <p>Only then, will the two find peace.</p> <p><span style="color: rgba(130,81,145,0.7); text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #848484;">The One of Nothing</span> was coming back; it had never left. It was hiding, just out of sight, tied to a forgotten name, a shattered idea, a meaning lost to its very creator; it would be back, hungry for more. And on the day, when the voiceless and the nameless collide, the fates tolling the bells of oblivion; on that day, <span style="color: rgba(130,81,145,0.7); text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #848484;">The One of Nothing</span> will be vulnerable. It would reveal itself to our heroes, and in doing so, write its own epitaph.</p> <p>And when it is gone, the lovers will be free.</p> </div> <hr/> <p>"Are you okay?" Lillilan asked as Heather gently put down the fountain pen, staring at the page, dazed. She had been writing in an automatic flurry, a woman barely in control of her own motions. <em>Sure, just go play with rituals and memetics in a dusty old library, that'll be safe. No worries here! Certainly not about Heather, why would I be worried about the only person that I—</em></p> <p>"Huh?" A significantly delayed Heather blinked, shaking off the confusion. "What just happened?"</p> <p>"You wrote a story. See?" Lillian gestured at the parchment, ink still fresh. It shimmered under her gaze, dancing in the dim light. "A little pretentious in places, but—"</p> <p>"Hey! I don't even remember writing that, it just kind of…" Heather frowned. "I think I've always known the story. I think… I think maybe you do too."</p> <p>Lillian skimmed the page, barely giving it a glance. <em>Heather's right. I know this story. How do I know this? Why do I know this?</em></p> <p>"I do. What the fuck, Heath?"</p> <p>Heather looked into her soul, for just a second, before a wicked grin took over her glower demeanor. "Well, Lillian. You see, there is a field of research known as <em>memetics</em> that deals with ideas. Do you need me to spell that for you?"</p> <p><em>She's scared.</em> Lillian knew her girlfriend well. <em>Fuck, I'm scared too.</em></p> <p>Lillian continued reading and re-reading the story in her mind, desperately hoping that something new might pop out, something—</p> <p>"Heather, what are The Margins?"</p> <p>"Of the page? I don't fucking know, I'm not a ruler."</p> <p>"Babe. "The Margins"? See? What the fuck is that?"</p> <p>"I don't know!" Heather said incredulously, looking back at Lillian.</p> <p>"Well don't look at me, you're the one who wrote it!"</p> <p>And then the absurdity finally came crashing down; the spire of surreal babel crashing to the earth, the Two Lovers and The Tower, a change on the wind signaling a fresh start. They started laughing, uncontrollably, struggling to catch their breath through the insanity of the moment. After a minute, both women had recovered enough to speak without giggling.</p> <p>"You think it means something, Lil?"</p> <p>"Fuck. Probably."</p> <p>The pair sat in the Smokestacks for hours, simply talking with one another, time flying past, the momentary worries having been forgotten in favor of the joy of companionship. 'The Margins' and 'absence' could wait; after all, this wasn't their story.</p> <p>Yet.</p> <hr/> <div class="earthworm earthworm--old-syntax-first-false earthworm--old-syntax-last-false earthworm--old-syntax-hub-yes {$class}"> <div class="first earthworm__previous" data-title="Don't Let Me Forget"> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/don-t-let-me-forget">Don't Let Me Forget</a></p> </div> <div class="hub earthworm__hub" data-title="Forgotten Memories"> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/forgotten-memories-hub">Forgotten Memories</a></p> </div> <div class="last earthworm__next" data-title="SCP-8843"> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/SCP-8843">SCP-8843</a></p> </div> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-heart-grows-fonder">The Heart Grows Fonder</a>" by Queerious, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-heart-grows-fonder">https://scpwiki.com/the-heart-grows-fonder</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	===== [[include <a href="/component:preview">component:preview</a> text="We'll just have to write our own ending instead."]] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:blankstyle">:scp-wiki:theme:blankstyle</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:queerstyle">:scp-wiki:theme:queerstyle</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:dynamic-emails">:scp-wiki:component:dynamic-emails</a> code=--]] [[module css]] @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Philosopher&display=swap'); :root { --fade-in: 0; } .storybook { font-family:Philosopher; background-image: url( https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/scp-8166/paper-min%5B1%5D.png); padding:15px; font-size: 105%; border: 2px solid #5d0f87; } hr { margin: 3em 2em; } [[/module]] [[div]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[/div]] [[div]] [[=]] + The Heart Grows Fonder [[/=]] [[/div]] ----- [[div class="blockquote"]] What does it mean for an idea to be 'dangerous'? That depends on who you ask. The Foundation believes that an idea that threatens the veil is 'dangerous'. Politicians believe that talking about unions or protests can be 'dangerous' ideas. Thinking about your partner can be 'dangerous' depending on where you live. We have always focused on the Noosphere as having been created //by// human consciousness, but what if that's wrong? What if the Noosphere came before us, and will keep existing long after our extinction? If that's true, what does a 'dangerous' idea mean to the Noosphere? Unfortunately, you can't ask the Noosphere, but you can ask us; we'll tell you that the most 'dangerous' idea is one that threatens the Noosphere itself. [[>]] //The Noosphere is Alive: A New Framework for Countermemetics// - Dr. Heather Garrison & Dr. Lillian Lillihammer [[/>]] [[/div]] Dr. Heather Garrison was unprepared. It wasn't that her present situation was a major departure from the dismal level of preparedness she usually maintained, but rather, she was in a completely unknown territory. Her and Lillian were moving in together. //When did I become such a lesbian stereotype?// Heather thought as she looked at the closed door in front of her, key dangling from the lock. The door was as non-descript as the rest of the site, in start contrast to the ornate key inserted into the keyhole, a rose gold chain dangling from it, an anchor covered in gold filigree, hanging from the end. Ever since she and Lillian had told HR about their relationship, their lives were moving forward at a breakneck speed, disparate strands being intertwined into one. //How did she have the time to put this all together?// "So. You going to open that door? Or did you suddenly develop cold feet, or dare I say... Hesitation?" Lillian, to the untrained eye, seemed to be bored. Cracking a joke, because she had nothing better to do. To Heather, however, it was obvious that Lillian was anxious about this. She saw it in Lillian's jaw, the tightness that trailed out into the slight twitching of her shoulders; a knuckle, slightly red, from where she had been idly picking at it. //Lillian anxious? What's next, [[[Reostiation\|Wettle gets a win]]]?// Heather turned and looked at her girlfriend; Lillian was in her casual weekend outfit; leggings and a tank top that she knew drove Heather crazy, hugging her curves in just the right places, teasing Heather with little glimpses of her soft skin underneath. Lillian was carrying a box under each arm, lifting them with ease. A glistening bead of sweat dripped down the side of her face, off of her chin, and landing straight on her-- "Heath? The door?" //Shit.// "Coming right up, m'lady." Heather responded cheekily, accompanied by an over-the-top curtsey. "Hey, Heath? Never say that again." //God, I love her.// Heather grabbed the door handle and gave it a turn. ------ The dorm was larger than either had been expecting. When HR had told them they could move into a shared unit, they expected something shitty, maybe a little bigger than their current dorms but essentially no different. This was not that. The door opened into a bright, wide, atrium. The concrete walls that normally filled Site-43 were replaced with a softer stucco, complimenting the open-concept layout: empty spaces, perfect for flowing between the main rooms of their unit, an airiness to the space. Light streamed in from above through what appeared to be skylights; to their right was a large living room that opened directly into the fully furnished kitchen. On the opposite side of the atrium was a set of heavy, intricately carved oak doors. Directly ahead of them were two more rooms, each open -- Heather could see that one room would be their shared home office, while the other looked like a powder room. "Where are we, Lil?" Heather asked, jaw hanging open as she stared in disbelief at their new dorm. "We're in Canada last time I checked." Lillian answered, setting the boxes down beside her on the floor, a dark hardwood that would soon be covered with a plush oriental rug. "I mean -- what the hell is this dorm room? Were our old dorms just really fucking terrible?" "Oh. Yeah." "Yeah?" "I might have pulled some strings. You wouldn't believe how many people in the Foundation owe me favors." Lillian said, wandering into the middle of the atrium. The light bounced off of her ethereal skin, and Heather couldn't help but get lost in the vision of grace before her. //Note to self, make a list of everybody who owes you a favor.// "Some strings? This is incredible!" Heather said, practically spinning around the room. Lillian beamed at the praise, reaching out her hand for Heather to take. Without hesitation, Heather grabbed her girlfriend tight, a subtle nod that said 'lead the way.' Lillian began to walk across the atrium, each stride a graceful dance; Heather trailed behind, looking around in a daze. "You know, I had talked about the layout, and even saw the plans in advance but... finally, a place befitting of my princess, wouldn't you say?" Lillian said, a proud satisfaction on her face. Sure, it was still an underground box, but... //It could be home.// Heather hoped. Lillian stopped as Heather caught up, the pair standing abreast in front of the large wooden double doors, carved with, on closer inspection, subtle memetic patterns intermixed with mundane Celtic patterns. The doorknobs were a polished bronze, a carved crystal set into the fixture. A spot of creativity, hidden in the mire of monotony that filled the rest of the site. "Well? These doors should lead to the bedroom. Shall we break it in?" //Gods yes.// There was nowhere she would rather be. ----- A persistent artificial pinging rang through Lillian's ears, as she was pulled out of a complex chain of thoughts, just as she was about to solve a memetic mystery. The noise echoed, taunting Lillian with the knowledge that she had forgotten the answe-- //Wait. There it is.// Lillian thought to herself, having remembered the conclusion to her train of thought, her fingers flying across the keys, carving it into the digital stone. Looking up from her terminal, she began to hunt for the offending source. Glancing around, Lillian was confused. Her standard mess of memetics, the squalls of chaotic notation that only made sense to her -- they were nowhere to be seen. //This isn't my office. It's too... clean.// She wasn't //quite// right, as she reminded herself a few moments later. //Right, Heather and I have a home office now.// It had only been a few days since the two had moved in, and they were only partially unpacked; unfortunately, the many crises she solved on a daily basis refused to wait for her to be done. Thus, she was back to work, answering mind-numbing emails and restating the obvious to the oblivious. Lillian let out a guttural groan, an unease settling over her body, like a sheet on their office chaise, the walls having been freshly repainted by Heather earlier that day. //It is strange,// Lillian mused, //I would have never painted the walls this shade of-- what did Heather call it? 'Cosmic Latte'? But...// The thought trailed off, as Lillian suddenly felt very small. Surrounded by a space that was not exclusively her own, memories that belonged to another, the careful routines she had become familiar with having been shattered -- she would never admit it, but Lillian was anxious. Lillian and long-term relationships were distant acquaintances, having lived on her own for many years at this point. That was the way she liked it, she said. Independent. Alone. //No. You're happy, remember? You wanted to move in with Heather, you love her and well... so what if you need to make a new morning routine? You solve problems all the time, it's not strange. So, brain, tell me this: what the hell is going on?// It wasn't that Lillian had never been in a relationship before; but even when she was hooking up with somebody for months, it had always been her, and then them. //So why is Heather different?// Lillian thought, as her mind began to race through their months of dating and-- that's when it hit her. For her past //distractions//, she barely gave them a second thought. They were there, and neither of them was doing anything, so why not -- it wasn't meaningful, it was just fun. Heather was //very// fun. But she was so much more than that. //Lillian. Being in a stable relationship is a good thing. It's healthy.// She thought, Harry's past advice for a former relationship ringing through her mind, as if her inner Lillian needed the lecture. She hated when Harry was right. //Don't fuck this up. Don't let--// The chime pinged again, throwing her off mid-thought. "Motherfucker!" Lillian shouted in frustration, right as Heather poked her head in. "Something wrong babe?" Heather asked, leaning on the door frame. Lillian looked at the graceful form of her girlfriend, a loose blouse hanging down over a flowing maxi skirt, a simple silver belt tying the outfit together. Her hair billowed behind her, beachy waves cascading over her shoulders, framing her tanned face, a subtle knowing smile creeping in. //She's smirking. Asshole.// "Well //babe//," Lillian started, "I just don't understand why you are the way you are." "Neither do I, remember? I don't." The sparkling smirk did nothing to make Heather less of a brat. "Okay, who the fuck has their phone notifications on, and with maximum volume?" Lillian snapped back, the disbelief clear in her voice. "Lunatics, that's who." "I like to know where my phone is!" Heather snapped back. "You know, if you didn't lose it, you wouldn't need to keep the volume on." "Well excuse me for forgetting." Neither of them had tried to, but the distance between them had closed. Heather stared at Lillian, and, for once, Lillian didn't feel scrutinized. She didn't feel different, observed like she was something to be solved, an anomaly, a freak, a force of nature that terrified onlookers with her mind; no, she didn't feel that from Heather, she never did. She felt seen. Heather bent down and pulled Lillian into a slow kiss-- which was interrupted, once again, by another grating chime. Heather pulled back as Lillian lingered. //I am going to break Heather's phone.// Lillian thought, as Heather walked over to her phone, picking it up and beginning to swipe, having been completely distracted from what the two of them had just been doing. ----- //How do I turn off the notification sounds again?// Heather thought to herself as she picked up her cellphone. It was weird for both of them, having lived alone for so long -- each had their own little quirks and habits that drove the other insane. Lillian hated machines that made noise. As Heather unlocked her phone, her train of thought flew away immediately when she saw what caused the notification, the persistent pinging a reminder she had set up because of how easily she was distracted: it was an email, with the subject line "//RE: Princess Poem?//" //Finally.// Without thinking, she let go of her phone, tumbling down to the warm, wooden floor. It plummeted, a sharp metallic thud, quickly followed by the melodic sound of glass shattering as a crack ran across the face of the smartphone. Heather didn't even notice, having spun on the spot, heading to her terminal. "Babe, is everything alri--" "Lilli, come quick!" "What's wrong?" Lillian asked, a flurry of worry passing over her face. "Nothing's wrong." She replied, looking up and, after a brief pause, realized the events of the past 10 seconds, and blushed with embarrassment. "Fuck. I need a new phone, don't I?" "Yeah babe, probably. But don't get distracted, what's going on?" Lillian asked, sitting down onto the arm of Heather's wide, leather desk chair, leaning against her girlfriend. "Right. So remember that [[[Love Between the Margins\|scrap of paper]]] I showed you, about the 'nameless princess' and the 'silver alchemist'? Well, I sent it to Luca, to see if there were any other documents like it at 19." "Luca?" Lillian asked, as she pulled up the internal information in her mindscape, memories rushing to the forefront. "Oh right! He used to be your boss?" "Kinda?" Heather answered, unsure herself. "He's a friend. I never really worked under him, but--" "That's fine. I prefer it when you only work under me." Lillian's whispered, her soft tones pouring into Heather's ears like honey. Heather rolled her eyes, the subtle shiver down her spine undetectable to most, their hidden language of slight clues only visible to one another. "Babe -- not right now, you know how long I've been waiting for his reply." "Yeah, fine, fine." Lillian said, frustrated at Heather's single-track mind. //We can make out afterwards, gods, she's ravenous. As as much as I would love to fall back into our sensual haze, I just need to...// Heather thought, as she navigated her cursor to the email client, pulling up Luca's response. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:dynamic-emails">:scp-wiki:component:dynamic-emails</a> start=-- \|from= [email protected] \|to= [email protected] \|cc= none \|subject= RE: Princess Poem? ]] Heather! It //has// been too long, we should set up a time to connect. Perhaps you would like to video call and we can talk about how you're doing at Site-43 -- you had mentioned a 'Lilli' in your text messages, is that your special somebody? I have so much to tell you. Oh, right, and the reason you emailed me. I checked out the scan you sent me, and while I couldn't place it at first, I printed a copy and pinned it in my 'nest'. A day or two ago, I was trying to find references to a very specific group of witches from Ireland, and after going through my usual sources, went into the back of our book archives. You remember? The place you called: 'scary as shit, why the fuck would I go there Luca?' I saw a book, with the same lettering, ink, and flourish as the scrap you had forwarded. You need to check this out. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:dynamic-emails">:scp-wiki:component:dynamic-emails</a> end=-- \|name= Luca Armaros \|title= Literary Sciences Department Head, Site 19 \|signoff= Secure, Contain, Protect \|signoff-icon= https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/component:dynamic-emails/transparent.png ]] ----- [[div class="storybook"]] Once upon a time, the[[span style="color: rgba(130,81,145,0.7); text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #848484;"]] nameless princess [[/span]]and the[[span style="color: #626a6c; text-shadow: 2px 2px 1px #c3d1d7;"]] silver alchemist [[/span]]lived far away, in a castle protected from monotony. Their kingdom was well known throughout the land, and they had developed many enemies; especially [[span style="color: rgba(130,81,145,0.7); text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #848484;"]] The One of Nothing.[[/span]] Now, the [[span style="color: rgba(130,81,145,0.7); text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #848484;"]]absent princess[[/span]] had a special talent -- she could write words into being, and, through her prose, change the world. Where other court magicians performed feats of transfiguration, only one truly understood what the the [[span style="color: rgba(130,81,145,0.7); text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #848484;"]] princess [[/span]]could do -- her loyal companion, the [[span style="color: #626a6c; text-shadow: 2px 2px 1px #c3d1d7;"]]silver alchemist[[/span]]. None understood the extent of the powers the two could wield -- misunderstood, they were alone, isolated from all, but each other. Naturally, they drifted into each others' orbit, spiraling around in a delicate dance. Neither the [[span style="color: #626a6c; text-shadow: 2px 2px 1px #c3d1d7;"]] silver alchemist [[/span]]nor the [[span style="color: rgba(130,81,145,0.7); text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #848484;"]]nameless princess[[/span]] had encountered another like them. In an explosive moment, they collided, and history was set -- the two would be intertwined with each other, through storms, chills, reverberating together throughout all eternity. [[span style="color: rgba(130,81,145,0.7); text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #848484;"]]The One of Nothing[[/span]] was jealous of the [[span style="color: rgba(130,81,145,0.7); text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #848484;"]]forgotten royalty[[/span]], wishing to become her. After all, [[span style="color: rgba(130,81,145,0.7); text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #848484;"]]the //absence//[[/span]] had never had a name -- and yet, that emptiness had been stolen, modified, rewritten. Transformed through an unknown power into an affront; the [[span style="color: rgba(130,81,145,0.7); text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #848484;"]]princess[[/span]] did not know of what she had wrought, nor of the forces set into motion when she first inked her words into its realm. [[span style="color: rgba(130,81,145,0.7); text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #848484;"]]The One of Nothing[[/span]] cursed the [[span style="color: rgba(130,81,145,0.7); text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #848484;"]]princess[[/span]], dooming her to become the same. Time, after time, after time -- it would always come back to [[span style="color: rgba(130,81,145,0.7); text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #848484;"]]The Empty Princess, and her //absence//[[/span]]. Soon, the kingdom began to forget -- the [[span style="color: rgba(130,81,145,0.7); text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #848484;"]]princess[[/span]] herself began to fade. She was disappearing. The [[span style="color: #626a6c; text-shadow: 2px 2px 1px #c3d1d7;"]]alchemist[[/span]] refused to let their opposite fade away; how dare another try to intertwine with //her// [[span style="color: rgba(130,81,145,0.7); text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #848484;"]]princess[[/span]]? So, the two began to plot in secret. While the [[span style="color: #626a6c; text-shadow: 2px 2px 1px #c3d1d7;"]]mercurial alchemist[[/span]] toiled away underground, searching for a cure to save her [[span style="color: rgba(130,81,145,0.7); text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #848484;"]]precious patron[[/span]], the world above was blissfully unaware of the lurking [[span style="color: rgba(130,81,145,0.7); text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #848484;"]]shadow[[/span]] that would soon cast nothingness over the kingdom. She dove further and further into the annals of the castle keep, searching for a tome that could grant her a portent panacea, a way to save her love. Each time, she failed. Each time, she would try again. Again and again and again, day after night lost -- all in service of their future. Until one day, in her alchemical fervor, the [[span style="color: #626a6c; text-shadow: 2px 2px 1px #c3d1d7;"]]dutiful researcher[[/span]] uncovered an aspect lost to time, lost to even herself. A prophecy. The legend, etched into earthly parchment, ethereal text dancing across the page -- it wavered and shifted as she watched, but it never disappeared. And the ending never changed. For the legend told that, when the [[span style="color: rgba(130,81,145,0.7); text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #848484;"]]nameless princess[[/span]] lost her beginnings, and embraced the [[span style="color: #626a6c; text-shadow: 2px 2px 1px #c3d1d7;"]]silver alchemist[[/span]], the two finding solace and love in the darkest of times; then [[span style="color: rgba(130,81,145,0.7); text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #848484;"]]The One of Nothing[[/span]] would envelop the whole world, beginning a reign of emptiness, meaninglessness, and nothingness. Silver, shadow, and nothing, fated to intertwine at the apex of abstraction; when the voiceless become faceless, the final battle shall begin. [[/div]] There was no second page. ----- The story hung in the air between the two women like a problem in search of a question. Both had their minds racing as the tried to process what they had just read, each independently spiraling in their minds until the moment of realization where they would, as always, reach the answer to the question at the exact same time. Neither of them said anything. //I don't like this.// Lillian thought, the irritation bubbling just below the surface. //There's nothing here. It's a fucking children's story--// "So why does this feel so familiar?" Heather said, unknowingly finishing the thought for her. "You too?" "Yeah. I... is this memetic?" Lillian looked at the computer for a brief moment before shaking her head. "No. Look at the computer again; see how your mind feels nothing when you look? That's how I tell, generally." Heather looked back at the screen, squinting her eyes, as if concentrating on the words in the hope that they would rearrange themselves and reveal the answer. //She's pouting. That's adorable,// Lillian thought as she watched her girlfriend get progressively more annoyed, glaring more and more at the screen. They were in a perfect symmetry, in some ways. "Weird. I've never thought of it like that before. I guess you're right. It... my mind feels itchy?" "Itchy? How scientific of you." Lillian teased, grinning ear to ear. "Shut up. I mean, like... okay, when I'm trying to remember something that was from..." Heather trailed off, Lillian knowing exactly what she was implying. "Well, when I'm trying to remember those, it feels the same. Like picking at a scab." //She's right.// Lillian thought as she focused on her mind and found a similar feeling. The vision of the page in her mind was clear, each word seared in eternally. And yet, it felt... incomplete. Intangible. //Itchy.// "You're right. But why do I feel the same way?" Lillian asked, sitting on the desk as Heather leaned back in her office chair. "I didn't lose my memories. Scratch that, I //don't// lose my memories. Even amnesticized ones-- and yes, before you can ask, I'll teach you how to do that one day." Heather dropped the hand she had jokingly raised, a devious look on her face. "I assumed that it was possible, but I never put too much thought into it. You'd just be reconnecting the contextual links, right?" Heather asked, as Lillian saw the mental gymnastics Heather was pulling off -- eyes flickering around, as if pulling down files from a shelf. //A perfect 10.// Lillian thought, unable to stop the smile from leaking through. "Yeah, basically." Lillian answered. "God, I love you." Heather laughed. "Love you too babe. But wait, you're telling me that you think //you've// forgotten something? How does that happen?" "I don't know." Lillian truly didn't. And that pissed her off. "Then let's figure it out." Heather said, having stood up from her chair, and was now towering over her girlfriend. Lillian stared up at the face of the woman who had gone to the brink of nonexistence, //just// to stay with her. Heather reached out, and Lillian took it without hesitation, being pulled to her feet and into an intimate distance; the two women inches apart. //Fuck.// Lillian thought, blushing. //Why is that so hot?// "Shall we, my 'loyal companion'?" Lillian laughed, but inside, she was screaming. //I would follow you until the ends of existence.// Heather smiled at her brilliantly, as if she could read Lillian's mind. They were together, no matter what the world threw at them. ----- "Any luck?" Lillian asked as Heather looked up from the pile of periodicals, ancient almanacs, and thick tomes of fairy tales. They had been at this for hours at this point, and Heather was royally pissed off. "Fun fact: there are tons of princesses in fairy tales! Shocking, right?" Heather slammed a book in frustration, looking up at Lillian. "They all have names! Imagine that, a woman? With a name? Outrageous, right?" Lillian tittered in amusement before tossing herself down onto a low couch they had placed in their office -- she lounged atop it, hair cascading over her shoulder, gently wavering. "So, you had about as much success as I did?" "I've found nothing. No Nameless Princess, hell, not even a reference. Just your standard Cinderella and junk." Heather scowled, leaning onto the chaise. "You too?" Lillian raised her eyebrows, the slight and gentle curve that Heather couldn't help but find adorable. "Worse. I found a //lot//." "And?" Heather asked, knowing there was a 'but' coming. //Lillian would have been much more smug otherwise.// "Well. First I read that the 'silver alchemist' was the nickname for a famed herbalist in 800s Europe. Oh. And also a witch from France, a madwoman from the Urals, a goddess in Mesoamerica--" "I bet you liked that." "Who wouldn't?" Lillian said, smiling. "Oh, and did I mention, about at least 30 other sources all with contradictory information?" //Great. This is just fucking fantastic.// Heather thought as she threw her head back, staring at the books scattered before them. "So. Useless, in different ways." "Yep! What's next Heather?" "Oh, you don't have a plan?" She teased, tracing her finger on Lillian's forearm. Heather watched as the lines she drew stayed on Lillian's skin, a slowly fading view of their combined histories. //What if we just... what if we just lounged here? Wouldn't that be nice?// Heather knew that would be impossible. Not today. "A good boss delegates babe." Heather narrowed her eyes as Lillian smirked. "Eww. Gross. Don't call yourself my boss, that's so weird babe." Heather laughed awkwardly. "I know that it's not like that but..." "But you don't want to be the woman who screwed her boss for a promotion." "Yeah." Heather and Lillian gazed into each other's eyes, the intimacy of their shared dorm, the lives that they decided to combine sprawling out before them. Lillian's reaction was hard to place. //Is Lillian... upset? Anxious?// "I'm sorry." Lillian said, interrupting her thoughts. "Can I be honest with you?" "Of course." Heather said, panicking internally. //We just moved in together, what the fuck, I can't--// "I wish that... I wish I hadn't put you in this position." "I thought you liked putting me into positions?" Heather remarked, the internal doubt covered by bravado. "I'm sorry, it's a dumb joke." Lillian blushed in return. "I just... babe, I never meant to put you into a position where it could be argued that you only got your job because you're sleeping with the boss. You... you are brilliant. You deserve recognition for the insane things you do with memetics, the absurd witchcraft you pull with names, the answers you find to my unsolvable problems; you have earned your place, and I refuse to let that be taken from you." Lillian grabbed both of Heather's hands and pulled them in tight. "Look, Heath. I know that we started on a whim, but, well... I think we both know that this could be so much more. We..." "We work." Lillian smiled. "Exactly. Synchronicity. I've never had this before, not with anybody else and--" Heather knew what Lillian was going to say. She knew because she had the same thought every day, each time she looked around the cafeteria, and heard the whispers, the rumors, the snide remarks. She knew what they all thought. //Who gives a fuck?// "Babe, you know that nothing will keep me from being with you." Heather said. "I'll just have to become your boss, that way we'll be even, okay?" "You? The boss of me?" Lillian said, laughing. "Sure." When Heather took Lillian's hand, pinned it behind her head against the wall. She leaned in, desperately pressing Lillian up against the cool wall, the women locked into a passionate kiss; Lillian shivered. Heather pulled away, her lips tracing along Lillian's jawline, gentle caresses rewarded with a pleasurable shudder and moan. In a low, sultry tone, she whispered in Lillian's ear. "So you don't think I'm the boss of you? Come to the bedroom." Lillian swallowed shakily. Heather walked away, hips swaying, leading the way to their bedroom. She paused at the door, looking back. "Oh, was I unclear? That was an order." //I'll show her who's in charge.// ----- And Heather did show Lillian who was in charge. Multiple times. They spent hours going over the power structure, interpersonal dynamics, and disciplinary policies; and each woman loved every minute of it. Now, in the daze of a post-coital bliss, Heather sat on the ground of their closet in her bra, digging through boxes trying to find a shirt to throw on. //I think... I think I could get used to this.// Lillian thought to herself as she stared longingly at her partner. "Hey, Lillian?" Heather's concerned voice called out, "Why is there a kill agent in our closet?" "What?" Lillian asked, ready to jump into action. "You have a fucking shirt with a kill agent on i-- you mother fucker." Heather glared back, but couldn't stop a smile from creeping in. "Seriously?" //Oh,// Lillian thought, //She found the shirt.// "Hey, that's my favorite shirt! Where did you find that?" "Lillian, why does your favorite shirt look like a kill agent?" Heather responded, asking the only question she cared about. "Because it's funny." "Seriously?" "Oh my god, you sound just like Harry. It's not even a real kill agent, it's just--" "Yeah, I can see it now. Memetics that make people think its a kill agent. Why would you..." Heather trailed off, eyes glazing over as she stared at the elusive patterns that decorated the crimson red top. Lillian gazed around their bedroom, having recognized the look on Heather's face. It was a look she knew all too well, one she had worn many times. //Heather is solving a problem. It doesn't matter if I try and speak to her, it's not like she would hear it.// Each women lost in their own musings, Lillian thought back to her previous relationships. //Am I overanalyzing this? Probably. Am I going to anyways? Oh, most definitely. Lillian, don't you find it weird how much you two just... click?// She scowled at her inner voice. //Jackass. You're just scared because every other relationship we've been in before is like drinking sludge compared to the ambrosia that-- No, you know what? Cutting that thought off before it gets too cringey. Right, maybe...// Lillian looked back at her girlfriend, who was still in the closet, her memetic shirt held at arms length, watching as she mentally connected the dots. If Lillian focused, she could almost hear Heather's thoughts, figuratively speaking. //Right about now, she's tying it all together, and...// "We're fucking idiots. God damn, it's just like your shirt." //Welcome back, Heath.// Lillian raised an eyebrow. "My shirt? Why are you dragging her into this, she did nothing wrong." "Her?" Heather asked, with a tilt of the head. "It's just like your shirt. We assumed one thing and missed the big picture." "Am I right to assume that you have a plan?" Heather tossed the shirt onto the floor, and practically ran to the bed, tossing herself onto it, ignoring her state of undress. "Of course I do. Remember the last time we had to deal with 'absence'?" "No, I forgot." Lillian answered sarcastically, a slight nod of her head signaling for Heather to continue. "Thanks babe. It consumes context, right?" "Right. That's why it was so hard to find any texts, because everything else was..." Lillian said, trailing off, as the pieces started to take shape in her mind. //If everything surrounding 'absence' is abstracted, then--// "Of course the 'nameless princess' and the 'silver alchemist' meant nothing -- they've lost the contextual meaning." "So we look for 'absence' again?" Lillian frowned. "I'm not going to search for a second needle in the same haystack as last time, and I'm still not sure what the... wait. You think so?" Heather nodded. "I do. Think about it like this. We were focused on finding the exact characters, right?" "Well yeah," Lillian answered, "That's how we found this first page. So we just need to find the next part of the story." "What if there is no next part?" //Now that's interesting.// "So the story is complete?" "Not complete. It--" "It faded." Lillian said, the answer revealing itself slowly. "Exactly!" Heather leaned her head on Lillian's lap, staring up at Lillian, who looked down and subconsciously began to stroke her hair. "So we won't be able to find anything else about that story." Lillian was putting the pieces together in her mind, as Heather watched with a knowing smirk, the smile you have when you know the right answer, and you're just dangling it in front of somebody else. //God she's a brat.// "But..." "But all stories, all old fairy tales, they... oh my god. It's a metaphor." Lillian almost slapped herself for how obvious the answer was. "Yeah. Exactly." The pair's eyes met, the same intensity, curiosity and determination to find a solution reflected in each woman; for a second, Lillian forgot about her worries with their relationship, stopped doubting herself, stopped trying to self-sabotage the best thing that had-- no, the best person she had ever met. "The story is about us." Lillian said breathily. "Were we destined to be together?" "How can we know? The story could have changed when we met, it could have always been like that. Why should we let a fairy tale tell us what to do? Fuck, Lil, you don't even let the O5 council tell you what to do." Lillian laughed, brushing a loose strand of hair behind Heather's ear. "You really think we wrote our own story? That somehow, we shattered the strings of fate, and found each other? Babe, that's adorable!" Heather rolled her eyes. "Come on. You read the page, the 'The One of Nothing' has to be 'absence', right? And if that's true--" "Then it's going to come back." Lillian filled in, already running the calculations internally. "Do you think we can find out how to story ends?" "No." Heather paused. "We'll just have to write our own ending instead." ----- It was a simple idea, really. //It's a stupid idea,// Heather thought, staring at the blank page before her. //I don't know why Lillian listens to me.// Heather and Lillian prided themselves on lateral problem solving. If somebody expects you to zig, you punch them in the gut. This solution was the dumbest, and yet, most logical solution that they could think of. Neither woman knew if it would work, but both had the same blind confidence in the other that anything was worth a shot. "You're sure you don't want me to do this?" Lillian asked, sitting down beside Heather. They were back in their old haunt, The Smokestacks, a piece of parchment neatly laid out onto the table in front of Heather. To the side sat three small opaque bottles and a set of fountain pens. "We talked about it, I have the best chance of making it work." Heather answered, the unspoken meaning clear. //It has to be me. I'm the one absence is linked to, I'm the one who got rid of my deadname.// Despite everything, Heather still didn't regret that. "Okay well," Lillian began, "I have the inks ready for you, except-- well, I had an idea." "Oh? How exciting, you never have those." Heather teased, the tension of the situation bubbling in the background. "Ha ha. The inks are colour matched, but they just... it feels dead. It's sterile." "How do we fix that?" "Easy. We pollute the sterile environment." //Really? You read one metaphor, and all of the sudden, everything she says is a riddle.// "Lilli, can you just say your idea?" "Fine. Spoilsport. We bleed into the ink. It's about us, right? So we put ourselves into it and--" "And it ties the story to us. Conceptually." "Exactly." Heather didn't hesitate, pulling a small blade from her pocket. She flipped it open, nicked her thumb, and squeezed a drop of blood into the purple ink pot; the blood swirled with ink, until there was nothing left separated. It had become as one. Heather turned to see Lillian still staring at the knife in surprise. "What?" Heather asked, passing the blade to her girlfriend. "Can't a girl have hobbies?" "Do you carry that on you? Every day?" //Yes.// Heather thought. "Not every day, just--" "Right. So you do." Lillian laughed, grabbing Heather's hand and licking a bead of blood off of the tip. "My turn then." With that, Lillian turned and did the same, her blood mixing with the silver, the tone shimmering, but refusing to shift. When the two women were done, it was undeniable to them; something was different. "I can't believe that worked." Heather remarked, feeling a presence radiating from the ink pots that was missing before. "Did we just--" "Perform an unknown ritual? I think so. Let's... we can worry about that later." "Right. The story." //Who needs an outline, right?// Heather picked up a pen, holding it delicately, as she stared at her girlfriend. Lillian gave an encouraging squeeze, and nodded. It was time to write their own fates. ----- [[div class="storybook"]] Once upon a time, the[[span style="color: rgba(130,81,145,0.7); text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #848484;"]] nameless princess [[/span]]and the[[span style="color: #626a6c; text-shadow: 2px 2px 1px #c3d1d7;"]] silver alchemist [[/span]]found themselves in a familiar place. They knew the song, they felt the melody echoing through the world in their hearts. They had been called to each other, destined to prove themselves as worthy. Each skilled in feats of magic and ideas; each with their own art. They were fluid, two rivers coursing side by side, mixing and swirling together, a true force of nature. They had defeated[[span style="color: rgba(130,81,145,0.7); text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #848484;"]] The One of Nothing,[[/span]] the monster that tried to hide within the[[span style="color: rgba(130,81,145,0.7); text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #848484;"]] princess herself,[[/span]] so much so that the two became as one; one could not exist as long as the other remained. They were antithesis, opposites; a being of creation and a being of //not//, their meaning interwoven into a tightly inescapable straightjacket. But our [[span style="color: rgba(130,81,145,0.7); text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #848484;"]]beloved royal[[/span]] had one thing that the dark one could never know. For she had the[[span style="color: #626a6c; text-shadow: 2px 2px 1px #c3d1d7;"]] mercurial memeticist [[/span]]on her side, not just an ally, but a life-long companion. A soulmate. Something, someone who would keep the princess here, no matter what happened. With their forces combined,[[span style="color: rgba(130,81,145,0.7); text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #848484;"]] The One of Nothing[[/span]] became just that -- nothing. It was pushed back into the abyss; or so they thought. For just as an idea cannot be killed, so too is true for the concepts that live; to kill an idea is to prevent it from existence. You cannot kill an idea; no mortal can -- but you can push it back into The Margins. Seal it away. Break the eternal cyclical curse, and give way to a new era. Only then will the world be safe. Only then, will the two find peace. [[span style="color: rgba(130,81,145,0.7); text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #848484;"]]The One of Nothing[[/span]] was coming back; it had never left. It was hiding, just out of sight, tied to a forgotten name, a shattered idea, a meaning lost to its very creator; it would be back, hungry for more. And on the day, when the voiceless and the nameless collide, the fates tolling the bells of oblivion; on that day, [[span style="color: rgba(130,81,145,0.7); text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #848484;"]]The One of Nothing[[/span]] will be vulnerable. It would reveal itself to our heroes, and in doing so, write its own epitaph. And when it is gone, the lovers will be free. [[/div]] ----- "Are you okay?" Lillilan asked as Heather gently put down the fountain pen, staring at the page, dazed. She had been writing in an automatic flurry, a woman barely in control of her own motions. //Sure, just go play with rituals and memetics in a dusty old library, that'll be safe. No worries here! Certainly not about Heather, why would I be worried about the only person that I--// "Huh?" A significantly delayed Heather blinked, shaking off the confusion. "What just happened?" "You wrote a story. See?" Lillian gestured at the parchment, ink still fresh. It shimmered under her gaze, dancing in the dim light. "A little pretentious in places, but--" "Hey! I don't even remember writing that, it just kind of..." Heather frowned. "I think I've always known the story. I think... I think maybe you do too." Lillian skimmed the page, barely giving it a glance. //Heather's right. I know this story. How do I know this? Why do I know this?// "I do. What the fuck, Heath?" Heather looked into her soul, for just a second, before a wicked grin took over her glower demeanor. "Well, Lillian. You see, there is a field of research known as //memetics// that deals with ideas. Do you need me to spell that for you?" //She's scared.// Lillian knew her girlfriend well. //Fuck, I'm scared too.// Lillian continued reading and re-reading the story in her mind, desperately hoping that something new might pop out, something-- "Heather, what are The Margins?" "Of the page? I don't fucking know, I'm not a ruler." "Babe. "The Margins"? See? What the fuck is that?" "I don't know!" Heather said incredulously, looking back at Lillian. "Well don't look at me, you're the one who wrote it!" And then the absurdity finally came crashing down; the spire of surreal babel crashing to the earth, the Two Lovers and The Tower, a change on the wind signaling a fresh start. They started laughing, uncontrollably, struggling to catch their breath through the insanity of the moment. After a minute, both women had recovered enough to speak without giggling. "You think it means something, Lil?" "Fuck. Probably." The pair sat in the Smokestacks for hours, simply talking with one another, time flying past, the momentary worries having been forgotten in favor of the joy of companionship. 'The Margins' and 'absence' could wait; after all, this wasn't their story. Yet. ----- [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:earthworm">:scp-wiki:component:earthworm</a> \| first=false \| last=false\| hub=yes \| previous-url=https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/don-t-let-me-forget\| previous-title=Don't Let Me Forget \| next-url=https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/SCP-8843\| next-title=SCP-8843 \| hub-url=https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/forgotten-memories-hub\| hub-title=Forgotten Memories ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-10-15T18:06:00	[ "_licensebox", "doctor-lillihammer", "forgotten-memories", "heartwarming", "lgbtq", "mystery", "romance", "slice-of-life", "tale" ]	The Heart Grows Fonder - SCP Foundation	28	[ "reostiation", "love-between-the-margins", "don-t-let-me-forget", "forgotten-memories-hub", "SCP-8843", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "forgotten-memories-hub" ]	[]	1457103160	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-heart-grows-fonder
the-hubris-of-the-broken	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=3&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Aminimalist-bhl/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <div class="preview"> <p>Sometimes an easy solution isn't the best one.</p> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="psuedocrumbs"> <p><a href="http://scp-int.wikidot.com/k-s-g-hub">Kong, Shing, Gong Hub</a> » <a class="newpage" href="/take-a-right-to-the-right-phase-hub">Take A Right To The Right Phase Hub</a> / <a href="http://scp-int.wikidot.com/hospital-hub">The Hospital Hub</a> / <a href="/from-120-s-archives-hub">From 120's Archives Hub</a> » <a href="/8000-dead-rats-hub">8,000 Dead Rats Hub</a> » The Hubris of the Broken</p> </div> </div> <div class="blockquote"> <div style="text-align: justify;"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><span style="font-size:1.3em;"><strong><a href="javascript:;">Best</a>｜<a href="javascript:;">Newest</a>｜<a href="javascript:;">Breaking News</a>｜<a href="javascript:;">My Page</a></strong></span></p> </div> <hr/> <p><span style="font-size:0.85em;">unVeiled » <a href="javascript:;">Washington Virion</a></span></p> <p><span style="font-size:1.4em;"><strong>New Hospital Open In <a href="http://scp-int.wikidot.com/hong-shing-hub">Hong Shing</a></strong></span></p> <p><span style="font-size:0.8em;"><strong>By Xie Xiaoqing (⁂uV_Xiaoqing)</strong><br/> <strong>Published 12/04/2049, 23:45</strong></span></p> <img alt="Chinese_Medicine_Hospital_of_Ningxiang_20220429.jpg" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-hubris-of-the-broken/Chinese_Medicine_Hospital_of_Ningxiang_20220429.jpg" style="border: solid 1.5px #242424;" width="auto"/> <p><span style="font-size:0.8em;">A view of the Hallowed Ward from the parking lot.</span></p> <p>Late yesterday afternoon, the Hallowed Ward opened its doors to the public in the Changing Suns District of Hong Shing. The Hallowed Ward, headed by Dr. Kang Yun, has over 150 beds and employs qualified doctors from China, <a href="/scp-cn-999">the United State of A Mary King</a>, and Hong Shing itself. The hospital also doubles as a disease research center dedicated to curing and eradicating diseases from both Phases. People from the Right Phase, a universe connected to Hong Shing, have expressed their gratitude at the Hallowed Ward's opening. As its native inhabitants all depend on thaumaturgy to survive, they're thankful to have people trying to protect them from the <a href="/8000-dead-rats-hub">Washington Virion</a>. Originally set to open next year, the onset of the Virion propelled efforts to open the Hallowed Ward. While there are no confirmed cases of the Washington Virion in Hong Shing as of the time of writing, according to Dr. Kang Yun, "It's never too early to start being prepared."</p> <p><a href="javascript:;">Continue reading...</a></p> </div> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div class="void dark"><span class="void-img"><br/> <img alt="Day021.png" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/flores-goitober-submissions-2023/Day021.png" style="width: 60px"/><br/></span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span class="vusermod" style="color: hsl(0, 0%, 46%); font-size: 1.35rem">Robert Bumaro</span><br/> <span class="vui" style="color: hsl(0, 0%, 46%); font-size: 1.35rem">⁂robert_bumaro</span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="font-size: 1.2rem">I am proud to announce the opening of the Hallowed Ward, a hospital founded and run by <a href="http://scp-int.wikidot.com/hospital-hub">Mekhanists</a>. With the advent of this catastrophe, it's beneficial to have more places to help the sick. <span class="vactivity">#washingtonvirion</span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span> <ul> <li><span class="vui" style="color: hsl(0, 0%, 46%); font-size: .8rem">ECHOES<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span><span class="vactivity" style="font-size: 1.1rem; font-weight: bold">3620</span></li> <li><span class="vui" style="color: hsl(0, 0%, 46%); font-size: .8rem">HUMS<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span><span class="vactivity" style="font-size: 1.1rem; font-weight: bold">10072</span></li> </ul> <p><span class="vui" style="color: hsl(0, 0%, 46%); font-size: .8rem">‎</span></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="email"> <table style="align:left; margin-top: 10px;"> <tr> <th style="text-align:right"><strong>From:</strong></th> <td><a href="javascript:;">[email protected]</a></td> </tr> <tr> <th style="text-align:right"><strong>To:</strong></th> <td><a href="javascript:;">[email protected]</a></td> </tr> <tr> <th style="text-align:right"><strong>Subject:</strong></th> <td>Successful opening</td> </tr> </table> <hr/> <p>I do understand how this sounds, Yun, but frankly, I'm not sure how else to phrase it.</p> <p>The hospital is a massive success. So far, we haven't had a single death and every patient has had nothing but compliments to give about how they were treated. In terms of conversion, we've actually managed to convert more patients than I thought we would. About one in twenty agree to convert to the church, so we're starting to gain ground compared to those Church of Gears heretics. As well as since ever since they learned their <a href="/expiration-date">god died</a>, the <a href="https://scp-wiki-cn.wikidot.com/scp-cn-3882">Church of Bright</a> is essentially non-existent in Hong Shing. We might be the dominant faith here by the end of the year.</p> <p>How is the research going?</p> <p>Regards,<br/> Xie Li</p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="email"> <table style="align:left; margin-top: 10px;"> <tr> <th style="text-align:right"><strong>From:</strong></th> <td><a href="javascript:;">[email protected]</a></td> </tr> <tr> <th style="text-align:right"><strong>To:</strong></th> <td><a href="javascript:;">[email protected]</a></td> </tr> <tr> <th style="text-align:right"><strong>Subject:</strong></th> <td>Re: Successful opening</td> </tr> </table> <hr/> <p>Glad to hear it.</p> <p>The research is going well. We've collected a variety of diseases and we're hard at work devising cures. We've found a collection of illnesses that, when infecting the same person at once, exhibit similar symptoms to the Washington Virion. We're hoping that developing a cure for that will help with curing the actual thing.</p> <p>We've also collected a strain of <a href="/scp-217">God's Ichor</a>. It's not nearly as strong as the one I've heard about, but arguably that's better. We don't want a second pandemic on our hands, do we?</p> <p>Best,<br/> Kang Yun</p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="void dark"><span class="void-img"><br/> <img alt="FIRE_01.jpg" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-hubris-of-the-broken/FIRE_01.jpg" style="width: 60px"/><br/></span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span class="vusermod" style="color: hsl(0, 0%, 46%); font-size: 1.35rem">Fire and Flames</span><br/> <span class="vui" style="color: hsl(0, 0%, 46%); font-size: 1.35rem">⁂thruthefiresandflames</span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="font-size: 1.2rem">Hey y'all. Sorry I haven't been active lately, I've been in the hospital. Luckily, I was admitted to the Hallowed Ward, whose doctors fixed me up. I've actually never had a better experience in the hospital before.</span> <p><span style="font-size: 1.2rem">They've also introduced me to the true faith. I've found peace in the Broken God.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></p> <ul> <li><span class="vui" style="color: hsl(0, 0%, 46%); font-size: .8rem">ECHOES<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span><span class="vactivity" style="font-size: 1.1rem; font-weight: bold">2</span></li> <li><span class="vui" style="color: hsl(0, 0%, 46%); font-size: .8rem">HUMS<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span><span class="vactivity" style="font-size: 1.1rem; font-weight: bold">12</span></li> </ul> <p><span class="vui" style="color: hsl(0, 0%, 46%); font-size: .8rem">‎</span></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="float: center; border: solid 3px #444444; width: 85%; padding: 1px 15px; margin: auto; margin-top: 10px; box-shadow: 0 1px 3px rgba(0,0,0,.2);"> <p style="text-align: center;"><img alt="aviatica.png" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/nexus-hyperline/aviatica.png" width="200px"/></p> <div class="unmargined" style="font-size: 450%; margin: 2px 0 5px; font-family: 'Montserrat', sans-serif; color: #f26c0c;"> <p style="text-align: center;"><strong>AVIATICA</strong></p> </div> <div class="unmargined" style="font-size: 120%; margin: 2px 0 5px; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif;"> <p style="text-align: center;"><strong>With the Wings of Freedom Rings the Bell of Progress</strong></p> </div> <div class="unmargined" style="color: #f08502; font-family: serif; font-size: 105%; font-family: 'Roboto', sans-serif; font-weight: 900;"> <p style="text-align: center;"><strong>12/05/2049 \| ISSUE 154, VOLUME 03</strong></p> </div> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="unmargined" style="font-size: 92%; margin: 2px 0 5px; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif;"> <p><span style="font-size:400%;"><strong>FIRST VIRION CASE</strong></span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="font-size:400%;"><strong>IN HONG SHING</strong></span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><span style="font-size:120%;"><strong>As of 8 PM Hong Kong Time last night, the Washington Virion has spread into Hong Shing. A minor outbreak in China's Guangdong Province led to a few infected people entering the city through the Left Phase's Ways into the city. Hong Shing is engulfed in a panic, especially in the districts populated primarily by Right Phasers. Join Aviatica as we explain recent developments in cures, Virion spread, and the potentially disastrous consequences of the Virion entering the <a href="/scp-cn-1997">Right Phase.</a></strong></span></p> </div> </div> </div> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div class="text-container-wrap"> <div class="text-container"> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text">well</span><br/> <span class="text">this has been a nightmarish few months</span></p> </div> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text">I can imagine</span><br/> <span class="text">Sorry that I flaked on you Li, by the way. It's been super busy here</span></p> </div> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text">oh yeah no, I get it</span><br/> <span class="text">been busy here too. we can't cure this thing right now, so we kinda just sit by them and keep them company before they pass</span><br/> <span class="text">how's developing a cure going, anyway? any luck?</span></p> </div> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text">It's not going well, to be honest</span><br/> <span class="text">Having the actual virus to test with is a big help, but nothing we try is working.</span><br/> <span class="text">I mean, there is <em>one</em> option, but I'm not sure how much I trust it</span></p> </div> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text">at this point, we might as well try it, right?</span><br/> <span class="text">we've exhausted all our other options</span></p> </div> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text">Yeah, I guess you're right</span></p> </div> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text">please get me the ichor, Yun</span></p> </div> </div> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div class="blockquote"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p>CCTV RECORDING TRANSCRIPTION</p> </div> <hr/> <p><em>Dr. Xie Li walks into the hospital room holding a clipboard. She is holding a syringe which she places on a table next to the bed. On the bed is a patient, Zheng Lei, who looks up at Xie Li.</em></p> <p><em>Xie Li sits in a chair and clears her throat.</em></p> <p><strong>Xie:</strong> Alright. Just one final confirmation, you agree that this treatment is extremely experimental and that any damages to your person or health issues you gain from this treatment are not the fault of the Hallowed Ward.</p> <p><strong>Zheng:</strong> Yes, I understand. I'll take anything you throw at me, at this point.</p> <p><strong>Xie:</strong> (<em>nods</em>) Alright, let me know how you feel during this.</p> <p><em>Xie Li picks up the syringe and injects God's Ichor into Zheng Lei.</em></p> <p><strong>Xie Li:</strong> (<em>clears throat</em>) Alright, so normally God's Ichor takes a while to show symptoms, so we're gonna monitor you for a few months to see what—</p> <p><em>Zheng Lei screams and clutches his arm. The area where God's Ichor was injected has begun rapidly shifting between his normal skin and metal. Zheng Lei sits up and begins trying to leave the hospital bed.</em></p> <p><strong>Xie Li:</strong> Hey, hey, woah. You should probably stay in bed. How are you feeling?</p> <p><strong>Zheng Lei:</strong> (<em>through gritted teeth</em>) Not… good…</p> <p><em>Zheng Lei screams again as his entire arm is now changing materials. As the shifting mixture of flesh and metal spreads through the rest of his body, the area where God's Ichor was initially injected stops shifting and looks like a smooth, black, texture.</em></p> <p><em>As more of his body turns into this black texture, Zheng Lei stands up and leans on the hospital bed, staring at Xie Li. Xie Li looks back in shock as a blue glow emanating from Zheng Lei's hands flickers in and out.</em></p> <p><strong>Xie Li:</strong> Okay, okay, hey, there's a bright side, right? There's a bright side here, your hands are glowing! That means your magic is back, right? Woah—</p> <p><em>Xie Li ducks as Zheng Lei attempts to utilize his thaumaturgical abilities for the first time in months. He successfully transmutes a nearby mug into a different material before collapsing. He thrusts his hand upward while he falls in an attempt to stop his descent. However, his arm elongates and grows towards a light fixture, hooking onto it and pulling Zheng Lei up. As he stands up, his arm shoots various gears and bolts throughout the hospital room. Xie Li silently presses the emergency button under the desk before slowly approaching Zheng Lei.</em></p> <p><strong>Xie Li:</strong> Hey, it's gonna be okay, alright? Just get back in the bed, and we'll figure out what's going on.</p> <p><em>Several Hallowed Ward personnel enter the hospital room. Zheng Lei looks at them before pushing past them, running into the hallway. One nurse that he pushed falls to the ground, clutching her shoulder as it begins to turn to metal.</em></p> <p><strong>Xie Li:</strong> Ah, shit.</p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="newspaper-border"> <div class="newspaper-main"> <div class="newspaper-title">WATCHING THE WATCHERS</div> <div class="newspaper-banner"> <table style="border: none; width: 100%;"> <tr> <td>MAIN OFFICE: CLATHU<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>FRIDAY, JUNE 22TH, 2049</td> <td style="text-align: right;">$1.99 or 2.50 Secrets</td> </tr> </table> </div> <div class="newspaper-headline" style="font-size: 370%;">NEW ILLNESS SPREADS THROUGHOUT HONG SHING</div> <div class="newspaper-headline" style="font-size: 200%;">QUARANTINE ZONES ESTABLISHED TO CONTROL SPREAD</div> <div class="newspaper-reporter">by The Second Wandsman of Hong Shing - Editor-In-Chief</div> <hr/> <div class="newspaper-body"><span style="font-size:250%;">L</span>ast Friday, an experimental Washington Virion treatment involving God's Ichor has had disastrous consequences. God's Ichor transformed the Washington Virion, turning the victim into a black, shifting mass of gears, metal, and flesh. This new illness, dubbed God's Pus by its victims, is slowly spreading throughout Hong Shing. While travel into the Right Phase was already heavily restricted, the emergence of this new virus has bolstered security during the day… <em>continued on page 2B.</em></div> </div> <hr/> <div class="newspaper-headline" style="font-size: 200%;">CHINA BOLSTERS EFFORTS TO REDUCE WASHINGTON VIRION SPREAD</div> <hr/> <div class="newspaper-body"><span style="font-size:250%;">T</span>he Chinese government has reported approximately 20 Virion cases in various provinces, primarily Guangdong, Jiangxi, and Fujian. China is utilizing a very aggressive strategy to contain the spread, utilizing mass testing and lockdowns whenever a new case is reported. This strategy is successful, but many critics have some complaints. China has also established strict border checkpoints into and out of every nexus in the country's territory, especially around Hong Shing… <em>continued on page 3C.</em> <hr/></div> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="blockquote"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p>TRANSCRIPTION OF NEWS BROADCAST</p> </div> <hr/> <p><em>The camera feed opens to a news reporter standing in the streets of Hong Shing. The reporter is wearing a hazmat suit. In the far background, several people infected by God's Pus are standing in an alleyway around a bonfire.</em></p> <p><strong>Reporter:</strong> The situation here in Hong Shing is tense. I'm standing in one of the two quarantine zones for God's Pus. Several other separate quarantine zones for the Washington Virion and the God's Ichor have been established elsewhere.</p> <p><em>There's a shout in the background. The reporter looks over his shoulder nervously.</em></p> <p><strong>Reporter:</strong> In the zones for the other two illnesses, most residents have taken to staying in their homes and only leaving if absolutely necessary. However, here, most uninfected residents have fled to other districts. The Right Phasers were the first to go, given their enhanced vulnerability to the Washington Virion. Most of them fled to the Right Phase before the borders were closed, leaving behind friends and family.</p> <p><strong>Reporter:</strong> However, since being infected with God's Pus gives people their ability to use magic back, some of the Washington Virion's victims have decided to try their luck with getting infected with this disease. Y'know how some parents hold chicken pox parties for their kids? It's like that. Most people are trying to steer clear of both illnesses, though.</p> <p><em>The reporter walks to the right and points to a building about a block away.</em></p> <p><strong>Reporter:</strong> The epicenter of this new pandemic, the Hallowed Ward, has been the target of endless protests. Ever since word got out that they caused this a few weeks ago, there have been people outside of the hospital demanding that the Mekhanist leadership resign. Some are suggesting that they should be replaced with the Right Phase's Church of Gears, but most don't care who replaces them. People were already tired from the initial Washington Virion quarantine, and this new one isn't making them any happ— Hey, watch out!</p> <p><em>Several Molotov cocktails are thrown towards the Hallowed Ward as well as several houses in the God's Pus quarantine zone. The reporter gestures to the cameraman to cut the feed.</em></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div class="void dark"><span class="void-img"><br/> <img alt="512px-ISS062-E-73959_-_View_of_Earth.jpg" class="image" src="https://scpdsandbox.wdfiles.com/local--files/mastertman2-ksg-8kdr/512px-ISS062-E-73959_-_View_of_Earth.jpg" style="width: 60px"/><br/></span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span class="vusermod" style="color: hsl(0, 0%, 46%); font-size: 1.35rem">Icarus</span><br/> <span class="vui" style="color: hsl(0, 0%, 46%); font-size: 1.35rem">⁂tooclosetothesun</span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="font-size: 1.2rem">Frankly, I'm sick of this. Some big shot doctor does something stupid and now I can't leave my home? Fuck that, I'm going out, just try and stop me. Dying magic doesn't do much against a rifle.</span> <p><span style="font-size: 1.2rem"><span class="vactivity">#freehongshing</span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></p> <ul> <li><span class="vui" style="color: hsl(0, 0%, 46%); font-size: .8rem">ECHOES<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span><span class="vactivity" style="font-size: 1.1rem; font-weight: bold">0</span></li> <li><span class="vui" style="color: hsl(0, 0%, 46%); font-size: .8rem">HUMS<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span><span class="vactivity" style="font-size: 1.1rem; font-weight: bold">13</span></li> </ul> <p><span class="vui" style="color: hsl(0, 0%, 46%); font-size: .8rem">‎</span></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="float: center; border: solid 3px #444444; width: 85%; padding: 1px 15px; margin: auto; margin-top: 10px; box-shadow: 0 1px 3px rgba(0,0,0,.2);"> <p style="text-align: center;"><img alt="aviatica.png" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/nexus-hyperline/aviatica.png" width="200px"/></p> <div class="unmargined" style="font-size: 450%; margin: 2px 0 5px; font-family: 'Montserrat', sans-serif; color: #f26c0c;"> <p style="text-align: center;"><strong>AVIATICA</strong></p> </div> <div class="unmargined" style="font-size: 120%; margin: 2px 0 5px; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif;"> <p style="text-align: center;"><strong>With the Wings of Freedom Rings the Bell of Progress</strong></p> </div> <div class="unmargined" style="color: #f08502; font-family: serif; font-size: 105%; font-family: 'Roboto', sans-serif; font-weight: 900;"> <p style="text-align: center;"><strong>06/06/2049 \| ISSUE 172, VOLUME 02</strong></p> </div> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="unmargined" style="font-size: 92%; margin: 2px 0 5px; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif;"> <p><span style="font-size:400%;"><strong>HALLOWED WARD ANNOUNCES DEVELOPMENT</strong></span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="font-size:400%;"><strong>OF GOD'S PUS CURE</strong></span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><span style="font-size:120%;"><strong>Drs. Kang Yun and Xie Li of the Hallowed Ward have announced the hospital is hard at work on a cure for the disease they accidentally unleashed. Join Aviatica as we explore this cure, how it could help develop a cure for the Washington Virion, and the recent riots in Hong Shing!</strong></span></p> </div> </div> </div> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div class="text-container-wrap"> <h4 id="toc0"><span>Mei 💘</span></h4> <div class="text-container"> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text">hey honey!</span><br/> <span class="text">did u hear they're working on a cure?</span></p> </div> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text">yeah I saw the news</span><br/> <span class="text">hope they finish it soon not sure how much more of this I can take</span><br/> <span class="text">it is nice to have my magic back tho</span></p> </div> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text">yea I'm really excited!</span><br/> <span class="text">the kids saw the news too, they're rooting for u honey!</span><br/> <span class="text">i was thinking that once they roll out the cure we could go on that vacation to ur parents that we were planning</span></p> </div> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text">that sounds great!</span><br/> <span class="text">i miss them and it could do them some good to see the kids</span></p> </div> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text">we'll talk more when im home</span><br/> <span class="text">oh hey what do u want for dinner tonight</span><br/> <span class="text">was thinking about making ur fav</span></p> </div> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text">honey?</span></p> </div> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text">are you there?</span></p> </div> </div> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div class="blockquote"> <div style="text-align: justify;"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><span style="font-size:1.3em;"><strong><a href="javascript:;">Best</a>｜<a href="javascript:;">Newest</a>｜<a href="javascript:;">Breaking News</a>｜<a href="javascript:;">My Page</a></strong></span></p> </div> <hr/> <p><span style="font-size:0.85em;">unVeiled » <a href="javascript:;">Washington Virion</a> » <a href="javascript:;">God's Pus</a></span></p> <p><span style="font-size:1.4em;"><strong>Missing Persons Cases Skyrocket Throughout Hong Shing</strong></span></p> <p><span style="font-size:0.8em;"><strong>By Xie Xiaoqing (⁂uV_Xiaoqing)</strong><br/> <strong>Published 18/06/2049, 23:45</strong></span></p> <p>Over the past week, reports of missing persons in the interuniversal city have flooded the local government and social media. Over 95% of the reports involved people infected with God's Pus. After a week of the missing's loved ones begging the Hong Shing Police Department to find them, the Department posted this statement on Void late last night.</p> </div> <div class="void dark"><span class="void-img"><br/> <img alt="Flag-Hong-Shing.svg" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/art%3Alocations-of-interest/Flag-Hong-Shing.svg" style="width: 60px"/><br/></span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span class="vusermod" style="color: hsl(0, 0%, 46%); font-size: 1.35rem">Hong Shing Police Department</span><br/> <span class="vui" style="color: hsl(0, 0%, 46%); font-size: 1.35rem">⁂hspd</span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="font-size: 1.2rem">In order to ensure the safety of everyone within Hong Shing, every Hong Shinger infected with God's Pus will be transferred to specialized living spaces to cease the spread of the disease until the cure is finished. We thank you for your understanding.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span> <ul> <li><span class="vui" style="color: hsl(0, 0%, 46%); font-size: .8rem">ECHOES<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span><span class="vactivity" style="font-size: 1.1rem; font-weight: bold">1230</span></li> <li><span class="vui" style="color: hsl(0, 0%, 46%); font-size: .8rem">HUMS<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span><span class="vactivity" style="font-size: 1.1rem; font-weight: bold">581</span></li> </ul> <p><span class="vui" style="color: hsl(0, 0%, 46%); font-size: .8rem">‎</span></p> </div> <p>It is unknown at this time how many people have been moved to these "specialized living spaces", how many there are, and what the living conditions are like.</p> <p><a href="javascript:;">Continue reading...</a></p> </div> <p><br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">With a stroke of luck, someone manages to break through</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">Despite the risks, you know you have to get out of this city</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div style="text-align: left;"> <div class="blockquote"> <p>You've always considered yourself smarter than the other people you know. Maybe not academically smart, but you know how to get yourself out of a tough situation.</p> <p>You put those skills to good use once the Hong Shing Police Department quarantines your group of infected people in Hong Shing's sewers. You understand why it has to be done, but you can't take it anymore.</p> <p>There's barely enough food to go around, and it's obvious that the government's just waiting around for you all to die instead of trying to figure out how to cure the mess of illnesses massacring your immune system.</p> <p>Once a week passes, you decide to enact your plan. Every night, from 2 AM to 2:05 AM nobody is watching the exit into the Flying Dragon district. Once you are sure the coast is clear, you pick the lock to the gate and run to the nearest alleyway.</p> <p>You aren't from this area, so you don't know where exactly the nearest Way to Hong Kong is. Still, you vaguely remember reading a map, so you try to make your way to where you think the Way is.</p> <p>Dashing through the alleyways, you know you must move as quickly as possible to avoid being seen, Yet, when you spot a dumpster, you stop in your tracks. You know that you don't have time, but you don't care. If there's any food in that dumpster, you need to eat it.</p> <p>You manage to grab a half-eaten sandwich before someone spots you, causing you to jump out and run as fast as you can.</p> <p>With the police on your tail, you spot the Way as well as the border checkpoint surrounding it. Propelling your arm forward, you expel several gears and bolts toward the guards. They raise their riot shields to protect themselves, and you take advantage of this to turn your hand into a hammer, slamming your hammer-fist into the shield.</p> <p>The guard stumbles backward, and you squeeze past him and into the Way, ignoring the pleas of the people behind you.</p> <p>Once you're through the Way, you plan on running off and hiding in a nearby forest. You know of a cabin in the woods that you would visit as a child. Your plan is cut short, however, when you look around at the city you emerged into, you start to slow down.</p> <p>Everything looks… different, somehow. Yet, everything looks like it should. Yet, it doesn't. You're very confused.</p> <p>You stop for a moment to listen to the people around you speak. You were expecting to hear Cantonese, but instead, you hear Mandarin. Still, it's not the Mandarin you expect to hear.</p> <p>It takes you a moment to recognize exactly what kind of Mandarin you hear, and when it clicks, you freeze in horror at what you've done.</p> <p>You didn't go to Hong Kong. You went to Hong <em>Gong</em>.</p> <p>You quickly turn around and attempt to find the Way back to Hong Shing, but before you can find it you hear a rough voice yelling at you.</p> <p>"Halt! State your name and business!" A <a href="/scp-cn-999">United State of A Mary King</a> officer yells at you.</p> <p>You panic and thrust your arm at him, propelling a few gears at him. He widens his eyes in shock at your hubris before he furrows his brow.</p> <p>"Under the Prevention of Magic Act, you are to stop and put your hands up!"</p> <p>"Please!" you plead, hoping he'll symphasize. "You can't come any closer! You don't understand"</p> <p>The man scoffs. "I understand plenty." He walks over and grabs your hand. "I understand that you're coming with m—"</p> <p>He stops talking and stares at his hand in abject horror as his hand turns into a black, shifting texture. As the virus spreads through his body, he falls to the floor, simultaneously losing and gaining the ability to process the divine energy in the air. Several other officers and civilians approach the man to try and help him, with about a quarter of them succumbing to the same fate.</p> <p>You falter at this point while you back away, realizing that you overexerted yourself a few steps back in your plan.</p> <p>As you collapse and the unholy combination of illnesses coursing through your body finally completes its siege of your immune system, you take solace in the fact that you won't have to live with the consequences of your actions.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="earthworm earthworm--old-syntax-first-false earthworm--old-syntax-last-false earthworm--old-syntax-hub-yes {$class}"> <div class="first earthworm__previous" data-title="How Did We Get Here?"> <p><a href="/how-did-we-get-here">How Did We Get Here?</a></p> </div> <div class="hub earthworm__hub" data-title="8,000 Dead Rats"> <p><a href="/8000-dead-rats-hub">8,000 Dead Rats</a></p> </div> <div class="last earthworm__next" data-title="VNP-7864"> <p><a href="/scp-7864">VNP-7864</a></p> </div> </div> <div class="collection"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">More From This Author</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">More From This Author</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <table style="1px solid black; width: 100%;"> <tr> <th class="namerow" colspan="2"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p>MasterTman2's Works</p> </div> </div></th> </tr> <tr> <th class="titlecolumn">SCPs</th> <th class="articlecolumn"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-8280">SCP-8280</a> <em>(+46)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> </div></th> </tr> <tr> <th class="titlecolumn">Tales/GoI Formats</th> <th class="articlecolumn"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/the-standstill">The Standstill</a> <em>(+19)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> </div></th> </tr> <tr> <th class="titlecolumn">Other</th> <th class="articlecolumn"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/mastertman2-s-menagerie">MasterTman2's Menagerie</a> <em>(+14)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> </div></th> </tr> </table> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-hubris-of-the-broken">The Hubris of the Broken</a>" by MasterTman2, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-hubris-of-the-broken">https://scpwiki.com/the-hubris-of-the-broken</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Chinese Medicine Hospital of Ningxiang 20220429.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Huangdan2060<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Chinese_Medicine_Hospital_of_Ningxiang_20220429.jpg">Wikimedia Commons</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> FIRE 01.JPG<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> MarcusObal<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:FIRE_01.JPG">Flickr</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> ISS062-E-73959 - View of Earth.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> NASA<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Public Domain<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:ISS062-E-73959_-_View_of_Earth.jpg">Flickr</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Flag-Hong-Shing.svg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Jerden<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/art%3Alocations-of-interest/Flag-Hong-Shing.svg">Locations of Interest Artwork</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Day021.png<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> MasonFlores<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/flores-goitober-submissions-2023/Day021.png">Flores' GOITOBER Submissions 2023</a></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:black-highlighter-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:minimalist-bhl">:scp-wiki:theme:minimalist-bhl</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:text-style">:scp-wiki:component:text-style</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:ratio-bar">:scp-wiki:component:ratio-bar</a> base=-- \|ex=--]] [[module CSS]] @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Anton&family=Playfair+Display+SC&display=swap'); :root { --header-title: "Zhujihui"; --header-subtitle: "Using Divine Energy, Construct Our Tower to the Sky — Secure, Contain, Protect"; } div.newspaper-border { border: 2px solid black; } div.newspaper-main { font-family: 'Special Elite', sans-serif; } div.newspaper-title { font-family: 'Playfair Display SC', serif; font-size: 4em; text-align: center; @@ @@ margin: 0.25em; } div.newspaper-banner { font-family: serif; font-size: 110%; border-top-style: solid; border-bottom-style: solid; } div.newspaper-headline { font-family: 'Anton', serif; margin: 2px 0 5px; text-align: center; } div.newspaper-reporter { font-family: serif; font-size: 120%; font-style: italic; text-align: center; } div.newspaper-body { font-family: serif; font-size: 1.2em; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-word; line-height: 1.4em; padding: 1em; } div.newspaper-body div.scp-image-block { margin: 0.5em 0 0 1em; } div.rejection { border: 4px solid #ff4040; border-radius: 30px; font-weight: bold; color: #ff4040; text-align: center; margin: 0.5em; } div.rejection-wrap { transform: rotate(-3.8deg); width: 35vw; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 3em; } @media only screen and (max-width: 768px) { div.rejection-wrap { min-width: 60vw; width: 70vw; margin-left: -3em; } } div.appeal { margin-top: 5em; } blockquote .inner, div.blockquote .inner { border: .0625rem dashed rgba(var(--swatch-border-color), .95); box-shadow: none; } .email { background-position: top 7.5px right 7.5px; background-size: 70px; background-repeat: no-repeat; border: solid 3px #B30030; padding: 1px 15px; margin: auto; margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; width: 85%; } .email hr { border: 0; border-top: 2px solid #B30030; margin: 1em; padding: 0; display: block; height: 0; } [[/module]] [[include <a href="/component:preview">component:preview</a> text= Sometimes an easy solution isn't the best one. ]] [[=]] [[div class="psuedocrumbs"]] [[[http://scp-int.wikidot.com/k-s-g-hub\|Kong, Shing, Gong Hub]]] » [[[take-a-right-to-the-right-phase-hub\|Take A Right To The Right Phase Hub]]] / [[[http://scp-int.wikidot.com/hospital-hub\|The Hospital Hub]]] / [[[from-120-s-archives-hub\|From 120's Archives Hub]]] » [[[8000-dead-rats-hub\|8,000 Dead Rats Hub]]] » The Hubris of the Broken [[/div]] [[/=]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[div class="blockquote"]] [[==]] [[=]] [[size 1.3em]][# Best]｜[# Newest]｜[# Breaking News]｜[# My Page][[/size]] [[/=]] ------ [[size 0.85em]]unVeiled » [# Washington Virion][[/size]] [[size 1.4em]]New Hospital Open In [[[http://scp-int.wikidot.com/hong-shing-hub\|Hong Shing]]][[/size]] [[size 0.8em]]By Xie Xiaoqing (⁂uV_Xiaoqing) Published 12/04/2049, 23:45[[/size]] [[image Chinese_Medicine_Hospital_of_Ningxiang_20220429.jpg width="auto" style="border: solid 1.5px #242424;"]] [[size 0.8em]]A view of the Hallowed Ward from the parking lot.[[/size]] Late yesterday afternoon, the Hallowed Ward opened its doors to the public in the Changing Suns District of Hong Shing. The Hallowed Ward, headed by Dr. Kang Yun, has over 150 beds and employs qualified doctors from China, [[[scp-cn-999\|the United State of A Mary King]]], and Hong Shing itself. The hospital also doubles as a disease research center dedicated to curing and eradicating diseases from both Phases. People from the Right Phase, a universe connected to Hong Shing, have expressed their gratitude at the Hallowed Ward's opening. As its native inhabitants all depend on thaumaturgy to survive, they're thankful to have people trying to protect them from the [[[8000-dead-rats-hub\|Washington Virion]]]. Originally set to open next year, the onset of the Virion propelled efforts to open the Hallowed Ward. While there are no confirmed cases of the Washington Virion in Hong Shing as of the time of writing, according to Dr. Kang Yun, "It's never too early to start being prepared." [# Continue reading...] [[/==]] [[/div]] @@ @@ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:void-post">:scp-wiki:component:void-post</a> \|profile-pic=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/flores-goitober-submissions-2023/Day021.png \|username=Robert Bumaro \|handle=robert_bumaro \|void-msg=I am proud to announce the opening of the Hallowed Ward, a hospital founded and run by [http://scp-int.wikidot.com/hospital-hub Mekhanists]. With the advent of this catastrophe, it's beneficial to have more places to help the sick. [[span class="vactivity"]] #washingtonvirion[[/span]] @@ @@ \|echoes=3620 \|hums=10072 \|time-and-date=‎ ]] @@ @@ [[div class="email"]] [[table style="align:left; margin-top: 10px;"]] [[row]] [[hcell style="text-align:right"]] From: [[/hcell]] [[cell]] [# [email protected]] [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[hcell style="text-align:right"]] To: [[/hcell]] [[cell]] [# [email protected]] [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[hcell style="text-align:right"]] Subject: [[/hcell]] [[cell]] Successful opening [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[/table]] ----- I do understand how this sounds, Yun, but frankly, I'm not sure how else to phrase it. The hospital is a massive success. So far, we haven't had a single death and every patient has had nothing but compliments to give about how they were treated. In terms of conversion, we've actually managed to convert more patients than I thought we would. About one in twenty agree to convert to the church, so we're starting to gain ground compared to those Church of Gears heretics. As well as since ever since they learned their [[[expiration-date\|god died]]], the [[[https://scp-wiki-cn.wikidot.com/scp-cn-3882\|Church of Bright]]] is essentially non-existent in Hong Shing. We might be the dominant faith here by the end of the year. How is the research going? Regards, Xie Li [[/div]] @@ @@ [[div class="email"]] [[table style="align:left; margin-top: 10px;"]] [[row]] [[hcell style="text-align:right"]] From: [[/hcell]] [[cell]] [# [email protected]] [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[hcell style="text-align:right"]] To: [[/hcell]] [[cell]] [# [email protected]] [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[hcell style="text-align:right"]] Subject: [[/hcell]] [[cell]] Re: Successful opening [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[/table]] ----- Glad to hear it. The research is going well. We've collected a variety of diseases and we're hard at work devising cures. We've found a collection of illnesses that, when infecting the same person at once, exhibit similar symptoms to the Washington Virion. We're hoping that developing a cure for that will help with curing the actual thing. We've also collected a strain of [[[scp-217\|God's Ichor]]]. It's not nearly as strong as the one I've heard about, but arguably that's better. We don't want a second pandemic on our hands, do we? Best, Kang Yun [[/div]] @@ @@ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:void-post">:scp-wiki:component:void-post</a> \|profile-pic=FIRE_01.jpg \|username=Fire and Flames \|handle=thruthefiresandflames \|void-msg=Hey y'all. Sorry I haven't been active lately, I've been in the hospital. Luckily, I was admitted to the Hallowed Ward, whose doctors fixed me up. I've actually never had a better experience in the hospital before. They've also introduced me to the true faith. I've found peace in the Broken God. @@ @@ \|echoes=2 \|hums=12 \|time-and-date=‎ ]] @@ @@ [[div style="float: center; border: solid 3px #444444; width: 85%; padding: 1px 15px; margin: auto; margin-top: 10px; box-shadow: 0 1px 3px rgba(0,0,0,.2);"]] = [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/nexus-hyperline/aviatica.png width="200px"]] [[div class="unmargined" style="font-size: 450%; margin: 2px 0 5px; font-family: 'Montserrat', sans-serif; color: #f26c0c;"]] = AVIATICA [[/div]] [[div class="unmargined" style="font-size: 120%; margin: 2px 0 5px; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif;"]] = With the Wings of Freedom Rings the Bell of Progress [[/div]] [[div class="unmargined" style="color: #f08502; font-family: serif; font-size: 105%; font-family: 'Roboto', sans-serif; font-weight: 900;"]] = 12/05/2049 \| ISSUE 154, VOLUME 03 [[/div]] ----- @@ @@ [[=]] [[div class="unmargined" style="font-size: 92%; margin: 2px 0 5px; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif;"]] [[size 400%]]FIRST VIRION CASE[[/size]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[size 400%]]IN HONG SHING[[/size]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] [[size 120%]]As of 8 PM Hong Kong Time last night, the Washington Virion has spread into Hong Shing. A minor outbreak in China's Guangdong Province led to a few infected people entering the city through the Left Phase's Ways into the city. Hong Shing is engulfed in a panic, especially in the districts populated primarily by Right Phasers. Join Aviatica as we explain recent developments in cures, Virion spread, and the potentially disastrous consequences of the Virion entering the [[[scp-cn-1997\|Right Phase.]]][[/size]] [[/=]] [[/div]] [[/=]] [[/div]] @@ @@ [[div class="text-container-wrap"]] [[div class="text-container"]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]well[[/span]] [[span class="text"]]this has been a nightmarish few months[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]I can imagine[[/span]] [[span class="text"]]Sorry that I flaked on you Li, by the way. It's been super busy here[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]oh yeah no, I get it[[/span]] [[span class="text"]]been busy here too. we can't cure this thing right now, so we kinda just sit by them and keep them company before they pass[[/span]] [[span class="text"]]how's developing a cure going, anyway? any luck?[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]It's not going well, to be honest[[/span]] [[span class="text"]]Having the actual virus to test with is a big help, but nothing we try is working.[[/span]] [[span class="text"]]I mean, there is //one// option, but I'm not sure how much I trust it[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]at this point, we might as well try it, right?[[/span]] [[span class="text"]]we've exhausted all our other options[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]Yeah, I guess you're right[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]please get me the ichor, Yun[[/span]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] @@ @@ [[div class="blockquote"]] [[=]] CCTV RECORDING TRANSCRIPTION [[/=]] ----- //Dr. Xie Li walks into the hospital room holding a clipboard. She is holding a syringe which she places on a table next to the bed. On the bed is a patient, Zheng Lei, who looks up at Xie Li.// //Xie Li sits in a chair and clears her throat.// Xie: Alright. Just one final confirmation, you agree that this treatment is extremely experimental and that any damages to your person or health issues you gain from this treatment are not the fault of the Hallowed Ward. Zheng: Yes, I understand. I'll take anything you throw at me, at this point. Xie: (//nods//) Alright, let me know how you feel during this. //Xie Li picks up the syringe and injects God's Ichor into Zheng Lei.// Xie Li: (//clears throat//) Alright, so normally God's Ichor takes a while to show symptoms, so we're gonna monitor you for a few months to see what-- //Zheng Lei screams and clutches his arm. The area where God's Ichor was injected has begun rapidly shifting between his normal skin and metal. Zheng Lei sits up and begins trying to leave the hospital bed.// Xie Li: Hey, hey, woah. You should probably stay in bed. How are you feeling? Zheng Lei: (//through gritted teeth//) Not... good... //Zheng Lei screams again as his entire arm is now changing materials. As the shifting mixture of flesh and metal spreads through the rest of his body, the area where God's Ichor was initially injected stops shifting and looks like a smooth, black, texture.// //As more of his body turns into this black texture, Zheng Lei stands up and leans on the hospital bed, staring at Xie Li. Xie Li looks back in shock as a blue glow emanating from Zheng Lei's hands flickers in and out.// Xie Li: Okay, okay, hey, there's a bright side, right? There's a bright side here, your hands are glowing! That means your magic is back, right? Woah-- //Xie Li ducks as Zheng Lei attempts to utilize his thaumaturgical abilities for the first time in months. He successfully transmutes a nearby mug into a different material before collapsing. He thrusts his hand upward while he falls in an attempt to stop his descent. However, his arm elongates and grows towards a light fixture, hooking onto it and pulling Zheng Lei up. As he stands up, his arm shoots various gears and bolts throughout the hospital room. Xie Li silently presses the emergency button under the desk before slowly approaching Zheng Lei.// Xie Li: Hey, it's gonna be okay, alright? Just get back in the bed, and we'll figure out what's going on. //Several Hallowed Ward personnel enter the hospital room. Zheng Lei looks at them before pushing past them, running into the hallway. One nurse that he pushed falls to the ground, clutching her shoulder as it begins to turn to metal.// Xie Li: Ah, shit. [[/div]] @@ @@ [[div_ class="newspaper-border"]] [[div_ class="newspaper-main"]] [[div_ class="newspaper-title"]] WATCHING THE WATCHERS [[/div]] [[div_ class="newspaper-banner"]] [[table style="border: none; width: 100%;"]] [[row]] [[cell]] MAIN OFFICE: CLATHU@@ @@FRIDAY, JUNE 22TH, 2049 [[/cell]] [[cell style="text-align: right;"]] $1.99 or 2.50 Secrets [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[/table]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="newspaper-headline" style="font-size: 370%;"]] NEW ILLNESS SPREADS THROUGHOUT HONG SHING [[/div]] [[div_ class="newspaper-headline" style="font-size: 200%;"]] QUARANTINE ZONES ESTABLISHED TO CONTROL SPREAD [[/div]] [[div_ class="newspaper-reporter"]] by The Second Wandsman of Hong Shing - Editor-In-Chief [[/div]] ----- [[div_ class="newspaper-body"]] [[size 250%]]L[[/size]]ast Friday, an experimental Washington Virion treatment involving God's Ichor has had disastrous consequences. God's Ichor transformed the Washington Virion, turning the victim into a black, shifting mass of gears, metal, and flesh. This new illness, dubbed God's Pus by its victims, is slowly spreading throughout Hong Shing. While travel into the Right Phase was already heavily restricted, the emergence of this new virus has bolstered security during the day... //continued on page 2B.// [[/div]] [[/div]] ----- [[div_ class="newspaper-headline" style="font-size: 200%;"]] CHINA BOLSTERS EFFORTS TO REDUCE WASHINGTON VIRION SPREAD [[/div]] ----- [[div_ class="newspaper-body"]] [[size 250%]]T[[/size]]he Chinese government has reported approximately 20 Virion cases in various provinces, primarily Guangdong, Jiangxi, and Fujian. China is utilizing a very aggressive strategy to contain the spread, utilizing mass testing and lockdowns whenever a new case is reported. This strategy is successful, but many critics have some complaints. China has also established strict border checkpoints into and out of every nexus in the country's territory, especially around Hong Shing... //continued on page 3C.// ----- [[/div]] [[/div]] @@ @@ [[div class="blockquote"]] [[=]] TRANSCRIPTION OF NEWS BROADCAST [[/=]] ----- //The camera feed opens to a news reporter standing in the streets of Hong Shing. The reporter is wearing a hazmat suit. In the far background, several people infected by God's Pus are standing in an alleyway around a bonfire.// Reporter: The situation here in Hong Shing is tense. I'm standing in one of the two quarantine zones for God's Pus. Several other separate quarantine zones for the Washington Virion and the God's Ichor have been established elsewhere. //There's a shout in the background. The reporter looks over his shoulder nervously.// Reporter: In the zones for the other two illnesses, most residents have taken to staying in their homes and only leaving if absolutely necessary. However, here, most uninfected residents have fled to other districts. The Right Phasers were the first to go, given their enhanced vulnerability to the Washington Virion. Most of them fled to the Right Phase before the borders were closed, leaving behind friends and family. Reporter: However, since being infected with God's Pus gives people their ability to use magic back, some of the Washington Virion's victims have decided to try their luck with getting infected with this disease. Y'know how some parents hold chicken pox parties for their kids? It's like that. Most people are trying to steer clear of both illnesses, though. //The reporter walks to the right and points to a building about a block away.// Reporter: The epicenter of this new pandemic, the Hallowed Ward, has been the target of endless protests. Ever since word got out that they caused this a few weeks ago, there have been people outside of the hospital demanding that the Mekhanist leadership resign. Some are suggesting that they should be replaced with the Right Phase's Church of Gears, but most don't care who replaces them. People were already tired from the initial Washington Virion quarantine, and this new one isn't making them any happ-- Hey, watch out! //Several Molotov cocktails are thrown towards the Hallowed Ward as well as several houses in the God's Pus quarantine zone. The reporter gestures to the cameraman to cut the feed.// [[/div]] @@ @@ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:void-post">:scp-wiki:component:void-post</a> \|profile-pic=https://scpdsandbox.wdfiles.com/local--files/mastertman2-ksg-8kdr/512px-ISS062-E-73959_-_View_of_Earth.jpg \|username=Icarus \|handle=tooclosetothesun \|void-msg=Frankly, I'm sick of this. Some big shot doctor does something stupid and now I can't leave my home? Fuck that, I'm going out, just try and stop me. Dying magic doesn't do much against a rifle. [[span class="vactivity"]] #freehongshing[[/span]] @@ @@ \|echoes=0 \|hums=13 \|time-and-date=‎ ]] @@ @@ [[div style="float: center; border: solid 3px #444444; width: 85%; padding: 1px 15px; margin: auto; margin-top: 10px; box-shadow: 0 1px 3px rgba(0,0,0,.2);"]] = [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/nexus-hyperline/aviatica.png width="200px"]] [[div class="unmargined" style="font-size: 450%; margin: 2px 0 5px; font-family: 'Montserrat', sans-serif; color: #f26c0c;"]] = AVIATICA [[/div]] [[div class="unmargined" style="font-size: 120%; margin: 2px 0 5px; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif;"]] = With the Wings of Freedom Rings the Bell of Progress [[/div]] [[div class="unmargined" style="color: #f08502; font-family: serif; font-size: 105%; font-family: 'Roboto', sans-serif; font-weight: 900;"]] = 06/06/2049 \| ISSUE 172, VOLUME 02 [[/div]] ----- @@ @@ [[=]] [[div class="unmargined" style="font-size: 92%; margin: 2px 0 5px; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif;"]] [[size 400%]]HALLOWED WARD ANNOUNCES DEVELOPMENT[[/size]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[size 400%]]OF GOD'S PUS CURE[[/size]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] [[size 120%]]Drs. Kang Yun and Xie Li of the Hallowed Ward have announced the hospital is hard at work on a cure for the disease they accidentally unleashed. Join Aviatica as we explore this cure, how it could help develop a cure for the Washington Virion, and the recent riots in Hong Shing![[/size]] [[/=]] [[/div]] [[/=]] [[/div]] @@ @@ [[div class="text-container-wrap"]] ++++ Mei 💘 [[div class="text-container"]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]hey honey![[/span]] [[span class="text"]]did u hear they're working on a cure?[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]yeah I saw the news[[/span]] [[span class="text"]]hope they finish it soon not sure how much more of this I can take[[/span]] [[span class="text"]]it is nice to have my magic back tho[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]yea I'm really excited![[/span]] [[span class="text"]]the kids saw the news too, they're rooting for u honey![[/span]] [[span class="text"]]i was thinking that once they roll out the cure we could go on that vacation to ur parents that we were planning[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]that sounds great![[/span]] [[span class="text"]]i miss them and it could do them some good to see the kids[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]we'll talk more when im home[[/span]] [[span class="text"]]oh hey what do u want for dinner tonight[[/span]] [[span class="text"]]was thinking about making ur fav[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]honey?[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]are you there?[[/span]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] @@ @@ [[div class="blockquote"]] [[==]] [[=]] [[size 1.3em]][# Best]｜[# Newest]｜[# Breaking News]｜[# My Page][[/size]] [[/=]] ------ [[size 0.85em]]unVeiled » [# Washington Virion] » [# God's Pus][[/size]] [[size 1.4em]]Missing Persons Cases Skyrocket Throughout Hong Shing[[/size]] [[size 0.8em]]By Xie Xiaoqing (⁂uV_Xiaoqing) Published 18/06/2049, 23:45[[/size]] Over the past week, reports of missing persons in the interuniversal city have flooded the local government and social media. Over 95% of the reports involved people infected with God's Pus. After a week of the missing's loved ones begging the Hong Shing Police Department to find them, the Department posted this statement on Void late last night. [[/==]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:void-post">:scp-wiki:component:void-post</a> \|profile-pic=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/art%3Alocations-of-interest/Flag-Hong-Shing.svg \|username=Hong Shing Police Department \|handle=hspd \|void-msg=In order to ensure the safety of everyone within Hong Shing, every Hong Shinger infected with God's Pus will be transferred to specialized living spaces to cease the spread of the disease until the cure is finished. We thank you for your understanding. @@ @@ \|echoes=1230 \|hums=581 \|time-and-date=‎ ]] It is unknown at this time how many people have been moved to these "specialized living spaces", how many there are, and what the living conditions are like. [# Continue reading...] [[/div]] @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ [[=]] [[collapsible show="With a stroke of luck, someone manages to break through" hide="Despite the risks, you know you have to get out of this city"]] [[<]] [[div class="blockquote"]] You've always considered yourself smarter than the other people you know. Maybe not academically smart, but you know how to get yourself out of a tough situation. You put those skills to good use once the Hong Shing Police Department quarantines your group of infected people in Hong Shing's sewers. You understand why it has to be done, but you can't take it anymore. There's barely enough food to go around, and it's obvious that the government's just waiting around for you all to die instead of trying to figure out how to cure the mess of illnesses massacring your immune system. Once a week passes, you decide to enact your plan. Every night, from 2 AM to 2:05 AM nobody is watching the exit into the Flying Dragon district. Once you are sure the coast is clear, you pick the lock to the gate and run to the nearest alleyway. You aren't from this area, so you don't know where exactly the nearest Way to Hong Kong is. Still, you vaguely remember reading a map, so you try to make your way to where you think the Way is. Dashing through the alleyways, you know you must move as quickly as possible to avoid being seen, Yet, when you spot a dumpster, you stop in your tracks. You know that you don't have time, but you don't care. If there's any food in that dumpster, you need to eat it. You manage to grab a half-eaten sandwich before someone spots you, causing you to jump out and run as fast as you can. With the police on your tail, you spot the Way as well as the border checkpoint surrounding it. Propelling your arm forward, you expel several gears and bolts toward the guards. They raise their riot shields to protect themselves, and you take advantage of this to turn your hand into a hammer, slamming your hammer-fist into the shield. The guard stumbles backward, and you squeeze past him and into the Way, ignoring the pleas of the people behind you. Once you're through the Way, you plan on running off and hiding in a nearby forest. You know of a cabin in the woods that you would visit as a child. Your plan is cut short, however, when you look around at the city you emerged into, you start to slow down. Everything looks... different, somehow. Yet, everything looks like it should. Yet, it doesn't. You're very confused. You stop for a moment to listen to the people around you speak. You were expecting to hear Cantonese, but instead, you hear Mandarin. Still, it's not the Mandarin you expect to hear. It takes you a moment to recognize exactly what kind of Mandarin you hear, and when it clicks, you freeze in horror at what you've done. You didn't go to Hong Kong. You went to Hong //Gong//. You quickly turn around and attempt to find the Way back to Hong Shing, but before you can find it you hear a rough voice yelling at you. "Halt! State your name and business!" A [[[scp-cn-999\|United State of A Mary King]]] officer yells at you. You panic and thrust your arm at him, propelling a few gears at him. He widens his eyes in shock at your hubris before he furrows his brow. "Under the Prevention of Magic Act, you are to stop and put your hands up!" "Please!" you plead, hoping he'll symphasize. "You can't come any closer! You don't understand" The man scoffs. "I understand plenty." He walks over and grabs your hand. "I understand that you're coming with m--" He stops talking and stares at his hand in abject horror as his hand turns into a black, shifting texture. As the virus spreads through his body, he falls to the floor, simultaneously losing and gaining the ability to process the divine energy in the air. Several other officers and civilians approach the man to try and help him, with about a quarter of them succumbing to the same fate. You falter at this point while you back away, realizing that you overexerted yourself a few steps back in your plan. As you collapse and the unholy combination of illnesses coursing through your body finally completes its siege of your immune system, you take solace in the fact that you won't have to live with the consequences of your actions. [[/div]] [[/<]] [[/collapsible]] [[/=]] @@ @@ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:earthworm">:scp-wiki:component:earthworm</a> \| first=false \| last=false \| hub=yes \| previous-url=/how-did-we-get-here \| previous-title=How Did We Get Here? \| next-url=/scp-7864 \| next-title=VNP-7864 \| hub-url=/8000-dead-rats-hub \| hub-title=8,000 Dead Rats ]] [[include <a href="/component:wikimodule">component:wikimodule</a> \|ratings= --]]] [[=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] > Filename: Chinese Medicine Hospital of Ningxiang 20220429.jpg > Author: Huangdan2060 > License: CC BY 3.0 > Source Link: [[[https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Chinese_Medicine_Hospital_of_Ningxiang_20220429.jpg\|Wikimedia Commons]]] > Filename: FIRE 01.JPG > Author: MarcusObal > License: CC BY 3.0 > Source Link: [[[https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:FIRE_01.JPG\|Flickr]]] > Filename: ISS062-E-73959 - View of Earth.jpg > Author: NASA > License: Public Domain > Source Link: [[[https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:ISS062-E-73959_-_View_of_Earth.jpg\|Flickr]]] > Filename: Flag-Hong-Shing.svg > Author: Jerden > License: CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [[[https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/art%3Alocations-of-interest/Flag-Hong-Shing.svg\|Locations of Interest Artwork]]] > Filename: Day021.png > Author: MasonFlores > License: CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [[[https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/flores-goitober-submissions-2023/Day021.png\|Flores' GOITOBER Submissions 2023]]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]] [[/=]]	2024-09-18T03:05:00	[ "8000-dead-rats", "_cc", "_licensebox", "bleak", "broken-god", "from-120s-archives", "hong-shing", "otherworldly", "second-person", "tale" ]	The Hubris of the Broken - SCP Foundation	16	[ "take-a-right-to-the-right-phase-hub", "from-120-s-archives-hub", "8000-dead-rats-hub", "scp-cn-999", "expiration-date", "scp-217", "scp-cn-1997", "how-did-we-get-here", "scp-7864", "scp-8280", "the-standstill", "mastertman2-s-menagerie", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "scp-series-1-tales-edition", "from-120-s-archives-hub", "church-of-the-broken-god-hub", "8000-dead-rats-hub" ]	[ "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-hubris-of-the-broken/Chinese_Medicine_Hospital_of_Ningxiang_20220429.jpg", "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/flores-goitober-submissions-2023/Day021.png", "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-hubris-of-the-broken/FIRE_01.jpg", "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/nexus-hyperline/aviatica.png", "https://scpdsandbox.wdfiles.com/local--files/mastertman2-ksg-8kdr/512px-ISS062-E-73959_-_View_of_Earth.jpg", "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/nexus-hyperline/aviatica.png", "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/art%3Alocations-of-interest/Flag-Hong-Shing.svg" ]	1456820717	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-hubris-of-the-broken
the-last-daughter-of-daevon	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="preview"> <p>Yana had never attempted to perform thaumaturgy before. However, this particular ritual was very simple. All it required was a Daeva shedding blood.</p> </div> <p>« <a href="/skins-as-clothing">Skins as Clothing</a></p> <p>Yana Drozdova was awoken by the explosion, and kept awake by the alarm that followed. Even in her cell, it was muffled but still audible.</p> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-past-is-never-dead">It hadn't taken her too long to get used to containment.</a> The Foundation were very interested in what she remembered about the Daevites she was descended from, and were willing to make concessions in exchange for her continued cooperation. She didn't tell them everything she knew, but she'd settled into a comfortable routine.</p> <p>It was probably nothing. She ignored the alarm, until she heard what was clearly gunshots in the corridor outside her room.</p> <p>Her surprise became true fear when she heard a loud explosion in the corridor outside, shortly followed by the alarm becoming much quieter. There was then a loud drilling sound at her door. The Foundation didn't trust Yana with heavy or sharp objects, but she had been given a bottle of water, which felt slightly better than a rolled-up piece of paper.</p> <p>She filled it to the brim in her sink, then held it like a club.</p> <p>Yana considered trying to barricade the door, but all of her furniture was bolted to the floor. The door opened outwards, so if she tried to hold it closed, she'd almost certainly just lose a contest of strength with whoever was trying to get in.</p> <p>The loud sound of metal on metal stopped, then after a little rattling, her door began to open. Yana tried to prepare herself, but had no idea what to expect.</p> <p>When a man walked in carrying an unsheathed knife, she assumed she was about to be murdered, and raised the water bottle in a futile attempt at self-defense. She was surprised when he instead fell to his knees, and held the blade out in front of him. He didn't look at her, but instead stared up at the ceiling, exposing his own throat. His skin and hair were bone white, and his clothes were pitch black.</p> <p>"Greetings, honored mother," he said, in fluent Daevite.</p> <p>There was a long pause. In the doorway behind him stood another man, dressed like a Foundation guard, but apparently unbothered by the presence of this strange man. If anything, he looked concerned for his safety…</p> <p>Yana had been given plenty of opportunities to speak the Daevite language while in containment, but none of the Foundation researchers had ever addressed her with the appropriate honorifics. "Who are you?" asked Yana, replying in the same language.</p> <p>"I am a servant of the Daeva," he replied. She noticed that although his head was angled up, he was still looking at her, staring past his own nose at the knife he held.</p> <p>The water bottle dropped to the floor as Yana, almost instinctively, reached out with her right hand to take the knife from him. It had been a long time since she'd been allowed an implement like this - these days, she wasn't trusted with anything more dangerous than a ballpoint pen. She pointed the blade towards him, so that one thrust could plunge it into his throat, and he remained still. Tense, ready to react, but submissive. Yana twitched when she saw movement, but it was only a black tattoo of a snake, coiling around the man's throat.</p> <p>"What do you want?"</p> <p>His pale blue eyes were now fixed on her with an intensity that made her tighten her grip on the knife. "What do you want, honored mother?"</p> <p>If it had been anyone else, she would have said all she wanted was a larger cell with better food, but part of her was repulsed by that thought. A part of her that the Daevite words were directly speaking to. "I want to leave this place."</p> <p>He lowered his head, and slowly rose to his feet. "Then, if you would follow me, honored mother? We do not have long."</p> <p>"Who are you?" she asked again.</p> <p>"I was once known as Peuvtašigiho Ián."</p> <p>Ián was a common enough name in the old empire, but the other Daevite word meant "shaper of bronze". A smith.</p> <p>"However, these days I go by the name of White Crow."</p> <p>Yana had a hundred more questions for him, but he'd already turned to leave. Yana quickly grabbed her most recent journals, the paper notebooks recording her memories in Daevite script, then followed him out of her room. She had nothing else to take with her.</p> <p>She was surprised to discover that there was nothing in the corridor to her left but a dark void. Previously, there had definitely been walls and floor there.</p> <p>"Please don't look at that, honored mother," said White Crow. "There isn't anything there, and it doesn't like it if you stare too long."</p> <p>The guard accompanying him was deliberately looking away from it, and so Yana did the same. The guard then said in English, "Crow, I still can't believe you had that in your pocket this whole time…"</p> <p>"I knew it would be useful. There's no way the guards are getting through that," replied White Crow. He began walking away from the void, expecting them to follow.</p> <p>"What would have happened if the bottle had broken earlier?"</p> <p>"Loxley, nothing would have happened."</p> <p>"That's exactly what I'm worried about!"</p> <p>Yana walked behind White Crow and his companion, the man he'd referred to as Loxley. In addition to her journals, Yana was still holding the knife White Crow had given her. It provided her with very little confidence, given that both men were now carrying pistols. They were moving quickly, not running but clearly in a hurry to leave, and Yana was already tiring trying to keep up. She had not been getting much exercise during her months in containment.</p> <p>The fact that White Crow casually pulled plastic explosives out of his pockets to blast open another security gate had not made her any calmer. Panting as she rushed through the now open doorway, her heart rate quickened again as she saw another man heading towards them.</p> <p>If she'd thought White Crow looked strangely pale, this man was even more unsettling. He was naked, and covered in blood and prison tattoos. There was a vertical slit down the middle of his muscular chest and stomach, and as he got closer she realized it was lined with teeth, and opened up into an impossibly large cavity inside him. Yana wanted to look away, but didn't dare take her eyes off him for a moment.</p> <p>"Karcist Otsem," said White Crow, speaking in Russian with the tone of a man greeting an old friend. "I see you have been reunited with your lost love?"</p> <p>Yana had been preoccupied by the fact that the man in front of her had a mouth in the front of his torso, but now she noticed this so-called Karcist was not alone. Behind him stood three monsters, beasts in the shape of men, while clinging tightly to his left hand was a woman with long black hair. Her limbs were so thin that her bones were visible, and the way she looked at Yana was unsettling, especially since her hands and chin were stained with blood. She was dressed in the same white shirt and trousers that Yana had been given to wear, but that did not make Yana feel any kinship with her.</p> <p>Otsem spoke in a deep voice, which to Yana's relief came from the mouth in his head and not the larger one below it. "Karcist? I suppose I am, once again. Most of my men are out already, but Marianna slowed us down. She had to eat." He looked fondly at the woman next to him, and she smiled back at him with sharp fangs.</p> <p>Otsem gestured towards Yana. "Is this the ally you mentioned?"</p> <p>Yana gripped the knife tighter, but kept it pointed at the ground, still clutching her journals in her other hand. She'd never seen this man before, but she recognized what he and his companions were. They called their faith Nälkä, and Yana doubted that a toothy hole in his chest was the only way that this Nelk's flesh had been twisted. His people were an ancient enemy of the Daevites, rebellious slaves who built their own empire. Until now, Yana had assumed his kind were as dead as the Daeva.</p> <p>"Do you really want to talk here?" said White Crow, gesturing around at the walls of the Foundation bunker.</p> <p>"Fine, explain later," said Otsem, then walked through a doorway. The stairwell on the other side led upwards, and Yana felt renewed optimism. Perhaps she could evade the Nelk on the surface? Surely this White Crow had not broken her out from her cell just to have her be eaten?</p> <hr/> <p>It took all of Yana's nerves to walk out of the entrance to the bunker. It was not the blood that bothered her, but the threshold had clearly been guarded by men who had fought to the death, and the mangled flesh was bringing back uncomfortable memories of ancient conflicts she'd witnessed. The fact that there were more Nelk on the surface, likewise transformed into grotesque animalistic forms, provided her no comfort.</p> <p>But White Crow had sought her out for a reason, and he spoke Daevite. While she definitely didn't trust anyone willing to work with a monster like Otsem, a gamble on freedom was still more appealing than containment in a cell for the rest of her life.</p> <p>She found herself struggling to keep up as they scrambled through some sort of crater, the scar that had been left when a hole was blasted through Area-23's perimeter fence. Yana hadn't been allowed to run anywhere but on a treadmill for a long time, and she hadn't been too enthusiastic about it. As she scrambled through the dirt, she tripped and fell multiple times. Both the notebooks she was carrying and the white clothes she was wearing were now filthy with mud.</p> <p>The sound of gunfire became less frequent and more distant, but only because Yana was being overtaken by retreating Nelk. They had holstered their weapons and were running on all fours. Most were injured, but few seemed bothered by the wounds left by bullets and shrapnel.</p> <p>White Crow turned back to her with obvious frustration as Yana staggered out of Area-23, panting for air. He spoke in English again. "Rahab? Can you carry her for us?" He turned to Yana quickly, speaking Daevite again, but much less formally than before. "Sorry mother, but I don't plan on going back there again."</p> <p>A large figure towered over Yana, the tallest she'd seen in all the lifetimes she remembered. Yana realized she'd dropped the knife at some point, too focused on holding onto her journals, but doubted it would have provided any defense. Yana decided not to resist as she was slung over one shoulder, and noted that her arms barely reached the giant's waist.</p> <p>"You know Crow, I'm also pretty tired," said Loxley, clearly out of breath.</p> <p>"Just think about all the experiments they'll do to you if they catch us," said White Crow, then kept moving.</p> <p>Yana's weight seemed to barely slow the giant at all as she was carried off into the woods. Yana kept a tight grip on her Daevite journals with both hands, the only familiar thing she had left.</p> <hr/> <p>They stopped to rest, but couldn't be much more than a couple of miles from the facility. Although it was dark, Yana could see that she'd joined a strange company. Otsem, Marianna and a couple of other Nelk had stayed with them, but they'd been joined by a motley assortment of nine other people, as well as what looked like a hyena. Rahab placed Yana down on the ground. Yana shuffled uncomfortably as she looked around the crowd of strangers, her hands and feet numb. It wasn't winter yet, but it was still a cold night.</p> <p>White Crow turned to Otsem. "I didn't think you'd be coming with us."</p> <p>The Karcist shrugged. He was at least now wearing trousers, but he'd left his shirt unbuttoned, keeping the mouth on his torso visible. "I want to know who she is. And how you're getting out of here."</p> <p>White Crow seemed amused. "I thought you said that you and your men could make your own way back? Run through the forest, live off the land, that sort of thing?"</p> <p>Otsem nodded. "Sure. But you don't look like the type to survive out here for long, and she" - Yana flinched as he glanced towards her - "looks like she'll slow you down until the Jailors catch up."</p> <p>Yana was a little offended by this, but it was undeniably true. She would not have come with them if she'd known the plan was to escape on foot. Given the carnage they'd left behind, she wouldn't expect an immediate counterattack, but the Foundation would be following their trail very soon.</p> <p>"Who is she, anyway?" asked Otsem.</p> <p>"She's Yana Drozdova," said White Crow. "Cruelly imprisoned by the Jailors, simply because she knows too much." He then rummaged in his jacket pocket, which seemed to be far deeper than should logically be possible, and pulled out several pieces of paper. "She's our Way out of here."</p> <p>Everyone turned to Yana, but she only looked confused. White Crow handed the paper to her, along with a headtorch. It looked like photographs of an old book, with Daevite writing and diagrams inside. Noticing that she'd lost the knife from earlier, White Crow pulled another one out of his pocket, and handed that to her as well.</p> <p>"Could somebody strip the bark from a tree? Miss Drozdova will need a canvas to paint on."</p> <p>"Why her?" asked Otsem. "What is she?"</p> <p>"She's a mage," said White Crow, with the casual tone. "Magic is in her blood."</p> <p>Yana had never attempted to perform thaumaturgy before. She'd lacked all of the necessary implements. However, according to the instructions White Crow had provided her with, this particular ritual was very simple. All it required was a Daeva shedding blood, and the pale man who'd claimed to be her servant seemed to be confident she counted. Yana would trust him for now.</p> <p>The ritual would require quite a lot of blood. She needed enough to draw a doorway, then surround it with Daevite script. When she noted this to White Crow, he gestured to a Chinese man, then said something to him in his own language, before continuing in Russian.</p> <p>"Try Zhang, he has plenty to spare."</p> <p>Yana was uncomfortable with this, as she'd rather not antagonize her new allies by immediately bleeding them, but Zhang willingly rolled up his sleeve. He seemed genuinely unfazed by losing a substantial quantity of blood. Yana had no way to track the exact amount, but multiple pints must have flowed from the cut she opened up on the back of his forearm as she worked, periodically re-coating the knife in his blood.</p> <p>Otsem looked on with obvious interested, but didn't seem to recognize the language she was writing in. The woman next to him watched much more intently, but Yana was pretty sure she was just bloodthirsty. Otsem noticed, and made an effort to distract her by holding her close to him and stroking her hair and back.</p> <p>It took Yana a while to complete the doorway on the exposed wood of the tree, etching in the characters of the Daevite script using the bloody knife.</p> <p><em>I write my Way in blood, into the flesh of a tree.</em><br/> <em>I Knock, with full confidence in my own authority.</em></p> <p>White Crow was the first to notice she was finished, as everyone else seemed to be distracted by the distant sound of helicopters. "Alright, everyone now turn off your torches and close your eyes. It's time to follow me through." He turned to Otsem and his companions. "You don't have to come. Not if you don't want to. But this is a Way to the Wanderer's Library, and that's the safest place I know."</p> <p>The Karcist looked confused. "You walk into a tree trunk?"</p> <p>White Crow shook his head. "You walk into a doorway."</p> <p>Something about this felt vaguely familiar to Yana. As White Crow grabbed her wrist with one of his pale hands, she closed her eyes and followed his lead as he pulled her after him. Rather than the impact of her head on wood, she instead felt soft carpet beneath her feet, as the smell of the forest was replaced by the scent of old books. Yana opened her eyes, and realized she was in a large room, every wall lined with shelves full of yellowed scrolls, with only a small gap at the far end for a closed wooden door.</p> <p>The rest of the group followed, emerging from a pitch-black wooden archway. It was marked with the same Daevite script that Yana had just carved into the tree, but was drawn much more neatly than her hasty lettering. Rahab ducked to squeeze through the doorway, and finally Karcist Otsem and Marianna emerged, looking around the suddenly crowded space with great surprise.</p> <p>Otsem and his two henchmen initially seemed to be most interested in the doorway, but his attention then turned to the shelves that filled the rest of the room.</p> <p>"This is a Library, yes?"</p> <p>White Crow nodded. "It's the Wanderer's Library. It holds a copy of every book."</p> <p>Otsem was closely scrutinizing the Daevite characters on the shelves. "What language are these books written in? It looks the same as the doorway."</p> <p>White Crow hesitated, clearly pondering the benefits of lying, before deciding on the truth. "This is the Daevite Wing of the Wanderer's Library. Well, one of them."</p> <p>Otsem's eyes narrowed. "Do you think I don't recognize that name? Do you think I am ignorant of our history? Are you insulting me, little bird?"</p> <p>"I didn't think it was particularly important… It's not like I could hide this from you now that you're here…"</p> <p>Otsem spoke again, glaring at Yana. "I thought I saw something in her. From folktales told by old women. Blood and wood… What is she?" The mouth on his torso opened wide, and Yana could see it contained four more mouths inside, extending out like eyeless snakes. The two men behind him, still in half-animal forms resembling a wolf and a boar, raised assault rifles to aim them at White Crow.</p> <p>"I told you, she's someone who knows too much for the Jailors to set free."</p> <p>"And where does she come from?" The hungry look he gave Yana made it clear that her had a strong suspicion already.</p> <p>"She is the last daughter of Daevon," said White Crow. "But she's one of us now."</p> <p>Zhang stepped up next to White Crow, clearly ready to back him up. A moment later, so did a woman with cat ears and a tail, and then a taller woman holding a shield made of shimmering blue light. White Crow's remaining allies - the giantess, the hyena and three pale ghouls - remained at the sidelines.</p> <p>"Give me a reason why I shouldn't let Marianna eat her!" demanded Otsem. "For old times' sake." The woman at his side crouched, her lips pulling back to expose a mouth full of fangs.</p> <p>"The Library has rules!" answered White Crow, raising his voice. "Don't damage the books! Don't harm the patrons!"</p> <p>"And why should we care?" asked Otsem, although the four people standing between him and Yana were clearly giving him pause. "We hunt wherever we want. If you intend to get in my way…"</p> <p>The door behind them creaked, and a figure silently walked into the room. It was humanoid, but had no mouth, and a brass lantern hung from a chain connected to the end of its left arm. Two more followed behind it into the room, identical to the first.</p> <p>White Crow turned to them, and said in a friendly tone, "Sorry about the noise! I'm still explaining how this works!" He turned back to Otsem. "Those Librarians care. If you break the rules, they will never stop coming."</p> <p>"Are you threatening me?" asked Otsem, four long, serpentine limbs now extending out from his back, tearing apart his shirt. He was clearly unsure whether to address White Crow and his allies, or the three Librarians behind them.</p> <p>"Karcist Otsem," said White Crow, his voice calm and cold. "This place doesn't just connect to a door in the forest. There are Ways in and out all over the world. A man like you must be able to see the potential. But not if you antagonize them." He gestured at the Librarians behind him. "If you break the rules, they can stop you using this place. They may even hold you here for a very long time."</p> <p>The Librarians did not look particularly threatening. They just stood there, unmoving. But with a wet sound, Otsem slowly retracted his extra limbs and prehensile tongues, then closed the mouth in his chest. His men lowered their firearms. Marianna looked disappointed.</p> <p>"You tricked me into helping you," said Otsem. He turned to look at Yana. "You tricked me into helping her." He spoke the words with great contempt. "You owe me."</p> <p>"Karcist Otsem, we all share a common enemy. I didn't trick you when I helped free your people from the Jailors. I merely appealed to our shared interests." White Crow once again sounded friendly, as if Otsem hadn't just threatened to kill Yana. "I plan to use her against them."</p> <p>Otsem considered this for a long time, looking first at White Crow, then at Yana, and then at his own people. He finally made a decision. "You say this place connects to everywhere. Show us."</p> <p>"I doubt I'll have the time to show you everywhere, but I can certainly show you some other Ways out, and teach you the Knocks to open them up again. Just tell me where you'd like to go."</p> <p>White Crow told the two women who'd backed him up to remain with Yana, apparently to "watch over her", then left with Otsem, accompanied by Zhang and Rahab and the rest of his group. Loxley went off on his own, intending to come back with something to eat.</p> <p>As soon as they'd all left, Yana slumped to the floor, leaning against the shelves.</p> <p>"I know how you feel," said the tall woman, her blue forcefield now vanished. The woman dropped a plastic packet of wet wipes on the floor. Yana was confused for a moment, until she realized that the woman was taking the opportunity to wipe down her own face and hands using another packet. She then took a seat next to the girl with leopard ears and a tail, in a couple of armchairs on the other side of the room. The two of them looked at each other, and made gestures and facial expressions that made it seem like they were talking to each other, without saying anything out loud.</p> <p>Yana had somehow kept hold of her notepads this whole time, and now placed them carefully on the floor, noting with disappointment that they were ruined by mud and blood. She'd have to copy out the Daevite script once again.</p> <p>That thought reminded her of where she was. Otsem's presence had almost made her forget where White Crow had brought her.</p> <p>Yana looked around, and realized that the Daevite letters carved into the wooden shelving around them were brief descriptions of the scrolls' contents. Yana recognized a section for scrolls containing myth and history on the wall directly opposite her, and then a section for scrolls recording songs of worship and lamentation to the left of it. She remembered that her maternal ancestors had once held these texts in their hands, had even written some of them, but she’d assumed every copy had been burnt to ash a long time ago.</p> <p>Yana turned behind her, towards the shelves she'd been leaning against. After cleaning her hands as best as she could with the wipes she'd been given, she carefully removed a scroll from the shelf, and unrolled the parchment to reveal Daevite words. It was a botanical treatise, detailing how the principles of horticulture that her people had developed applied to the cultivation of barley.</p> <p>Her vision blurred, and Yana realized her eyes were filling with tears. She quickly pushed the scroll away from her to make sure she didn't cry onto it. Long ago her ancestors would have considered this work to be of only minor interest, but now it was a priceless treasure.</p> <p>Her tears flowed freely. Even if she was the Last Daughter of Daevon, at least she wasn't the only one who remembered.</p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-last-daughter-of-daevon">The Last Daughter Of Daevon</a>" by Jerden, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-last-daughter-of-daevon">https://scpwiki.com/the-last-daughter-of-daevon</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Area-23<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/jerden" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1637608); return false;"><img alt="Jerden" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1637608&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1728676617" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1637608)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/jerden" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1637608); return false;">Jerden</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/jerden-insignia">https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/jerden-insignia</a></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[module CSS]] .imagediv { float: right; margin: 15px} @media (max-width: 540px) { .imagediv { float: none; text-align:center; margin: auto; } } div#header h1 a span { font-size: 0px; } div#header h1 a:before { content: "SCP Foundation"; color: #eee; } div#header h2 span { font-size:0px; padding: 4px; } div#header h2:after { content: "Russian Branch, Area-23 Network"; font-weight: bold; color: #f0f0c0; padding: 19px 0; text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px rgba(0, 0, 0, .8); white-space: pre; } #header { background-image: url(https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/jerden-insignia/Area-23.svg); background-size: 90px; } [[/module]] ===== [[include <a href="/component:preview">component:preview</a> text= Yana had never attempted to perform thaumaturgy before. However, this particular ritual was very simple. All it required was a Daeva shedding blood. ]] ===== [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] << [[[Skins as Clothing]]] Yana Drozdova was awoken by the explosion, and kept awake by the alarm that followed. Even in her cell, it was muffled but still audible. [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-past-is-never-dead\| It hadn't taken her too long to get used to containment.]]] The Foundation were very interested in what she remembered about the Daevites she was descended from, and were willing to make concessions in exchange for her continued cooperation. She didn't tell them everything she knew, but she'd settled into a comfortable routine. It was probably nothing. She ignored the alarm, until she heard what was clearly gunshots in the corridor outside her room. Her surprise became true fear when she heard a loud explosion in the corridor outside, shortly followed by the alarm becoming much quieter. There was then a loud drilling sound at her door. The Foundation didn't trust Yana with heavy or sharp objects, but she had been given a bottle of water, which felt slightly better than a rolled-up piece of paper. She filled it to the brim in her sink, then held it like a club. Yana considered trying to barricade the door, but all of her furniture was bolted to the floor. The door opened outwards, so if she tried to hold it closed, she'd almost certainly just lose a contest of strength with whoever was trying to get in. The loud sound of metal on metal stopped, then after a little rattling, her door began to open. Yana tried to prepare herself, but had no idea what to expect. When a man walked in carrying an unsheathed knife, she assumed she was about to be murdered, and raised the water bottle in a futile attempt at self-defense. She was surprised when he instead fell to his knees, and held the blade out in front of him. He didn't look at her, but instead stared up at the ceiling, exposing his own throat. His skin and hair were bone white, and his clothes were pitch black. "Greetings, honored mother," he said, in fluent Daevite. There was a long pause. In the doorway behind him stood another man, dressed like a Foundation guard, but apparently unbothered by the presence of this strange man. If anything, he looked concerned for his safety... Yana had been given plenty of opportunities to speak the Daevite language while in containment, but none of the Foundation researchers had ever addressed her with the appropriate honorifics. "Who are you?" asked Yana, replying in the same language. "I am a servant of the Daeva," he replied. She noticed that although his head was angled up, he was still looking at her, staring past his own nose at the knife he held. The water bottle dropped to the floor as Yana, almost instinctively, reached out with her right hand to take the knife from him. It had been a long time since she'd been allowed an implement like this - these days, she wasn't trusted with anything more dangerous than a ballpoint pen. She pointed the blade towards him, so that one thrust could plunge it into his throat, and he remained still. Tense, ready to react, but submissive. Yana twitched when she saw movement, but it was only a black tattoo of a snake, coiling around the man's throat. "What do you want?" His pale blue eyes were now fixed on her with an intensity that made her tighten her grip on the knife. "What do you want, honored mother?" If it had been anyone else, she would have said all she wanted was a larger cell with better food, but part of her was repulsed by that thought. A part of her that the Daevite words were directly speaking to. "I want to leave this place." He lowered his head, and slowly rose to his feet. "Then, if you would follow me, honored mother? We do not have long." "Who are you?" she asked again. "I was once known as Peuvtašigiho Ián." Ián was a common enough name in the old empire, but the other Daevite word meant "shaper of bronze". A smith. "However, these days I go by the name of White Crow." Yana had a hundred more questions for him, but he'd already turned to leave. Yana quickly grabbed her most recent journals, the paper notebooks recording her memories in Daevite script, then followed him out of her room. She had nothing else to take with her. She was surprised to discover that there was nothing in the corridor to her left but a dark void. Previously, there had definitely been walls and floor there. "Please don't look at that, honored mother," said White Crow. "There isn't anything there, and it doesn't like it if you stare too long." The guard accompanying him was deliberately looking away from it, and so Yana did the same. The guard then said in English, "Crow, I still can't believe you had that in your pocket this whole time..." "I knew it would be useful. There's no way the guards are getting through that," replied White Crow. He began walking away from the void, expecting them to follow. "What would have happened if the bottle had broken earlier?" "Loxley, nothing would have happened." "That's exactly what I'm worried about!" Yana walked behind White Crow and his companion, the man he'd referred to as Loxley. In addition to her journals, Yana was still holding the knife White Crow had given her. It provided her with very little confidence, given that both men were now carrying pistols. They were moving quickly, not running but clearly in a hurry to leave, and Yana was already tiring trying to keep up. She had not been getting much exercise during her months in containment. The fact that White Crow casually pulled plastic explosives out of his pockets to blast open another security gate had not made her any calmer. Panting as she rushed through the now open doorway, her heart rate quickened again as she saw another man heading towards them. If she'd thought White Crow looked strangely pale, this man was even more unsettling. He was naked, and covered in blood and prison tattoos. There was a vertical slit down the middle of his muscular chest and stomach, and as he got closer she realized it was lined with teeth, and opened up into an impossibly large cavity inside him. Yana wanted to look away, but didn't dare take her eyes off him for a moment. "Karcist Otsem," said White Crow, speaking in Russian with the tone of a man greeting an old friend. "I see you have been reunited with your lost love?" Yana had been preoccupied by the fact that the man in front of her had a mouth in the front of his torso, but now she noticed this so-called Karcist was not alone. Behind him stood three monsters, beasts in the shape of men, while clinging tightly to his left hand was a woman with long black hair. Her limbs were so thin that her bones were visible, and the way she looked at Yana was unsettling, especially since her hands and chin were stained with blood. She was dressed in the same white shirt and trousers that Yana had been given to wear, but that did not make Yana feel any kinship with her. Otsem spoke in a deep voice, which to Yana's relief came from the mouth in his head and not the larger one below it. "Karcist? I suppose I am, once again. Most of my men are out already, but Marianna slowed us down. She had to eat." He looked fondly at the woman next to him, and she smiled back at him with sharp fangs. Otsem gestured towards Yana. "Is this the ally you mentioned?" Yana gripped the knife tighter, but kept it pointed at the ground, still clutching her journals in her other hand. She'd never seen this man before, but she recognized what he and his companions were. They called their faith Nälkä, and Yana doubted that a toothy hole in his chest was the only way that this Nelk's flesh had been twisted. His people were an ancient enemy of the Daevites, rebellious slaves who built their own empire. Until now, Yana had assumed his kind were as dead as the Daeva. "Do you really want to talk here?" said White Crow, gesturing around at the walls of the Foundation bunker. "Fine, explain later," said Otsem, then walked through a doorway. The stairwell on the other side led upwards, and Yana felt renewed optimism. Perhaps she could evade the Nelk on the surface? Surely this White Crow had not broken her out from her cell just to have her be eaten? ---- It took all of Yana's nerves to walk out of the entrance to the bunker. It was not the blood that bothered her, but the threshold had clearly been guarded by men who had fought to the death, and the mangled flesh was bringing back uncomfortable memories of ancient conflicts she'd witnessed. The fact that there were more Nelk on the surface, likewise transformed into grotesque animalistic forms, provided her no comfort. But White Crow had sought her out for a reason, and he spoke Daevite. While she definitely didn't trust anyone willing to work with a monster like Otsem, a gamble on freedom was still more appealing than containment in a cell for the rest of her life. She found herself struggling to keep up as they scrambled through some sort of crater, the scar that had been left when a hole was blasted through Area-23's perimeter fence. Yana hadn't been allowed to run anywhere but on a treadmill for a long time, and she hadn't been too enthusiastic about it. As she scrambled through the dirt, she tripped and fell multiple times. Both the notebooks she was carrying and the white clothes she was wearing were now filthy with mud. The sound of gunfire became less frequent and more distant, but only because Yana was being overtaken by retreating Nelk. They had holstered their weapons and were running on all fours. Most were injured, but few seemed bothered by the wounds left by bullets and shrapnel. White Crow turned back to her with obvious frustration as Yana staggered out of Area-23, panting for air. He spoke in English again. "Rahab? Can you carry her for us?" He turned to Yana quickly, speaking Daevite again, but much less formally than before. "Sorry mother, but I don't plan on going back there again." A large figure towered over Yana, the tallest she'd seen in all the lifetimes she remembered. Yana realized she'd dropped the knife at some point, too focused on holding onto her journals, but doubted it would have provided any defense. Yana decided not to resist as she was slung over one shoulder, and noted that her arms barely reached the giant's waist. "You know Crow, I'm also pretty tired," said Loxley, clearly out of breath. "Just think about all the experiments they'll do to you if they catch us," said White Crow, then kept moving. Yana's weight seemed to barely slow the giant at all as she was carried off into the woods. Yana kept a tight grip on her Daevite journals with both hands, the only familiar thing she had left. ---- They stopped to rest, but couldn't be much more than a couple of miles from the facility. Although it was dark, Yana could see that she'd joined a strange company. Otsem, Marianna and a couple of other Nelk had stayed with them, but they'd been joined by a motley assortment of nine other people, as well as what looked like a hyena. Rahab placed Yana down on the ground. Yana shuffled uncomfortably as she looked around the crowd of strangers, her hands and feet numb. It wasn't winter yet, but it was still a cold night. White Crow turned to Otsem. "I didn't think you'd be coming with us." The Karcist shrugged. He was at least now wearing trousers, but he'd left his shirt unbuttoned, keeping the mouth on his torso visible. "I want to know who she is. And how you're getting out of here." White Crow seemed amused. "I thought you said that you and your men could make your own way back? Run through the forest, live off the land, that sort of thing?" Otsem nodded. "Sure. But you don't look like the type to survive out here for long, and she" - Yana flinched as he glanced towards her - "looks like she'll slow you down until the Jailors catch up." Yana was a little offended by this, but it was undeniably true. She would not have come with them if she'd known the plan was to escape on foot. Given the carnage they'd left behind, she wouldn't expect an immediate counterattack, but the Foundation would be following their trail very soon. "Who is she, anyway?" asked Otsem. "She's Yana Drozdova," said White Crow. "Cruelly imprisoned by the Jailors, simply because she knows too much." He then rummaged in his jacket pocket, which seemed to be far deeper than should logically be possible, and pulled out several pieces of paper. "She's our Way out of here." Everyone turned to Yana, but she only looked confused. White Crow handed the paper to her, along with a headtorch. It looked like photographs of an old book, with Daevite writing and diagrams inside. Noticing that she'd lost the knife from earlier, White Crow pulled another one out of his pocket, and handed that to her as well. "Could somebody strip the bark from a tree? Miss Drozdova will need a canvas to paint on." "Why her?" asked Otsem. "What is she?" "She's a mage," said White Crow, with the casual tone. "Magic is in her blood." Yana had never attempted to perform thaumaturgy before. She'd lacked all of the necessary implements. However, according to the instructions White Crow had provided her with, this particular ritual was very simple. All it required was a Daeva shedding blood, and the pale man who'd claimed to be her servant seemed to be confident she counted. Yana would trust him for now. The ritual would require quite a lot of blood. She needed enough to draw a doorway, then surround it with Daevite script. When she noted this to White Crow, he gestured to a Chinese man, then said something to him in his own language, before continuing in Russian. "Try Zhang, he has plenty to spare." Yana was uncomfortable with this, as she'd rather not antagonize her new allies by immediately bleeding them, but Zhang willingly rolled up his sleeve. He seemed genuinely unfazed by losing a substantial quantity of blood. Yana had no way to track the exact amount, but multiple pints must have flowed from the cut she opened up on the back of his forearm as she worked, periodically re-coating the knife in his blood. Otsem looked on with obvious interested, but didn't seem to recognize the language she was writing in. The woman next to him watched much more intently, but Yana was pretty sure she was just bloodthirsty. Otsem noticed, and made an effort to distract her by holding her close to him and stroking her hair and back. It took Yana a while to complete the doorway on the exposed wood of the tree, etching in the characters of the Daevite script using the bloody knife. //I write my Way in blood, into the flesh of a tree.// //I Knock, with full confidence in my own authority.// White Crow was the first to notice she was finished, as everyone else seemed to be distracted by the distant sound of helicopters. "Alright, everyone now turn off your torches and close your eyes. It's time to follow me through." He turned to Otsem and his companions. "You don't have to come. Not if you don't want to. But this is a Way to the Wanderer's Library, and that's the safest place I know." The Karcist looked confused. "You walk into a tree trunk?" White Crow shook his head. "You walk into a doorway." Something about this felt vaguely familiar to Yana. As White Crow grabbed her wrist with one of his pale hands, she closed her eyes and followed his lead as he pulled her after him. Rather than the impact of her head on wood, she instead felt soft carpet beneath her feet, as the smell of the forest was replaced by the scent of old books. Yana opened her eyes, and realized she was in a large room, every wall lined with shelves full of yellowed scrolls, with only a small gap at the far end for a closed wooden door. The rest of the group followed, emerging from a pitch-black wooden archway. It was marked with the same Daevite script that Yana had just carved into the tree, but was drawn much more neatly than her hasty lettering. Rahab ducked to squeeze through the doorway, and finally Karcist Otsem and Marianna emerged, looking around the suddenly crowded space with great surprise. Otsem and his two henchmen initially seemed to be most interested in the doorway, but his attention then turned to the shelves that filled the rest of the room. "This is a Library, yes?" White Crow nodded. "It's the Wanderer's Library. It holds a copy of every book." Otsem was closely scrutinizing the Daevite characters on the shelves. "What language are these books written in? It looks the same as the doorway." White Crow hesitated, clearly pondering the benefits of lying, before deciding on the truth. "This is the Daevite Wing of the Wanderer's Library. Well, one of them." Otsem's eyes narrowed. "Do you think I don't recognize that name? Do you think I am ignorant of our history? Are you insulting me, little bird?" "I didn't think it was particularly important... It's not like I could hide this from you now that you're here..." Otsem spoke again, glaring at Yana. "I thought I saw something in her. From folktales told by old women. Blood and wood... What is she?" The mouth on his torso opened wide, and Yana could see it contained four more mouths inside, extending out like eyeless snakes. The two men behind him, still in half-animal forms resembling a wolf and a boar, raised assault rifles to aim them at White Crow. "I told you, she's someone who knows too much for the Jailors to set free." "And where does she come from?" The hungry look he gave Yana made it clear that her had a strong suspicion already. "She is the last daughter of Daevon," said White Crow. "But she's one of us now." Zhang stepped up next to White Crow, clearly ready to back him up. A moment later, so did a woman with cat ears and a tail, and then a taller woman holding a shield made of shimmering blue light. White Crow's remaining allies - the giantess, the hyena and three pale ghouls - remained at the sidelines. "Give me a reason why I shouldn't let Marianna eat her!" demanded Otsem. "For old times' sake." The woman at his side crouched, her lips pulling back to expose a mouth full of fangs. "The Library has rules!" answered White Crow, raising his voice. "Don't damage the books! Don't harm the patrons!" "And why should we care?" asked Otsem, although the four people standing between him and Yana were clearly giving him pause. "We hunt wherever we want. If you intend to get in my way..." The door behind them creaked, and a figure silently walked into the room. It was humanoid, but had no mouth, and a brass lantern hung from a chain connected to the end of its left arm. Two more followed behind it into the room, identical to the first. White Crow turned to them, and said in a friendly tone, "Sorry about the noise! I'm still explaining how this works!" He turned back to Otsem. "Those Librarians care. If you break the rules, they will never stop coming." "Are you threatening me?" asked Otsem, four long, serpentine limbs now extending out from his back, tearing apart his shirt. He was clearly unsure whether to address White Crow and his allies, or the three Librarians behind them. "Karcist Otsem," said White Crow, his voice calm and cold. "This place doesn't just connect to a door in the forest. There are Ways in and out all over the world. A man like you must be able to see the potential. But not if you antagonize them." He gestured at the Librarians behind him. "If you break the rules, they can stop you using this place. They may even hold you here for a very long time." The Librarians did not look particularly threatening. They just stood there, unmoving. But with a wet sound, Otsem slowly retracted his extra limbs and prehensile tongues, then closed the mouth in his chest. His men lowered their firearms. Marianna looked disappointed. "You tricked me into helping you," said Otsem. He turned to look at Yana. "You tricked me into helping her." He spoke the words with great contempt. "You owe me." "Karcist Otsem, we all share a common enemy. I didn't trick you when I helped free your people from the Jailors. I merely appealed to our shared interests." White Crow once again sounded friendly, as if Otsem hadn't just threatened to kill Yana. "I plan to use her against them." Otsem considered this for a long time, looking first at White Crow, then at Yana, and then at his own people. He finally made a decision. "You say this place connects to everywhere. Show us." "I doubt I'll have the time to show you everywhere, but I can certainly show you some other Ways out, and teach you the Knocks to open them up again. Just tell me where you'd like to go." White Crow told the two women who'd backed him up to remain with Yana, apparently to "watch over her", then left with Otsem, accompanied by Zhang and Rahab and the rest of his group. Loxley went off on his own, intending to come back with something to eat. As soon as they'd all left, Yana slumped to the floor, leaning against the shelves. "I know how you feel," said the tall woman, her blue forcefield now vanished. The woman dropped a plastic packet of wet wipes on the floor. Yana was confused for a moment, until she realized that the woman was taking the opportunity to wipe down her own face and hands using another packet. She then took a seat next to the girl with leopard ears and a tail, in a couple of armchairs on the other side of the room. The two of them looked at each other, and made gestures and facial expressions that made it seem like they were talking to each other, without saying anything out loud. Yana had somehow kept hold of her notepads this whole time, and now placed them carefully on the floor, noting with disappointment that they were ruined by mud and blood. She'd have to copy out the Daevite script once again. That thought reminded her of where she was. Otsem's presence had almost made her forget where White Crow had brought her. Yana looked around, and realized that the Daevite letters carved into the wooden shelving around them were brief descriptions of the scrolls' contents. Yana recognized a section for scrolls containing myth and history on the wall directly opposite her, and then a section for scrolls recording songs of worship and lamentation to the left of it. She remembered that her maternal ancestors had once held these texts in their hands, had even written some of them, but she’d assumed every copy had been burnt to ash a long time ago. Yana turned behind her, towards the shelves she'd been leaning against. After cleaning her hands as best as she could with the wipes she'd been given, she carefully removed a scroll from the shelf, and unrolled the parchment to reveal Daevite words. It was a botanical treatise, detailing how the principles of horticulture that her people had developed applied to the cultivation of barley. Her vision blurred, and Yana realized her eyes were filling with tears. She quickly pushed the scroll away from her to make sure she didn't cry onto it. Long ago her ancestors would have considered this work to be of only minor interest, but now it was a priceless treasure. Her tears flowed freely. Even if she was the Last Daughter of Daevon, at least she wasn't the only one who remembered. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] > Filename: Area-23 > Author: [[user Jerden]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/jerden-insignia [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-07-25T06:54:00	[ "breakout", "chase", "daevite", "fantasy", "hunters-black-lodge", "otherworldly", "sarkic", "serpents-hand", "tale", "wanderers-library" ]	The Last Daughter Of Daevon - SCP Foundation	8	[ "skins-as-clothing", "the-past-is-never-dead", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide", "jerden-insignia" ]	[ "wanderers-library-hub", "serpent-s-hand-hub", "sarkicism-hub", "now-the-serpent", "daevite-hub" ]	[]	1455948979	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-last-daughter-of-daevon
the-last-house	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=1&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Ahalloween/3&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p>The setting sun cast a warm, orange hue over the streets of suburban America as a small figure joyfully skipped down the sidewalk. Tonight was his night: as it had always been and always would be. He was dressed to impress — covered in a pristine white sheet with two perfectly cut circles allowing him to see. He kept the handle of a neon orange pail clasped tightly in his hand as he began his ritual for the evening.</p> <p>He walked — no, ran up to the first house he saw. He frowned under his sheet when he saw how empty the yard was. Didn't these people know it was the 31st? Not even a single plastic spider! No matter. He shook the disappointment from his mind as he reached the door. He raised a tiny fist and knocked exactly three times, then stepped back and held his pail out in front of him. He made sure to turn its grinning jack-o-lantern face towards the door— this was <em>very</em> important after all! He waited at the door, grinning ear-to-ear just imagining what delights the people here must have for him! He waited… and waited…</p> <p>Eventually it was clear: no one was coming. He frowned under his sheet and walked back to the sidewalk.</p> <p>A nice, chilly breeze stirred up fallen leaves around his feet and brought him out of his melancholy. He held out an arm and giggled as the leaves swirled and danced around him in the wind. They rose in a gentle rhythm, from his feet all the way up around his head. He started to move about with them, trying as best as he could to match their motions. He found himself spinning in circles with glee for several minutes. Only after almost falling on his sheet-covered rear did he finally stop. He continued to giggle as he began skipping along his way once more.</p> <p>There had always been people who didn't participate, after all. There were always people who kept the lights off, kept their yards bare, and kept their treats to themselves. It didn't stop stinging whenever he found one of the killjoys, but there was no need to wallow in it.</p> <p>The sun had sunk further below the horizon. The orange hue had darkened, shades of early evening blue beginning to creep into the landscape. Normally, the streets were full of people. There would be children and parents alike dressed in their ghoulish fineries going from house to house in search of something sweet, but as he looked around he couldn't help but notice how quiet it was. He did get an early start, for what it was worth!</p> <p>But it was strange that the streets were so… lifeless right now.</p> <p>Maybe everyone just wanted to get a late start? That made sense. Nighttime was always more fun anyway!</p> <p>He walked up to the next house on the street. It wasn't particularly decorated, but there were at least a few pumpkins out front. Regardless, he couldn't stop himself from letting out a small "tsk" as he assessed them. They weren't even carved! Still, he supposed it was better than nothing at all. Besides, in the end, all that <em>truly</em> mattered was the prize they had to offer him. He raised his tiny fist to the door and knocked three times, stepping away and presenting his pail towards the door.</p> <p>It was a shame the other house didn't get to see his costume and his pail. It was a <em>great</em> costume, and his pail? Trusty as ever, it had served him for <em>years</em>! At least these people were sure to appreciate it. They would tell their neighbors about him after this was over, <em>for sure</em>, and they'd be kicking themselves because they had missed him. He stood there and waited with glee just imagining it all.</p> <p>And once again he found himself left waiting. The frown returned as he walked back towards the sidewalk, his pail and heart left empty.</p> <p>By now the sun had begun to sink properly below the horizon. He had lost a lot of valuable time, sure, but this was good news! Twilight makes it easier to distinguish the killjoys from those who actually participate. All it would take from here was simply looking for the houses with their lights still on. Those were the ones who actually had an offering for him. He could just avoid the houses that made it clear they had no intention of participating, and he could stop wasting his time!</p> <p>Hope twinkled in his eyes as he waited for the sun to finish setting. It was going to be such a good night this year. Last year it had been weirdly warm, and the year before that there had been that nasty storm. But this year everything was lining up just as it should, with beautiful crisp air that refreshed the soul without being too cold. He took a deep breath, letting it fill his lungs. He was alive.</p> <p>The sun finished setting. He stared at the brilliant moon overhead in all its fullness, framed by an endless sky of twinkling stars. He smiled as he turned his gaze back over the neighborhood, only to feel that smile sink as he took in the sight. Darkness all around, with only the occasional porch light to break it up. He clutched his pail as he took hesitant, careful steps forward to get a better look.</p> <p>It was no good. House after house was dark, with almost universally empty yards. The few that were actually decorated felt more decorated for a generic "fall" than anything whimsical or spooky. There might be a hay bale, a fistful of uncarved pumpkins, or perhaps even a scarecrow with a friendly cartoon smile on its face, but nothing that felt like it was for <em>his</em> holiday. Suddenly his soul felt very heavy. How could such a thing be possible? This was tradition, didn't this matter to people?</p> <p>Didn't <em>he</em> matter to people?</p> <p>A new sensation began to fill his soul as he fell down into the grass. He had always been able to imagine "tomorrow", in an abstract way. The future had never scared him, if he ever gave it a thought at all it was never for very long. Now, however, the tingling had begun. He looked at the tips of his fingers, watching as they began to fizzle slightly. Suddenly he had a name for the sensation he felt.</p> <p>Dread. A pervasive sense of dread that creeped into every crevice of his soul, chased with the relentless pounding of his heart.</p> <p>He was going to die.</p> <p>Every day ends eventually, and this one would end with him fading away into nothing. Everything he is, everything he ever was, and everything he ever could've been — vanishing in a moment. There would be no tomorrow for him. He would be gone. He clutched his knees against his chest and began to sob.</p> <p>He wasn't ready.</p> <p>Would he ever be?</p> <p><em>Could</em> he ever be?</p> <p>As a cacophony of thought pounded in his brain he reached out for something, <em>anything</em> to ground himself once more. As if by instinct, his tiny hand wrapped itself around his still empty pail. Feeling the cool plastic against his skin, he felt his racing heart slow, if only a little. He opened his eyes and regarded it.</p> <p>It wasn't much, but it was his treasure. A simple pail, crafted from neon plastic and painted with the bright, grinning face of a jack-o-lantern on the front that had partially chipped away over the years. He felt the grass beneath his other hand. It was slightly damp, likely from a sprinkler that had run over it earlier. He lifted his hand and felt his costume. A simple bedsheet, nothing special, but it made him into the perfect little ghost. He could see the slightly frayed edges of the circles that let him see out in the first place, with little strings that were left hanging around the edges of his vision.</p> <p>He took a deep breath, and rose to unsteady feet. He clutched his pail close to his chest and took a step forward, and then another.</p> <p>Maybe there wouldn't be a tomorrow. Even so, he still had tonight. Arcadia may be calling, but if he spent the rest of his life afraid then he wouldn't have much of a life left to enjoy. His heart settled down just a bit more as he continued walking forward.</p> <p>The fear would likely never go away, but he could try to quiet it, if only for a moment. He chose to hear the leaves crunch beneath his feet. He chose to feel the wind against his bedsheet. He chose to hear the call of a distant bird.</p> <p>The moon hung high in the sky now. Even on the most boisterous of nights past, people would start heading home by now. Even the most dedicated of celebrants would begin turning their lights off by now. He was almost ready to join them. After all, he felt so very tired.</p> <p>Before he was finally ready to give in, however, he saw it. At the end of the street, nestled into a cul-de-sac, was the most beautiful house he had ever seen. The yard was filled with spooky joy— massive skeletons surrounded by carved pumpkins with all kinds of twisted expressions. Foam gravestones against the sidewalk, even colorful inflatables! Suddenly his soul felt light, and before he knew it he was running towards this beacon of celebration.</p> <p>He ran — no, flew up to the house's doorstep. The lights were on. <em>The lights were on!</em> He took a deep breath as he raised a tiny fist and knocked exactly three times, then stepped back and held out his pail in front of him. Within moments he was greeted by two people. There was an older woman with shock-white hair dressed as a witch, towering hat and all. Next to her was an older man. He wasn't dressed as anything in particular, but in his arms he held a massive bowl filled with sweet tributes.</p> <p>For the first time, he was able to hold out his pail towards them and say the magic words. They danced out his throat and down his tongue before leaping into the air.</p> <p>"Trick or treat!"</p> <p>The older woman smiled. "Oh how darling!" she said, her voice sweet and sincere, "What a wonderful little ghost you are! Did you make that costume yourself?"</p> <p>He nodded his head vigorously. His smile was so wide at this point he was almost certain she could make it out even behind the bedsheet.</p> <p>"Well it's just delightful! You did such a good job with it!" She flashed him a bright smile before turning to the man beside her, who held out the bowl.</p> <p>"You know," she continued, "normally we have a one piece per person rule, but it's been so quiet tonight. You can take a few, if you'd like, as long as you promise not to eat it all in one sitting and rot your teeth!"</p> <p>She winked. He giggled as he took a handful.</p> <p>"Happy Halloween! Don't stay up too late, it's a school day tomorrow after all!"</p> <p>He waved as he skipped off. Finding a spot away from the neighborhood to stop, he removed his bedsheet so that he might assess his tribute. The moon glistened off his orange, pumpkin head as he looked down at the various candies in his beloved pail. A new jack-o-lantern grin was carved into his face as he regarded the pail's contents. It wasn't much, but it was enough.</p> <p>With a smile and a nod, he skipped off into the night. He had to get ready for next year, after all.</p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-last-house">The Last House at the End of the Street</a>" by OriTiefling, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-last-house">https://scpwiki.com/the-last-house</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:halloween">:scp-wiki:theme:halloween</a>]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] The setting sun cast a warm, orange hue over the streets of suburban America as a small figure joyfully skipped down the sidewalk. Tonight was his night: as it had always been and always would be. He was dressed to impress -- covered in a pristine white sheet with two perfectly cut circles allowing him to see. He kept the handle of a neon orange pail clasped tightly in his hand as he began his ritual for the evening. He walked -- no, ran up to the first house he saw. He frowned under his sheet when he saw how empty the yard was. Didn't these people know it was the 31st? Not even a single plastic spider! No matter. He shook the disappointment from his mind as he reached the door. He raised a tiny fist and knocked exactly three times, then stepped back and held his pail out in front of him. He made sure to turn its grinning jack-o-lantern face towards the door-- this was //very// important after all! He waited at the door, grinning ear-to-ear just imagining what delights the people here must have for him! He waited... and waited... Eventually it was clear: no one was coming. He frowned under his sheet and walked back to the sidewalk. A nice, chilly breeze stirred up fallen leaves around his feet and brought him out of his melancholy. He held out an arm and giggled as the leaves swirled and danced around him in the wind. They rose in a gentle rhythm, from his feet all the way up around his head. He started to move about with them, trying as best as he could to match their motions. He found himself spinning in circles with glee for several minutes. Only after almost falling on his sheet-covered rear did he finally stop. He continued to giggle as he began skipping along his way once more. There had always been people who didn't participate, after all. There were always people who kept the lights off, kept their yards bare, and kept their treats to themselves. It didn't stop stinging whenever he found one of the killjoys, but there was no need to wallow in it. The sun had sunk further below the horizon. The orange hue had darkened, shades of early evening blue beginning to creep into the landscape. Normally, the streets were full of people. There would be children and parents alike dressed in their ghoulish fineries going from house to house in search of something sweet, but as he looked around he couldn't help but notice how quiet it was. He did get an early start, for what it was worth! But it was strange that the streets were so... lifeless right now. Maybe everyone just wanted to get a late start? That made sense. Nighttime was always more fun anyway! He walked up to the next house on the street. It wasn't particularly decorated, but there were at least a few pumpkins out front. Regardless, he couldn't stop himself from letting out a small "tsk" as he assessed them. They weren't even carved! Still, he supposed it was better than nothing at all. Besides, in the end, all that //truly// mattered was the prize they had to offer him. He raised his tiny fist to the door and knocked three times, stepping away and presenting his pail towards the door. It was a shame the other house didn't get to see his costume and his pail. It was a //great// costume, and his pail? Trusty as ever, it had served him for //years//! At least these people were sure to appreciate it. They would tell their neighbors about him after this was over, //for sure//, and they'd be kicking themselves because they had missed him. He stood there and waited with glee just imagining it all. And once again he found himself left waiting. The frown returned as he walked back towards the sidewalk, his pail and heart left empty. By now the sun had begun to sink properly below the horizon. He had lost a lot of valuable time, sure, but this was good news! Twilight makes it easier to distinguish the killjoys from those who actually participate. All it would take from here was simply looking for the houses with their lights still on. Those were the ones who actually had an offering for him. He could just avoid the houses that made it clear they had no intention of participating, and he could stop wasting his time! Hope twinkled in his eyes as he waited for the sun to finish setting. It was going to be such a good night this year. Last year it had been weirdly warm, and the year before that there had been that nasty storm. But this year everything was lining up just as it should, with beautiful crisp air that refreshed the soul without being too cold. He took a deep breath, letting it fill his lungs. He was alive. The sun finished setting. He stared at the brilliant moon overhead in all its fullness, framed by an endless sky of twinkling stars. He smiled as he turned his gaze back over the neighborhood, only to feel that smile sink as he took in the sight. Darkness all around, with only the occasional porch light to break it up. He clutched his pail as he took hesitant, careful steps forward to get a better look. It was no good. House after house was dark, with almost universally empty yards. The few that were actually decorated felt more decorated for a generic "fall" than anything whimsical or spooky. There might be a hay bale, a fistful of uncarved pumpkins, or perhaps even a scarecrow with a friendly cartoon smile on its face, but nothing that felt like it was for //his// holiday. Suddenly his soul felt very heavy. How could such a thing be possible? This was tradition, didn't this matter to people? Didn't //he// matter to people? A new sensation began to fill his soul as he fell down into the grass. He had always been able to imagine "tomorrow", in an abstract way. The future had never scared him, if he ever gave it a thought at all it was never for very long. Now, however, the tingling had begun. He looked at the tips of his fingers, watching as they began to fizzle slightly. Suddenly he had a name for the sensation he felt. Dread. A pervasive sense of dread that creeped into every crevice of his soul, chased with the relentless pounding of his heart. He was going to die. Every day ends eventually, and this one would end with him fading away into nothing. Everything he is, everything he ever was, and everything he ever could've been -- vanishing in a moment. There would be no tomorrow for him. He would be gone. He clutched his knees against his chest and began to sob. He wasn't ready. Would he ever be? //Could// he ever be? As a cacophony of thought pounded in his brain he reached out for something, //anything// to ground himself once more. As if by instinct, his tiny hand wrapped itself around his still empty pail. Feeling the cool plastic against his skin, he felt his racing heart slow, if only a little. He opened his eyes and regarded it. It wasn't much, but it was his treasure. A simple pail, crafted from neon plastic and painted with the bright, grinning face of a jack-o-lantern on the front that had partially chipped away over the years. He felt the grass beneath his other hand. It was slightly damp, likely from a sprinkler that had run over it earlier. He lifted his hand and felt his costume. A simple bedsheet, nothing special, but it made him into the perfect little ghost. He could see the slightly frayed edges of the circles that let him see out in the first place, with little strings that were left hanging around the edges of his vision. He took a deep breath, and rose to unsteady feet. He clutched his pail close to his chest and took a step forward, and then another. Maybe there wouldn't be a tomorrow. Even so, he still had tonight. Arcadia may be calling, but if he spent the rest of his life afraid then he wouldn't have much of a life left to enjoy. His heart settled down just a bit more as he continued walking forward. The fear would likely never go away, but he could try to quiet it, if only for a moment. He chose to hear the leaves crunch beneath his feet. He chose to feel the wind against his bedsheet. He chose to hear the call of a distant bird. The moon hung high in the sky now. Even on the most boisterous of nights past, people would start heading home by now. Even the most dedicated of celebrants would begin turning their lights off by now. He was almost ready to join them. After all, he felt so very tired. Before he was finally ready to give in, however, he saw it. At the end of the street, nestled into a cul-de-sac, was the most beautiful house he had ever seen. The yard was filled with spooky joy-- massive skeletons surrounded by carved pumpkins with all kinds of twisted expressions. Foam gravestones against the sidewalk, even colorful inflatables! Suddenly his soul felt light, and before he knew it he was running towards this beacon of celebration. He ran -- no, flew up to the house's doorstep. The lights were on. //The lights were on!// He took a deep breath as he raised a tiny fist and knocked exactly three times, then stepped back and held out his pail in front of him. Within moments he was greeted by two people. There was an older woman with shock-white hair dressed as a witch, towering hat and all. Next to her was an older man. He wasn't dressed as anything in particular, but in his arms he held a massive bowl filled with sweet tributes. For the first time, he was able to hold out his pail towards them and say the magic words. They danced out his throat and down his tongue before leaping into the air. "Trick or treat!" The older woman smiled. "Oh how darling!" she said, her voice sweet and sincere, "What a wonderful little ghost you are! Did you make that costume yourself?" He nodded his head vigorously. His smile was so wide at this point he was almost certain she could make it out even behind the bedsheet. "Well it's just delightful! You did such a good job with it!" She flashed him a bright smile before turning to the man beside her, who held out the bowl. "You know," she continued, "normally we have a one piece per person rule, but it's been so quiet tonight. You can take a few, if you'd like, as long as you promise not to eat it all in one sitting and rot your teeth!" She winked. He giggled as he took a handful. "Happy Halloween! Don't stay up too late, it's a school day tomorrow after all!" He waved as he skipped off. Finding a spot away from the neighborhood to stop, he removed his bedsheet so that he might assess his tribute. The moon glistened off his orange, pumpkin head as he looked down at the various candies in his beloved pail. A new jack-o-lantern grin was carved into his face as he regarded the pail's contents. It wasn't much, but it was enough. With a smile and a nod, he skipped off into the night. He had to get ready for next year, after all. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-10-31T11:32:00	[ "_licensebox", "bittersweet", "fading-stars", "halloween", "tale" ]	The Last House at the End of the Street - SCP Foundation	19	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "fading-stars-hub" ]	[]	1457235394	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-last-house
the-last-wizard	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p>The last wizard was stabbed to death yesterday morning in the alleyway behind the Denny’s on 4th and 5th.</p> <p>I know because I was there.</p> <p>He walked through the door, right out of the stories- all gray beard and pointy hat- sat down at the counter and asked for a coffee.</p> <p>I poured it for him and slid it across the bar.</p> <p>I was going to ask him what he did for a living, but he kind of just harrumphed a bit before I got the chance to speak and told me he was a wizard.</p> <p>“How’d you know I was gonna-“</p> <p>He shot me this <em>look</em>, bushy eyebrows creased together like one of those furry caterpillars you see on the discovery channel.</p> <p>It got all awkward for a bit.</p> <p>“So uh-“ I cleared my throat, after a while. “How’s the magic business going?”</p> <p>“You feel more magical today than you did yesterday?”</p> <p>I shook my head, scratching at my chin. (I got a couple of ingrown hairs down there, drives me crazy. Damned razors never shave right these days no more.)</p> <p>The wizard sighed, his breath smelling of cinnamon and sea salt- I guess he hadn’t touched his coffee yet. He pulled a pipe from his sleeve, put it to his lips, then snapped his fingers a couple’a times.</p> <p>“I guess there’s your answer.” He clenched his teeth around the stem, blowing out a ring of blue smoke.</p> <p>We usually have a pretty strict no-smoking policy, but, hell, it was a wizard. I pulled out my vape and joined him. My rings were bigger than his. This bothered him, I could tell, and I felt a little smug about it until the bastard muttered something under his breath and my pen shorted out.</p> <p>“You wanna learn how to cast a spell?”</p> <p>I was in the middle of cussing him out, but that stopped me in my tracks.</p> <p>The wizard grinned at me around his pipe, blue eyes crinkling.</p> <p>“What kind of spell?”</p> <p>“What kind do you want?”</p> <p>I thought about it for a bit.</p> <p>“I guess there’s this one thing. My neighbor, Jonas? Apartment 435? He keeps playing music way too loud at night. I gotta morning shift, and I’ve complained to him about it before, but he just won’t quit. Could you like, maybe teach me how to turn him into a frog for a bit? Just to teach him a lesson.”</p> <p>The wizard nodded sagely, stroking his beard. “I know the names of the nine winds,” he said, “the secrets of the sun and moon, of earth and fire.” He drew a short stone rod from his robes, setting it down on the counter. “These I can teach to you as well, and they will tell you of the power you seek.”</p> <p>I didn’t really get what he meant but I was still getting pretty excited. It sounded like something outta that one movie, the one with those short bitches and Tilda Swinton? King of the Rings, or something like that.<br/> It sounded exactly like what a wizard would say, is what I’m trying to get at.</p> <p>“Hell fucking yea! Get to it! How do I start?”</p> <p>The wizard looked at me all serious like, holding up his wand.</p> <p>“Close your eyes, empty your mind, visualize your intent.”</p> <p>I woke up thirty minutes later with a splitting headache, a bruise the size of an apple on my head.</p> <p>Bastard emptied the cash registers, stole my fucking wallet too. And my vape.</p> <p>I saw that there were a bunch of cop cars and ambulances and stuff outside, and when I went out to check, a couple of officers explained to me what had happened after I told them about my wallet getting stolen.</p> <p>Turns out the wizard got into a fistfight with a crackhead three steps out the door, got stabbed seven times in the gut and bled out right then and there in the alley behind the Denny’s. I watched them cart the body out, his stupid pointy hat poking out from under the bloody sheet.</p> <p>I remember seeing the news talking about it after.<br/> A couple’a those treehugger fellas were making a big fuss about how he was the last one or something. Good riddance, honestly, far as I’m concerned.</p> <p>Never even got my wallet back, and I had like, 20 bucks in there.</p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-last-wizard">the last wizard</a>" by Intercedent, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-last-wizard">https://scpwiki.com/the-last-wizard</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module rate]] [[/>]] The last wizard was stabbed to death yesterday morning in the alleyway behind the Denny’s on 4th and 5th. I know because I was there. He walked through the door, right out of the stories- all gray beard and pointy hat- sat down at the counter and asked for a coffee. I poured it for him and slid it across the bar. I was going to ask him what he did for a living, but he kind of just harrumphed a bit before I got the chance to speak and told me he was a wizard. “How’d you know I was gonna-“ He shot me this //look//, bushy eyebrows creased together like one of those furry caterpillars you see on the discovery channel. It got all awkward for a bit. “So uh-“ I cleared my throat, after a while. “How’s the magic business going?” “You feel more magical today than you did yesterday?” I shook my head, scratching at my chin. (I got a couple of ingrown hairs down there, drives me crazy. Damned razors never shave right these days no more.) The wizard sighed, his breath smelling of cinnamon and sea salt- I guess he hadn’t touched his coffee yet. He pulled a pipe from his sleeve, put it to his lips, then snapped his fingers a couple’a times. “I guess there’s your answer.” He clenched his teeth around the stem, blowing out a ring of blue smoke. We usually have a pretty strict no-smoking policy, but, hell, it was a wizard. I pulled out my vape and joined him. My rings were bigger than his. This bothered him, I could tell, and I felt a little smug about it until the bastard muttered something under his breath and my pen shorted out. “You wanna learn how to cast a spell?” I was in the middle of cussing him out, but that stopped me in my tracks. The wizard grinned at me around his pipe, blue eyes crinkling. “What kind of spell?” “What kind do you want?” I thought about it for a bit. “I guess there’s this one thing. My neighbor, Jonas? Apartment 435? He keeps playing music way too loud at night. I gotta morning shift, and I’ve complained to him about it before, but he just won’t quit. Could you like, maybe teach me how to turn him into a frog for a bit? Just to teach him a lesson.” The wizard nodded sagely, stroking his beard. “I know the names of the nine winds,” he said, “the secrets of the sun and moon, of earth and fire.” He drew a short stone rod from his robes, setting it down on the counter. “These I can teach to you as well, and they will tell you of the power you seek.” I didn’t really get what he meant but I was still getting pretty excited. It sounded like something outta that one movie, the one with those short bitches and Tilda Swinton? King of the Rings, or something like that. It sounded exactly like what a wizard would say, is what I’m trying to get at. “Hell fucking yea! Get to it! How do I start?” The wizard looked at me all serious like, holding up his wand. “Close your eyes, empty your mind, visualize your intent.” I woke up thirty minutes later with a splitting headache, a bruise the size of an apple on my head. Bastard emptied the cash registers, stole my fucking wallet too. And my vape. I saw that there were a bunch of cop cars and ambulances and stuff outside, and when I went out to check, a couple of officers explained to me what had happened after I told them about my wallet getting stolen. Turns out the wizard got into a fistfight with a crackhead three steps out the door, got stabbed seven times in the gut and bled out right then and there in the alley behind the Denny’s. I watched them cart the body out, his stupid pointy hat poking out from under the bloody sheet. I remember seeing the news talking about it after. A couple’a those treehugger fellas were making a big fuss about how he was the last one or something. Good riddance, honestly, far as I’m concerned. Never even got my wallet back, and I had like, 20 bucks in there. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-08-01T18:09:00	[ "_licensebox", "bleak", "crime-fiction", "fantasy", "tale" ]	the last wizard - SCP Foundation	21	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[]	[]	1455997325	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-last-wizard
the-legend-of-the-iron-goat	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="preview"> <p>"Have you ever heard the Legend of the Iron Goat?"</p> </div> <div style="display: none"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">+ CODE</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">- CODE</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div style="text-align: left;"> <div class="code"> <div class="hl-main"> <pre><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BLANKSTYLE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CSS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">2021</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">Wikidot</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">Theme</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">By</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Placeholder</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">McD</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">HarryBlank</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Based</span><span class="hl-code"> on: </span><span class="hl-identifier">Paperstack</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Penumbra</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Montserrat</span><span class="hl-special">:ital</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">wght</span><span class="hl-var">@0</span><span class="hl-code">,800;1,800&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.9</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">1.6</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#container-wrap</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'Montserrat', </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-title, "R\</span><span class="hl-number">0026</span><span class="hl-code"> C SITE-43")</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">400</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-subtitle, "SUBVERTING COMMON PRACTICE")</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">700</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 707</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">a:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">1.6</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-title</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#footer</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#footer</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#efefef</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.empty</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#999999</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem!important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">7.9</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'Montserrat', </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.45</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#extra-div-1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">160</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Ablankstyle/</span><span class="hl-number">43</span><span class="hl-code">Head.png')</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> contain</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 707</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#extra-div-1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">body</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> linear-gradient( to </span><span class="hl-string">bottom</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">200</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">200</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-special">:root</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">timeScale:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">timeDelay:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">posX:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">358</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">13</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">fnLinger:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">12</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.35</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#DDD</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.open-menu</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 767</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-identifier">target</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">black</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FDF6D7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-var">#D7EFE7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.resources</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-var">#F5D8E0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.creditRate</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">PAGE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">RATING</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-points</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anchor</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> sticky</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.14</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc((</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vw - </span><span class="hl-number">870</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">)/</span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vh - </span><span class="hl-number">18</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">103.5</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 1290</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">visibility:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">h2:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">0.9</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">YUI</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TAB</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BASE</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">YUI</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TAB</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CUSTOMIZATION</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-wrap:</span><span class="hl-code"> wrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">.125</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">UNSELECTED</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#efefef</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">HOVER</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Listitem</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">relative</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-bottom</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">align-items:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.35</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.75</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> ellipsis</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">white-space:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">nowrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Selection</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">SELECTED</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:active</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">SCROLLBAR</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-track</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-thumb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#CCC</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-thumb</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#EEE</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">CENTER</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">IMAGES</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ON</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MOBILE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">courtesy</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">of</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">PeppersGhost</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.imagediv</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">right</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 540</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.imagediv</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">only</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">screen</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 600</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block.block-right</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">ACS-COLORED</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TABLE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">DIVS</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#D7EFE7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#D8ECF4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FDF6D7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFDABF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#F5D8E0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">146</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.wiki-content-table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-collapse:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">separate</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">img</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.top-left-box</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">.item</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">WORDS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">NO</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">LONGER</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BROKEN</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">THE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CROQUEMBOUCHE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">HAS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">SPOKEN</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">word-break:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">normal</span><span class="hl-code"> !important </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.avatar-hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#breadcrumbs</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.pseudocrumbs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> -- </span><span class="hl-identifier">FANCY</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">THINGS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">from</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Woedenaz</span><span class="hl-code">'</span><span class="hl-identifier">s</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Dustjacket</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> -- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fancyhr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--bright-accent), </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-source:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Aflopstyle-dark/wl_hr.png')</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> round round</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-slice:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-code"> fill</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fancyborder</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Aflopstyle-dark/wl_border.png') </span><span class="hl-number">600</span><span class="hl-code"> round</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span></pre></div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div> <div style="display: none;"> <div style="display: none"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">+ CODE</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">- CODE</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div style="text-align: left;"> <div class="code"> <div class="hl-main"> <pre><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BLANKSTYLE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CSS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">2021</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">Wikidot</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">Theme</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">By</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Placeholder</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">McD</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">HarryBlank</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Based</span><span class="hl-code"> on: </span><span class="hl-identifier">Paperstack</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Penumbra</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Montserrat</span><span class="hl-special">:ital</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">wght</span><span class="hl-var">@0</span><span class="hl-code">,800;1,800&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.9</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">1.6</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#container-wrap</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'Montserrat', </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-title, "R\</span><span class="hl-number">0026</span><span class="hl-code"> C SITE-43")</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">400</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-subtitle, "SUBVERTING COMMON PRACTICE")</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">700</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 707</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">a:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">1.6</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-title</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#footer</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#footer</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#efefef</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.empty</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#999999</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem!important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">7.9</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'Montserrat', </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.45</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#extra-div-1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">160</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Ablankstyle/</span><span class="hl-number">43</span><span class="hl-code">Head.png')</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> contain</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 707</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#extra-div-1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">body</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> linear-gradient( to </span><span class="hl-string">bottom</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">200</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">200</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-special">:root</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">timeScale:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">timeDelay:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">posX:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">358</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">13</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">fnLinger:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">12</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.35</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#DDD</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.open-menu</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 767</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-identifier">target</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">black</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FDF6D7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-var">#D7EFE7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.resources</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-var">#F5D8E0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.creditRate</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">PAGE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">RATING</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-points</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anchor</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> sticky</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.14</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc((</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vw - </span><span class="hl-number">870</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">)/</span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vh - </span><span class="hl-number">18</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">103.5</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 1290</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">visibility:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">h2:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">0.9</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">YUI</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TAB</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BASE</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">YUI</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TAB</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CUSTOMIZATION</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-wrap:</span><span class="hl-code"> wrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">.125</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">UNSELECTED</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#efefef</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">HOVER</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Listitem</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">relative</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-bottom</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">align-items:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.35</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.75</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> ellipsis</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">white-space:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">nowrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Selection</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">SELECTED</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:active</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">SCROLLBAR</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-track</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-thumb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#CCC</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-thumb</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#EEE</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">CENTER</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">IMAGES</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ON</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MOBILE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">courtesy</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">of</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">PeppersGhost</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.imagediv</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">right</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 540</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.imagediv</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">only</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">screen</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 600</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block.block-right</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">ACS-COLORED</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TABLE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">DIVS</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#D7EFE7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#D8ECF4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FDF6D7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFDABF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#F5D8E0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">146</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.wiki-content-table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-collapse:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">separate</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">img</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.top-left-box</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">.item</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">WORDS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">NO</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">LONGER</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BROKEN</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">THE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CROQUEMBOUCHE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">HAS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">SPOKEN</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">word-break:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">normal</span><span class="hl-code"> !important </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.avatar-hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#breadcrumbs</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.pseudocrumbs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> -- </span><span class="hl-identifier">FANCY</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">THINGS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">from</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Woedenaz</span><span class="hl-code">'</span><span class="hl-identifier">s</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Dustjacket</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> -- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fancyhr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--bright-accent), </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-source:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Aflopstyle-dark/wl_hr.png')</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> round round</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-slice:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-code"> fill</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fancyborder</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Aflopstyle-dark/wl_border.png') </span><span class="hl-number">600</span><span class="hl-code"> round</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span></pre></div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div> </div> <div style="display: none"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">+ CODE</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">- CODE</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div style="text-align: left;"> <div class="code"> <div class="hl-main"> <pre><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">QUEERSTYLE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CSS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">By</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Queerious</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Forked</span><span class="hl-code"> from: </span><span class="hl-identifier">Blankstyle</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CSS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Placeholder</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">McD</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">HarryBlank</span><span class="hl-code"> Using: </span><span class="hl-identifier">White</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Outline</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Classic</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">LGBTQ</span><span class="hl-code">+ </span><span class="hl-identifier">Pride</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Logo</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Woedenaz</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">from</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">scp-wiki.wikidot.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">component</span><span class="hl-special">:pride-highlighter</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Vast</span><span class="hl-code">+</span><span class="hl-identifier">Shadow</span><span class="hl-code">&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.9</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-special">:root</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">header-title:</span><span class="hl-code"> "SCP Foundation"</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">header-subtitle:</span><span class="hl-code"> "SECURE, CONTAIN, PROTECT"</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 707</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">a:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">9</span><span class="hl-code">vw</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.75</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.75</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#extra-div-1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">150</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/component:pride-highlighter/gp_logo.svg')</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.creditButton</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">p</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-var">#373737</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Pseudogenesis</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Formats</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.pseudo-div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#B22A2A</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-var">#403450</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> "Vast Shadow", </span><span class="hl-string">serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.pseudo-div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-special">:is</span><span class="hl-code">(</span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">h3</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">h4</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">h5</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">h6</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> "Vast Shadow", </span><span class="hl-string">serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">normal</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">white</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span></pre></div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc0"><span>The Legend of The Iron Goat</span></h1> <hr/> <h4 id="toc1"><span><span style="color: grey">2019</span></span></h4> </div> <p>Lillian Lillihammer had seen the books on Heather Garrison's bookshelf before, but had never really carefully <em>looked</em> at them. Her fingers traced the edges of the spines, working her way across the shelf and feeling the embossed letters shifting beneath her touch. There was one book that stood out from the rest. It was a paperback, immensely thick and so well read that the spine was illegible, all that remained was the binding.</p> <p>"Find something interesting, Lil?" Heather said, walking back into her dorm's living room, a tray of snacks and two dusty rose coupe glasses balanced carefully on one hand.</p> <p>"Yeah, I did actually. I never knew that you were such a book-abuser." Lillian teased as she grabbed the book and pulled it off of the shelf. "<em>Les Misérables</em>? I never took you for a classics lover."</p> <p>"Really? Lillian, I'm dating you. Of course I'm a classics lover." Heather sat down on her couch, and Lillian fell back into the seat beside her, pulling Heather into her arms. The two immediately relaxed, the stress of the day melting away within their safe, comfortable bubble.</p> <p>"Ha ha, very funny. What's the story behind this, though? Was it your favorite novel?"</p> <p>Heather took the worn novel out of Lillian's hands, and began to flip through the pages.</p> <p>"It wasn't my favorite, but… there is a story behind it. You know that I used to be at Site-19, but have I ever told you what I did there?"</p> <p>Lillian shook her head. "Honestly, it didn't seem relevant to me?"</p> <p>"Of course it wouldn't." Heather replied, kissing Lillian on the cheek. "In that case, do you want to hear the story?"</p> <p>"Are you just dragging this out to irritate me?" Lillian said, a small blush fading from her cheeks.</p> <p>"Not quite. Well, maybe a bit." Heather grinned. "It's just a part of the art of storytelling, Lils."</p> <p>"As all stories do, we need to go back to the beginning." Heather said as she flipped through the pages, before stopping on the title. Opposite the title page was a stamp that read 'Property of Site-19's Literary Sciences Department. DO NOT REMOVE FROM SITE'.</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h4 id="toc2"><span><span style="color: grey">2016</span></span></h4> <div class="blockquote"> <p>Are you feeling bored of the endless monotony and paperwork that fills your days at The Foundation? Are you looking for a fun and exciting new monthly social event where you can meet like-minded researchers and make friends?</p> <p>Can you read?</p> <p>If so, you should join the <strong>Site-19 Book Club</strong>!</p> <p>The first meeting of the book club will be on the 28th of the month, at 7pm, in Meeting Room LS-4206A. The first book we are reading and discussing is <em>Les Misérables</em> by Victor Hugo — copies are available at request or can be found beside the monthly events bulletin.</p> <p>We are looking forward to seeing you there!</p> </div> </div> <p><em>Book club?</em> Heather thought to herself as she awkwardly stood in front of the flyer. Heather Garrison was, in no ways, a brash personality. But at Site-19, 'brash' was not wearing the informal uniform of gray linen and a lab coat at all times. Wearing a baggy sweater and jeans, her hair up in a messy bun; well that would be downright transgressive.</p> <p><em>I don't know. I should probably try to make more friends, right? And by more friends, I mean… any friends?</em> Heather was a loner, partially by choice. She was still figuring out who she was becoming, and was terrified of what others thought about her. She was awkward, and she knew it.</p> <p><em>Maybe a book club is the right idea? There will probably be other introverted, awkward people who are just as anxious as you are, right girl?</em> Heather looked down from the flyer and noticed a stack of books; each a copy of <em>Les Misérables</em>. She grabbed one, holding the thick tome as she was lost in her own thoughts.</p> <p>Some time later, a voice from behind broke her reverie. "Book club? Seriously?" a researcher Heather recognized from Applied Thaumatiphysics, as a duo passed through the halls behind her. Heather blushed, stuffing the book into her bag. <em>Worst case, I hate the book and don't go. Might as well give it a shot, right?</em></p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h4 id="toc3"><span><span style="color: grey">2019</span></span></h4> </div> <br/> "Wait, you <em>weren't</em> always loud and assertive and so radiantly domineering?" Lillian asked, challenging her partner. <p>"Do you want to make fun of baby Heather, or do you want me to continue the story?" Heather gave Lillian a well-practiced taunting look.</p> <p>"Okay, fine. No more interruptions."</p> <p>"<em>Suuuure.</em>"</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h4 id="toc4"><span><span style="color: grey">2016</span></span></h4> </div> <p>Luca Armaros looked around Meeting Room 4206-A with the satisfaction of a job <em>very</em> well done. Tables and seats to accommodate up to forty attendees, buffet tables lining the sides of the room, piled high with refreshments, snacks and desserts. He even decorated, writing 'Site-19's Inaugural Book Club!' on a nearby whiteboard.</p> <p>Luca nodded to himself, a deserved smugness falling over him. He had made the fliers, sent out the emails, coordinated the moving pieces and personally bought the many copies of <em>Les Misérables</em> for the club. He paused, thinking back to when he first came up with the book club.</p> <p><em>Despite the site being full of scientists, scholars and experts, how is it possible that so few are media literate? I'm surrounded by researchers who live their lives based on figures and numbers; if they just read a book for once, maybe they would think outside of the box. For the love of god, how can I get anybody to actually read a book?</em></p> <p>The thoughts had raced through his mind for many months before he decided on starting a book club. Once he had that idea, he just had to pick the book they were going to read. Luca looked at the well-thumbed paperback in front of him and smiled. <em>This was a fantastic choice. Well written, interesting characters, and most of all? It's a light read.</em></p> <p>He smiled, closing the book and looking at the clock hanging over the door. The time read 6:58pm. <em>Good. Now I just need to wait for everybody to show up.</em></p> <hr/> <p>Luca stared at the half-eaten plate of cookies in front of him and sighed. It was 8:45pm, and he was alone in the meeting room. A couple of times he had thought he heard somebody walking by outside, but nobody stopped or came in. After the first thirty minutes, he checked his phone to make sure that it actually was the 28th; it was. After the first hour, he checked that he got the room number right on the fliers; it was.</p> <p>He had decided that, after two hours, he was going to give up and leave. <em>Fifteen minutes to go. Whew. I love how engaged and excited the Site is when it comes to Literature!</em></p> <p>The sarcasm did nothing to ease his frustration. <em>You know what? Screw waiting, I'm going home. Clearly, nobody wants to read — I shouldn't be surprised with how hard it is to get new researchers to join Literary Sciences. I just… I had higher hopes.</em></p> <p>Luca stood from his chair, and began to make his way over to the meeting room door; he had put up a sign, to make sure that everybody knew they were in the right place for book club. It wasn't like he needed it anymore, taking it down was the first step in admitting defeat.</p> <p>"He— hello?" A husky whisper of a voice said, as the door opened and a figure Luca didn't recognize stood in the doorway. "Is this the— did I miss Reading Club? I know I'm late, but I got lost and then… Looks like everybody else is gone though, sorry for bothering you."</p> <p>Luca realized that he had still been glaring, the surprise of a new human throwing him off. With a straightening of his back, and a gentle smile, he reoriented himself and held out a hand to the woman. "Wait! Come on in, we had a bit of a late start, so make yourself comfortable! There's snacks on the sides and—" he paused, gesturing at the empty room, "Plenty of seats, so pick anywhere you would like."</p> <p>"Oh, that's great! Do you know who else is coming late then?"</p> <p><em>What do I say?</em></p> <p>The woman had set her bag down on a chair near Luca's cookie platter, and turned to face him with an awkward smile.</p> <p>"Hi, sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Heather Garrison, I'm a Junior Researcher here. Nice to meet you?" Heather said, the words tumbling out in quick succession.</p> <p>Luca smiled back warmly. "Luca Armaros, Head of the Literary Sciences Department. Pleasure to meet you."</p> <p>"Oh. Can I be honest?" Heather asked, making a small plate of snacks. Without waiting for an answer, she continued. "I've never heard of the Literary Sciences Department."</p> <p>Luca let out an involuntary self-deprecating chuckle. "I'm not surprised, books and adaptations aren't the 'flashiest' area of research, and our department is pretty tiny." <em>Despite all the work we do around here to keep everybody safe.</em> He thought, keeping the final part to himself.</p> <p>To her credit, Heather seemed to understand what he didn't say, sharing a knowing look. "Well, I'm not very important, but I like stories?"</p> <p>"I'm glad you made it. And stories are delightful, I'd love to be part of one, one day!" Luca said, waiting for Heather's laughter. It never came. "Anyways, let's sit down and then we can get started!"</p> <p>"Oh!" came Heather's reply as she sat down in her chair.</p> <p><em>Please don't ask.</em> Luca silently prayed to himself.</p> <p>"What about… aren't we waiting for everybody else?"</p> <p><em>She had to ask. Oh pancakes.</em></p> <p>Luca let out a sheepish grin, and started rubbing the back of his neck. "To be honest, I think that you are the only person who planned on coming tonight. I understand if you don't want to just sit in a room with me talking about Les Mi—"</p> <p>"What? No I definitely <em>need</em> to talk about this book with somebody." Heather interjected, looking at Luca with the most intensity he had seen out of the woman.</p> <p>"Oh, right!" Luca said, doing his best to hide his surprise. "We might as well begin then. What did you think of the book?"</p> <p>"Eh, I don't think it was for me."</p> <p><em>Why was she so intense about this book then?</em></p> <p>"How so?" Luca asked, unsure of how to maintain a book club with only two people.</p> <p>"Oh right, sorry. I keep a lot of thoughts in my head normally. Let me think." Heather paused for a moment, and Luca watched as her eyes began vibrating, flicking side to side, glazing over as she got lost in her thoughts. <em>Is she… is she okay?</em> Just as he was about to call medical, she regained focus and started to talk.</p> <p>"I thought that Hugo's characterizations of his female characters were lacking in both agency and depth, the plot was interesting, but doesn't feel like it was doing anything incredible, and I thought that Enjolras and Grantaire should have ended up together, like I know why they weren't, but come on, seriously? They're so queer coded that it hurts."</p> <p><em>Feminist and queer theoretical frameworks!</em> Luca thought with excitement, realizing that this was better than a room full of overly-agreeable researchers just echoing the exact same opinions. Luca loved understanding the <em>why</em>, but he never expected somebody outside of his department to have the level of reading comprehension to use literary theory for a casual book club.</p> <p>"Agreed, the almost deification Grantaire has for Enjolras is definitely driven by a subtextual queer crush, especially in a time when queer relationships were relegated to the sidelines. I'd argue that every time Grantaire expresses any support for the rebellion, he does so because he is unable to express his emotions towards Enjolras."</p> <p>"Oh, definitely. It feels very intentional that Hugo had Grantaire drunk throughout, an act of avoidance for his true feelings." Heather was leaning forward, having broken through whatever mental barrier she had earlier.</p> <p>"Okay, one second. You said you didn’t like the book, and you have opinions on it?” Luca stated with undeniable glee in his voice. “I <em>need</em> to hear them.”</p> <p>Heather laughed awkwardly, shrugging. "Yeah, well, I… I have a lot of opinions on things, even things I hate." She paused for a moment, considering Luca's question, before continuing. "My favourite part was… thank god you're the only person in the room, this is embarrassing."</p> <p>"It's alright, this is a judgement free zone. Was it the romance? The class politics? Hugo's detailed descriptions of classical French architecture? Maybe it was <em>the orphan</em>?" Again, Luca paused, before continuing. "Sorry, go ahead Heather."</p> <p>"I liked the sewers."</p> <hr/> <p><em>Oh god, did I really just fucking say that?</em> Heather thought to herself as she stared at Luca's momentarily confused face. <em>The sewers? God what a fucking stupid answer, maybe I can just stay for a bit longer and then—</em></p> <p>"Fascinating."</p> <p><em>Huh?</em></p> <p>"I find that the non-diagetic asides Hugo uses throughout his works are fascinating, potentially some of the most narratively interesting sections. What was it about the sewer sections that you found so fascinating?" Luca leaned forward and was looking at Heather intently, bouncing up and down in his seat. For the first time this evening, Luca looked excited — and maybe he was finally considering her interesting, maybe even… intelligent?</p> <p>With a renewed courage, Heather answered. "Honestly, there was something really… I don't know, authentic? Magical? Real? That section was incredible; while reading it, I could picture myself within the sewers, I created a mental map of the crisscrossing tunnels, I smelled the sewage and I felt like I was there. Sure, the Battle of Waterloo parts were more detailed, and had more authenticity to the moments but— there is just something about the sewers that feels distinct from the novel and how he usually writes. Something… I can't think of the word, intangible?"</p> <p>"Fleeting?" Luca suggested.</p> <p>"Yes! The sewers feel like a reflection of life while you're reading the section, but the moment you're through, it becomes almost inert? Like whatever force had been driving and creating that immersive worldscape was just… gone. I don't know, sorry, I don't think that was a very good explanation."</p> <p>Luca shook his head. "No, that was brilliant. That's exactly what I felt too; Hugo had so many details that felt inconsequential, but are critical and fundamental to being transported to the place and time of the book. We are able to embody his place as observer in the narrative because of how he creates context."</p> <p>"Absolutely, that was how I felt!" Heather laughed. "I just know that it's a boring answer, like… who cares about that dry kind of descriptions? Other than me, that is."</p> <p>Heather looked at Luca, who was currently lost in thought. He had a kind face, but his glasses gave him a distinct harshness. <em>I wonder how much of him is authentic?</em> she mused, as she waited for a reply. The silence between them, once awkward, was now settling into something more akin to ease. After some time, Luca took a sip of his drink, and returned his focus to Heather.</p> <p>"Sorry about the delay, I got lost in the <em>pages</em>." Another pause. "It’s about finding meaning, isn’t it? Using the text as data, with both subjective and objective connotations to our world. Hermeneutics — ever heard the term before?”</p> <p><em>Hermeneutics? And wait, was that a joke? Should I have laughed? Oh god, I think it was, but I can't laugh now, it's way too late. Uhh, crap. And now I'm ignoring him, again. Great job, Heath, you're killing the social thing tonight! Fuck. Right. The answer.</em></p> <p>"Hermeneutics? It sounds fam—"</p> <p>"What is your specialty, Heather, if you don't mind me asking?" Luca interrupted, unable to contain his excitement, his index fingers arched and pressed together in a point.</p> <p>"Oh, well," Heather said, dancing around the topic, "I'm a bit of a generalist, I just kind of get whatever assignment my supervisor gives me. It's mostly paperwork, I don't get to do a lot of practical research."</p> <p>"Let me rephrase my question then: what do you <em>like</em> to research and study?"</p> <p>"Oh that's easy. Memetics. Being able to make, control and modify a concept, bending it to your needs and purposes? I love that, and it just… it makes sense to my brain? I've actually been working on the side on a really bi— actually, you know what? Never mind. But yeah! Memetics!"</p> <p><em>Oh my god, I sound like an idiot.</em></p> <p>"Memetics? Heather, can I tell you about Hermeneutics? I think you'll find them really interesting." Luca said, a wicked smile framed by a glint shining off of his glasses.</p> <p><em>Why… why does it feel like this is a trap?</em> Heather thought, unsure how to respond. <em>No, I need to push myself. This is how you make friends, right?</em></p> <p>"I'd love to learn about them." She said, fighting to conceal the hesitation in her voice.</p> <p>She just couldn't shake the thought that Luca looked like an editor that smelled fresh ink on the page…</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h4 id="toc5"><span><span style="color: grey">2019</span></span></h4> </div> <p>"Oh my god." Lillian interrupted. She had slid off of the couch, and was now stretched out on the floor, staring at the ceiling. She leaned forward and looked at Heather. "Is he the reason you're so obsessed with the… uhhh what do you call them… 'Hermie Fullers'?"</p> <p>"So am I supposed to pretend that you don't have an eidetic memory?" Heather said, knowing Lillian was being an asshole on purpose.</p> <p>"You will if you love me?" Lillian said, a rare, playful lightness to her voice.</p> <p>"Well then I guess my answer is yes, Luca is the reason I fell in love with the idea of Hermeneutics. Hell, it was part of my inspiration for my Deadna—"</p> <p>Heather paused for a second, a headache coming on fast. After a moment, it faded.</p> <p>"Sorry about that. Where was I?"</p> <p>"You and Luca were about to bond over your little nerd thing." She was begging for it now. But Heather ignored her; attention was what Lillian wanted, and she never liked to make it <em>too</em> easy.</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h4 id="toc6"><span><span style="color: grey">2016</span></span></h4> </div> <p>"—like cognitohazards! But instead of doing just one thing, it restructures reality around said concept, like an adaptation. Fairy tales, folklore, literature – they’re all susceptible to the ability of reshaping the world through the point of view of those interacting with it." Luca had given Heather the complete crash course in hermeneutics, and she had absorbed it like a bone-dry sponge. <em>The question is,</em> Luca mused, <em>how much of that did she understand?</em></p> <p>"Okay so," Heather began, the gears turning as she spoke, "A hermeneutic is effectively a memetic complex that represents a specific idea, including context? And when the concept is observed, the hermeneutic filters the memetic complex through the ontological context of the observer, and through that, changes the meaning of the memetic complex, restructuring baseline reality to match the new definition?"</p> <p>When Heather finally finished, she took a deep inhale, out of breath from voicing her firehose of a mind. She looked at Luca, waiting for him to answer.</p> <p><em>Oh, I'm definitely flipping stealing her for my department.</em> Luca thought, already planning the paperwork in his head, without asking. Realizing that she was still waiting for an answer, he cleared his throat and replied.</p> <p>"Yeah, that's… that's very technically phrased. Interesting." He chuckled. "I hadn't considered it that way, given my background in Literary Sciences, but, you're already going above and beyond! You took my explanation, and adapted it into your own framework. Marvelous."</p> <p>Heather beamed at the praise, straightening her back, slowly allowing herself to take up more space within the room.</p> <p>"Awesome. I just have to assume it works that way, unless I was able to research one up close. I doubt I'll get the chance though, given the amount of fucking paperwork I have assigned."</p> <p>Luca hadn't expected the inaugural book club meeting to go quite like this — he had mentally prepared for a number of scenarios, none of which included this weird little wonder of a researcher. <em>I wonder…</em></p> <p>"Well, if you're interested, I might be able to get you reassigned to a little side project I'm wo—"</p> <p>"Yes." Heather interjected, a strange boldness in her voice. "Please." With just a hint of desperation.</p> <p>"I'll see what I can do."</p> <hr/> <p>Despite the typically monotonous and glacial speed of the bureaucracy that was The Foundation, Luca was able to get Heather temporarily reassigned to his personal project; half of the process was tracking down her supervisor. As the <em>brilliant</em> mind from the well-funded Applied Ontokinetics department struggled to remember an <em>actually</em> talented researcher, Luca waited patiently. After a painful amount of time, he finally remembered who Heather was, and was more than happy to pawn her off, even temporarily.</p> <p>Luca wasn't impressed.</p> <p>He'd gotten into the Literary Sciences department main study room early, in preparation for Heather's arrival this morning.</p> <p><em>What do we think? More books, or less? What says — oh, I'm a scholar and this is my domain, but also isn't too intimidating… are the scrolls too much?</em> Unfortunately for Luca, his musing was interrupted when a storm cloud entered the room; Heather, hood pulled over her shoulder length hair, and a scowl on her face.</p> <p>"Had a bad night?" Luca inquired, unsure how to respond.</p> <p>"Coffee." Heather muttered in a terse reply.</p> <p><em>I knew she was a coffee girl.</em> Luca reached behind him, and offered a still-warm cup of coffee that he had picked up this morning in preparation. "I don't know how you take your coffee, so I left it bl—"</p> <p>"Black is fine." Heather interrupted, before she took a large swig of the coffee, enjoying the smell of the fresh brew. "Sorry about that. Couldn't sleep last night."</p> <p>"Were you worried about something?" Luca asked, sensing another wayward soul in need of nurturing. <em>She is just around a decade older than Meri. Maybe I can try to arrange a playdate…</em></p> <p>Luca's distraction was quickly ended when Heather finished the mug of coffee and finally replied. "No, not worried."</p> <p>"What was it then?"</p> <p>"I couldn't stop thinking about the idea of using a hermeneutic to your advantage. Could somebody prepare themselves and make sure that they almost… superimposed their control onto the hermeneutic, changing it at will instead of on the initial trigger? I don't know if you would know, but you've dealt with them in person, right?"</p> <p>Luca shifted slightly, feeling the back of his shirt straining ever-so-slightly. A shiver ran through his feathers. <em>Come on, let's get these particular protuberances back under control, no need to panic.</em></p> <p>"Yes, you can say that. And I can confirm that the right individual can exert extra control over a hermeneutic, although it is rare, and depends on the class of hermeneutic."</p> <p>"Right," Heather nodded, "I forgot about the different classes."</p> <p><em>I bet she could be a force unto her own one day.</em> Luca thought, smiling at the Junior Researcher he had just taken under his wing. <em>That is, of course, with the proper guidance.</em></p> <p>"No matter. Now, I got distracted but, allow me to welcome you into the Literary Science's primary study room, or as I like to call it, <em>The Booknook</em>." That one got a chuckle out of Heather. Smiling even wider, Luca continued. "It's pretty simple, we have worktables, shelf after shelf of esoteric books and non-anomalous reference texts, Foundation standard terminals, and best of all, that corner over there is mine!"</p> <hr/> <p>Heather looked around the room with an appraising eye. <em>I still can't fucking believe I walked in here like a teenager. I know my hormones are throwing me off, but, come on girl, at least try to be professional?</em></p> <p>She took everything in; the room was large, but not massively so. Everything was the same dull grey and white concrete that permeated the rest of Site-19. Everything, except Luca's corner, which he had painted a soft light blue. <em>Robin egg blue, maybe?</em></p> <p>The tables were in a large central atrium, each dark wooden desk spanning eight feet, at least. They were old, heavy, and clashed desperately with the brutalist architecture. The discrepancy amused Heather. <em>You know what? I think I could get accustomed to a workspace like this.</em></p> <p>"So? What do you think?" Luca prompted, at which point Heather belatedly realized that she had been mentally somewhere else.</p> <p>"I got lost in my thoughts." Thankfully, Luca seemed to give her a knowing look, so she continued with renewed confidence. "This is way better than the small offices I usually see."</p> <p>"I think so too." Luca turned, and began heading in the direction of his desk. "Come along now, I have something I want you to take a look at."</p> <p><em>Right, come on, Heather. You need to make a good impression. Who knows what will happen if you fuck this up, do you really think you can just crawl back to that idiot?</em> Heather's mind raced through possibilities as she followed Luca over to his desk.</p> <p>"Take a look at what I have on the computer." Luca said, offering her the desk chair. She sat, and pulled the seat in.</p> <p>"Uhhh… that is… well… that's a very cute picture of your… <em>deer person</em>?" Heather stuttered, unable to find the right words to describe the girl in the picture. She looked to be a normal teenager, maybe 16 or 17, but with deer-like features, ears and antlers, and fur covering her body. She was wearing a flower crown, and grinning ear to ear.</p> <p>"Oh." Luca said, leaning over to shuffle the mouse. "That's just my screensaver — That’s Meri, she’s very important to me. Technically I’m her uncle, but it’s a very long <em>story</em>." Luca said, chuckling at his unintelligible joke.</p> <p><em>I still don't understand his sense of humor, but maybe I can fake it?</em> Heather let out a pitiful laugh, but thankfully, Luca's reaction told her that it was appreciated.</p> <p>"Okay, right, here's the document I wanted you to take a look at."</p> <hr/> <div class="terminal" style="padding-top:16em;"> <div class="parapost reply0"> <p><span style="color: green"><strong>pnwExplorer82739</strong></span> 09/20/16 (Tue) 21:17:54 #65932613</p> <hr/> <p>Hey everybody, I was hiking up just west of Stevens Pass, by the old abandoned rail lines, when I heard something… following me in the woods.</p> <p>I didn't know what to think, I don't fully believe in monsters, but you all have shown me the truth, and I can't help but think that I almost ran into something. There was tons of graffiti, talking about the 'Iron Goat'. Does anybody have more information?</p> </div> <div class="parapost reply1"> <p><span style="color: red"><strong>greebly</strong></span> 09/20/16 (Tue) 21:47:22 #65932614</p> <hr/> <p>lmao goated</p> </div> <div class="parapost reply1"> <p><span style="color: green"><strong>rentonwatch006</strong></span> 09/21/16 (Wed) 02:11:46 #65932617</p> <hr/> <p>hey there pnwexplorer, yeah, i've heard about the legend of the iron goat before, but it was a while ago. i remember vague pieces of the story, but it's all muddled thanks to time</p> <p>here is what i do remember:</p> <ul> <li>the iron goat was there long before the railroad ever existed</li> <li>it's a friendly nature spirit that protects the pass</li> <li>you can see the iron goat if you bring it some scrap metal</li> </ul> <p>like i said, idk, i don't remember much, but hopefully that helps</p> </div> <div class="parapost reply3"> <p><span style="color: blue"><strong>hunter2937201</strong></span> 09/21/16 (Wed) 11:05:56 #65932633</p> <hr/> <p>What? No way, that's not the right story. The Iron Goat is actually just a man, a settler who got lost near the pass and was separated from his group. The snow was blowing wildly, and he could barely see two feet in front of him. He saw the mouth of a tunnel up ahead, and thanking his lucky stars, made a beeline towards it. And then <strong>WHAM</strong>, a train hit him head on, sending the body tumbling into the woods. It was so snowy out that the conductor didn't even notice…</p> <p>They say he still walks those rails, hoping to save the next victim from his grisly fate…</p> </div> <div class="parapost reply4"> <p><span style="color: yellow"><strong>bigfootisamilf</strong></span> 09/21/16 (Wed) 17:30:16 #65932645</p> <hr/> <p>No way. The Iron Goat is just that; a goat made out of iron.</p> <p>My grandad told me stories when I was growing up about the time he met it while hunting out there. He saw something moving in a bush, just out of sight — thinking it was a deer, he took aim with his rifle and fired!</p> <p>He ran over to the bush, and what he saw shocked him to his core. A goat, organic but not, rusted and made of a hard, rigid metal. His spent bullet sat on the ground, having glanced off of the beast like it was nothing. The Iron Goat turned, looked my grandfather dead in the eyes, a devilish red glow where its eyeballs should be. It roared at him, lunging forward and <strong>SNAP</strong> took a bite right out of his rifle. My grandfather ran as fast as he could, and never went back.</p> <p>He might have the gun still, I'll have to ask him…</p> </div> </div> <hr/> <p>"So?" Luca asked once Heather had finished reading the thread. "What do you think?"</p> <p>Heather paused for a moment, considering what he was <em>really</em> asking. She couldn't decide, so she chose to answer every way she could.</p> <p>"I think that they're a bunch of losers, mediocre writers, at <em>best</em> — there's no way that any version of this is actually accurate, hell, I fucking grew up in Redmond and I've never heard of the 'Legend of The Iron Goat' or whatever campfire stories they've made up. You want a big metal goat? Try Spokane." Heather paused, catching her breath momentarily, before continuing with the same fervor. "But if you're asking about what I think is going on, other than the few individuals who are making shit up? There are enough similarities between the experiences, but each is significantly different, but personal to the individual who 'met' the Iron Goat. You think that it's a hermeneutic, right?"</p> <hr/> <p>Luca stared at the formerly introverted junior researcher as she ranted, going through every permutation of what she thought about what she had read. When he had first met Heather at the book club, she was drawn into herself, almost trying to make her presence as unnoticeable as possible; now she was speaking wildly with her hands and punctuating her thoughts with physicality.</p> <p><em>She's… she's literally 'opening up' to me.</em> Luca kept his laughter to himself, and continued to listen. When Heather had finally finished, he smiled brightly at her.</p> <p>"I knew there was more to you than just a Junior Researcher. Exactly right, I believe that 'The Legend of The Iron Goat' is an urban legend, but one that was created through the existence of a hermeneutic. I've theorized for years that folklore, urban legends and fairytales all have origins deeply rooted in hermeneutics, and the reinterpretations of reality that so closely mimics the evolution of stories, rumors and mythos as they spread from individual to individual. I've seen a hermeneutic inspiring stories and fairytales; but if we can track this down, then we can potentially find concrete evidence of an urban legend that comes from a hermeneutic, opening an entirely new field of research. For example, with a cryptid like 'The Mothman', is it a cryptozoological anomaly, or was it created through a hermeneutic? Did it evolve and change to adapt, or was it changed by the narrative?"</p> <p>Luca had carefully watched Heather during his spiel, expecting to see the typical glazing over of the eyes, the distracted and blank looks to appear on her face, the annoyance at having to listen to a librarian wax poetic about the implications of a single sentence; but he was wrong. No, where he had expected boredom, he saw an intensity that he had only seen a few times before.</p> <p>"So," Heather asked, her voice tense and low, "Let's go find ourselves the 'Iron Goat'."</p> <p><em><a href="/scp-8166">In the garden.</a></em> He remembered, <em>She has the same look in her eyes as he did, the bastard. They both felt the same; trapped in who they were. She's going to seize her narrative.</em></p> <p>Luca knew that there would be one of two outcomes for a person like Heather; skyrocketing success and a masterful level of expertise, or she would run hot, burn out and fade into nothingness. He would do his best to mentor her, but… he had watched too many brilliant talents get chewed up and spit out by the cogs that were The Foundation.</p> <p><em>I hope she beats the odds.</em></p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h4 id="toc7"><span><span style="color: grey">2019</span></span></h4> </div> <p>"Now <em>that's</em> the woman I know and love: loud, rambling and a genius." Lillian said, leaning in closer to Heather.</p> <p>"You're bored." Heather challenged.</p> <p>"What? Heather, how could you? This is a fascinating story, I really liked the part where you talked about books." The sarcasm was barely concealed; a dare, tempting a response.</p> <p>"I think," Heather said breathily, nearing her girlfriend, grazing the lobe of her ear, "You just have something… else on your mind."</p> <p>"Fuck." Lillian whispered, drawing out the vowel and biting her lip. She began to turn, leaning in and moving to kiss Heather and—</p> <p>Heather put her finger on Lillian's lips, stopping her in her tracks. Lillian narrowed her eyes in response.</p> <p>"Patience, my sweet." Heather teased. "You'll get your reward later. Now, I can tell you're bored, but if you really want to understand the story, to feel the hermeneutic? You need to listen. Let me skip ahead."</p> <p>Lillian was stunned, if only for the moment. Not many women could do that to her; if Heather had her way, she would be the <em>only</em> woman who did.</p> <p>Lillian wanted Heather to have her way. So she just nodded, and listened.</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h4 id="toc8"><span><span style="color: grey">2016</span></span></h4> </div> <p>It was a crisp and cold fall day, the memories of the warmer seasons having been replaced with falling leaves, bone-chilling breezes, and a smell in the air that Heather loved. <em>God it smells like the woods… obviously, girl, you're in the fucking woods.</em></p> <p>She looked over at her companion, Luca, who stuck out like a sore thumb. He was dressed like a boy scout; if boy scouts carried large reference tomes with them deep in the woods. His knees said 'we never go outside', but the cargo shorts he had on screamed 'be prepared!'</p> <p>All in all, Luca looked firmly out of place, and he knew it.</p> <p>"So, Heather, do you go hiking a lot?" He asked, ending the comfortable quiet the two had been enjoying on their walk. They had met this morning at the foot of the Iron Goat Trail, and began the hike to the general area where the Iron Goat had last been spotted. The progress was slow, but steady.</p> <p>"Not really?" Heather replied, blowing some hair out of her face. "I used to go hiking a lot with my mom, back before I got hired by The Foundation. Now, I don't really have any spare time."</p> <p>"I understand that. Do you know that I used to play the french horn?" Luca asked.</p> <p>"No. But also, I did just meet you a few days ago." Heather said, grinning.</p> <p>"Ahh, so you did." Luca nodded, "Well, back when I was just starting out at The Foundation, I used to play the french horn daily. I would practice my favorite concertos, fugues, music that allowed me to express the emotions that I had pent up from the day's drudgery; all of that changed after the Garden." He looked away, pretending to consult his map.</p> <p><em>'The Garden'? You shouldn't pry Heather, that would be rude.</em> Sometimes, we ignore our internal voices; Heather, more often than most. "Was that just a regular garden, ooh, maybe it was 'The Secret Garden'?"</p> <p>Luca chuckled. "In a way, I suppose, it was a secretive garden… Aha! Heather, look over there!" Luca was pointing through the trees in the general direction of… nothing.</p> <p>"Where?" Heather asked, worrying that there was a memetic effect already beginning.</p> <p>"The railroad tracks; they're just over to our left, on the ground."</p> <p>Ah. That would do it then. Once she knew what she was looking for, Heather immediately located the rails, following them with her eyes, and noting a tunnel mouth in the distance.</p> <p>"Do you think we're close to the Iron Goat?" She asked, deferring to the expert. Unfortunately for her, Luca stared back at her blankly.</p> <p>"To be honest, I'm not quite sure." Luca frowned, looking at the map he had prepared before they arrived. It had markers of the estimated locations of sightings, giving them a general, but large area to search within. "Frankly, even if we are in the right place, I don't know what the next step is."</p> <p>Oh right. In all of their excitement to get out here and find the anomaly, neither had considered what they would do when they actually got here.</p> <p>"Shit. I thought you had a plan." Heather said, embarrassed. <em>I just figured, with that many pockets…</em></p> <p>"And I hoped one would spring into my mind fully formed once we neared; alas, the muses must be avoiding me today." Luca chuckled to himself, then continued. "Anyways, let's walk to the tunnel mouth first, and go from there?"</p> <p>Heather nodded. That would at least give her a bit more time to zone out and figure out their next steps.</p> <p>Hopefully.</p> <hr/> <p>Luca and Heather stood in front of a large tunnel entrance; the train used to run right through the mountains, concrete and cramped. <em>Not unlike the hallways at Site-19,</em> Luca thought, bemusedly.</p> <p>He turned and looked at Heather, who was still lost in her thoughts. "So," he prompted, "what do you think?"</p> <p>Heather took a second, but her focus stirred as she evaluated the tunnel and looked at Luca.</p> <p>"Well, I was thinking."</p> <p>"I could tell." He teased, much like an uncle would.</p> <p>"Right. Anyways, I was thinking about the encounters that people had with the Iron Goat, and I noticed a pattern. All of the stories that were shared, well, they were stories that had been told to another person. Almost like—"</p> <p>"Like a form of oral folklore and local storytelling traditions?" Luca finished, realizing where Heather's mind went. <em>Interesting. Using narrative to find the hermeneutic.</em></p> <p>"Exactly. So that made me think; if we just keep walking, I doubt we'll find it. But, what if we make up a new story?" She asked, a devilish grin on her face.</p> <p>"We make a new story?" Luca asked, the cogs in his head spinning. "Right, then we should get back to the Site and start writing." He began to spin and walk away, but Heather was not following.</p> <p>"No." She said, tersely, before continuing.</p> <p>"An urban legend is the same as a campfire story; it's a story told verbally to another, not written down, but one that morphs over time as the storytellers change. What if we just told each other "The Legend of the Iron Goat", but shifted the meaning, causing it to… appear?"</p> <p>Heather trailed off as she got to the end, the same inner doubt creeping back into her voice.</p> <p>Luca was thoroughly impressed. "That's brilliant. Narrate away, protégé." He asked, gesturing for her to lead the way into the tunnels. They both took out flashlights, and entered. Neither could know what lay ahead of them, but maybe, they could change that.</p> <hr/> <p>"Have you ever heard the Legend of the Iron Goat?" Heather asked aloud, a few minutes into the tunnel. She had been racing in her mind, trying to figure out the best way to frame the narrative, to tell the story, to redefine the idea; after a few minutes of panic, she finally felt like she had a solid plan.</p> <p>"Oh, is this a call and response? Or was that rhetorical?" Luca asked, his large floppy hat rendered useless by the fact that they were in a sunless tunnel.</p> <p>"Either way?" Heather shrugged, and continued. "Well, it happened long ago, on a day just like today."</p> <p>"Spooky indeed."</p> <p>"There was a work crew; ten of the strongest men the nearby towns had to offer. There was a problem in the tunnels, a cave-in, and the rail company had dispatched them to clear the blockage before the next train was due. The pressure was on, and the time left was getting shorter by the second."</p> <p>A dull sound echoed through the tunnels, reverberating and sending a shiver down Heather's back. The hair stood up on her arms. <em>Maybe I'm doing something right.</em></p> <p>"The blockage was deep in the mountain; most of the men grew up in the area, but the foreman was older than most and had lived nearby for a long time. The men heard a noise; a rough, grinding sound of metal shearing against itself, an animalistic cry fused with industry. The foreman stopped dead in his tracks."</p> <p>"I like the direction." Luca looked around the tunnel quizzically, as if trying to infer something ineffable. He looked at Heather and asked, "So what happened next?"</p> <p>"The other men turned and asked 'Why are you stopping? Afraid of a little bit of rock?' The foreman shook his head, and said 'No. I fear the beast that calls these tunnels home.'"</p> <p>An ear-splitting roar echoed through the tunnels, as Heather and Luca quickly covered their ears. It was the sound of metal grinding against itself, the cry of a beast long dormant.</p> <p>The Iron Goat.</p> <p>After the sound faded, Luca broke the silence first. "Well, it appears that you were correct. Let us continue, but keep your guard up." Heather nodded back, continuing to tell the tale.</p> <p>"The foreman explained to the other men that there was once a creature, almost a goat, but not quite. There was something wrong, something otherworldly; something dangerous about this goat. The story goes that one day a hunter came to claim a new trophy; he had tracked the beast to the mouth of the tunnel, and chased it further inside. It was a cornered animal, and the hunter had no idea what he was about to face."</p> <p>Both Luca and Heather cocked their heads, hearing a quiet, rhythmic noise from deep within the dark recesses of the tunnel.</p> <p>"Do you think it's a train?" Heather asked.</p> <p>"No, the train hasn't run in decades." Luca said, shaking his head in concern. "Maybe we should turn back and return with an MTF?"</p> <p>"And miss out on the discovery? I don't know about you, but I would rather see and discover an anomaly, rather than finding a corpse." Heather snorted in derision, thinking of how the Mobile Task Force agents had treated her at Site-19. "We can do this, right?"</p> <p>"Alright. But at the first sign of danger, we're getting out of here."</p> <p>Heather nodded, as the two edged deeper and deeper into the abyssal tunnels.</p> <p>"The Hunter had the beast trapped, and he finally laid his eyes on the monster: it was a goat, larger than life, thick dark fur and a dangerous look in its eyes. It began to slowly advance on the Hunter, who grabbed a cord off of the ground. You see, the Hunter had planned in advance - he only cared about the kill, and didn't want to risk a bullet grazing the beast. He had set up explosives, set to detonate when the cord was lit; it would explode into a storm of shrapnel, slaying the beast and allowing the Hunter to claim his reward. He waited, biding his time until the monster was in place. It approached slowly. Clop. Clop. Clop. Its cloven hooves echoed through the tunnels, a steady timer until the Hunter would win."</p> <p>The sound was getting closer to Heather and Luca now. <em>Are those… no, it's just a story, right?</em> The realization hit Heather, who felt like an idiot. <em>Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck, why the fuck did I make this a horror story?</em></p> <p>Luca saw the concern on Heather's face, and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright?"</p> <p>She shook her head. "No, but what are we going to do? We're this far, now we need to…"</p> <p>"Finish the story." Luca picking up where Heather had trailed off.</p> <p>"Right."</p> <p>The rhythmic thudding was getting closer, just out of sight, but dangerously close.</p> <p>"The beast was finally in place; with a flash, the Hunter lit the cord and— boom! The metal exploded, flying through the air, a storm of iron careening right at the beast. Now, the Hunter couldn't have know this, but the creature he was hunting had a… unique trait. He watched as the shrapnel hit the goat, but— instead of felling the target, it seemed to dissolve as it hit the goat. The metal melting, being absorbed by the former prey. The Hunter panicked, pulling out his rifle and quickly firing off multiple rounds; they didn't even do so much as stunning the beast, disappearing on contact as it advanced further onto him. It finally came into the light, and he could see the beast properly. This was no goat; it towered over him, a hulking beast made of metal, the iron sculpted and shaped around it's body. No, the Hunter realized, it was the creature. The Iron Goat was just that; a goat made of iron, forged in the deepest pits of hell."</p> <p>The sounds that echoed through the tunnel changed; at first neither researcher noticed, but an echoing metallic ringing stopped them in their tracks. The sound of metal stomping onto metal. The sound of the Iron Goat.</p> <p>"Did that do it?" Heather asked, looking to Luca for the answers. Unfortunately for them both, Luca was drawing a blank.</p> <p>"I'm unsure. If it did, I fear that we may have made a beast unlike any I have faced before." The look on Luca's face was grim, sobering Heather and panicking her to the core.</p> <p>"What are we going to do?" Heather asked, the noise of the Iron Goat getting closer and closer.</p> <p>Luca shook his head. "Hope for the best, and begin our retreat. I know this wasn't a huge success, but we did confirm that we are able to shift the meaning of the urban legend through storytelling. That is more than sufficient evidence to suggest that this is, in fact, a hermeneutic."</p> <p>"Right." Heather said, unsure, but trusting her senior.</p> <p>They turned and began to make their way towards the exit but— the sound was gaining on them, getting closer and closer with each second.</p> <p>"Do we start running?" Heather asked, half-serious, half-panicking. <em>If I fucking die in a cave, I'm going to kick my ghost ass for all eternity.</em></p> <p>"There has never been a situation made better by—" Luca froze, cutting himself off and putting out an arm to stop Heather. They were nearing a fork in the tunnel that they had passed earlier. Now, just around the bend, the footsteps returned. Louder. Metal crashing against the rock with every step. Closer, and closer still.</p> <p>The two were silent, frozen and each trying to think their way out of this situation. <em>Oh god, what the fuck do I do? I… I fucking killed us, just because I got too caught up in telling the story. I fucking made it even more dangerous, god damn it!</em></p> <p>Suddenly, the noise stopped. The beast's final step echoed through the tunnel before fading into an unnatural and deadly stillness. The two researchers shared an uncertain look; after a beat, Heather spoke.</p> <p>"Do you think we'r—"</p> <p>The beast lunged out of the pitch black darkness, the crashing force of metal charging towards Heather, just feet away. She didn't have the time to dodge, let alone the skills to do so.</p> <p><em>Fuck. This is the end. Fucking overconfidence.</em> The morbid realization hit her: these would be her final thoughts. She closed her eyes tight, and waited.</p> <p>But the blow never came. Instead, metal crashed against metal, a reverent chime echoing through, a glow that was visible through her shut eyes. She slowly opened them and—</p> <p><em>What the fuck is going on?</em></p> <p>Luca Armaros, the Director of Literary Sciences at Site-19, the quiet, geeky man she had grown to know over the past few days, stood in front of her, a shimmering, shifting blade in his hand. He seemed to be glowing, a light blue pulsating around him — in the air, translucent wings floated behind him, an intangible span of feathers blocking the way between her and the beast. The sword had clashed against the Iron Goat, but it was locked in a stalemate.</p> <p>"Are you okay?" Luca called out, grunting and straining to hold back the beast. The Iron Goat's jaws clamped down on the blade, teeth grinding and ending at the hilt, showering sparks across the floor of the tunnel. She caught brief glances of the two, sparks lighting the tunnel with each hit — Luca using the entirety of his will to hold the Goat back, straining with effort. Black smog coiled out from the Goat’s nostrils, spilling onto the floor; it wrenched down on him with all of its tremendous weight, but he held firm.</p> <p>"Wh— Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay, but, uhhh, what the fuck is going on?" Heather yelled, having lost complete control of herself. "Are you holding a fucking sword?"</p> <p>"Long story, but, I don't know how much longer I can—" Luca was interrupted when the beast reared back and stomped, rusted feet plummeting towards him. He quickly rolled to the side, slashing across his body with the weapon, sparks shooting out as metal wrenched against metal. Luca seemed to glow with an unnatural light, a satisfied look on his face. But if was for naught; the Iron Goat roared, flinching back, but showed no sign of damage.</p> <p>"What the fuck do we do now?" Heather asked, her hands shaking as she tried to think. <em>Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!</em></p> <p>"Do something, try to shift the narrative!" Luca said, out of breath, clashing with the beast; they seemed to alternate, each taking a swing, but neither gaining an edge. Luca was not quite graceful, but intentional; the Iron Goat was fierce, and unrelenting. The two were evenly matched.</p> <p>"Give it a weakness, a flaw, something! I need you to figure this out, I have to focus on—" In his distraction, Luca had let his guard down momentarily. The beast sensed his weakness, and swung its head to attack. Gnarled, twisted, corroded horns connected with Luca's torso, and in a sharp crack, he was flung against the wall with a sickening thud. His backpack cushioned the blow, but the impact still knocked the wind out of him. He lay there.</p> <p>Motionless.</p> <p>The beast turned it's attention to Heather, and began advancing on its prey.</p> <p><em>Figure something out? Sure, easy enough, I'll figure out how to stop the Iron Goat, because, apparently, not only do you have a magic fucking sword, but, somehow, that's still not enough to kill it. What the fuck am I going to—</em></p> <p>And then a thought popped into Heather's mind. She didn't know where it came from, or why she made the realization, but she knew that she had to trust her gut. <em>I need to… I need to keep telling the story.</em></p> <p>"The men looked at the foreman askance, his tale far too fanciful to be true. They laughed, as the foreman looked at the ground sheepishly." Heather paused, waiting for something to change. Nothing did.</p> <p><em>Shit, still nothing.</em> The beast continued to advance on her. <em>If I can't undo this, then…</em></p> <p>Another idea. Trusting herself, she continued, Luca still dazed and out of the fight.</p> <p>"Suddenly, the men were surprised when a loud crash echoed through the tunnels, reverberating and shaking the rock around them; it was the beast, drawing nearer." Heather was retreating further into the tunnel, the Iron Goat stalking her with each deafening step it took. It was gaining on her, and she didn't have much time left.</p> <p>"But no. It wasn't the beast. It was the tunnel itself, roaring in pain, shaking as rocks overhead began to loosen, threatening to fall. The ground rumbled, as the men panicked, trying to escape a grisly demise." Heather was running out of breath, and tucked into a small alcove, trying to hide. She continued, in a whisper.</p> <p>"The rocks shook overhead, dust filling the tunnels. Stones had fallen in, blocking their path back to the surface. Looking around, they nodded to each other, accepting their untimely fate."</p> <p>The Iron Goat was almost upon her. She heard the grinding as its limbs rubbed against its body, <em>shrrnk, shrrnk</em>. The beast exhaled, forcefully, like a steam engine at full speed. It was almost on her.</p> <p><em>I fucking hope this works.</em> Heather thought, knowing that if she was wrong, then this was it.</p> <p>"The rocks finally gave way, falling towards the men. They cowered, but— the rocks never hit."</p> <p>She saw the Iron Goat now, its horizontal, rectangular, glowing pupils seeing her as well. There was a moment of shared recognition; an animal, backed into a corner, fighting for survival. A monster, but only to those who saw them as one. A survivor, because the rest of the world hated them. They were the same.</p> <p>"The men opened their eyes. Above them stood the beast, but, it was nothing like the foreman had described. It was metal, yes, but, the men felt no ill-intent. No hatred, no anger, no danger. The beast was no mindless creature; it was a protector. A guardian of the tunnels. A beast of the rails. An unexpected friend."</p> <p>The Iron Goat was inches from her face now, the warm, metallic breath billowing over her face. Heather froze.</p> <p>Neither moved. It was silent in the tunnels.</p> <p><em>What is it waiting for? Did I…</em> Heather had to know. She began to slowly reach her hand out, inching closer towards the beast's snout. It watched her hand with caution, but did not move. She felt the power of the beast, thrumming through the air, infusing the world around it. She realized something. <em>The Iron Goat is… it's a story. It is a hermeneutic. I can almost… feel it?</em></p> <p>Heather hadn't realized when she did, but as she came out of her thoughts, she realized that her hand was resting directly on the head of the Iron Goat. She felt a power pulsing through it, a primal surge of creation and mythos coursing through the beast. It was a force of nature. Not malicious, not dangerous, simply, a reflection of the stories that were told.</p> <p>It was what others saw it as. <em>Like me.</em> Heather thought, frowning. <em>What if somebody tells the story again, about the dangerous beast? Will that just—</em></p> <p>As if sensing her thoughts, the creature snorted, bobbing it's head. It's eyes looked back at her with an intense longing. The desire to play a role different than the one it had been cast in. Heather didn't know what she was going to do, but she had to try something.</p> <p>She closed her eyes, and tried to feel the Iron Goat. Her mind raced, and she felt almost transported to a space between this reality and somewhere abstract; the world of thoughts. She could see the Iron Goat in her mind, a hulking behemoth of iron and embers, trapped and chained, forced — forced to become the villain, the danger, the killer that stalks the rails. <em>I can't… I have to change this.</em></p> <p>She followed the chains with her mind. They twisted, winding through the sea of thoughts, growing and coalescing into a single chain of massive links, connected to a singular, monolithic rock. Heather considered the stone that she visualized in her mind, and frowned. <em>It's… this is the cause. This is why everybody tells the story of it being a monster.</em></p> <p>She felt an idea pulsating out of the stone. <em>Enemy.</em> She thought, no— she knew.</p> <p>But what could she do? She couldn't sever these chains, she couldn't break them; she knew that instinctually, trusting herself. But if she couldn't break the chains, then maybe she could…</p> <p><em>I can change them.</em></p> <p>She opened her eyes, and stared into the pleading face of the Iron Goat, her fear now replaced by sympathy. Heather knew what she had to do.</p> <p>"You, Iron Goat, are no longer an enemy. You are not the shadows stalking the innocent, the beast threatening the night, the danger that lurks in these tunnels. No. You are, and always will be, the protector. The guardian of the rails. The force of nature that exists to help those who are in danger."</p> <p>For a moment, it felt like she and the beast were breathing in synchronicity. A connection was formed, irreversible, unchanging, but sorely welcomed. The world shifted around the two, reality warping as The Legend of the Iron Goat evolved, shedding its shackles and glowing, a redefinition. No, not a redefinition.</p> <p>A rebirth.</p> <hr/> <p>Luca awoke with a panic and shot upright, looking around, searching for his foe. He didn't think, instinctively ready to protect, ready to fight.</p> <p>The literary guardian's instincts were interrupted with a new source of fear — the metal cloven hoofs rang through the tunnel, approaching him with each passing second. His weapon appeared in his hand, surging with power. Shrugging off his backpack, pulsating light blue and white wings pushed out of his shirt, ripping the fabric as they stretched out to size, flexing under his control.</p> <p>He readied himself, and then began to charge the beast, intent on ending this once and for all.</p> <p>Of course, Luca couldn't have dreamed up the sight he saw before him.</p> <p>There was Heather, bruised, dirty, scrapes and cuts all over; but she was alive. She rode on the back of— of the Iron Goat. It was then Luca felt a familiar feeling, one that told him he had been right.</p> <p>Heather had shifted the meaning. She had seized the narrative, and taken control of the story. She rewrote the Iron Goat's fate, and in doing so, saved them both.</p> <p><em>I fear for the researchers at the Site that finally promotes her. She is a force of nature.</em></p> <p>"Oh hey." Heather said, exhausted, but casually. "Did you always have those wings, or?"</p> <p>"For long enough." Luca replied, still feeling exposed when others learn that he, too, was a hermeneutic. Heather held out a hand, reaching down to Luca. He retracted his wings, and reached out.</p> <p>"Let's get the fuck out of here, huh?" Heather said, grinning as she did. Luca just shook his head, and climbed aboard.</p> <hr/> <p>Once the two made their way back to the surface, they had said their goodbyes to the Iron Goat, who bleated at them before returning to the tunnels from whence it came. They returned to the site; in a panic over Heather's superficial injuries, Luca had decided to fly them back.</p> <p>As the two soared through the air, Heather absentmindedly asked Luca a question. "So. Was that enough evidence?"</p> <p>"Yes, Heather, that was more than enough evidence." He replied, his mind racing. <em>He and Heather are alike, and yet… they are both walking a fine line, a delicate dance between light and complete chaos.</em></p> <p>As Heather laughed, enjoying the thrill of the flight, Luca smiled. Maybe, just maybe, he could make sure that she lived in the light.</p> <p><em>Because if she can, maybe Meri can rewrite her own fate.</em></p> <hr/> <p>It had been a few weeks since their fateful encounter with the Iron Goat, and Heather had fully recovered from the ordeal. The paperwork had been filed, the anomaly's file updated accordingly, and things had finally calmed down to the normal.</p> <p>Unfortunately for Heather, the normal was pretty fucking boring here.</p> <p>She stopped in front of a door, and smiled. She knocked once, and then pushed it open; waiting for her was Luca, an array of tables, and snacks all around. It was the 28th, and it was time for Book Club.</p> <p>She smiled; maybe, just maybe, she could carve out her own little place in the world.</p> <p><em>And maybe I can even… redefine myself.</em></p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h4 id="toc9"><span><span style="color: grey">2019</span></span></h4> </div> <p>"And that's the end?" Lillian asked, staring at Heather with interest.</p> <p>"Yep! That's the end of the story. That day changed the course of my life; it helped me understand memetics, not just alone, but in the context of ideas and the noosphere. It inspired me to seize control and begin to change my life." Heather paused, staring lovingly into her girlfriend's eyes. "It led to me meeting you."</p> <p>The two women kissed, unbridled joy and passion filling the room. It was everything Lillian wanted at that moment; but then the moment passed, and she realized that she still had more questions.</p> <p>"Hey, wait a fucking second." Lillian said, pulling away from Heather.</p> <p>"Hmmm?"</p> <p>"You told me a massive fucking story about the legend of the big dicked metal monster and talked in so much fucking detail about the literary details of <em>Les Misérables</em>, but you never actually answered my question. What's the story behind the book?"</p> <p>"Right," Heather replied sheepishly, pushing the hair out of Lillian's face. She was adorable when she pouted. "When I finally left Site-19, Luca gave me this book. It was his copy, the one he had brought to book club. He gave it to me, as a memory of the time I spent at Site-19, and to help me remember that we can always change our fates. We just have to try."</p> <p>Lillian leaned back into her girlfriend's arms, sighing into them. "Alright, fine, that was a pretty good story."</p> <p>"I know it was." Heather remarked smarmily. "So what do you want to do next?"</p> <p>Both women had the same thought; the world was theirs, the future just waiting to be written.</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h4 id="toc10"><span><a href="/forgotten-memories-hub">Through the fog, you can see... something. What else can't you remember?</a></span></h4> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-legend-of-the-iron-goat">The Legend Of The Iron Goat</a>" by Queerious, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-legend-of-the-iron-goat">https://scpwiki.com/the-legend-of-the-iron-goat</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	===== [[include <a href="/component:preview">component:preview</a> text="Have you ever heard the Legend of the Iron Goat?"]] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:blankstyle">:scp-wiki:theme:blankstyle</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:queerstyle">:scp-wiki:theme:queerstyle</a>]] [[module css]] #page-title{ display: none; } @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=PT+Mono&display=swap'); hr { margin-top: 3em; } div.parapost > hr{ margin-top: 1em; } :root { --fade-in-delay: 0s; --bg-light: #262626; --bg: #1a1a1a; --bg-dark: #000000; } /* Parawatch Forum Pseudo-Blockquotes / div.parapost { background: var(--bg-dark); border-width: 2px; border-style: solid; border-color: var(--bg-light); padding: 0 1em; margin: 1em 3em; } div.parapost p, li{ color: #f2f2f2; font-family: 'PT Mono', monospace; } div.parapost > hr{ background-color: #f2f2f2 !important; } div.parapost.reply1 {margin: 1em 3em 1em 4em;} div.parapost.reply2 {margin: 1em 3em 1em 5em;} div.parapost.reply3 {margin: 1em 3em 1em 6em;} div.parapost.reply4 {margin: 1em 3em 1em 7em;} div.parapost.reply5 {margin: 1em 3em 1em 8em;} @media (max-width: 479px) { div.parapost {margin: 1em 0;} div.parapost.reply1 {margin: 1em 0 1em 1em;} div.parapost.reply2 {margin: 1em 0 1em 2em;} div.parapost.reply3 {margin: 1em 0 1em 3em;} div.parapost.reply4 {margin: 1em 0 1em 4em;} div.parapost.reply5 {margin: 1em 0 1em 5em;} } @media (min-width: 480px) and (max-width: 580px) { div.parapost {margin: 0.5em;} div.parapost.reply1 {margin: 0.5em 0.5em 0.5em 1em;} div.parapost.reply2 {margin: 0.5em 0.5em 0.5em 1.5em;} div.parapost.reply3 {margin: 0.5em 0.5em 0.5em 2em;} div.parapost.reply4 {margin: 0.5em 0.5em 0.5em 2.5em;} div.parapost.reply5 {margin: 0.5em 0.5em 0.5em 3em;} } / Terminal Code / div.terminal{ border: 1px solid black; border: solid 3px #BBBBBB; border-radius: 16px; background-color: #313131; / black shadow at the top of the terminal / background-image: radial-gradient(ellipse 1000% 100% at 50% 90%, transparent, #202020); background-position: center; display: block; / shadow around the terminal / box-shadow: inset 0 0 10em 1em rgba(0,0,0,0.5); / prevents scanline from forming a scrollwheel / overflow:hidden; } div.terminal blockquote { background-color: black; border: double 3px #80FF80 } div.scanline{ margin-top: -40%; width: 100%; height: 60px; position: relative; pointer-events: none; / Safari 4.0 - 8.0 / -webkit-animation: scan 12s linear 0s infinite; / You may need to change this. If the bar goes by too quickly, increase 5s. / animation: scan 12s linear 0s infinite; / Same as above / background: linear-gradient(to bottom, rgba(56, 112, 82,0), rgba(56, 112, 82,0.1)) !important; } / Safari 4.0 - 8.0 / @-webkit-keyframes scan{ from{ transform: translateY(-10%);} to{ transform: translateY(5000%);} / You may need to change this depending on the length of your terminal. If the scanline stops halfway, increase the second number./ } @keyframes scan{ from{ transform: translateY(-10%);} to{ transform: translateY(5000%);} / Same as above./ } [[/module]] [[div]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[/div]] [[=]] + The Legend of The Iron Goat ----- ++++ ##grey\|2019## [[/=]] Lillian Lillihammer had seen the books on Heather Garrison's bookshelf before, but had never really carefully //looked// at them. Her fingers traced the edges of the spines, working her way across the shelf and feeling the embossed letters shifting beneath her touch. There was one book that stood out from the rest. It was a paperback, immensely thick and so well read that the spine was illegible, all that remained was the binding. "Find something interesting, Lil?" Heather said, walking back into her dorm's living room, a tray of snacks and two dusty rose coupe glasses balanced carefully on one hand. "Yeah, I did actually. I never knew that you were such a book-abuser." Lillian teased as she grabbed the book and pulled it off of the shelf. "//Les Misérables//? I never took you for a classics lover." "Really? Lillian, I'm dating you. Of course I'm a classics lover." Heather sat down on her couch, and Lillian fell back into the seat beside her, pulling Heather into her arms. The two immediately relaxed, the stress of the day melting away within their safe, comfortable bubble. "Ha ha, very funny. What's the story behind this, though? Was it your favorite novel?" Heather took the worn novel out of Lillian's hands, and began to flip through the pages. "It wasn't my favorite, but... there is a story behind it. You know that I used to be at Site-19, but have I ever told you what I did there?" Lillian shook her head. "Honestly, it didn't seem relevant to me?" "Of course it wouldn't." Heather replied, kissing Lillian on the cheek. "In that case, do you want to hear the story?" "Are you just dragging this out to irritate me?" Lillian said, a small blush fading from her cheeks. "Not quite. Well, maybe a bit." Heather grinned. "It's just a part of the art of storytelling, Lils." "As all stories do, we need to go back to the beginning." Heather said as she flipped through the pages, before stopping on the title. Opposite the title page was a stamp that read 'Property of Site-19's Literary Sciences Department. DO NOT REMOVE FROM SITE'. ------ [[=]] ++++ ##grey\|2016## [[div class="blockquote"]] Are you feeling bored of the endless monotony and paperwork that fills your days at The Foundation? Are you looking for a fun and exciting new monthly social event where you can meet like-minded researchers and make friends? Can you read? If so, you should join the Site-19 Book Club! The first meeting of the book club will be on the 28th of the month, at 7pm, in Meeting Room LS-4206A. The first book we are reading and discussing is //Les Misérables// by Victor Hugo -- copies are available at request or can be found beside the monthly events bulletin. We are looking forward to seeing you there! [[/div]] [[/=]] //Book club?// Heather thought to herself as she awkwardly stood in front of the flyer. Heather Garrison was, in no ways, a brash personality. But at Site-19, 'brash' was not wearing the informal uniform of gray linen and a lab coat at all times. Wearing a baggy sweater and jeans, her hair up in a messy bun; well that would be downright transgressive. //I don't know. I should probably try to make more friends, right? And by more friends, I mean... any friends?// Heather was a loner, partially by choice. She was still figuring out who she was becoming, and was terrified of what others thought about her. She was awkward, and she knew it. //Maybe a book club is the right idea? There will probably be other introverted, awkward people who are just as anxious as you are, right girl?// Heather looked down from the flyer and noticed a stack of books; each a copy of //Les Misérables//. She grabbed one, holding the thick tome as she was lost in her own thoughts. Some time later, a voice from behind broke her reverie. "Book club? Seriously?" a researcher Heather recognized from Applied Thaumatiphysics, as a duo passed through the halls behind her. Heather blushed, stuffing the book into her bag. //Worst case, I hate the book and don't go. Might as well give it a shot, right?// ------ [[=]] ++++ ##grey\|2019## [[/=]] "Wait, you //weren't// always loud and assertive and so radiantly domineering?" Lillian asked, challenging her partner. "Do you want to make fun of baby Heather, or do you want me to continue the story?" Heather gave Lillian a well-practiced taunting look. "Okay, fine. No more interruptions." "//Suuuure.//" ------ [[=]] ++++ ##grey\|2016## [[/=]] Luca Armaros looked around Meeting Room 4206-A with the satisfaction of a job //very// well done. Tables and seats to accommodate up to forty attendees, buffet tables lining the sides of the room, piled high with refreshments, snacks and desserts. He even decorated, writing 'Site-19's Inaugural Book Club!' on a nearby whiteboard. Luca nodded to himself, a deserved smugness falling over him. He had made the fliers, sent out the emails, coordinated the moving pieces and personally bought the many copies of //Les Misérables// for the club. He paused, thinking back to when he first came up with the book club. //Despite the site being full of scientists, scholars and experts, how is it possible that so few are media literate? I'm surrounded by researchers who live their lives based on figures and numbers; if they just read a book for once, maybe they would think outside of the box. For the love of god, how can I get anybody to actually read a book?// The thoughts had raced through his mind for many months before he decided on starting a book club. Once he had that idea, he just had to pick the book they were going to read. Luca looked at the well-thumbed paperback in front of him and smiled. //This was a fantastic choice. Well written, interesting characters, and most of all? It's a light read.// He smiled, closing the book and looking at the clock hanging over the door. The time read 6:58pm. //Good. Now I just need to wait for everybody to show up.// ------ Luca stared at the half-eaten plate of cookies in front of him and sighed. It was 8:45pm, and he was alone in the meeting room. A couple of times he had thought he heard somebody walking by outside, but nobody stopped or came in. After the first thirty minutes, he checked his phone to make sure that it actually was the 28th; it was. After the first hour, he checked that he got the room number right on the fliers; it was. He had decided that, after two hours, he was going to give up and leave. //Fifteen minutes to go. Whew. I love how engaged and excited the Site is when it comes to Literature!// The sarcasm did nothing to ease his frustration. //You know what? Screw waiting, I'm going home. Clearly, nobody wants to read -- I shouldn't be surprised with how hard it is to get new researchers to join Literary Sciences. I just... I had higher hopes.// Luca stood from his chair, and began to make his way over to the meeting room door; he had put up a sign, to make sure that everybody knew they were in the right place for book club. It wasn't like he needed it anymore, taking it down was the first step in admitting defeat. "He-- hello?" A husky whisper of a voice said, as the door opened and a figure Luca didn't recognize stood in the doorway. "Is this the-- did I miss Reading Club? I know I'm late, but I got lost and then... Looks like everybody else is gone though, sorry for bothering you." Luca realized that he had still been glaring, the surprise of a new human throwing him off. With a straightening of his back, and a gentle smile, he reoriented himself and held out a hand to the woman. "Wait! Come on in, we had a bit of a late start, so make yourself comfortable! There's snacks on the sides and--" he paused, gesturing at the empty room, "Plenty of seats, so pick anywhere you would like." "Oh, that's great! Do you know who else is coming late then?" //What do I say?// The woman had set her bag down on a chair near Luca's cookie platter, and turned to face him with an awkward smile. "Hi, sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Heather Garrison, I'm a Junior Researcher here. Nice to meet you?" Heather said, the words tumbling out in quick succession. Luca smiled back warmly. "Luca Armaros, Head of the Literary Sciences Department. Pleasure to meet you." "Oh. Can I be honest?" Heather asked, making a small plate of snacks. Without waiting for an answer, she continued. "I've never heard of the Literary Sciences Department." Luca let out an involuntary self-deprecating chuckle. "I'm not surprised, books and adaptations aren't the 'flashiest' area of research, and our department is pretty tiny." //Despite all the work we do around here to keep everybody safe.// He thought, keeping the final part to himself. To her credit, Heather seemed to understand what he didn't say, sharing a knowing look. "Well, I'm not very important, but I like stories?" "I'm glad you made it. And stories are delightful, I'd love to be part of one, one day!" Luca said, waiting for Heather's laughter. It never came. "Anyways, let's sit down and then we can get started!" "Oh!" came Heather's reply as she sat down in her chair. //Please don't ask.// Luca silently prayed to himself. "What about... aren't we waiting for everybody else?" //She had to ask. Oh pancakes.// Luca let out a sheepish grin, and started rubbing the back of his neck. "To be honest, I think that you are the only person who planned on coming tonight. I understand if you don't want to just sit in a room with me talking about Les Mi--" "What? No I definitely //need// to talk about this book with somebody." Heather interjected, looking at Luca with the most intensity he had seen out of the woman. "Oh, right!" Luca said, doing his best to hide his surprise. "We might as well begin then. What did you think of the book?" "Eh, I don't think it was for me." //Why was she so intense about this book then?// "How so?" Luca asked, unsure of how to maintain a book club with only two people. "Oh right, sorry. I keep a lot of thoughts in my head normally. Let me think." Heather paused for a moment, and Luca watched as her eyes began vibrating, flicking side to side, glazing over as she got lost in her thoughts. //Is she... is she okay?// Just as he was about to call medical, she regained focus and started to talk. "I thought that Hugo's characterizations of his female characters were lacking in both agency and depth, the plot was interesting, but doesn't feel like it was doing anything incredible, and I thought that Enjolras and Grantaire should have ended up together, like I know why they weren't, but come on, seriously? They're so queer coded that it hurts." //Feminist and queer theoretical frameworks!// Luca thought with excitement, realizing that this was better than a room full of overly-agreeable researchers just echoing the exact same opinions. Luca loved understanding the //why//, but he never expected somebody outside of his department to have the level of reading comprehension to use literary theory for a casual book club. "Agreed, the almost deification Grantaire has for Enjolras is definitely driven by a subtextual queer crush, especially in a time when queer relationships were relegated to the sidelines. I'd argue that every time Grantaire expresses any support for the rebellion, he does so because he is unable to express his emotions towards Enjolras." "Oh, definitely. It feels very intentional that Hugo had Grantaire drunk throughout, an act of avoidance for his true feelings." Heather was leaning forward, having broken through whatever mental barrier she had earlier. "Okay, one second. You said you didn’t like the book, and you have opinions on it?” Luca stated with undeniable glee in his voice. “I //need// to hear them.” Heather laughed awkwardly, shrugging. "Yeah, well, I... I have a lot of opinions on things, even things I hate." She paused for a moment, considering Luca's question, before continuing. "My favourite part was... thank god you're the only person in the room, this is embarrassing." "It's alright, this is a judgement free zone. Was it the romance? The class politics? Hugo's detailed descriptions of classical French architecture? Maybe it was //the orphan//?" Again, Luca paused, before continuing. "Sorry, go ahead Heather." "I liked the sewers." ------ //Oh god, did I really just fucking say that?// Heather thought to herself as she stared at Luca's momentarily confused face. //The sewers? God what a fucking stupid answer, maybe I can just stay for a bit longer and then--// "Fascinating." //Huh?// "I find that the non-diagetic asides Hugo uses throughout his works are fascinating, potentially some of the most narratively interesting sections. What was it about the sewer sections that you found so fascinating?" Luca leaned forward and was looking at Heather intently, bouncing up and down in his seat. For the first time this evening, Luca looked excited -- and maybe he was finally considering her interesting, maybe even... intelligent? With a renewed courage, Heather answered. "Honestly, there was something really... I don't know, authentic? Magical? Real? That section was incredible; while reading it, I could picture myself within the sewers, I created a mental map of the crisscrossing tunnels, I smelled the sewage and I felt like I was there. Sure, the Battle of Waterloo parts were more detailed, and had more authenticity to the moments but-- there is just something about the sewers that feels distinct from the novel and how he usually writes. Something... I can't think of the word, intangible?" "Fleeting?" Luca suggested. "Yes! The sewers feel like a reflection of life while you're reading the section, but the moment you're through, it becomes almost inert? Like whatever force had been driving and creating that immersive worldscape was just... gone. I don't know, sorry, I don't think that was a very good explanation." Luca shook his head. "No, that was brilliant. That's exactly what I felt too; Hugo had so many details that felt inconsequential, but are critical and fundamental to being transported to the place and time of the book. We are able to embody his place as observer in the narrative because of how he creates context." "Absolutely, that was how I felt!" Heather laughed. "I just know that it's a boring answer, like... who cares about that dry kind of descriptions? Other than me, that is." Heather looked at Luca, who was currently lost in thought. He had a kind face, but his glasses gave him a distinct harshness. //I wonder how much of him is authentic?// she mused, as she waited for a reply. The silence between them, once awkward, was now settling into something more akin to ease. After some time, Luca took a sip of his drink, and returned his focus to Heather. "Sorry about the delay, I got lost in the //pages//." Another pause. "It’s about finding meaning, isn’t it? Using the text as data, with both subjective and objective connotations to our world. Hermeneutics -- ever heard the term before?” //Hermeneutics? And wait, was that a joke? Should I have laughed? Oh god, I think it was, but I can't laugh now, it's way too late. Uhh, crap. And now I'm ignoring him, again. Great job, Heath, you're killing the social thing tonight! Fuck. Right. The answer.// "Hermeneutics? It sounds fam--" "What is your specialty, Heather, if you don't mind me asking?" Luca interrupted, unable to contain his excitement, his index fingers arched and pressed together in a point. "Oh, well," Heather said, dancing around the topic, "I'm a bit of a generalist, I just kind of get whatever assignment my supervisor gives me. It's mostly paperwork, I don't get to do a lot of practical research." "Let me rephrase my question then: what do you //like// to research and study?" "Oh that's easy. Memetics. Being able to make, control and modify a concept, bending it to your needs and purposes? I love that, and it just... it makes sense to my brain? I've actually been working on the side on a really bi-- actually, you know what? Never mind. But yeah! Memetics!" //Oh my god, I sound like an idiot.// "Memetics? Heather, can I tell you about Hermeneutics? I think you'll find them really interesting." Luca said, a wicked smile framed by a glint shining off of his glasses. //Why... why does it feel like this is a trap?// Heather thought, unsure how to respond. //No, I need to push myself. This is how you make friends, right?// "I'd love to learn about them." She said, fighting to conceal the hesitation in her voice. She just couldn't shake the thought that Luca looked like an editor that smelled fresh ink on the page... ------ [[=]] ++++ ##grey\|2019## [[/=]] "Oh my god." Lillian interrupted. She had slid off of the couch, and was now stretched out on the floor, staring at the ceiling. She leaned forward and looked at Heather. "Is he the reason you're so obsessed with the... uhhh what do you call them... 'Hermie Fullers'?" "So am I supposed to pretend that you don't have an eidetic memory?" Heather said, knowing Lillian was being an asshole on purpose. "You will if you love me?" Lillian said, a rare, playful lightness to her voice. "Well then I guess my answer is yes, Luca is the reason I fell in love with the idea of Hermeneutics. Hell, it was part of my inspiration for my Deadna--" Heather paused for a second, a headache coming on fast. After a moment, it faded. "Sorry about that. Where was I?" "You and Luca were about to bond over your little nerd thing." She was begging for it now. But Heather ignored her; attention was what Lillian wanted, and she never liked to make it //too// easy. ------ [[=]] ++++ ##grey\|2016## [[/=]] "--like cognitohazards! But instead of doing just one thing, it restructures reality around said concept, like an adaptation. Fairy tales, folklore, literature – they’re all susceptible to the ability of reshaping the world through the point of view of those interacting with it." Luca had given Heather the complete crash course in hermeneutics, and she had absorbed it like a bone-dry sponge. //The question is,// Luca mused, //how much of that did she understand?// "Okay so," Heather began, the gears turning as she spoke, "A hermeneutic is effectively a memetic complex that represents a specific idea, including context? And when the concept is observed, the hermeneutic filters the memetic complex through the ontological context of the observer, and through that, changes the meaning of the memetic complex, restructuring baseline reality to match the new definition?" When Heather finally finished, she took a deep inhale, out of breath from voicing her firehose of a mind. She looked at Luca, waiting for him to answer. //Oh, I'm definitely flipping stealing her for my department.// Luca thought, already planning the paperwork in his head, without asking. Realizing that she was still waiting for an answer, he cleared his throat and replied. "Yeah, that's... that's very technically phrased. Interesting." He chuckled. "I hadn't considered it that way, given my background in Literary Sciences, but, you're already going above and beyond! You took my explanation, and adapted it into your own framework. Marvelous." Heather beamed at the praise, straightening her back, slowly allowing herself to take up more space within the room. "Awesome. I just have to assume it works that way, unless I was able to research one up close. I doubt I'll get the chance though, given the amount of fucking paperwork I have assigned." Luca hadn't expected the inaugural book club meeting to go quite like this -- he had mentally prepared for a number of scenarios, none of which included this weird little wonder of a researcher. //I wonder...// "Well, if you're interested, I might be able to get you reassigned to a little side project I'm wo--" "Yes." Heather interjected, a strange boldness in her voice. "Please." With just a hint of desperation. "I'll see what I can do." ------ Despite the typically monotonous and glacial speed of the bureaucracy that was The Foundation, Luca was able to get Heather temporarily reassigned to his personal project; half of the process was tracking down her supervisor. As the //brilliant// mind from the well-funded Applied Ontokinetics department struggled to remember an //actually// talented researcher, Luca waited patiently. After a painful amount of time, he finally remembered who Heather was, and was more than happy to pawn her off, even temporarily. Luca wasn't impressed. He'd gotten into the Literary Sciences department main study room early, in preparation for Heather's arrival this morning. //What do we think? More books, or less? What says -- oh, I'm a scholar and this is my domain, but also isn't too intimidating... are the scrolls too much?// Unfortunately for Luca, his musing was interrupted when a storm cloud entered the room; Heather, hood pulled over her shoulder length hair, and a scowl on her face. "Had a bad night?" Luca inquired, unsure how to respond. "Coffee." Heather muttered in a terse reply. //I knew she was a coffee girl.// Luca reached behind him, and offered a still-warm cup of coffee that he had picked up this morning in preparation. "I don't know how you take your coffee, so I left it bl--" "Black is fine." Heather interrupted, before she took a large swig of the coffee, enjoying the smell of the fresh brew. "Sorry about that. Couldn't sleep last night." "Were you worried about something?" Luca asked, sensing another wayward soul in need of nurturing. //She is just around a decade older than Meri. Maybe I can try to arrange a playdate...// Luca's distraction was quickly ended when Heather finished the mug of coffee and finally replied. "No, not worried." "What was it then?" "I couldn't stop thinking about the idea of using a hermeneutic to your advantage. Could somebody prepare themselves and make sure that they almost... superimposed their control onto the hermeneutic, changing it at will instead of on the initial trigger? I don't know if you would know, but you've dealt with them in person, right?" Luca shifted slightly, feeling the back of his shirt straining ever-so-slightly. A shiver ran through his feathers. //Come on, let's get these particular protuberances back under control, no need to panic.// "Yes, you can say that. And I can confirm that the right individual can exert extra control over a hermeneutic, although it is rare, and depends on the class of hermeneutic." "Right," Heather nodded, "I forgot about the different classes." //I bet she could be a force unto her own one day.// Luca thought, smiling at the Junior Researcher he had just taken under his wing. //That is, of course, with the proper guidance.// "No matter. Now, I got distracted but, allow me to welcome you into the Literary Science's primary study room, or as I like to call it, //The Booknook//." That one got a chuckle out of Heather. Smiling even wider, Luca continued. "It's pretty simple, we have worktables, shelf after shelf of esoteric books and non-anomalous reference texts, Foundation standard terminals, and best of all, that corner over there is mine!" ------ Heather looked around the room with an appraising eye. //I still can't fucking believe I walked in here like a teenager. I know my hormones are throwing me off, but, come on girl, at least try to be professional?// She took everything in; the room was large, but not massively so. Everything was the same dull grey and white concrete that permeated the rest of Site-19. Everything, except Luca's corner, which he had painted a soft light blue. //Robin egg blue, maybe?// The tables were in a large central atrium, each dark wooden desk spanning eight feet, at least. They were old, heavy, and clashed desperately with the brutalist architecture. The discrepancy amused Heather. //You know what? I think I could get accustomed to a workspace like this.// "So? What do you think?" Luca prompted, at which point Heather belatedly realized that she had been mentally somewhere else. "I got lost in my thoughts." Thankfully, Luca seemed to give her a knowing look, so she continued with renewed confidence. "This is way better than the small offices I usually see." "I think so too." Luca turned, and began heading in the direction of his desk. "Come along now, I have something I want you to take a look at." //Right, come on, Heather. You need to make a good impression. Who knows what will happen if you fuck this up, do you really think you can just crawl back to that idiot?// Heather's mind raced through possibilities as she followed Luca over to his desk. "Take a look at what I have on the computer." Luca said, offering her the desk chair. She sat, and pulled the seat in. "Uhhh... that is... well... that's a very cute picture of your... //deer person//?" Heather stuttered, unable to find the right words to describe the girl in the picture. She looked to be a normal teenager, maybe 16 or 17, but with deer-like features, ears and antlers, and fur covering her body. She was wearing a flower crown, and grinning ear to ear. "Oh." Luca said, leaning over to shuffle the mouse. "That's just my screensaver -- That’s Meri, she’s very important to me. Technically I’m her uncle, but it’s a very long //story//." Luca said, chuckling at his unintelligible joke. //I still don't understand his sense of humor, but maybe I can fake it?// Heather let out a pitiful laugh, but thankfully, Luca's reaction told her that it was appreciated. "Okay, right, here's the document I wanted you to take a look at." ----- [[div class="terminal" style="padding-top:16em;"]] [[div class="scanline"]] [[/div]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:parawatch-forum-post">:scp-wiki:component:parawatch-forum-post</a> color=green \| username=pnwExplorer82739 \| date=09/20/16 (Tue) 21:17:54 \| postno=65932613 \| depth=0 \| content= Hey everybody, I was hiking up just west of Stevens Pass, by the old abandoned rail lines, when I heard something... following me in the woods. I didn't know what to think, I don't fully believe in monsters, but you all have shown me the truth, and I can't help but think that I almost ran into something. There was tons of graffiti, talking about the 'Iron Goat'. Does anybody have more information? ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:parawatch-forum-post">:scp-wiki:component:parawatch-forum-post</a> color=red \| username=greebly \| date=09/20/16 (Tue) 21:47:22 \| postno=65932614 \| depth=1 \| content= lmao goated ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:parawatch-forum-post">:scp-wiki:component:parawatch-forum-post</a> color=green \| username=rentonwatch006 \| date=09/21/16 (Wed) 02:11:46 \| postno=65932617 \| depth=1 \| content= hey there pnwexplorer, yeah, i've heard about the legend of the iron goat before, but it was a while ago. i remember vague pieces of the story, but it's all muddled thanks to time here is what i do remember: the iron goat was there long before the railroad ever existed * it's a friendly nature spirit that protects the pass * you can see the iron goat if you bring it some scrap metal like i said, idk, i don't remember much, but hopefully that helps ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:parawatch-forum-post">:scp-wiki:component:parawatch-forum-post</a> color=blue \| username=hunter2937201 \| date=09/21/16 (Wed) 11:05:56 \| postno=65932633 \| depth=3 \| content= What? No way, that's not the right story. The Iron Goat is actually just a man, a settler who got lost near the pass and was separated from his group. The snow was blowing wildly, and he could barely see two feet in front of him. He saw the mouth of a tunnel up ahead, and thanking his lucky stars, made a beeline towards it. And then WHAM, a train hit him head on, sending the body tumbling into the woods. It was so snowy out that the conductor didn't even notice... They say he still walks those rails, hoping to save the next victim from his grisly fate... ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:parawatch-forum-post">:scp-wiki:component:parawatch-forum-post</a> color=yellow \| username=bigfootisamilf \| date=09/21/16 (Wed) 17:30:16 \| postno=65932645 \| depth=4 \| content= No way. The Iron Goat is just that; a goat made out of iron. My grandad told me stories when I was growing up about the time he met it while hunting out there. He saw something moving in a bush, just out of sight -- thinking it was a deer, he took aim with his rifle and fired! He ran over to the bush, and what he saw shocked him to his core. A goat, organic but not, rusted and made of a hard, rigid metal. His spent bullet sat on the ground, having glanced off of the beast like it was nothing. The Iron Goat turned, looked my grandfather dead in the eyes, a devilish red glow where its eyeballs should be. It roared at him, lunging forward and SNAP took a bite right out of his rifle. My grandfather ran as fast as he could, and never went back. He might have the gun still, I'll have to ask him... ]] [[/div]] ----- "So?" Luca asked once Heather had finished reading the thread. "What do you think?" Heather paused for a moment, considering what he was //really// asking. She couldn't decide, so she chose to answer every way she could. "I think that they're a bunch of losers, mediocre writers, at //best// -- there's no way that any version of this is actually accurate, hell, I fucking grew up in Redmond and I've never heard of the 'Legend of The Iron Goat' or whatever campfire stories they've made up. You want a big metal goat? Try Spokane." Heather paused, catching her breath momentarily, before continuing with the same fervor. "But if you're asking about what I think is going on, other than the few individuals who are making shit up? There are enough similarities between the experiences, but each is significantly different, but personal to the individual who 'met' the Iron Goat. You think that it's a hermeneutic, right?" ------ Luca stared at the formerly introverted junior researcher as she ranted, going through every permutation of what she thought about what she had read. When he had first met Heather at the book club, she was drawn into herself, almost trying to make her presence as unnoticeable as possible; now she was speaking wildly with her hands and punctuating her thoughts with physicality. //She's... she's literally 'opening up' to me.// Luca kept his laughter to himself, and continued to listen. When Heather had finally finished, he smiled brightly at her. "I knew there was more to you than just a Junior Researcher. Exactly right, I believe that 'The Legend of The Iron Goat' is an urban legend, but one that was created through the existence of a hermeneutic. I've theorized for years that folklore, urban legends and fairytales all have origins deeply rooted in hermeneutics, and the reinterpretations of reality that so closely mimics the evolution of stories, rumors and mythos as they spread from individual to individual. I've seen a hermeneutic inspiring stories and fairytales; but if we can track this down, then we can potentially find concrete evidence of an urban legend that comes from a hermeneutic, opening an entirely new field of research. For example, with a cryptid like 'The Mothman', is it a cryptozoological anomaly, or was it created through a hermeneutic? Did it evolve and change to adapt, or was it changed by the narrative?" Luca had carefully watched Heather during his spiel, expecting to see the typical glazing over of the eyes, the distracted and blank looks to appear on her face, the annoyance at having to listen to a librarian wax poetic about the implications of a single sentence; but he was wrong. No, where he had expected boredom, he saw an intensity that he had only seen a few times before. "So," Heather asked, her voice tense and low, "Let's go find ourselves the 'Iron Goat'." //[[[SCP-8166\|In the garden.]]]// He remembered, //She has the same look in her eyes as he did, the bastard. They both felt the same; trapped in who they were. She's going to seize her narrative.// Luca knew that there would be one of two outcomes for a person like Heather; skyrocketing success and a masterful level of expertise, or she would run hot, burn out and fade into nothingness. He would do his best to mentor her, but... he had watched too many brilliant talents get chewed up and spit out by the cogs that were The Foundation. //I hope she beats the odds.// ------ [[=]] ++++ ##grey\|2019## [[/=]] "Now //that's// the woman I know and love: loud, rambling and a genius." Lillian said, leaning in closer to Heather. "You're bored." Heather challenged. "What? Heather, how could you? This is a fascinating story, I really liked the part where you talked about books." The sarcasm was barely concealed; a dare, tempting a response. "I think," Heather said breathily, nearing her girlfriend, grazing the lobe of her ear, "You just have something... else on your mind." "Fuck." Lillian whispered, drawing out the vowel and biting her lip. She began to turn, leaning in and moving to kiss Heather and-- Heather put her finger on Lillian's lips, stopping her in her tracks. Lillian narrowed her eyes in response. "Patience, my sweet." Heather teased. "You'll get your reward later. Now, I can tell you're bored, but if you really want to understand the story, to feel the hermeneutic? You need to listen. Let me skip ahead." Lillian was stunned, if only for the moment. Not many women could do that to her; if Heather had her way, she would be the //only// woman who did. Lillian wanted Heather to have her way. So she just nodded, and listened. ------ [[=]] ++++ ##grey\|2016## [[/=]] It was a crisp and cold fall day, the memories of the warmer seasons having been replaced with falling leaves, bone-chilling breezes, and a smell in the air that Heather loved. //God it smells like the woods... obviously, girl, you're in the fucking woods.// She looked over at her companion, Luca, who stuck out like a sore thumb. He was dressed like a boy scout; if boy scouts carried large reference tomes with them deep in the woods. His knees said 'we never go outside', but the cargo shorts he had on screamed 'be prepared!' All in all, Luca looked firmly out of place, and he knew it. "So, Heather, do you go hiking a lot?" He asked, ending the comfortable quiet the two had been enjoying on their walk. They had met this morning at the foot of the Iron Goat Trail, and began the hike to the general area where the Iron Goat had last been spotted. The progress was slow, but steady. "Not really?" Heather replied, blowing some hair out of her face. "I used to go hiking a lot with my mom, back before I got hired by The Foundation. Now, I don't really have any spare time." "I understand that. Do you know that I used to play the french horn?" Luca asked. "No. But also, I did just meet you a few days ago." Heather said, grinning. "Ahh, so you did." Luca nodded, "Well, back when I was just starting out at The Foundation, I used to play the french horn daily. I would practice my favorite concertos, fugues, music that allowed me to express the emotions that I had pent up from the day's drudgery; all of that changed after the Garden." He looked away, pretending to consult his map. //'The Garden'? You shouldn't pry Heather, that would be rude.// Sometimes, we ignore our internal voices; Heather, more often than most. "Was that just a regular garden, ooh, maybe it was 'The Secret Garden'?" Luca chuckled. "In a way, I suppose, it was a secretive garden... Aha! Heather, look over there!" Luca was pointing through the trees in the general direction of... nothing. "Where?" Heather asked, worrying that there was a memetic effect already beginning. "The railroad tracks; they're just over to our left, on the ground." Ah. That would do it then. Once she knew what she was looking for, Heather immediately located the rails, following them with her eyes, and noting a tunnel mouth in the distance. "Do you think we're close to the Iron Goat?" She asked, deferring to the expert. Unfortunately for her, Luca stared back at her blankly. "To be honest, I'm not quite sure." Luca frowned, looking at the map he had prepared before they arrived. It had markers of the estimated locations of sightings, giving them a general, but large area to search within. "Frankly, even if we are in the right place, I don't know what the next step is." Oh right. In all of their excitement to get out here and find the anomaly, neither had considered what they would do when they actually got here. "Shit. I thought you had a plan." Heather said, embarrassed. //I just figured, with that many pockets...// "And I hoped one would spring into my mind fully formed once we neared; alas, the muses must be avoiding me today." Luca chuckled to himself, then continued. "Anyways, let's walk to the tunnel mouth first, and go from there?" Heather nodded. That would at least give her a bit more time to zone out and figure out their next steps. Hopefully. ------ Luca and Heather stood in front of a large tunnel entrance; the train used to run right through the mountains, concrete and cramped. //Not unlike the hallways at Site-19,// Luca thought, bemusedly. He turned and looked at Heather, who was still lost in her thoughts. "So," he prompted, "what do you think?" Heather took a second, but her focus stirred as she evaluated the tunnel and looked at Luca. "Well, I was thinking." "I could tell." He teased, much like an uncle would. "Right. Anyways, I was thinking about the encounters that people had with the Iron Goat, and I noticed a pattern. All of the stories that were shared, well, they were stories that had been told to another person. Almost like--" "Like a form of oral folklore and local storytelling traditions?" Luca finished, realizing where Heather's mind went. //Interesting. Using narrative to find the hermeneutic.// "Exactly. So that made me think; if we just keep walking, I doubt we'll find it. But, what if we make up a new story?" She asked, a devilish grin on her face. "We make a new story?" Luca asked, the cogs in his head spinning. "Right, then we should get back to the Site and start writing." He began to spin and walk away, but Heather was not following. "No." She said, tersely, before continuing. "An urban legend is the same as a campfire story; it's a story told verbally to another, not written down, but one that morphs over time as the storytellers change. What if we just told each other "The Legend of the Iron Goat", but shifted the meaning, causing it to... appear?" Heather trailed off as she got to the end, the same inner doubt creeping back into her voice. Luca was thoroughly impressed. "That's brilliant. Narrate away, protégé." He asked, gesturing for her to lead the way into the tunnels. They both took out flashlights, and entered. Neither could know what lay ahead of them, but maybe, they could change that. ------ "Have you ever heard the Legend of the Iron Goat?" Heather asked aloud, a few minutes into the tunnel. She had been racing in her mind, trying to figure out the best way to frame the narrative, to tell the story, to redefine the idea; after a few minutes of panic, she finally felt like she had a solid plan. "Oh, is this a call and response? Or was that rhetorical?" Luca asked, his large floppy hat rendered useless by the fact that they were in a sunless tunnel. "Either way?" Heather shrugged, and continued. "Well, it happened long ago, on a day just like today." "Spooky indeed." "There was a work crew; ten of the strongest men the nearby towns had to offer. There was a problem in the tunnels, a cave-in, and the rail company had dispatched them to clear the blockage before the next train was due. The pressure was on, and the time left was getting shorter by the second." A dull sound echoed through the tunnels, reverberating and sending a shiver down Heather's back. The hair stood up on her arms. //Maybe I'm doing something right.// "The blockage was deep in the mountain; most of the men grew up in the area, but the foreman was older than most and had lived nearby for a long time. The men heard a noise; a rough, grinding sound of metal shearing against itself, an animalistic cry fused with industry. The foreman stopped dead in his tracks." "I like the direction." Luca looked around the tunnel quizzically, as if trying to infer something ineffable. He looked at Heather and asked, "So what happened next?" "The other men turned and asked 'Why are you stopping? Afraid of a little bit of rock?' The foreman shook his head, and said 'No. I fear the beast that calls these tunnels home.'" An ear-splitting roar echoed through the tunnels, as Heather and Luca quickly covered their ears. It was the sound of metal grinding against itself, the cry of a beast long dormant. The Iron Goat. After the sound faded, Luca broke the silence first. "Well, it appears that you were correct. Let us continue, but keep your guard up." Heather nodded back, continuing to tell the tale. "The foreman explained to the other men that there was once a creature, almost a goat, but not quite. There was something wrong, something otherworldly; something dangerous about this goat. The story goes that one day a hunter came to claim a new trophy; he had tracked the beast to the mouth of the tunnel, and chased it further inside. It was a cornered animal, and the hunter had no idea what he was about to face." Both Luca and Heather cocked their heads, hearing a quiet, rhythmic noise from deep within the dark recesses of the tunnel. "Do you think it's a train?" Heather asked. "No, the train hasn't run in decades." Luca said, shaking his head in concern. "Maybe we should turn back and return with an MTF?" "And miss out on the discovery? I don't know about you, but I would rather see and discover an anomaly, rather than finding a corpse." Heather snorted in derision, thinking of how the Mobile Task Force agents had treated her at Site-19. "We can do this, right?" "Alright. But at the first sign of danger, we're getting out of here." Heather nodded, as the two edged deeper and deeper into the abyssal tunnels. "The Hunter had the beast trapped, and he finally laid his eyes on the monster: it was a goat, larger than life, thick dark fur and a dangerous look in its eyes. It began to slowly advance on the Hunter, who grabbed a cord off of the ground. You see, the Hunter had planned in advance - he only cared about the kill, and didn't want to risk a bullet grazing the beast. He had set up explosives, set to detonate when the cord was lit; it would explode into a storm of shrapnel, slaying the beast and allowing the Hunter to claim his reward. He waited, biding his time until the monster was in place. It approached slowly. Clop. Clop. Clop. Its cloven hooves echoed through the tunnels, a steady timer until the Hunter would win." The sound was getting closer to Heather and Luca now. //Are those... no, it's just a story, right?// The realization hit Heather, who felt like an idiot. //Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck, why the fuck did I make this a horror story?// Luca saw the concern on Heather's face, and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright?" She shook her head. "No, but what are we going to do? We're this far, now we need to..." "Finish the story." Luca picking up where Heather had trailed off. "Right." The rhythmic thudding was getting closer, just out of sight, but dangerously close. "The beast was finally in place; with a flash, the Hunter lit the cord and-- boom! The metal exploded, flying through the air, a storm of iron careening right at the beast. Now, the Hunter couldn't have know this, but the creature he was hunting had a... unique trait. He watched as the shrapnel hit the goat, but-- instead of felling the target, it seemed to dissolve as it hit the goat. The metal melting, being absorbed by the former prey. The Hunter panicked, pulling out his rifle and quickly firing off multiple rounds; they didn't even do so much as stunning the beast, disappearing on contact as it advanced further onto him. It finally came into the light, and he could see the beast properly. This was no goat; it towered over him, a hulking beast made of metal, the iron sculpted and shaped around it's body. No, the Hunter realized, it was the creature. The Iron Goat was just that; a goat made of iron, forged in the deepest pits of hell." The sounds that echoed through the tunnel changed; at first neither researcher noticed, but an echoing metallic ringing stopped them in their tracks. The sound of metal stomping onto metal. The sound of the Iron Goat. "Did that do it?" Heather asked, looking to Luca for the answers. Unfortunately for them both, Luca was drawing a blank. "I'm unsure. If it did, I fear that we may have made a beast unlike any I have faced before." The look on Luca's face was grim, sobering Heather and panicking her to the core. "What are we going to do?" Heather asked, the noise of the Iron Goat getting closer and closer. Luca shook his head. "Hope for the best, and begin our retreat. I know this wasn't a huge success, but we did confirm that we are able to shift the meaning of the urban legend through storytelling. That is more than sufficient evidence to suggest that this is, in fact, a hermeneutic." "Right." Heather said, unsure, but trusting her senior. They turned and began to make their way towards the exit but-- the sound was gaining on them, getting closer and closer with each second. "Do we start running?" Heather asked, half-serious, half-panicking. //If I fucking die in a cave, I'm going to kick my ghost ass for all eternity.// "There has never been a situation made better by--" Luca froze, cutting himself off and putting out an arm to stop Heather. They were nearing a fork in the tunnel that they had passed earlier. Now, just around the bend, the footsteps returned. Louder. Metal crashing against the rock with every step. Closer, and closer still. The two were silent, frozen and each trying to think their way out of this situation. //Oh god, what the fuck do I do? I... I fucking killed us, just because I got too caught up in telling the story. I fucking made it even more dangerous, god damn it!// Suddenly, the noise stopped. The beast's final step echoed through the tunnel before fading into an unnatural and deadly stillness. The two researchers shared an uncertain look; after a beat, Heather spoke. "Do you think we'r--" The beast lunged out of the pitch black darkness, the crashing force of metal charging towards Heather, just feet away. She didn't have the time to dodge, let alone the skills to do so. //Fuck. This is the end. Fucking overconfidence.// The morbid realization hit her: these would be her final thoughts. She closed her eyes tight, and waited. But the blow never came. Instead, metal crashed against metal, a reverent chime echoing through, a glow that was visible through her shut eyes. She slowly opened them and-- //What the fuck is going on?// Luca Armaros, the Director of Literary Sciences at Site-19, the quiet, geeky man she had grown to know over the past few days, stood in front of her, a shimmering, shifting blade in his hand. He seemed to be glowing, a light blue pulsating around him -- in the air, translucent wings floated behind him, an intangible span of feathers blocking the way between her and the beast. The sword had clashed against the Iron Goat, but it was locked in a stalemate. "Are you okay?" Luca called out, grunting and straining to hold back the beast. The Iron Goat's jaws clamped down on the blade, teeth grinding and ending at the hilt, showering sparks across the floor of the tunnel. She caught brief glances of the two, sparks lighting the tunnel with each hit -- Luca using the entirety of his will to hold the Goat back, straining with effort. Black smog coiled out from the Goat’s nostrils, spilling onto the floor; it wrenched down on him with all of its tremendous weight, but he held firm. "Wh-- Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay, but, uhhh, what the fuck is going on?" Heather yelled, having lost complete control of herself. "Are you holding a fucking sword?" "Long story, but, I don't know how much longer I can--" Luca was interrupted when the beast reared back and stomped, rusted feet plummeting towards him. He quickly rolled to the side, slashing across his body with the weapon, sparks shooting out as metal wrenched against metal. Luca seemed to glow with an unnatural light, a satisfied look on his face. But if was for naught; the Iron Goat roared, flinching back, but showed no sign of damage. "What the fuck do we do now?" Heather asked, her hands shaking as she tried to think. //Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!// "Do something, try to shift the narrative!" Luca said, out of breath, clashing with the beast; they seemed to alternate, each taking a swing, but neither gaining an edge. Luca was not quite graceful, but intentional; the Iron Goat was fierce, and unrelenting. The two were evenly matched. "Give it a weakness, a flaw, something! I need you to figure this out, I have to focus on--" In his distraction, Luca had let his guard down momentarily. The beast sensed his weakness, and swung its head to attack. Gnarled, twisted, corroded horns connected with Luca's torso, and in a sharp crack, he was flung against the wall with a sickening thud. His backpack cushioned the blow, but the impact still knocked the wind out of him. He lay there. Motionless. The beast turned it's attention to Heather, and began advancing on its prey. //Figure something out? Sure, easy enough, I'll figure out how to stop the Iron Goat, because, apparently, not only do you have a magic fucking sword, but, somehow, that's still not enough to kill it. What the fuck am I going to--// And then a thought popped into Heather's mind. She didn't know where it came from, or why she made the realization, but she knew that she had to trust her gut. //I need to... I need to keep telling the story.// "The men looked at the foreman askance, his tale far too fanciful to be true. They laughed, as the foreman looked at the ground sheepishly." Heather paused, waiting for something to change. Nothing did. //Shit, still nothing.// The beast continued to advance on her. //If I can't undo this, then...// Another idea. Trusting herself, she continued, Luca still dazed and out of the fight. "Suddenly, the men were surprised when a loud crash echoed through the tunnels, reverberating and shaking the rock around them; it was the beast, drawing nearer." Heather was retreating further into the tunnel, the Iron Goat stalking her with each deafening step it took. It was gaining on her, and she didn't have much time left. "But no. It wasn't the beast. It was the tunnel itself, roaring in pain, shaking as rocks overhead began to loosen, threatening to fall. The ground rumbled, as the men panicked, trying to escape a grisly demise." Heather was running out of breath, and tucked into a small alcove, trying to hide. She continued, in a whisper. "The rocks shook overhead, dust filling the tunnels. Stones had fallen in, blocking their path back to the surface. Looking around, they nodded to each other, accepting their untimely fate." The Iron Goat was almost upon her. She heard the grinding as its limbs rubbed against its body, //shrrnk, shrrnk//. The beast exhaled, forcefully, like a steam engine at full speed. It was almost on her. //I fucking hope this works.// Heather thought, knowing that if she was wrong, then this was it. "The rocks finally gave way, falling towards the men. They cowered, but-- the rocks never hit." She saw the Iron Goat now, its horizontal, rectangular, glowing pupils seeing her as well. There was a moment of shared recognition; an animal, backed into a corner, fighting for survival. A monster, but only to those who saw them as one. A survivor, because the rest of the world hated them. They were the same. "The men opened their eyes. Above them stood the beast, but, it was nothing like the foreman had described. It was metal, yes, but, the men felt no ill-intent. No hatred, no anger, no danger. The beast was no mindless creature; it was a protector. A guardian of the tunnels. A beast of the rails. An unexpected friend." The Iron Goat was inches from her face now, the warm, metallic breath billowing over her face. Heather froze. Neither moved. It was silent in the tunnels. //What is it waiting for? Did I...// Heather had to know. She began to slowly reach her hand out, inching closer towards the beast's snout. It watched her hand with caution, but did not move. She felt the power of the beast, thrumming through the air, infusing the world around it. She realized something. //The Iron Goat is... it's a story. It is a hermeneutic. I can almost... feel it?// Heather hadn't realized when she did, but as she came out of her thoughts, she realized that her hand was resting directly on the head of the Iron Goat. She felt a power pulsing through it, a primal surge of creation and mythos coursing through the beast. It was a force of nature. Not malicious, not dangerous, simply, a reflection of the stories that were told. It was what others saw it as. //Like me.// Heather thought, frowning. //What if somebody tells the story again, about the dangerous beast? Will that just--// As if sensing her thoughts, the creature snorted, bobbing it's head. It's eyes looked back at her with an intense longing. The desire to play a role different than the one it had been cast in. Heather didn't know what she was going to do, but she had to try something. She closed her eyes, and tried to feel the Iron Goat. Her mind raced, and she felt almost transported to a space between this reality and somewhere abstract; the world of thoughts. She could see the Iron Goat in her mind, a hulking behemoth of iron and embers, trapped and chained, forced -- forced to become the villain, the danger, the killer that stalks the rails. //I can't... I have to change this.// She followed the chains with her mind. They twisted, winding through the sea of thoughts, growing and coalescing into a single chain of massive links, connected to a singular, monolithic rock. Heather considered the stone that she visualized in her mind, and frowned. //It's... this is the cause. This is why everybody tells the story of it being a monster.// She felt an idea pulsating out of the stone. //Enemy.// She thought, no-- she knew. But what could she do? She couldn't sever these chains, she couldn't break them; she knew that instinctually, trusting herself. But if she couldn't break the chains, then maybe she could... //I can change them.// She opened her eyes, and stared into the pleading face of the Iron Goat, her fear now replaced by sympathy. Heather knew what she had to do. "You, Iron Goat, are no longer an enemy. You are not the shadows stalking the innocent, the beast threatening the night, the danger that lurks in these tunnels. No. You are, and always will be, the protector. The guardian of the rails. The force of nature that exists to help those who are in danger." For a moment, it felt like she and the beast were breathing in synchronicity. A connection was formed, irreversible, unchanging, but sorely welcomed. The world shifted around the two, reality warping as The Legend of the Iron Goat evolved, shedding its shackles and glowing, a redefinition. No, not a redefinition. A rebirth. ------ Luca awoke with a panic and shot upright, looking around, searching for his foe. He didn't think, instinctively ready to protect, ready to fight. The literary guardian's instincts were interrupted with a new source of fear -- the metal cloven hoofs rang through the tunnel, approaching him with each passing second. His weapon appeared in his hand, surging with power. Shrugging off his backpack, pulsating light blue and white wings pushed out of his shirt, ripping the fabric as they stretched out to size, flexing under his control. He readied himself, and then began to charge the beast, intent on ending this once and for all. Of course, Luca couldn't have dreamed up the sight he saw before him. There was Heather, bruised, dirty, scrapes and cuts all over; but she was alive. She rode on the back of-- of the Iron Goat. It was then Luca felt a familiar feeling, one that told him he had been right. Heather had shifted the meaning. She had seized the narrative, and taken control of the story. She rewrote the Iron Goat's fate, and in doing so, saved them both. //I fear for the researchers at the Site that finally promotes her. She is a force of nature.// "Oh hey." Heather said, exhausted, but casually. "Did you always have those wings, or?" "For long enough." Luca replied, still feeling exposed when others learn that he, too, was a hermeneutic. Heather held out a hand, reaching down to Luca. He retracted his wings, and reached out. "Let's get the fuck out of here, huh?" Heather said, grinning as she did. Luca just shook his head, and climbed aboard. ------ Once the two made their way back to the surface, they had said their goodbyes to the Iron Goat, who bleated at them before returning to the tunnels from whence it came. They returned to the site; in a panic over Heather's superficial injuries, Luca had decided to fly them back. As the two soared through the air, Heather absentmindedly asked Luca a question. "So. Was that enough evidence?" "Yes, Heather, that was more than enough evidence." He replied, his mind racing. //He and Heather are alike, and yet... they are both walking a fine line, a delicate dance between light and complete chaos.// As Heather laughed, enjoying the thrill of the flight, Luca smiled. Maybe, just maybe, he could make sure that she lived in the light. //Because if she can, maybe Meri can rewrite her own fate.// ------ It had been a few weeks since their fateful encounter with the Iron Goat, and Heather had fully recovered from the ordeal. The paperwork had been filed, the anomaly's file updated accordingly, and things had finally calmed down to the normal. Unfortunately for Heather, the normal was pretty fucking boring here. She stopped in front of a door, and smiled. She knocked once, and then pushed it open; waiting for her was Luca, an array of tables, and snacks all around. It was the 28th, and it was time for Book Club. She smiled; maybe, just maybe, she could carve out her own little place in the world. //And maybe I can even... redefine myself.// ------ [[=]] ++++ ##grey\|2019## [[/=]] "And that's the end?" Lillian asked, staring at Heather with interest. "Yep! That's the end of the story. That day changed the course of my life; it helped me understand memetics, not just alone, but in the context of ideas and the noosphere. It inspired me to seize control and begin to change my life." Heather paused, staring lovingly into her girlfriend's eyes. "It led to me meeting you." The two women kissed, unbridled joy and passion filling the room. It was everything Lillian wanted at that moment; but then the moment passed, and she realized that she still had more questions. "Hey, wait a fucking second." Lillian said, pulling away from Heather. "Hmmm?" "You told me a massive fucking story about the legend of the big dicked metal monster and talked in so much fucking detail about the literary details of //Les Misérables//, but you never actually answered my question. What's the story behind the book?" "Right," Heather replied sheepishly, pushing the hair out of Lillian's face. She was adorable when she pouted. "When I finally left Site-19, Luca gave me this book. It was his copy, the one he had brought to book club. He gave it to me, as a memory of the time I spent at Site-19, and to help me remember that we can always change our fates. We just have to try." Lillian leaned back into her girlfriend's arms, sighing into them. "Alright, fine, that was a pretty good story." "I know it was." Heather remarked smarmily. "So what do you want to do next?" Both women had the same thought; the world was theirs, the future just waiting to be written. ------ [[=]] ++++ [[[Forgotten Memories Hub \| Through the fog, you can see... something. What else can't you remember?]]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]] [[/=]]	2024-07-06T19:45:00	[ "_licensebox", "action", "adventure", "comedy", "doctor-lillihammer", "eventyr", "forgotten-memories", "metafiction", "mythological", "parawatch", "tale" ]	The Legend Of The Iron Goat - SCP Foundation	33	[ "scp-8166", "forgotten-memories-hub", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "parawatch-hub", "forgotten-memories-hub" ]	[]	1455179396	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-legend-of-the-iron-goat
the-lillihammer-test	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="preview"> <p>"I don't mind breaking the rules for you."</p> </div> <div style="display: none"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">+ CODE</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">- CODE</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div style="text-align: left;"> <div class="code"> <div class="hl-main"> <pre><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BLANKSTYLE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CSS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">2021</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">Wikidot</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">Theme</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">By</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Placeholder</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">McD</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">HarryBlank</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Based</span><span class="hl-code"> on: </span><span class="hl-identifier">Paperstack</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Penumbra</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Montserrat</span><span class="hl-special">:ital</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">wght</span><span class="hl-var">@0</span><span class="hl-code">,800;1,800&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.9</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">1.6</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#container-wrap</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'Montserrat', </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-title, "R\</span><span class="hl-number">0026</span><span class="hl-code"> C SITE-43")</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">400</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-subtitle, "SUBVERTING COMMON PRACTICE")</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">700</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 707</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">a:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">1.6</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-title</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#footer</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#footer</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#efefef</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.empty</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#999999</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem!important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">7.9</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'Montserrat', </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.45</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#extra-div-1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">160</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Ablankstyle/</span><span class="hl-number">43</span><span class="hl-code">Head.png')</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> contain</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 707</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#extra-div-1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">body</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> linear-gradient( to </span><span class="hl-string">bottom</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">200</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">200</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-special">:root</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">timeScale:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">timeDelay:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">posX:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">358</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">13</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">fnLinger:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">12</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.35</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#DDD</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.open-menu</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 767</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-identifier">target</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">black</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FDF6D7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-var">#D7EFE7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.resources</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-var">#F5D8E0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.creditRate</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">PAGE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">RATING</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-points</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anchor</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> sticky</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.14</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc((</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vw - </span><span class="hl-number">870</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">)/</span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vh - </span><span class="hl-number">18</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">103.5</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 1290</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">visibility:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">h2:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">0.9</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">YUI</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TAB</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BASE</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">YUI</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TAB</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CUSTOMIZATION</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-wrap:</span><span class="hl-code"> wrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">.125</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">UNSELECTED</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#efefef</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">HOVER</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Listitem</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">relative</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-bottom</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">align-items:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.35</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.75</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> ellipsis</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">white-space:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">nowrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Selection</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">SELECTED</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:active</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">SCROLLBAR</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-track</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-thumb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#CCC</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-thumb</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#EEE</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">CENTER</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">IMAGES</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ON</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MOBILE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">courtesy</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">of</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">PeppersGhost</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.imagediv</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">right</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 540</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.imagediv</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">only</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">screen</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 600</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block.block-right</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">ACS-COLORED</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TABLE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">DIVS</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#D7EFE7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#D8ECF4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FDF6D7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFDABF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#F5D8E0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">146</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.wiki-content-table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-collapse:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">separate</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">img</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.top-left-box</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">.item</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">WORDS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">NO</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">LONGER</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BROKEN</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">THE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CROQUEMBOUCHE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">HAS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">SPOKEN</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">word-break:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">normal</span><span class="hl-code"> !important </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.avatar-hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#breadcrumbs</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.pseudocrumbs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> -- </span><span class="hl-identifier">FANCY</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">THINGS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">from</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Woedenaz</span><span class="hl-code">'</span><span class="hl-identifier">s</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Dustjacket</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> -- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fancyhr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--bright-accent), </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-source:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Aflopstyle-dark/wl_hr.png')</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> round round</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-slice:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-code"> fill</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fancyborder</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Aflopstyle-dark/wl_border.png') </span><span class="hl-number">600</span><span class="hl-code"> round</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span></pre></div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div> <div> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <p><strong>The Lillihammer Test</strong><br/> <strong>Author:</strong><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/queerious" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7453143); return false;"><img alt="Queerious" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7453143&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043681" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7453143)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/queerious" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7453143); return false;">Queerious</a></span><br/> ⚠️ <strong>Content warning:</strong> Sexual Content, Drug Use, Mentions of Dysphoria</p> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <div class="content-warning creditRate">⚠️ content warning <span class="content-warning-arrow"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></div> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc0"><span>The Lillihammer Test</span></h1> </div> </div> <p>"Heather! Over here!"</p> <p>Lillian was sitting at a small table, having already bought them a round of drinks.</p> <p>Heather wasn't sure what to make of that.</p> <p>She didn't have a ton of experience in being sociable, let alone 'going out' to bars with others. That had changed since transferring to Site-43, now it seemed like she was going out with Lillian, weekly at least. <em>I guess that's just what it's like for everybody. Right?</em></p> <p>Not that she had seen anybody else really drinking with Lillian. Or hanging out. Or really approaching her without fear in their eyes. No matter.</p> <p>Heather headed over to the table, sat down beside Lillian, and smiled.</p> <p>"Thanks for the drink Lilli."</p> <p>"I figured it was the least I could do — you seemed pretty shaken up in your email."</p> <p>Lillian was right, she was shaken up. It's not every day that you realize that trying to get rid of your deadname might have awoken a pattern screamer.</p> <p>"Hey, are you alright?" Lillian looked concerned.</p> <p>"Yeah. Just still… not sure what to do next, you know? I feel like everything I've wanted or worked towards has led me here. And now I could be disappearing like everybody else we'd found." <em>Or didn't find,</em> she worried to herself.</p> <p>The silence sat for an uncomfortable second between the two women. It was only interrupted when an individual came and sat down across from the two of them; Heather didn't recognize him, but by Lillian's glower, it was clear that she did.</p> <p>"Lillian! New girl! Why the long faces?" He took a long drag of his beer before breathing an artificial sigh and loudly placing his bottle onto the table.</p> <p>"Medley. What do you want?" Lillian barely kept the annoyance out of her voice, making it clear just what she thought of the man.</p> <p>"I was just checking on the two of you — this is a bar, you should be enjoying yourselves! I figured that I might be able to help you two with that. You're both much prettier when you smile." Medley gave a suggestive wiggle of the eyebrows.</p> <p><em>Yeah, I can see why Lillian reacted like that.</em></p> <p>"We're fine Medley. You can leave now."</p> <p>"And leave two beautiful women alone to drink? It's not as fun without a chivalrous man by your sides, cheering you up!"</p> <p>Heather thought she had a pretty good idea of what was going on now. She shot a glance at Lillian that said '<em>let me take care of this</em>'. Lillian mentally shot back '<em>be my guest</em>'.</p> <p>Heather leaned forward, looking intensely at Medley. "Oh. That's okay. We can have plenty of fun without men, trust me." Lillian started laughing, while Medley choked on his beer. <em>Good.</em></p> <p>"Well. I guess I should have expected nothing less from two members of M&C. I still don't know why you rejected my application Lillian, I was even willing to do the Lillihammer Test!"</p> <p>Wow, Medley was desperate. Heather didn't even know his first name and she was already making a mental note to avoid him.</p> <p>Lillian barked back.</p> <p>"That's the point Medley," Lillian said with a glare, "if you don't get that, then obviously you don't belong in M&C."</p> <p>"So I guess that means Heather passed your test?" Medley said, looking challengingly at Heather.</p> <p>Heather, for her part, had zero idea what either of them were talking about. That didn't stop her from escalating things.</p> <p>"Oh, I've more than passed the Lillihammer Test. <em>Way more.</em>"</p> <p>At that, Heather suggestively put her arm around Lillian; Lillian leaned into her, in an overdramatic sigh. Medley, once again, choked on his beer.</p> <p>Lillian looked back up at him. "Did you get the hint, Medley? This is a two player game, not a free for all."</p> <p>That was the final blow. He quickly stood up, spilled his beer on himself, muttered a half-hearted apology, before scurrying away under the gaze of the two women. They couldn't hold back the laughter as he fled from their table. Lillian took a second longer than needed, lingering, before sitting upright and out of Heather's fake-possessive grip.</p> <p>"Thanks for playing along Lillian, I needed a win."</p> <p>"Of course, any time I can make a man feel awkward, it's my pleasure."</p> <p>"So. What is this test, that just so happens to be named after you?"</p> <p>"Oh my god, I can't believe we haven't talked about this."</p> <p>Heather could recognize the spark of mischief in Lillian's eyes at this point, and knew that whatever it was, it would be good.</p> <p>Lillian sat upright, and took on an air of what Heather termed 'section chair mode', before beginning. "If you want to be a fully fledged member of M&C, you will need to agree to undergo the 'Lillihammer Test'. This is a test that I have devised, based on other memetics departments across the Foundation, to assess an individual's mental fortitude and ability to perceive the anomalous and distinguish cognitohazards from their own sanity."</p> <p>"Right. So what is it, Professor?" Heather couldn't conceal the teasing in her tone — Lillian really had a tendency to fall into lecturer mode at a second's notice.</p> <p>"I'm getting to it! Just wait a second, okay?" Lillian brushed her hair to the side, refusing to let Heather fluster her any more than she already had. "The test is simple. We block out an afternoon, and then both take hallucinogens and MC-88, a drug that allows our Noospheric fields to synchronize temporarily. This combination allows us to see and experience what the other is thinking or hallucinating. And then we trip. I, of course, assess your mental fortitude, and ability to endure extreme mental conditions, and assuming you do well enough, you become a full member of M&C."</p> <p>"Bullshit. There's no way doing drugs is a test."</p> <p>"It's real, everybody who is part of M&C or wants to join has been asked to take part in this test. That's how Medley knew about it."</p> <p>"Well why didn't I have to take the Lillihammer Test?"</p> <p>"Your transfer kind of skirted around that, and then I got distracted talking about the Name Changer with you… and then with everything we've been working on together, I just kind of forgot to ask."</p> <p>Heather wasn't sure if Lillian was making things up anymore — but pushing a little harder couldn't hurt, right?</p> <p>Heather pushed. "Well, I guess that means we should do the test then? Retroactively, of course."</p> <p>Lillian looked shocked for a second — just a split second, but it was enough to let Heather know that she had called a bluff.</p> <p>"Oh, we don't need to do the test, I know that you would pass it anyways. It would be a waste of time for the both of us."</p> <p>Heather pushed again.</p> <p>"Really? I mean, I don't want to be unfair to others! If you're being honest, then everybody else in M&C has done this test with you, and it just wouldn't be fair to them if I was allowed to skip it. That might even look like favoritism — and it's not like you act any differently around me, right?" Heather wasn't even bothering to hide the teasing in her tone anymore, directly challenging Lillian.</p> <p>Lillian paused for a second, running through what was clearly many different permutations of this conversation, before shooting back.</p> <p>"Well, I was willing to just let it slide, but since you seem so excited to do drugs with me, I guess I can arrange a Lillihammer Test for this weekend. As long as I'm understanding that correctly. You do want to spend an entire day with me, tripping in sync, right?"</p> <p>There it was. Lillian had taken control of the conversation again. Now Heather had to admit she wanted to take the test for the sake of taking the test, not out of a sense of fairness.</p> <p><em>Well, in for a penny, right?</em></p> <p>"Lillian. I would love to take the Lillihammer Test this weekend."</p> <p><em>Shit.</em> Heather thought belatedly. <em>This is a bad idea. I'm doing drugs with my boss? Heather, you need to remember to at least pretend to be professional in the future, okay?</em><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <em>This is a bad idea.</em> Lillian thought. <em>No way I'm going to let Heather know that, though.</em> Lillian cursed her inability to back down from a challenge.</p> <p>"How's tomorrow for you, say 11am? It'll be a long day, so make sure you have a good breakfast first."</p> <p>"Sounds like a plan." Heather smirked at her. Lillian wished she could wipe that look off of Heather's face, but couldn't think of any appropriate ways to do that. At least, none appropriate for a work relationship.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> The two women spent the rest of the evening drinking, taking shelter from the oncoming storm within the dimly lit corner of the bar. They kept dancing around each other, both yearning, but unwilling to define what they were. It wouldn't be until after tomorrow that they really knew.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Lillian heard the knock at her door right before 11am.</p> <p><em>I should have known that Heather wouldn't change her mind.</em></p> <p>Lillian hadn't been sure what would happen — they had spent a few more hours drinking, before walking back to the Site together. Remembering what had happened the last time, when Lillian walked Heather to her door and they almost kissed, Lillian made up an excuse to make sure she didn't act like a teenager again. Heather had looked like she might say something, but in the end, the two women went their separate ways once returning to Site-43.</p> <p>But now Heather was here, waiting on the other side of her door, to spend an entire day with her. In her dorms.</p> <p>Lillian opened the door with as welcoming of a smile as she could muster — and was relieved to see that it was actually Heather on the other side of the door.</p> <p>"Morning! Glad to see you didn't back down."<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Heather walked into Lillian's dorm, taking it all in. It was cozy, decorated with keepsakes and art from Lillian's many adventures around the world; eclectic and warm, just like she was. Not that Heather would ever call Lillian that to her face.</p> <p>There were candles set up throughout the living space, with incense burning on a table in front of Lillian's worn couch. On the table were two teacups on saucers, filled with a reddish-brown tincture.</p> <p>Heather inhaled deeply, losing herself in the smell of the incense. It was warm, bold, full of amber and spice. <em>Just like Lilli.</em></p> <p>"What are you burning?"</p> <p>"Oh that? It's dragon's blood. I used to burn it whenever I had a rough day, back before I knew who I really was. It felt… it made me think that if a smell could transform an entire room, then maybe everything wasn't so… static. You know?"</p> <p>"Yeah. I think I do."</p> <p>The women both took a second to just breathe and let the incense wash over them — the entire world could have disappeared, and neither would have noticed as long as they were both still there.</p> <p>"Right, sorry! Please, come in and sit down on the couch, I just have to grab one more thing!"</p> <p>Heather walked over to the couch, sitting down. The room was warmly lit with string lights adding to the glow of the candles. The tea cups on the table didn't match, but were both distinct. Eclectic and unique. Different.</p> <p>Each cup was filled with a deep amber liquid; Heather stared at the cups, wondering just what was in them. She wasn't waiting long, as Lillian walked back in from her kitchenette, glasses of water in hand. She gingerly placed them down on the table, before sitting down on the couch opposite Heather.</p> <p>Lillian turned her body to the side, crossed her legs and reached a hand out to Heather's arm.</p> <p>"Hey. I know a lot has happened since you were transferred. I know that I'm not the easiest person to work for, and with what we just realized about <a href="/scp-8688">SCP-8688</a>, I understand that you might be freaking out a little bit."</p> <p>"Just a little bit?"</p> <p>Lillian laughed. "Yeah, just a little bit. I wanted to say, you know we don't have to do this, right? If you want to just sit here and talk, that's okay too."</p> <p>"Lillian, I really… look. I don't know what the hell is going on, honestly. I'm terrified about what I did, and I don't know if I can do anything about it."</p> <p>Lillian started to pick up the tea cups, to move them back into the kitchen, but Heather reached out and put her hand on Lillian's arm, pausing her.</p> <p>"The thing is? All I know right now is that I want to do this 'test'. With you."</p> <p>"Heather, I'm going to be honest with you. I've seen a lot of fucked up shit. I have no idea what you're going to see here, and I don't want you to think any less of me."</p> <p>"Lils? I'm the same. Trust me, I'm terrified of you deciding that I can't stay here because of something you see in my subconscious."</p> <p>The two looked at each other earnestly, both saying as much as they could with a look.</p> <p>Lillian smiled gently, leaning back into the chair before cracking her neck.</p> <p>"Hey. I want you to know, that whatever happens during this? Heather, you're fucking brilliant. You're going to stay working with me as long as you want to."</p> <p>Heather blushed. In unison, they both picked up the tea cups in front of them and held them up, clinking the cups together.</p> <p>Lillian began. "So I've made a mixture of both anomalous drugs, regular psilocybin and other assorted ingredients to help us both visualize and experience what the other is seeing. It's not going to be just minor hallucinations, or dizzying patterns; this concoction should effectively transport our minds into complete recreations of spaces and memories. For the most part, we'll both be experiencing the same things — some will be my memories, others will be yours, and sometimes it might be a mixture of the two. If you see something that you don't recognize, assume that I know what's going on. I'm going to do the same for you."</p> <p>"What if neither of us know what's going on?"</p> <p>"Well then either it's a compound memory, and we'll have to figure out where the crossover is, so we need to make sure that we don't stop communicating during this, okay?"</p> <p>"Wait, you said either. What if it's not a compound memory?"</p> <p>"Well, that's why we're both memetics badasses, right? We'll figure it out."</p> <p>Heather nodded, psyching herself up. "So we're doing this?"</p> <p>"Yeah. Let's do it."</p> <p>At that, the women both drank every last drop in their cups before setting them back down onto the saucers.</p> <p>"So what now?"</p> <p>Lillian smiled.</p> <p>"Now, we wait for it to get weird."<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Heather looked up from her hands, having stared at her fingers twitching for far too long.</p> <p>"Have you done this before?"</p> <p>Lillian looked up from a piece of paper where she was scrawling… notes? Definitely words — even if they wouldn't stay still.</p> <p>"Done what before? Drugs?"</p> <p>"Yeah, let's start there. Because I haven't."</p> <p>Lillian snorted in disbelief.</p> <p>"You've never done hallucinogens, and you decided, sure, fuck it, let's do some AND add more anomalous drugs, AND let's do it with my boss!"</p> <p>Heather looked chagrinned. "I mean… yeah, pretty much."</p> <p>"Heather! Wow, I never took you for a straight-edge kinda girl."</p> <p>"I wasn't repressed, I just… well I was too focused on just finished school, and then getting a good job, and then joining the Foundation, and then trying to make a name for myself here. I never really had the chance?"</p> <p>Heather looked around Lillian's living room, before refocusing her attention back to Lillian.</p> <p>"I'm glad I can do it here though. With you. You're… you've really made me feel welcome here."</p> <p>Lillian shrugged, looking away with a slight blush.</p> <p>"Girls like us need to stick together, right?"</p> <p>"Right… so when do we start seeing weird stuff?"</p> <p>"Could be any time. Want to watch some TV? I hear VKTM has a new reality show about dogs pretending to be humans at like the DMV and shit."<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> They never managed to find the TV remote. Heather had finished her water and had gone into the kitchen to refill her glass, when Lillian heard a yell of surprise. She stood up and quickly walked over, her massive strides crossing her living room in no time; but the kitchen wasn't the kitchen anymore.</p> <p>Heather had fallen to the ground, looking up in confusion at the alarm klaxons and flashing lights going off around her. Lillian walked over to her, and offered a hand to help her up.</p> <p>"What the hell is going on here?" Heather kept scanning the space, looking for an explanation. "Is there a containment breach happening?"</p> <p>Lillian knew what it was automatically. After this long, she could tell where she was in an instant.</p> <p>"Not right now. This is one of my memories."</p> <p>"Right, right. Where are we?" Heather grabbed Lillian's hand, pulling herself up and using Lillian to steady herself.</p> <p>"The better question is <strong>when</strong> are we!"</p> <p>"Seriously?"</p> <p>"Sorry, I couldn't help myself. But also, you should ask me that."</p> <p>"Really? Lillian?" Heather paused, waiting for a better answer. Lillian just smirked back at her, determined to wait Heather out. "Fine. <em>When</em> are we?"</p> <p>"September 8th, 2002."</p> <p>"Wha—oh. We're in the goop loop."</p> <p>Lillian was stunned at that. "The goop loop?"</p> <p>Heather shrugged. "Yeah, that's what I call it. <a href="/scp-5243">SCP-5243</a>, right? The whole accident thingy? I remember reading about it in the transfer briefing."</p> <p>"Yeah, this is SCP-5243. Or at least, one of the timelines. I don't know which one yet. There's been so many at this point, I've lost track of them."</p> <p>"That must be hard."</p> <p>"I guess so? It's just… it's part of the job, right? You maintain normalcy, no matter the cost. And when we don't maintain normalcy? Those are the bad years."</p> <p>"What kind of year is this one?" Heather started walking around the space — Lillian wasn't sure where they were at first, the room had transformed itself from her small kitchenette into a larger chamber, covered in debris, dirt and rubble. It was definitely one of the bad years.</p> <p>Poking her head out of the room into the corridors, Lillian saw the Site in disarray. People were walking back and forth, keeping to themselves, zombified in their routines. Heather yelped, and Lillian turned back around.</p> <p>Now there was another Lillian. Standing in the middle of the room, just… staring at the wall.</p> <p>"Oh. It's that year."</p> <p>"A bad year I'm guessing?" Heather asked, unsure how to gauge Lillian's reaction.</p> <p>"It was… it was a weird one. Bad overall, yeah, but definitely memorable." Lillian stared at her unmoving body, an incomparable sensation of <em>déjà vu</em> crashing into an out of body experience, her mind sliding back into the survival mode that had encompassed that entire year. The panic and practiced stillness swirled through her mind, enveloping her and dragging her in.</p> <p>And then Heather appeared in front of her. She didn't know when Heather had moved around, nor how she'd gotten close enough without Lillian having noticed. She felt Heather pull her in for an embrace, hugging her tight. It was nice.</p> <p>"Sorry, I kind of got lost in my thoughts." Lillian said, sheepishly.</p> <p>"It's okay, you just seemed like you could use a hug. I hope that was okay?" Heather looked concerned.</p> <p>"Yeah. No. That helped."</p> <p>"Do you want to talk about it? You kind of… drifted off into your mind. More than you usually do. I tried to give you a moment, but after a minute I got worried."</p> <p>"Sorry, I didn't mean to worry you — this was just one of the harder ones."</p> <p>"Do you want to talk about it?"</p> <p>Heather sat down and patted the concrete beside her — Lillian kneeled down and joined her.</p> <p>"It was… I had to fake it. I had to pretend to be a zombie for months. I was constantly watched, terrified that somebody would realize that I was just pretending. Scared that they would realize that I wasn't supposed to be here, and then they'd come after me and erase me. Just going through the motions, hoping that—"</p> <p>"Hoping that nobody realizes that it's all an act."</p> <p>Lillian looked at Heather intently.</p> <p>"Yeah. Exactly like that. How did you know?"</p> <p>"It sounds like when I was in the closet. I knew I was a girl, but nobody else could find out. I was terrified about what would happen if they did."</p> <p>Lillian looked up at Heather, the thought having never crossed her mind before.</p> <p>"Yeah. Exactly! Just… the feeling of knowing that you have no control, but if you want to survive, you know that you just need to keep up the appearance of normalcy."</p> <p>Heather gave her a look of sympathy.</p> <p>"I can't imagine having to go through that twice. Once I finally came out, I told myself that I would never hide who I was again, that I was going to be proud of myself and never compromise who I was for the sake of others." Heather snorted, shaking her head. "Of course, I hid who I was a lot. Out of fear, out of anxiety, hell, even just because I was too tired to try that hard. But I knew that if I really needed to, I could take a stand and just… be me. I can't imagine how hard it was to spend almost an entire year, straight, not being able to do that."</p> <p>"Thanks. I don't know anybody else who isn't a part of the breach that gets how hard it is to… to feel like everything reset and you're just back where you started."</p> <p>"I'll never fully understand it — I'm not a part of it. But I just wanted to say that you're not alone, at least, as long as you're willing to talk to me. I might not be here in every timeline, but when I am, you'll have somebody you can count on, okay?"</p> <p>Heather gave Lillian another squeeze. The two women sat together on the ground, as the chaos of the world blew around them. Lillian felt scared — not because of the breach, or because of the hallucination, but because of how Heather was making her feel.</p> <p><em>I really hope she can't see me blushing right now.</em> Lillian worried to herself.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> The klaxons and oppressive weight of the memory faded soon after, shifting again, morphing around the two of them until they were outside of the Foundation's facilities.</p> <p>A dilapidated 1960s hotel emerged from the walls, slowly replacing the grey concrete until a dusty, dimly lit hallway was all that was left. The wallpaper was peeling, revealing the tacky yellow of the glue underneath, fighting against the ancient wood that struggled to maintain its grip onto the paper.</p> <p>Lillian looked around, uncertain of where they were. She looked over at Heather, who nodded.</p> <p>"Yeah, this is mine."</p> <p>Heather stood up, pulling Lillian to her feet.</p> <p>"So where are we then?"</p> <p>"This is… I think we're in Three Portlands."</p> <p>"Did you spend a lot of time in creepy old hotels there?"</p> <p>"No this is…" Heather blushed and trailed off, gathering her thoughts.</p> <p>Lillian interjected, unable to contain her mischief. "Oh! Is this the hotel where you lost your virginity?"</p> <p>"Lillian!"</p> <p>"So then were are we?"</p> <p>"An anom<sub>alous sens</sub>…"</p> <p>Heather had trailed off and was looking pointedly at anywhere but Lillian. Lillian pushed the advantage.</p> <p>"Sorry Heath, I couldn't hear that. Where did you say we were?"</p> <p>Heather shot a glare at her.</p> <p>"Fine. We're in an anomalous sensory experience club."</p> <p>"I'm sorry, a what?" It wasn't very often that Lillian was left without anything to say on a topic, but Heather kept managing to find a way.</p> <p>"Look, it's not like I came here often, just once or twice. Maybe five times, at most." Heather began protesting, holding her hands out in front of her in defense. "It's called <a href="/scp-8478">Sense</a>."</p> <p>"Huh. Never heard of it." Lillian looked at Heather with an open gesture, asking her to continue.</p> <p>"Really? I would have expected you to know it."</p> <p>"Guess you're just kinkier than me Heather." Lillian smirked. "So what is this place?"</p> <p>"Sense is this kind of weird theatre piece slash sensory play club slash experience? It's a lot to explain."</p> <p>"Let's start with the 'sensory play club' part. What's that? Sounds hot."</p> <p>Heather blushed.</p> <p>"Yeah, I mean… it kind of is."</p> <p>Heather started walking down the hallway, Lillian following close behind.</p> <p>"So a sensory play club is a space you can go to experience different feelings or sensations? Think of like… a BDSM space or something like that."</p> <p>"Oh, you <em>are</em> kinky!" Lillian couldn't help herself from teasing.</p> <p>"Something like that. Anyways, Sense is an anomalous club in Three Portlands run by Psuedogenesis Productions, this weird theatre company that focuses on benign anomalous experiences. I went here a couple of times when I was in town based on a recommendation from a friend."</p> <p>"So you came here by yourself? That's pretty brave. Do you usually go to weird anomalous theatre alone?"</p> <p>"I… I swear I came with somebody else. But… I can't remember them, plus, there's nobody else here. So I guess I must have come alone."</p> <p>"Maybe! These memories aren't perfect recreations, so there might be some differences based on what you felt was important. I want to know more about this club though, is it like… ghosts smacking you with a whip?"</p> <p>"Not quite. Here, let me see if this room has anything in it."</p> <p>Heather had stopped in front of a dusty red door, with a golden G shining amongst the dirt. She twisted the handle, and pushed the door open. Heather poked her head in, before taking a deep breath and nodding.</p> <p>"Yeah. I remember this room."</p> <p>Lillian began to move to enter, but was stopped by Heather.</p> <p>"Before you go in, I think I should explain a bit more about Sense. Their whole thing is giving people a sensory experience that you can't feel anywhere else. They use memetics to give you feelings that they craft, designed to make you understand a foreign experience. Something that you'll never experience, anywhere else."</p> <p>"Well if it's memetics, then I definitely need to see this." Lillian moved to walk into the room again, but Heather grabbed her arm.</p> <p>"I need you to know — it's not just things like whips or hot air."</p> <p>"So what is it then? A fucking gangbang?" Lillian was trying to get a laugh out of Heather, but Heather just frowned.</p> <p>"If this is the room I think it is… no, maybe you should feel it first, and then I can tell you what it's about. If the memetics even work the same as they did in the real world."</p> <p>Heather took her hand off of Lillian, and gestured for her to enter. Lillian paused for a second, but pressed on, determined to see what was behind the door that had impacted Heather so much.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Like the fear that comes when the ground falls away from underneath you, Lillian was disoriented. The first thing that Lillian felt was a chill inside of herself. Not like the chill you get from a cold breeze, or from forgetting your coat at home, but a deep, primal chill.</p> <p>Like the feeling of ice water hitting your lungs.</p> <p>Lillian wasn't in a hotel room anymore. She was alone, in an empty black void, surrounded by nothing. She wasn't standing anymore, but she wasn't swimming, falling or flying. She was just… still.</p> <p>And then the pain started. A subtle pain, the sharp dagger of something within you that you know is wrong. Lillian gasped in shock, but nothing came in. There was no air in the room.</p> <p>She tried to take another deep breath, but that was when she felt the chill again, coursing through her chest.</p> <p>Maybe it <em>was</em> ice water filling her lungs. The freezing cold started to spread within her body, as she could feel the fluid sloshing around within her chest. She fumbled around, trying to cover her mouth, but it didn't seem to change anything. With each breath she took, she was drowning more and more.</p> <p>Lillian refused to let the panic win, and began to analyze her body and mind. <em>Okay. You know that you saw a cognitohazard when you entered the room. So something is just fucking with your brain.</em> She tried to isolate the memeplex, but couldn't quite separate it — every time she would try and lock it away, she'd take a breath and the sensations would overwhelm her.</p> <p><em>Right, that's not working. Am I in danger?</em> She didn't think Heather would have let her go into somewhere she could die, but she needed to know for herself. She took a deep breath in, and focused on the sensation. The icy feeling returned — but there was no burning sensation, no signs that she wasn't getting enough oxygen to her lungs. Even if it felt like every breath she took was without air, she knew that at the very least, that wasn't correct.</p> <p><em>Good, at least I'm not going to die here.</em> Lillian relaxed her breathing — which, she would realize momentarily, was a mistake. She could feel as there was less and less space in her lungs, until they were entirely filled with water. She felt her body chilling from the inside out, the sensation ripping through her body like lightning between clouds. Her vision began to blur, darkness edging in from all sides.</p> <p>Lillian was gasping for air, but nothing she did changed the fact; she felt like she was drowning, and no amount of air could do anything about that. As the darkness overwhelmed her eyes, she focused onto her hands, trying to keep herself anchored. The blackness encroached and swallowed her whole.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> And then she was back, staring at an empty hotel room. On the bed was a child's drawing of a dark lake, drawn from a perspective of floating inside of it, with a hole overhead in a sheet of ice.</p> <p>Lillian took a deep breath, and relished in the feeling of air filtering through her nose, filling her lungs. After a beat, she turned around and left the room. Heather was sitting on the ground, leaning against the wall. She looked up when she saw Lillian exit, and gave her a deep look of sympathy.</p> <p>"Welcome back. Are you okay?"</p> <p>"Yeah. I just… wasn't expecting that. What was that?"</p> <p>"That was… sorry, I should have told you about it before I let you go in there, I'm so sorry, it must have been terrifying to not know what was going on." Heather looked up at her, clearly worried that she had fucked up. Lillian slid down onto the floor opposite her.</p> <p>"Hey, it's not your fault I was me and pushed past. But if this is in your memory, that means you felt it too."</p> <p>"Yeah. I did. My first time at Sense."</p> <p>"So… what is it? Why did they make this?"</p> <p>"This is… those were the last moments of a seven-year-old named Grace. Grace was the daughter of one of the founding members of Pseudogenesis Productions, the theatre company that runs this place. Grace fell into a frozen lake and drowned."</p> <p>Heather wiped the tears away, before continuing.</p> <p>"Her mother… they took their grief and they made this. Channeled all of the pain, fear and emotions into a cognitohazard. They made it so that people could understand what it feels like to… to just die unexpectedly. The chill as you realize what's happening. The surprise you feel is supposed to match the surprise Grace felt as she fell in."</p> <p>"Fuck."</p> <p>"Yeah. Fuck is right."</p> <p>"Are all of the rooms so… fucked up?"</p> <p>Heather shook her head.</p> <p>"No, this is definitely the hardest room. They all have some sensation that is trying to help you understand an experience somebody went through, some positive, some negative. This is the hardest room in the hotel — I'm sorry, I should have told you."</p> <p>Heather looked at Lillian, terrified that she had made a mistake. Lillian held her hand out, and Heather seized it, holding it tight.</p> <p>"Listen. Heather. This place appeared because… well, because it meant something to you. I felt this because it was so important to you that you remembered every single aspect of it. Every emotion, every sensation, every second of it — you have locked in your head. I'm… honestly? I'm honored that I got to experience this beside you."</p> <p>Lillian gave Heather's hand a squeeze.</p> <p>"Thanks for saying that. You… you're one of the nicest people I've met."</p> <p>Lillian laughed.</p> <p>"Oh, I'm absolutely not. I'm an asshole. I just happen to like you a fair bit."</p> <p>"Yeah. Me too."</p> <p>The two women sat in silence for a minute, neither one of them letting go of the other's hand.</p> <p>"So, what else is there in Sense? Want to show me around some more?"</p> <p>Heather looked at Lillian and smiled.</p> <p>"Yeah, I'd love to."<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> "I can't believe they had an entire room dedicated to different types of rug burns. Imagine the rooms they could make if they worked with Wettle."</p> <p>Lillian was drifting through the hallways of Sense, having fallen for the idea just as much as Heather had the first time she had gone. Of course, this wasn't exactly the same; there was nobody but the two of them, where typically it was pretty packed. Still, Lillian turned a corner and Heather hurried after, worried that she might lose her.</p> <p>"Hey! Hold on!"</p> <p>"No can do Heath, time to check the next room."</p> <p>Heather turned the corner as Lillian threw open another hotel door — and the world twisted around them as she did.</p> <p>After the swirling images, light and patterns faded and stabilized, Heather took a look around. They were inside of a small café, full of people sitting on their laptops sipping on their lattes. Outside the windows you could hear the bustle of a busy city, cars blaring by, a dull afternoon light streaming in.</p> <p><em>That smells… this smells like the coffee Lilli is always drinking.</em> Heather mused. "Where are we?" Heather didn't recognize the place — it must be Lillian's memory.</p> <p>Heather looked around the room until she found Lillian. She had never seen the look on her before, but it almost seemed like Lillian was feeling… wistful?</p> <p>"We're… I think we're in my favorite coffee shop back in Toronto."</p> <p>Lillian sat down on a cushioned bench and patted the seat beside her for Heather to join. As Heather sat down, two drinks materialized in front of them. Heather took a sip. A rose latte. She couldn't remember the last time she had one. They sat drinking in a comfortable silence, taking in the peaceful atmosphere of the hole-in-the-wall café. Peace was a scarcity in the Foundation.</p> <p>"Did you come here often?"</p> <p>"Not really? Just a handful of times… but whenever I did, I would spend hours just sitting. The first time I didn't even realize that it was a coffee shop. I had stepped under an awning to get out of some rain, when the smell of caffeine drew me inside. I didn't see the café at first, the outside door leading into a set of rickety old stairs, twisting through the old building like a maze, smaller businesses and rooms branching off like leaves. At the very top of the stairs was a wooden door with a small handmade sign that simply said 'Welcome'. I almost backed away, but then the door opened, and the smells rushed over me… I couldn't stop myself from entering at that point."</p> <p>Heather couldn't help but smile. <em>Lillian really does have a way with words. I guess you don't really notice when every other word is a curse word, but she speaks like a song.</em></p> <p>"The weirdest part about this place is where it was. You wouldn't expect a coffee shop like this, especially given that it was next door to a strip club. Zanzibar. I used to watch the girls that went in and out and just… I was envious but I didn't know why."</p> <p>"Wait. This was next to a strip club? So this was some sketchy part of town then?"</p> <p>Lillian laughed "That's the crazy part, it's like… right in the middle of downtown? Surrounded by skyscrapers and office buildings and hundreds of thousands of condos. And then there's just… a strip club and a tiny little café."</p> <p>Lillian relaxed and leaned her head back against the wall. "At least, it used to be there. I doubt the café is anymore."</p> <p>Heather looked around. This place was almost like a magical rest stop in between the chaos of a city. "How could this place shut down?" she asked incredulously.</p> <p>"That's the thing with Toronto — old buildings suck if you want to pack people into them like sardines. All of the pre-war buildings are dying now. Their gorgeous bricks are being replaced with glass and metal, crashing against each other in a fight for space."</p> <p>Lillian shrugged.</p> <p>"It's not like I can change anything about that, I'm just one woman. Even <em>I</em> can't change an entire city." She sighed in resignation.</p> <p>"Do you miss it?"</p> <p>"Miss what?"</p> <p>"The city. Toronto. Do you ever wish you could be back there?"</p> <p>"No. I can't miss the city, not the way it is now. I miss places like this." Lillian gestured around, "But places like this don't exist anymore. The hundreds of thousands of office drones and their need for modernity meant that the city swallowed them up whole." Lillian shrugged. "Shit. I'm sorry, I'm being a real mood killer."</p> <p>"No, don't worry about it. I never really had anywhere like this to go. I guess I really didn't actually go anywhere by myself, I just… stayed home and did my own thing. Sometimes I worry that I've missed out on places like this." Heather bit her lip.</p> <p>Lillian grabbed her attention with just a look, the intensity behind her gaze drawing her in.</p> <p>"Hey. How about we go find a café next weekend? Just you and me. We'll find a way and we won't stop until you've had the café experience of your dreams."</p> <p>Heather grinned. "Did you just ask me out on a coffee date? Lillian, I can't believe how bold you're being."</p> <p>Lillian rolled her eyes. "You haven't seen bold yet, trust me. So, is it a date?" Heather wasn't sure, but it almost seemed like there was a hint of anxiety in Lillian's question. But that couldn't be right, could it?</p> <p>"Yeah. It's a date."</p> <p>Heather knew in that moment, when she saw Lillian's beaming smile in response, that she would do anything in her power to see it again and again.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> The two women spent a few hours sitting in the coffee shop, chatting about their lives and the different places they'd lived. Time didn't pass the same in the shared hallucinations — so when the light changed to dusk, they both knew that something was shifting again.</p> <p>Before either of them could move, they were sitting on a couch, in a living room. It wasn't unlike a Foundation dormitory — actually it was almost as sterile.</p> <p>"Is this your memory?" Lillian asked.</p> <p>"Yeah. This is my first apartment. Or, my first apartment I had alone."</p> <p>Lillian looked around the room. The furniture was bland, beige and grey filling the space. There were almost no decorations, and the more Lillian looked, the less detail she saw. Books had no words on their spines. DVD cases were blank, picture frames missing the pictures inside of them. Funnily enough, the blandness was really starting to remind her of a basic Foundation dormitory.</p> <p>"No offense Heath, but you're an awful decorator." Lillian teased the woman as she continued looking around the room. <em>It's almost like there's not a single piece of Heather in here.</em></p> <p>"Yeah, well, I didn't decorate it." Heather had stood up and was looking through the book shelf. Lillian peeked over her shoulder as she flipped through the volumes.</p> <p><em>The pages are blank. Odd.</em></p> <p>"You didn't decorate?"</p> <p>"No, I had it in my head that I wouldn't really be using this place much anyways, considering I planned on spending so much time at school? This was where I moved into right before my last year of undergrad, and it was my first time living alone." Heather gave up on the books, and started to check the cupboards as she spoke. "I didn't know how to decorate an apartment, let alone buy furniture, so I rented."</p> <p>"You rented furniture?"</p> <p>"Yeah. I rented everything you see in here. Not the books, but… I don't know why they're all empty. I know I had real books on my shelf when I lived here."</p> <p>Lillian shrugged. "Drugs?"</p> <p>"Yeah. Probably just drugs."</p> <p>"So you rented your furniture."</p> <p>"Yeah, I got it all from this company, I didn't even choose the color or style, I just told them how many rooms my apartment was, and on the day I moved in, they showed up and set it all up." Heather laughed to herself. "I can't believe I lived like this for an entire year."</p> <p>"Honestly? Neither can I. This is… I won't lie, I've seen containment cells with more character than this apartment. Didn't it bother you, living in a blank slate?" Lillian had started looking for any aspect of Heather in the entire apartment, but hadn't found a single speck.</p> <p>"I guess… I wasn't really thinking about that? I had just gotten out of… I didn't even know how to live for myself, you know? I was barely coming to terms with my gender, pushing that down and out of the way, all the while I tried to keep busy. This was just a place to sleep and eat, nothing else." Heather shared a sad look with Lillian. "Honestly, every time I tried to think about changing something, I would spiral out and just decide that it wasn't worth the hassle. So I would just put it off. Kick it down the road. Worry about it later, once I'd figured things out more."</p> <p>"Did you figure things out more?"</p> <p>"Sure, when I realized I was a girl, things started to make a lot more sense."</p> <p>Lillian knew in an instant what Heather meant. "You mean how the things that you hated, suddenly, you knew why?"</p> <p>"Exactly! Or like, suddenly it makes sense why you hate looking at mirrors or clothes or pictures of yourself, and you're not just some weirdo who doesn't give a shit about your appearance. Turns out, you really do care, but it just felt…"</p> <p>"Out of reach?"</p> <p>"Yeah. Like it was impossible for me to ever have."</p> <p>"Hey, for what it's worth? I think you definitely have it now."</p> <p>"Thanks Lillian. That… it's really nice to be able to talk to somebody else who understands what it was like."</p> <p>Lillian sat down, having given up her hunt for anything that wasn't bland. "I don't ever really get the chance to talk about this either. I mostly just run away or run past it. Dwelling on this stuff isn't really productive when you're facing down memetic terrors or GOIs trying to kill you."</p> <p>"Well you can talk to me any time, you know that, right?" Heather was looking at her with big eyes, clearly on the brink of tears, overwhelmed by their history.</p> <p>Lillian tussled Heather's hair, messing it up. "Thanks Heath, I appreciate that."</p> <p>Heather's response dripped with sarcasm as she tried to fix her hair. "Yeah, anytime, <em>boss</em>."</p> <p>Lillian decided that the question she'd been turning over in her mind had baked for long enough, and given that she didn't have a solution, she just asked. "Okay, so I've turned your apartment upside down, and I really need to ask you."</p> <p>"Sure, what's up?"</p> <p>"Where the hell is your stuff? I mean like, anything other than the boring furniture? Your books? Blank. DVD cases are empty, picture frames have nothing in them, there's no art, there's no keepsakes, it's… fuck, it's sterile."</p> <p>"Yeah." Heather was silent. "I… I don't know."</p> <p>"You don't know?"</p> <p>"I had things! My books had words, I had pictures, I had decorations, junk, clutter, everything! But… none of it's here. I've been trying to think, and I can't even remember what any of this used to look like other than the bland furniture. Is that part of the drugs?"</p> <p>Lillian shook her head. "No. If anything, the cocktail I made should help you remember the details, fill in the blanks with your subconscious, grab the pieces from the noosphere and make it real. It's weird that this is so… empty. What do you remember?"</p> <p>Heather started focusing, making an adorable face — at least Lillian thought so. After a minute, Heather spoke. "I… I can't remember anything. Not about this apartment. All I know is what we can see."</p> <p>"That's… I don't know. I have my eidetic memory, so I can't really provide a useful perspective. Sorry." Lillian shot her a look of sympathy. Heather kept thinking, until Lillian saw a realization cross her mind.</p> <p>"Oh! I do remember something?"</p> <p>"What's that?"</p> <p>"I remember the name of the company I rented my furniture from! Maybe I can only remember stuff related to that?"</p> <p>"Maybe." Lillian thought. "What was the name of the company?"</p> <p>"Secondary Chartered Possession Rentals — I remember because I thought the name was insane, but they had good prices, so I went with them."</p> <p>"Hey, Heather?"</p> <p>"Yeah Lillian?"</p> <p>"I think you rented your furniture from a Foundation front."</p> <p>"There's no way I… FUCK YOU'RE RIGHT."<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> The two women were standing in front of a bathroom mirror, surrounded by a black void on either side. The vanity was porcelain white, just barely large enough for the two of them to stand in front.</p> <p>Heather broke the silence first. "Hey Lillian, how did we get here?"</p> <p>Lillian shook her head. "I don't know. I guess we shifted again."</p> <p>The two women looked around for any details that they could grab onto, but it escaped them both.</p> <p>"I don't know if this is my memory, I can't see anything I remember."</p> <p>"I don't recognize this either, which means it's definitely not my memory." Lillian gestured at her head. <em>Right, her magic memory. Try not to get too jealous Heather.</em> she thought to herself.</p> <p>"Maybe this is… our memory then?"</p> <p>"A fusion? It could be. But where are we?"</p> <p>As the two scanned the small mirror and vanity, searching for anything that might tell them where they were. In unison, they both saw a pill bottle appear. It had a name written, but it had been redacted with a sharpie. You couldn't really tell what it said underneath the marker, but both women recognized the pill instantly.</p> <p>"This must be the—"</p> <p>"—first time I took estrogen."</p> <p>Lillian and Heather looked at each other, pausing as the understanding coursed through them.</p> <p>"So this is the first time… no, the combined memories of the first times we started HRT?" Heather asked?</p> <p>"I think so. The moment that we both… let ourselves be who we really were."</p> <p>Heather sat down against the cold ceramic, leaning against it for support. "I don't really think back about it that much, I know some people have these great, bright, happy memories about their first days on HRT. The first step into a new future."</p> <p>She looked around at the dark void that surrounded them, threatening to engulf them.</p> <p>"I guess you were more like me though?" Heather asked.</p> <p>"I think so. I didn't feel confident about it, I was scared shitless. I knew it was the only thing that I could do, the only thing that made sense. But it was more like…"</p> <p>"Like your only choice? Between this or… death?"</p> <p>"Yeah."</p> <p>The pallor of the moment hung heavily in the air as both women remembered what it had been like for them. The desperation for a solution, the desire, no, the need for something to change. This wasn't a celebration, this was a last ditch effort.</p> <p>Heather continued. "I knew that I was a girl. I knew that I wanted to start HRT. But I couldn't shake the fear that I was a liar. An imposter. Just playing along, worried that if I stopped moving then I'd realize that I was nothing."</p> <p>"I know what you mean. They always show it as this huge celebration, this moment of triumph, a culmination of every dream and desire that you've been having since you realized that you might not be the right gender." Lillian scoffed. "But they don't show what it feels like to fight to even be recognized by doctors. To have to argue for yourself over and over and over again, until finally they decide that you're not lying to them, because obviously, people lie <em>all</em> the time about being transgender."</p> <p>Heather laughed. "Nobody really talks about that moment. This moment. When you're in the bathroom, by yourself, just… terrified of taking your first dose. Scared because you know that this is a point of no return. That when you do this, there's no going back, and you've doomed yourself to an existence of survival, fighting against idiots, pushing to be yourself in a world that didn't want you to have that."</p> <p>"Hey. This is different though."</p> <p>"Why's that?"</p> <p>"You're not alone. I'm not alone. We're here, together."</p> <p>Suddenly, the darkness didn't seem so oppressive. Heather pulled herself up, holding out a hand for Lillian to grab. The two women stood together, in front of the mirror, staring into it. Neither could take their eyes off of the other's reflection, though, unable to express how each saw such transcendent beauty that had been forged by the other through endless fighting, toil and effort.</p> <p>They each took a pill in their hands, and swallowed.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> They were back in Lillian's dorm, at least, as far as Heather could tell.</p> <p>"Are we done?" Heather asked, the uncertainty evident in her tone.</p> <p>Lillian shook her head. "I think we're done the major trip, but we still have to come down fully. You're going to be feeling weird for a while longer."</p> <p>"Where's the bathroom?"</p> <p>Lillian gestured to a closed door.</p> <p>"Same as your dorm, just through the bedroom, on the right."</p> <p>"Right. Thanks."</p> <p>Heather walked across the unit and stopped in front of the bedroom door. Logically, she knew that she could enter, she did just ask about it. But part of her hesitated. <em>Are you really about to go into Lillian's bedroom?</em></p> <p>The curious part of her overruled that fear — she needed to see what Lillian's bedroom looked like.</p> <p>Pushing the door open, Heather walked in and immediately got lost. Visually, that is.</p> <p>Lillian liked to wear dazzle coats that were messier than others. The more complex the patterns, the more overlapping memetic arrays, the more vaguely annoying effects caused by staring at them, the better.</p> <p>Lillian's room was like the dazzle coat to end all dazzle coats.</p> <p>Heather could tell that it had at one point resembled the Foundation standard dormitory bedroom, but Lillian had made it her own. There was an eclectic collection of furniture filling the room. A four-poster bed, hutches and cabinets of curiosities, a chair covered in all of Lillian's dazzle coats, stacked up in a delicate balancing act. Everything was chaotic and it pulled Heather in.</p> <p>She would start looking at a single object, but then her eye would be caught by a trinket, so she'd turn her gaze — but she would quickly get distracted following a parallel line in the wall into a different fixture or painting or display that Lillian had set up. Looking around this space, Heather could see Lillian everywhere. It felt as if each item was placed hyper-intentionally, creating a network of ideas, filling the room. <em>They look like the foundational lines for a memeplex.</em> And that was when Heather realized something.</p> <p>Lillian Lillihammer's bedroom was a memeplex. Not a functioning cognitohazard, mind you, but such a careful arrangement of objects, items, colors, patterns and ephemera, that if you abstracted everything — it was a map, detailing who Lillian was.</p> <p>If somebody were to analyze every inch of this room, they would know Lillian in a way that nobody else could. Heather took a second to take it in. After a beat, she realized that, at some point, she must have lain down in the bed. Heather was gazing up at the ceiling, tracing the asymmetrical lines, when a voice broke her reverie.</p> <p>"I really didn't think it would be this easy to get you into my bed."</p> <p>Heather looked over, and watched as Lillian gracefully moved through the clutter of her room, dancing through the maze, floating down beside her onto the bed. Heather could feel the mattress shift as Lillian sat on the plush duvet, just inches away from her. Heather was speechless.</p> <p>Lillian continued. "Are you alright? Most people wait for me before spending this long in my bedroom."</p> <p>"Yeah. I'm okay. I was just… getting lost in your room."</p> <p>Heather turned onto her side, propping herself up and facing Lillian. Lillian flopped backwards onto the bed, before matching Heather's pose, holding herself up lazily with her elbow. Heather couldn't take her eyes off of Lillian.</p> <p>"You seem to do that a lot Heath. First you got lost in my coat pattern, then you got lost in my room. What's next? Are you going to get lost in my eyes too?"</p> <p>Heather looked at Lillian's eyes, and recognized the teasing flame staring back at her. <em>I mean… is she offering?</em></p> <p>"Well it's not my fault. You're just so damn interesting, it's hard not to get distracted."</p> <p>Heather wasn't quite sure what part of her had said that — but she liked how it made her feel to see Lillian blush. She <em>really</em> liked that.</p> <p>Heather pushed the advantage. "So. Does every 'Lillihammer Test' end up in your bed, or am I a special case?"</p> <p>Lillian laughed — god, Heather loved how she trilled, sounding like she knew thousands of secrets more than you ever would.</p> <p>"So. I'm not sure how to say this but—"</p> <p>"Oh my god, Lillian, do they all end in your bed?"</p> <p>"Statistically? Yes." Lillian hesitated. "But that's because I've never done one before."</p> <p>"What? You've never drugged your coworkers before? I'm so stunned."</p> <p>"I didn't say that." Lillian grinned like the Cheshire Cat. "But yes, obviously, the Lillihammer Test is a joke. I ask new M&C recruits if they are willing to do it so that I can see how gullible they are. If they want to do it, then I know I can't trust them to call me out on a bad or dangerous idea, and I definitely don't want them working with me."</p> <p>"So… does that mean you're firing me? Seeing as I fell for it." Heather pretended to be scared, barely hiding her amusement.</p> <p>"Nah, that's too much paperwork. Plus, you're different Heather. You're this breath of fresh air — sure I hear people talking in the halls that I'm just trying to make you into the next me, but I'm not. I could never do that."</p> <p>Lillian reached her hand out, but fumbled, shifting to keep her balance on the bed. As a result, the two had slid even closer together, tantalizingly close.</p> <p>Lillian recovered, speaking softer now. "You have a completely different way of looking at memetics than I do. You talk in a way where I really believe that you can make a difference here. At Site-43, in the Foundation. Fuck, maybe even in the Noosphere."</p> <p>"Stop. You're going to make me blush." Heather was already blushing when she said that. She reached her hand out, fingers intertwining with Lillian's.</p> <p>"I know a way to make you blush that's a lot more fun." Lillian's grip tightened, as she slowly began leaning in further towards Heather. "I just… I don't want to cross a line. Professional, or otherwise."</p> <p>Heather took the initiative, slowly closing the distance between them, drifting closer and closer, before stopping, just inches from Lillian's face.</p> <p>"I don't mind breaking the rules for you."</p> <p>Heather felt Lillian's breath accelerate, mixing with hers as they hovered, almost touching, barely able to see each other anymore.</p> <p>"In that case, I'd be happy to make you blush a lot more."</p> <p>The two embraced, the longing, passion and tension all releasing at once. They grabbed at each other firmly, desperately pulling the other closer, letting the rest of the world fall away — all that mattered was the two of them, in that moment, in that bed.</p> <p>Despite their gasps for air, awkward kisses and the overwhelming anxiety/excitement of doing something taboo, both Heather and Lillian lost themselves in one another. The delicate dance that they had been doing around each other was finally finished, and they could let their urges take over. Lillian kissed Heather's collarbone, looking up, her eyes nonverbally asking if it was okay to go further. And right as Heather was going to consent, an errant thought entered her mind.</p> <p><em>Why did Lillian's memories have so much detail while mine were empty? Where were all of the people in my visions?</em></p> <p>Lillian instantly saw the change in Heather's demeanor and stopped.</p> <p>"I should never have crossed that line — I'm your boss, I should have never le—"</p> <p>"No, sorry. Hush. It's not that. I wanted this. I still want this."</p> <p>Lillian let out a sigh of relief.</p> <p>"I just realized something. About the different memories we saw. All of your memories were perfect, obviously, with your memory being what it is. But mine were…"</p> <p>"Anomalously empty." Lillian came to the realization at the same time.</p> <p>"Yeah. No people. No words in the books. Hell, when we were in the HRT memory it was almost like mine corrupted yours—"</p> <p>"Into some level of abstraction. Huh."</p> <p>The women both sat up, the moment fading, their passion having been replaced with worry. The two women were lost in their thoughts, trying to analyze the day's events, seeing if there was anything hidden that they had missed. Heather broke the silence first.</p> <p>"What if my Name Changer woke 'absence', that thoughtform entity, back up? What if… what if somehow the same thing that happens to SCP-8688-1 instances has starting happening to me. To my memories, corrupting them, consuming… consuming the parts that don't matter. That aren't central to the memetic, noospheric core. What if I end up like everybody else?"</p> <p>Heather looked to Lillian in desperation — surely, the older woman would have an answer, some reassurance that she knew what to do.</p> <p>"Heather I won't let that happen. We're going to figure this out, okay? You and me. Together."</p> <p>Heather wasn't sure if Lillian had an answer right now, but she knew that she could trust that Lillian wouldn't give up until she did.</p> <p>"Okay. Thank you."</p> <p><em>Unless she realizes the answer too late.</em></p> <p>As if Lillian could read Heather's mind, she replied. "Heath, I'm not just going to let you disappear."</p> <p>"Promise?"</p> <p>Lillian laughed.</p> <p>"Yeah. I promise."<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Following Heather's realization, it was too awkward to continue, instead moving back into Lillian's living room, coming down to the comforting, familiar, anomalous mess that was any show made by VKTM.</p> <p>Hours later, the TV had gone into sleep mode, as the two women sat on the ground across from each other, the coffee table laden with candles between them.</p> <p>"So I never really figured out how the Foundation found out about me. I just know that one day I was getting ready to go into a graduate semiotics program, and the next I was explaining to an MTF agent how I had accidentally created, distributed, and then contained a cognitohazard in a single afternoon."</p> <p>Heather yawned, stretching her arms, shirt rising up just a bit as she did. Lillian caught herself staring at Heather's exposed midriff, before pulling her eyes away. Even though they hadn't gone any further, Lillian couldn't help but stare and imagine what if.</p> <p>"Oh wow. It's almost 1am, I didn't realize how late it was. I guess drugs really do mess with your sense of time." Heather chuckled. "By the way, thanks again for today. I enjoyed the Lillihammer Test, despite, you know, everything."</p> <p>That everything hung in the middle of the room like a ton of bricks.</p> <p>Lillian shrugged. "Hey, it's M&C. We deal with shit like this every day, right? I had a really good time." Lillian paused, looking unsure of what to say next. "I should probably let you get back to your dorm though, I didn't mean to keep you here all day."</p> <p>Lillian looked at her, but Heather wasn't making any movements to get up.</p> <p>"Is it… sorry, I know I've been a lot today. But would it be alright if I… can I stay the night?"</p> <p>"Sure. I can take the couch, and you can have the bedroom. Does that work?"</p> <p>Heather stared back at Lillian, a longing in her eyes, the passion from earlier rearing its head.</p> <p>"I mean, I'd rather not sleep alone. If you don't mind, that is."</p> <p>"No. I don't mind at all."</p> <p>Ancient thought monsters and the rest of the Foundation could wait. Neither woman was going to let anything else stop them from getting what they wanted.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="earthworm earthworm--old-syntax-first-false earthworm--old-syntax-last-false earthworm--old-syntax-hub-yes {$class}"> <div class="first earthworm__previous" data-title="SCP-8688"> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-8688">SCP-8688</a></p> </div> <div class="hub earthworm__hub" data-title="Forgotten Memories"> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/forgotten-memories-hub">Forgotten Memories</a></p> </div> <div class="last earthworm__next" data-title="Don't Let Me Forget"> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/don-t-let-me-forget">Don't Let Me Forget</a></p> </div> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-lillihammer-test">The Lillihammer Test</a>" by Queerious, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-lillihammer-test">https://scpwiki.com/the-lillihammer-test</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	===== [[include <a href="/component:preview">component:preview</a> text= "I don't mind breaking the rules for you." ]] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:blankstyle">:scp-wiki:theme:blankstyle</a>]] [[module CSS]] #page-content .creditButton p a { color:#373737; } [[/module]] [[div]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] The Lillihammer Test Author:[[user Queerious]] ⚠️ Content warning:* Sexual Content, Drug Use, Mentions of Dysphoria [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:end">:scp-wiki:info:end</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:info-cw">:scp-wiki:component:info-cw</a>]] [[/div]] @@ @@ [[div]] [[=]] + The Lillihammer Test [[/=]] [[/div]] "Heather! Over here!" Lillian was sitting at a small table, having already bought them a round of drinks. Heather wasn't sure what to make of that. She didn't have a ton of experience in being sociable, let alone 'going out' to bars with others. That had changed since transferring to Site-43, now it seemed like she was going out with Lillian, weekly at least. //I guess that's just what it's like for everybody. Right?// Not that she had seen anybody else really drinking with Lillian. Or hanging out. Or really approaching her without fear in their eyes. No matter. Heather headed over to the table, sat down beside Lillian, and smiled. "Thanks for the drink Lilli." "I figured it was the least I could do -- you seemed pretty shaken up in your email." Lillian was right, she was shaken up. It's not every day that you realize that trying to get rid of your deadname might have awoken a pattern screamer. "Hey, are you alright?" Lillian looked concerned. "Yeah. Just still... not sure what to do next, you know? I feel like everything I've wanted or worked towards has led me here. And now I could be disappearing like everybody else we'd found." //Or didn't find,// she worried to herself. The silence sat for an uncomfortable second between the two women. It was only interrupted when an individual came and sat down across from the two of them; Heather didn't recognize him, but by Lillian's glower, it was clear that she did. "Lillian! New girl! Why the long faces?" He took a long drag of his beer before breathing an artificial sigh and loudly placing his bottle onto the table. "Medley. What do you want?" Lillian barely kept the annoyance out of her voice, making it clear just what she thought of the man. "I was just checking on the two of you -- this is a bar, you should be enjoying yourselves! I figured that I might be able to help you two with that. You're both much prettier when you smile." Medley gave a suggestive wiggle of the eyebrows. //Yeah, I can see why Lillian reacted like that.// "We're fine Medley. You can leave now." "And leave two beautiful women alone to drink? It's not as fun without a chivalrous man by your sides, cheering you up!" Heather thought she had a pretty good idea of what was going on now. She shot a glance at Lillian that said '//let me take care of this//'. Lillian mentally shot back '//be my guest//'. Heather leaned forward, looking intensely at Medley. "Oh. That's okay. We can have plenty of fun without men, trust me." Lillian started laughing, while Medley choked on his beer. //Good.// "Well. I guess I should have expected nothing less from two members of M&C. I still don't know why you rejected my application Lillian, I was even willing to do the Lillihammer Test!" Wow, Medley was desperate. Heather didn't even know his first name and she was already making a mental note to avoid him. Lillian barked back. "That's the point Medley," Lillian said with a glare, "if you don't get that, then obviously you don't belong in M&C." "So I guess that means Heather passed your test?" Medley said, looking challengingly at Heather. Heather, for her part, had zero idea what either of them were talking about. That didn't stop her from escalating things. "Oh, I've more than passed the Lillihammer Test. //Way more.//" At that, Heather suggestively put her arm around Lillian; Lillian leaned into her, in an overdramatic sigh. Medley, once again, choked on his beer. Lillian looked back up at him. "Did you get the hint, Medley? This is a two player game, not a free for all." That was the final blow. He quickly stood up, spilled his beer on himself, muttered a half-hearted apology, before scurrying away under the gaze of the two women. They couldn't hold back the laughter as he fled from their table. Lillian took a second longer than needed, lingering, before sitting upright and out of Heather's fake-possessive grip. "Thanks for playing along Lillian, I needed a win." "Of course, any time I can make a man feel awkward, it's my pleasure." "So. What is this test, that just so happens to be named after you?" "Oh my god, I can't believe we haven't talked about this." Heather could recognize the spark of mischief in Lillian's eyes at this point, and knew that whatever it was, it would be good. Lillian sat upright, and took on an air of what Heather termed 'section chair mode', before beginning. "If you want to be a fully fledged member of M&C, you will need to agree to undergo the 'Lillihammer Test'. This is a test that I have devised, based on other memetics departments across the Foundation, to assess an individual's mental fortitude and ability to perceive the anomalous and distinguish cognitohazards from their own sanity." "Right. So what is it, Professor?" Heather couldn't conceal the teasing in her tone -- Lillian really had a tendency to fall into lecturer mode at a second's notice. "I'm getting to it! Just wait a second, okay?" Lillian brushed her hair to the side, refusing to let Heather fluster her any more than she already had. "The test is simple. We block out an afternoon, and then both take hallucinogens and MC-88, a drug that allows our Noospheric fields to synchronize temporarily. This combination allows us to see and experience what the other is thinking or hallucinating. And then we trip. I, of course, assess your mental fortitude, and ability to endure extreme mental conditions, and assuming you do well enough, you become a full member of M&C." "Bullshit. There's no way doing drugs is a test." "It's real, everybody who is part of M&C or wants to join has been asked to take part in this test. That's how Medley knew about it." "Well why didn't I have to take the Lillihammer Test?" "Your transfer kind of skirted around that, and then I got distracted talking about the Name Changer with you... and then with everything we've been working on together, I just kind of forgot to ask." Heather wasn't sure if Lillian was making things up anymore -- but pushing a little harder couldn't hurt, right? Heather pushed. "Well, I guess that means we should do the test then? Retroactively, of course." Lillian looked shocked for a second -- just a split second, but it was enough to let Heather know that she had called a bluff. "Oh, we don't need to do the test, I know that you would pass it anyways. It would be a waste of time for the both of us." Heather pushed again. "Really? I mean, I don't want to be unfair to others! If you're being honest, then everybody else in M&C has done this test with you, and it just wouldn't be fair to them if I was allowed to skip it. That might even look like favoritism -- and it's not like you act any differently around me, right?" Heather wasn't even bothering to hide the teasing in her tone anymore, directly challenging Lillian. Lillian paused for a second, running through what was clearly many different permutations of this conversation, before shooting back. "Well, I was willing to just let it slide, but since you seem so excited to do drugs with me, I guess I can arrange a Lillihammer Test for this weekend. As long as I'm understanding that correctly. You do want to spend an entire day with me, tripping in sync, right?" There it was. Lillian had taken control of the conversation again. Now Heather had to admit she wanted to take the test for the sake of taking the test, not out of a sense of fairness. //Well, in for a penny, right?// "Lillian. I would love to take the Lillihammer Test this weekend." //Shit.// Heather thought belatedly. //This is a bad idea. I'm doing drugs with my boss? Heather, you need to remember to at least pretend to be professional in the future, okay?// @@ @@ ------ @@ @@ //This is a bad idea.// Lillian thought. //No way I'm going to let Heather know that, though.// Lillian cursed her inability to back down from a challenge. "How's tomorrow for you, say 11am? It'll be a long day, so make sure you have a good breakfast first." "Sounds like a plan." Heather smirked at her. Lillian wished she could wipe that look off of Heather's face, but couldn't think of any appropriate ways to do that. At least, none appropriate for a work relationship. @@ @@ ------ @@ @@ The two women spent the rest of the evening drinking, taking shelter from the oncoming storm within the dimly lit corner of the bar. They kept dancing around each other, both yearning, but unwilling to define what they were. It wouldn't be until after tomorrow that they really knew. @@ @@ ------ @@ @@ Lillian heard the knock at her door right before 11am. //I should have known that Heather wouldn't change her mind.// Lillian hadn't been sure what would happen -- they had spent a few more hours drinking, before walking back to the Site together. Remembering what had happened the last time, when Lillian walked Heather to her door and they almost kissed, Lillian made up an excuse to make sure she didn't act like a teenager again. Heather had looked like she might say something, but in the end, the two women went their separate ways once returning to Site-43. But now Heather was here, waiting on the other side of her door, to spend an entire day with her. In her dorms. Lillian opened the door with as welcoming of a smile as she could muster -- and was relieved to see that it was actually Heather on the other side of the door. "Morning! Glad to see you didn't back down." @@ @@ ------ @@ @@ Heather walked into Lillian's dorm, taking it all in. It was cozy, decorated with keepsakes and art from Lillian's many adventures around the world; eclectic and warm, just like she was. Not that Heather would ever call Lillian that to her face. There were candles set up throughout the living space, with incense burning on a table in front of Lillian's worn couch. On the table were two teacups on saucers, filled with a reddish-brown tincture. Heather inhaled deeply, losing herself in the smell of the incense. It was warm, bold, full of amber and spice. //Just like Lilli.// "What are you burning?" "Oh that? It's dragon's blood. I used to burn it whenever I had a rough day, back before I knew who I really was. It felt... it made me think that if a smell could transform an entire room, then maybe everything wasn't so... static. You know?" "Yeah. I think I do." The women both took a second to just breathe and let the incense wash over them -- the entire world could have disappeared, and neither would have noticed as long as they were both still there. "Right, sorry! Please, come in and sit down on the couch, I just have to grab one more thing!" Heather walked over to the couch, sitting down. The room was warmly lit with string lights adding to the glow of the candles. The tea cups on the table didn't match, but were both distinct. Eclectic and unique. Different. Each cup was filled with a deep amber liquid; Heather stared at the cups, wondering just what was in them. She wasn't waiting long, as Lillian walked back in from her kitchenette, glasses of water in hand. She gingerly placed them down on the table, before sitting down on the couch opposite Heather. Lillian turned her body to the side, crossed her legs and reached a hand out to Heather's arm. "Hey. I know a lot has happened since you were transferred. I know that I'm not the easiest person to work for, and with what we just realized about [[[SCP-8688]]], I understand that you might be freaking out a little bit." "Just a little bit?" Lillian laughed. "Yeah, just a little bit. I wanted to say, you know we don't have to do this, right? If you want to just sit here and talk, that's okay too." "Lillian, I really... look. I don't know what the hell is going on, honestly. I'm terrified about what I did, and I don't know if I can do anything about it." Lillian started to pick up the tea cups, to move them back into the kitchen, but Heather reached out and put her hand on Lillian's arm, pausing her. "The thing is? All I know right now is that I want to do this 'test'. With you." "Heather, I'm going to be honest with you. I've seen a lot of fucked up shit. I have no idea what you're going to see here, and I don't want you to think any less of me." "Lils? I'm the same. Trust me, I'm terrified of you deciding that I can't stay here because of something you see in my subconscious." The two looked at each other earnestly, both saying as much as they could with a look. Lillian smiled gently, leaning back into the chair before cracking her neck. "Hey. I want you to know, that whatever happens during this? Heather, you're fucking brilliant. You're going to stay working with me as long as you want to." Heather blushed. In unison, they both picked up the tea cups in front of them and held them up, clinking the cups together. Lillian began. "So I've made a mixture of both anomalous drugs, regular psilocybin and other assorted ingredients to help us both visualize and experience what the other is seeing. It's not going to be just minor hallucinations, or dizzying patterns; this concoction should effectively transport our minds into complete recreations of spaces and memories. For the most part, we'll both be experiencing the same things -- some will be my memories, others will be yours, and sometimes it might be a mixture of the two. If you see something that you don't recognize, assume that I know what's going on. I'm going to do the same for you." "What if neither of us know what's going on?" "Well then either it's a compound memory, and we'll have to figure out where the crossover is, so we need to make sure that we don't stop communicating during this, okay?" "Wait, you said either. What if it's not a compound memory?" "Well, that's why we're both memetics badasses, right? We'll figure it out." Heather nodded, psyching herself up. "So we're doing this?" "Yeah. Let's do it." At that, the women both drank every last drop in their cups before setting them back down onto the saucers. "So what now?" Lillian smiled. "Now, we wait for it to get weird." @@ @@ ------ @@ @@ Heather looked up from her hands, having stared at her fingers twitching for far too long. "Have you done this before?" Lillian looked up from a piece of paper where she was scrawling... notes? Definitely words -- even if they wouldn't stay still. "Done what before? Drugs?" "Yeah, let's start there. Because I haven't." Lillian snorted in disbelief. "You've never done hallucinogens, and you decided, sure, fuck it, let's do some AND add more anomalous drugs, AND let's do it with my boss!" Heather looked chagrinned. "I mean... yeah, pretty much." "Heather! Wow, I never took you for a straight-edge kinda girl." "I wasn't repressed, I just... well I was too focused on just finished school, and then getting a good job, and then joining the Foundation, and then trying to make a name for myself here. I never really had the chance?" Heather looked around Lillian's living room, before refocusing her attention back to Lillian. "I'm glad I can do it here though. With you. You're... you've really made me feel welcome here." Lillian shrugged, looking away with a slight blush. "Girls like us need to stick together, right?" "Right... so when do we start seeing weird stuff?" "Could be any time. Want to watch some TV? I hear VKTM has a new reality show about dogs pretending to be humans at like the DMV and shit." @@ @@ ------ @@ @@ They never managed to find the TV remote. Heather had finished her water and had gone into the kitchen to refill her glass, when Lillian heard a yell of surprise. She stood up and quickly walked over, her massive strides crossing her living room in no time; but the kitchen wasn't the kitchen anymore. Heather had fallen to the ground, looking up in confusion at the alarm klaxons and flashing lights going off around her. Lillian walked over to her, and offered a hand to help her up. "What the hell is going on here?" Heather kept scanning the space, looking for an explanation. "Is there a containment breach happening?" Lillian knew what it was automatically. After this long, she could tell where she was in an instant. "Not right now. This is one of my memories." "Right, right. Where are we?" Heather grabbed Lillian's hand, pulling herself up and using Lillian to steady herself. "The better question is when are we!" "Seriously?" "Sorry, I couldn't help myself. But also, you should ask me that." "Really? Lillian?" Heather paused, waiting for a better answer. Lillian just smirked back at her, determined to wait Heather out. "Fine. //When// are we?" "September 8th, 2002." "Wha--oh. We're in the goop loop." Lillian was stunned at that. "The goop loop?" Heather shrugged. "Yeah, that's what I call it. [[[SCP-5243]]], right? The whole accident thingy? I remember reading about it in the transfer briefing." "Yeah, this is SCP-5243. Or at least, one of the timelines. I don't know which one yet. There's been so many at this point, I've lost track of them." "That must be hard." "I guess so? It's just... it's part of the job, right? You maintain normalcy, no matter the cost. And when we don't maintain normalcy? Those are the bad years." "What kind of year is this one?" Heather started walking around the space -- Lillian wasn't sure where they were at first, the room had transformed itself from her small kitchenette into a larger chamber, covered in debris, dirt and rubble. It was definitely one of the bad years. Poking her head out of the room into the corridors, Lillian saw the Site in disarray. People were walking back and forth, keeping to themselves, zombified in their routines. Heather yelped, and Lillian turned back around. Now there was another Lillian. Standing in the middle of the room, just... staring at the wall. "Oh. It's that year." "A bad year I'm guessing?" Heather asked, unsure how to gauge Lillian's reaction. "It was... it was a weird one. Bad overall, yeah, but definitely memorable." Lillian stared at her unmoving body, an incomparable sensation of //déjà vu// crashing into an out of body experience, her mind sliding back into the survival mode that had encompassed that entire year. The panic and practiced stillness swirled through her mind, enveloping her and dragging her in. And then Heather appeared in front of her. She didn't know when Heather had moved around, nor how she'd gotten close enough without Lillian having noticed. She felt Heather pull her in for an embrace, hugging her tight. It was nice. "Sorry, I kind of got lost in my thoughts." Lillian said, sheepishly. "It's okay, you just seemed like you could use a hug. I hope that was okay?" Heather looked concerned. "Yeah. No. That helped." "Do you want to talk about it? You kind of... drifted off into your mind. More than you usually do. I tried to give you a moment, but after a minute I got worried." "Sorry, I didn't mean to worry you -- this was just one of the harder ones." "Do you want to talk about it?" Heather sat down and patted the concrete beside her -- Lillian kneeled down and joined her. "It was... I had to fake it. I had to pretend to be a zombie for months. I was constantly watched, terrified that somebody would realize that I was just pretending. Scared that they would realize that I wasn't supposed to be here, and then they'd come after me and erase me. Just going through the motions, hoping that--" "Hoping that nobody realizes that it's all an act." Lillian looked at Heather intently. "Yeah. Exactly like that. How did you know?" "It sounds like when I was in the closet. I knew I was a girl, but nobody else could find out. I was terrified about what would happen if they did." Lillian looked up at Heather, the thought having never crossed her mind before. "Yeah. Exactly! Just... the feeling of knowing that you have no control, but if you want to survive, you know that you just need to keep up the appearance of normalcy." Heather gave her a look of sympathy. "I can't imagine having to go through that twice. Once I finally came out, I told myself that I would never hide who I was again, that I was going to be proud of myself and never compromise who I was for the sake of others." Heather snorted, shaking her head. "Of course, I hid who I was a lot. Out of fear, out of anxiety, hell, even just because I was too tired to try that hard. But I knew that if I really needed to, I could take a stand and just... be me. I can't imagine how hard it was to spend almost an entire year, straight, not being able to do that." "Thanks. I don't know anybody else who isn't a part of the breach that gets how hard it is to... to feel like everything reset and you're just back where you started." "I'll never fully understand it -- I'm not a part of it. But I just wanted to say that you're not alone, at least, as long as you're willing to talk to me. I might not be here in every timeline, but when I am, you'll have somebody you can count on, okay?" Heather gave Lillian another squeeze. The two women sat together on the ground, as the chaos of the world blew around them. Lillian felt scared -- not because of the breach, or because of the hallucination, but because of how Heather was making her feel. //I really hope she can't see me blushing right now.// Lillian worried to herself. @@ @@ ------ @@ @@ The klaxons and oppressive weight of the memory faded soon after, shifting again, morphing around the two of them until they were outside of the Foundation's facilities. A dilapidated 1960s hotel emerged from the walls, slowly replacing the grey concrete until a dusty, dimly lit hallway was all that was left. The wallpaper was peeling, revealing the tacky yellow of the glue underneath, fighting against the ancient wood that struggled to maintain its grip onto the paper. Lillian looked around, uncertain of where they were. She looked over at Heather, who nodded. "Yeah, this is mine." Heather stood up, pulling Lillian to her feet. "So where are we then?" "This is... I think we're in Three Portlands." "Did you spend a lot of time in creepy old hotels there?" "No this is..." Heather blushed and trailed off, gathering her thoughts. Lillian interjected, unable to contain her mischief. "Oh! Is this the hotel where you lost your virginity?" "Lillian!" "So then were are we?" "An anom,,alous sens,,..." Heather had trailed off and was looking pointedly at anywhere but Lillian. Lillian pushed the advantage. "Sorry Heath, I couldn't hear that. Where did you say we were?" Heather shot a glare at her. "Fine. We're in an anomalous sensory experience club." "I'm sorry, a what?" It wasn't very often that Lillian was left without anything to say on a topic, but Heather kept managing to find a way. "Look, it's not like I came here often, just once or twice. Maybe five times, at most." Heather began protesting, holding her hands out in front of her in defense. "It's called [[[SCP-8478\|Sense]]]." "Huh. Never heard of it." Lillian looked at Heather with an open gesture, asking her to continue. "Really? I would have expected you to know it." "Guess you're just kinkier than me Heather." Lillian smirked. "So what is this place?" "Sense is this kind of weird theatre piece slash sensory play club slash experience? It's a lot to explain." "Let's start with the 'sensory play club' part. What's that? Sounds hot." Heather blushed. "Yeah, I mean... it kind of is." Heather started walking down the hallway, Lillian following close behind. "So a sensory play club is a space you can go to experience different feelings or sensations? Think of like... a BDSM space or something like that." "Oh, you //are// kinky!" Lillian couldn't help herself from teasing. "Something like that. Anyways, Sense is an anomalous club in Three Portlands run by Psuedogenesis Productions, this weird theatre company that focuses on benign anomalous experiences. I went here a couple of times when I was in town based on a recommendation from a friend." "So you came here by yourself? That's pretty brave. Do you usually go to weird anomalous theatre alone?" "I... I swear I came with somebody else. But... I can't remember them, plus, there's nobody else here. So I guess I must have come alone." "Maybe! These memories aren't perfect recreations, so there might be some differences based on what you felt was important. I want to know more about this club though, is it like... ghosts smacking you with a whip?" "Not quite. Here, let me see if this room has anything in it." Heather had stopped in front of a dusty red door, with a golden G shining amongst the dirt. She twisted the handle, and pushed the door open. Heather poked her head in, before taking a deep breath and nodding. "Yeah. I remember this room." Lillian began to move to enter, but was stopped by Heather. "Before you go in, I think I should explain a bit more about Sense. Their whole thing is giving people a sensory experience that you can't feel anywhere else. They use memetics to give you feelings that they craft, designed to make you understand a foreign experience. Something that you'll never experience, anywhere else." "Well if it's memetics, then I definitely need to see this." Lillian moved to walk into the room again, but Heather grabbed her arm. "I need you to know -- it's not just things like whips or hot air." "So what is it then? A fucking gangbang?" Lillian was trying to get a laugh out of Heather, but Heather just frowned. "If this is the room I think it is... no, maybe you should feel it first, and then I can tell you what it's about. If the memetics even work the same as they did in the real world." Heather took her hand off of Lillian, and gestured for her to enter. Lillian paused for a second, but pressed on, determined to see what was behind the door that had impacted Heather so much. @@ @@ ------ @@ @@ Like the fear that comes when the ground falls away from underneath you, Lillian was disoriented. The first thing that Lillian felt was a chill inside of herself. Not like the chill you get from a cold breeze, or from forgetting your coat at home, but a deep, primal chill. Like the feeling of ice water hitting your lungs. Lillian wasn't in a hotel room anymore. She was alone, in an empty black void, surrounded by nothing. She wasn't standing anymore, but she wasn't swimming, falling or flying. She was just... still. And then the pain started. A subtle pain, the sharp dagger of something within you that you know is wrong. Lillian gasped in shock, but nothing came in. There was no air in the room. She tried to take another deep breath, but that was when she felt the chill again, coursing through her chest. Maybe it //was// ice water filling her lungs. The freezing cold started to spread within her body, as she could feel the fluid sloshing around within her chest. She fumbled around, trying to cover her mouth, but it didn't seem to change anything. With each breath she took, she was drowning more and more. Lillian refused to let the panic win, and began to analyze her body and mind. //Okay. You know that you saw a cognitohazard when you entered the room. So something is just fucking with your brain.// She tried to isolate the memeplex, but couldn't quite separate it -- every time she would try and lock it away, she'd take a breath and the sensations would overwhelm her. //Right, that's not working. Am I in danger?// She didn't think Heather would have let her go into somewhere she could die, but she needed to know for herself. She took a deep breath in, and focused on the sensation. The icy feeling returned -- but there was no burning sensation, no signs that she wasn't getting enough oxygen to her lungs. Even if it felt like every breath she took was without air, she knew that at the very least, that wasn't correct. //Good, at least I'm not going to die here.// Lillian relaxed her breathing -- which, she would realize momentarily, was a mistake. She could feel as there was less and less space in her lungs, until they were entirely filled with water. She felt her body chilling from the inside out, the sensation ripping through her body like lightning between clouds. Her vision began to blur, darkness edging in from all sides. Lillian was gasping for air, but nothing she did changed the fact; she felt like she was drowning, and no amount of air could do anything about that. As the darkness overwhelmed her eyes, she focused onto her hands, trying to keep herself anchored. The blackness encroached and swallowed her whole. @@ @@ ------ @@ @@ And then she was back, staring at an empty hotel room. On the bed was a child's drawing of a dark lake, drawn from a perspective of floating inside of it, with a hole overhead in a sheet of ice. Lillian took a deep breath, and relished in the feeling of air filtering through her nose, filling her lungs. After a beat, she turned around and left the room. Heather was sitting on the ground, leaning against the wall. She looked up when she saw Lillian exit, and gave her a deep look of sympathy. "Welcome back. Are you okay?" "Yeah. I just... wasn't expecting that. What was that?" "That was... sorry, I should have told you about it before I let you go in there, I'm so sorry, it must have been terrifying to not know what was going on." Heather looked up at her, clearly worried that she had fucked up. Lillian slid down onto the floor opposite her. "Hey, it's not your fault I was me and pushed past. But if this is in your memory, that means you felt it too." "Yeah. I did. My first time at Sense." "So... what is it? Why did they make this?" "This is... those were the last moments of a seven-year-old named Grace. Grace was the daughter of one of the founding members of Pseudogenesis Productions, the theatre company that runs this place. Grace fell into a frozen lake and drowned." Heather wiped the tears away, before continuing. "Her mother... they took their grief and they made this. Channeled all of the pain, fear and emotions into a cognitohazard. They made it so that people could understand what it feels like to... to just die unexpectedly. The chill as you realize what's happening. The surprise you feel is supposed to match the surprise Grace felt as she fell in." "Fuck." "Yeah. Fuck is right." "Are all of the rooms so... fucked up?" Heather shook her head. "No, this is definitely the hardest room. They all have some sensation that is trying to help you understand an experience somebody went through, some positive, some negative. This is the hardest room in the hotel -- I'm sorry, I should have told you." Heather looked at Lillian, terrified that she had made a mistake. Lillian held her hand out, and Heather seized it, holding it tight. "Listen. Heather. This place appeared because... well, because it meant something to you. I felt this because it was so important to you that you remembered every single aspect of it. Every emotion, every sensation, every second of it -- you have locked in your head. I'm... honestly? I'm honored that I got to experience this beside you." Lillian gave Heather's hand a squeeze. "Thanks for saying that. You... you're one of the nicest people I've met." Lillian laughed. "Oh, I'm absolutely not. I'm an asshole. I just happen to like you a fair bit." "Yeah. Me too." The two women sat in silence for a minute, neither one of them letting go of the other's hand. "So, what else is there in Sense? Want to show me around some more?" Heather looked at Lillian and smiled. "Yeah, I'd love to." @@ @@ ------ @@ @@ "I can't believe they had an entire room dedicated to different types of rug burns. Imagine the rooms they could make if they worked with Wettle." Lillian was drifting through the hallways of Sense, having fallen for the idea just as much as Heather had the first time she had gone. Of course, this wasn't exactly the same; there was nobody but the two of them, where typically it was pretty packed. Still, Lillian turned a corner and Heather hurried after, worried that she might lose her. "Hey! Hold on!" "No can do Heath, time to check the next room." Heather turned the corner as Lillian threw open another hotel door -- and the world twisted around them as she did. After the swirling images, light and patterns faded and stabilized, Heather took a look around. They were inside of a small café, full of people sitting on their laptops sipping on their lattes. Outside the windows you could hear the bustle of a busy city, cars blaring by, a dull afternoon light streaming in. //That smells... this smells like the coffee Lilli is always drinking.// Heather mused. "Where are we?" Heather didn't recognize the place -- it must be Lillian's memory. Heather looked around the room until she found Lillian. She had never seen the look on her before, but it almost seemed like Lillian was feeling... wistful? "We're... I think we're in my favorite coffee shop back in Toronto." Lillian sat down on a cushioned bench and patted the seat beside her for Heather to join. As Heather sat down, two drinks materialized in front of them. Heather took a sip. A rose latte. She couldn't remember the last time she had one. They sat drinking in a comfortable silence, taking in the peaceful atmosphere of the hole-in-the-wall café. Peace was a scarcity in the Foundation. "Did you come here often?" "Not really? Just a handful of times... but whenever I did, I would spend hours just sitting. The first time I didn't even realize that it was a coffee shop. I had stepped under an awning to get out of some rain, when the smell of caffeine drew me inside. I didn't see the café at first, the outside door leading into a set of rickety old stairs, twisting through the old building like a maze, smaller businesses and rooms branching off like leaves. At the very top of the stairs was a wooden door with a small handmade sign that simply said 'Welcome'. I almost backed away, but then the door opened, and the smells rushed over me... I couldn't stop myself from entering at that point." Heather couldn't help but smile. //Lillian really does have a way with words. I guess you don't really notice when every other word is a curse word, but she speaks like a song.// "The weirdest part about this place is where it was. You wouldn't expect a coffee shop like this, especially given that it was next door to a strip club. Zanzibar. I used to watch the girls that went in and out and just... I was envious but I didn't know why." "Wait. This was next to a strip club? So this was some sketchy part of town then?" Lillian laughed "That's the crazy part, it's like... right in the middle of downtown? Surrounded by skyscrapers and office buildings and hundreds of thousands of condos. And then there's just... a strip club and a tiny little café." Lillian relaxed and leaned her head back against the wall. "At least, it used to be there. I doubt the café is anymore." Heather looked around. This place was almost like a magical rest stop in between the chaos of a city. "How could this place shut down?" she asked incredulously. "That's the thing with Toronto -- old buildings suck if you want to pack people into them like sardines. All of the pre-war buildings are dying now. Their gorgeous bricks are being replaced with glass and metal, crashing against each other in a fight for space." Lillian shrugged. "It's not like I can change anything about that, I'm just one woman. Even //I// can't change an entire city." She sighed in resignation. "Do you miss it?" "Miss what?" "The city. Toronto. Do you ever wish you could be back there?" "No. I can't miss the city, not the way it is now. I miss places like this." Lillian gestured around, "But places like this don't exist anymore. The hundreds of thousands of office drones and their need for modernity meant that the city swallowed them up whole." Lillian shrugged. "Shit. I'm sorry, I'm being a real mood killer." "No, don't worry about it. I never really had anywhere like this to go. I guess I really didn't actually go anywhere by myself, I just... stayed home and did my own thing. Sometimes I worry that I've missed out on places like this." Heather bit her lip. Lillian grabbed her attention with just a look, the intensity behind her gaze drawing her in. "Hey. How about we go find a café next weekend? Just you and me. We'll find a way and we won't stop until you've had the café experience of your dreams." Heather grinned. "Did you just ask me out on a coffee date? Lillian, I can't believe how bold you're being." Lillian rolled her eyes. "You haven't seen bold yet, trust me. So, is it a date?" Heather wasn't sure, but it almost seemed like there was a hint of anxiety in Lillian's question. But that couldn't be right, could it? "Yeah. It's a date." Heather knew in that moment, when she saw Lillian's beaming smile in response, that she would do anything in her power to see it again and again. @@ @@ ------ @@ @@ The two women spent a few hours sitting in the coffee shop, chatting about their lives and the different places they'd lived. Time didn't pass the same in the shared hallucinations -- so when the light changed to dusk, they both knew that something was shifting again. Before either of them could move, they were sitting on a couch, in a living room. It wasn't unlike a Foundation dormitory -- actually it was almost as sterile. "Is this your memory?" Lillian asked. "Yeah. This is my first apartment. Or, my first apartment I had alone." Lillian looked around the room. The furniture was bland, beige and grey filling the space. There were almost no decorations, and the more Lillian looked, the less detail she saw. Books had no words on their spines. DVD cases were blank, picture frames missing the pictures inside of them. Funnily enough, the blandness was really starting to remind her of a basic Foundation dormitory. "No offense Heath, but you're an awful decorator." Lillian teased the woman as she continued looking around the room. //It's almost like there's not a single piece of Heather in here.// "Yeah, well, I didn't decorate it." Heather had stood up and was looking through the book shelf. Lillian peeked over her shoulder as she flipped through the volumes. //The pages are blank. Odd.// "You didn't decorate?" "No, I had it in my head that I wouldn't really be using this place much anyways, considering I planned on spending so much time at school? This was where I moved into right before my last year of undergrad, and it was my first time living alone." Heather gave up on the books, and started to check the cupboards as she spoke. "I didn't know how to decorate an apartment, let alone buy furniture, so I rented." "You rented furniture?" "Yeah. I rented everything you see in here. Not the books, but... I don't know why they're all empty. I know I had real books on my shelf when I lived here." Lillian shrugged. "Drugs?" "Yeah. Probably just drugs." "So you rented your furniture." "Yeah, I got it all from this company, I didn't even choose the color or style, I just told them how many rooms my apartment was, and on the day I moved in, they showed up and set it all up." Heather laughed to herself. "I can't believe I lived like this for an entire year." "Honestly? Neither can I. This is... I won't lie, I've seen containment cells with more character than this apartment. Didn't it bother you, living in a blank slate?" Lillian had started looking for any aspect of Heather in the entire apartment, but hadn't found a single speck. "I guess... I wasn't really thinking about that? I had just gotten out of... I didn't even know how to live for myself, you know? I was barely coming to terms with my gender, pushing that down and out of the way, all the while I tried to keep busy. This was just a place to sleep and eat, nothing else." Heather shared a sad look with Lillian. "Honestly, every time I tried to think about changing something, I would spiral out and just decide that it wasn't worth the hassle. So I would just put it off. Kick it down the road. Worry about it later, once I'd figured things out more." "Did you figure things out more?" "Sure, when I realized I was a girl, things started to make a lot more sense." Lillian knew in an instant what Heather meant. "You mean how the things that you hated, suddenly, you knew why?" "Exactly! Or like, suddenly it makes sense why you hate looking at mirrors or clothes or pictures of yourself, and you're not just some weirdo who doesn't give a shit about your appearance. Turns out, you really do care, but it just felt..." "Out of reach?" "Yeah. Like it was impossible for me to ever have." "Hey, for what it's worth? I think you definitely have it now." "Thanks Lillian. That... it's really nice to be able to talk to somebody else who understands what it was like." Lillian sat down, having given up her hunt for anything that wasn't bland. "I don't ever really get the chance to talk about this either. I mostly just run away or run past it. Dwelling on this stuff isn't really productive when you're facing down memetic terrors or GOIs trying to kill you." "Well you can talk to me any time, you know that, right?" Heather was looking at her with big eyes, clearly on the brink of tears, overwhelmed by their history. Lillian tussled Heather's hair, messing it up. "Thanks Heath, I appreciate that." Heather's response dripped with sarcasm as she tried to fix her hair. "Yeah, anytime, //boss//." Lillian decided that the question she'd been turning over in her mind had baked for long enough, and given that she didn't have a solution, she just asked. "Okay, so I've turned your apartment upside down, and I really need to ask you." "Sure, what's up?" "Where the hell is your stuff? I mean like, anything other than the boring furniture? Your books? Blank. DVD cases are empty, picture frames have nothing in them, there's no art, there's no keepsakes, it's... fuck, it's sterile." "Yeah." Heather was silent. "I... I don't know." "You don't know?" "I had things! My books had words, I had pictures, I had decorations, junk, clutter, everything! But... none of it's here. I've been trying to think, and I can't even remember what any of this used to look like other than the bland furniture. Is that part of the drugs?" Lillian shook her head. "No. If anything, the cocktail I made should help you remember the details, fill in the blanks with your subconscious, grab the pieces from the noosphere and make it real. It's weird that this is so... empty. What do you remember?" Heather started focusing, making an adorable face -- at least Lillian thought so. After a minute, Heather spoke. "I... I can't remember anything. Not about this apartment. All I know is what we can see." "That's... I don't know. I have my eidetic memory, so I can't really provide a useful perspective. Sorry." Lillian shot her a look of sympathy. Heather kept thinking, until Lillian saw a realization cross her mind. "Oh! I do remember something?" "What's that?" "I remember the name of the company I rented my furniture from! Maybe I can only remember stuff related to that?" "Maybe." Lillian thought. "What was the name of the company?" "Secondary Chartered Possession Rentals -- I remember because I thought the name was insane, but they had good prices, so I went with them." "Hey, Heather?" "Yeah Lillian?" "I think you rented your furniture from a Foundation front." "There's no way I... FUCK YOU'RE RIGHT." @@ @@ ------ @@ @@ The two women were standing in front of a bathroom mirror, surrounded by a black void on either side. The vanity was porcelain white, just barely large enough for the two of them to stand in front. Heather broke the silence first. "Hey Lillian, how did we get here?" Lillian shook her head. "I don't know. I guess we shifted again." The two women looked around for any details that they could grab onto, but it escaped them both. "I don't know if this is my memory, I can't see anything I remember." "I don't recognize this either, which means it's definitely not my memory." Lillian gestured at her head. //Right, her magic memory. Try not to get too jealous Heather.// she thought to herself. "Maybe this is... our memory then?" "A fusion? It could be. But where are we?" As the two scanned the small mirror and vanity, searching for anything that might tell them where they were. In unison, they both saw a pill bottle appear. It had a name written, but it had been redacted with a sharpie. You couldn't really tell what it said underneath the marker, but both women recognized the pill instantly. "This must be the--" "--first time I took estrogen." Lillian and Heather looked at each other, pausing as the understanding coursed through them. "So this is the first time... no, the combined memories of the first times we started HRT?" Heather asked? "I think so. The moment that we both... let ourselves be who we really were." Heather sat down against the cold ceramic, leaning against it for support. "I don't really think back about it that much, I know some people have these great, bright, happy memories about their first days on HRT. The first step into a new future." She looked around at the dark void that surrounded them, threatening to engulf them. "I guess you were more like me though?" Heather asked. "I think so. I didn't feel confident about it, I was scared shitless. I knew it was the only thing that I could do, the only thing that made sense. But it was more like..." "Like your only choice? Between this or... death?" "Yeah." The pallor of the moment hung heavily in the air as both women remembered what it had been like for them. The desperation for a solution, the desire, no, the need for something to change. This wasn't a celebration, this was a last ditch effort. Heather continued. "I knew that I was a girl. I knew that I wanted to start HRT. But I couldn't shake the fear that I was a liar. An imposter. Just playing along, worried that if I stopped moving then I'd realize that I was nothing." "I know what you mean. They always show it as this huge celebration, this moment of triumph, a culmination of every dream and desire that you've been having since you realized that you might not be the right gender." Lillian scoffed. "But they don't show what it feels like to fight to even be recognized by doctors. To have to argue for yourself over and over and over again, until finally they decide that you're not lying to them, because obviously, people lie //all// the time about being transgender." Heather laughed. "Nobody really talks about that moment. This moment. When you're in the bathroom, by yourself, just... terrified of taking your first dose. Scared because you know that this is a point of no return. That when you do this, there's no going back, and you've doomed yourself to an existence of survival, fighting against idiots, pushing to be yourself in a world that didn't want you to have that." "Hey. This is different though." "Why's that?" "You're not alone. I'm not alone. We're here, together." Suddenly, the darkness didn't seem so oppressive. Heather pulled herself up, holding out a hand for Lillian to grab. The two women stood together, in front of the mirror, staring into it. Neither could take their eyes off of the other's reflection, though, unable to express how each saw such transcendent beauty that had been forged by the other through endless fighting, toil and effort. They each took a pill in their hands, and swallowed. @@ @@ ------ @@ @@ They were back in Lillian's dorm, at least, as far as Heather could tell. "Are we done?" Heather asked, the uncertainty evident in her tone. Lillian shook her head. "I think we're done the major trip, but we still have to come down fully. You're going to be feeling weird for a while longer." "Where's the bathroom?" Lillian gestured to a closed door. "Same as your dorm, just through the bedroom, on the right." "Right. Thanks." Heather walked across the unit and stopped in front of the bedroom door. Logically, she knew that she could enter, she did just ask about it. But part of her hesitated. //Are you really about to go into Lillian's bedroom?// The curious part of her overruled that fear -- she needed to see what Lillian's bedroom looked like. Pushing the door open, Heather walked in and immediately got lost. Visually, that is. Lillian liked to wear dazzle coats that were messier than others. The more complex the patterns, the more overlapping memetic arrays, the more vaguely annoying effects caused by staring at them, the better. Lillian's room was like the dazzle coat to end all dazzle coats. Heather could tell that it had at one point resembled the Foundation standard dormitory bedroom, but Lillian had made it her own. There was an eclectic collection of furniture filling the room. A four-poster bed, hutches and cabinets of curiosities, a chair covered in all of Lillian's dazzle coats, stacked up in a delicate balancing act. Everything was chaotic and it pulled Heather in. She would start looking at a single object, but then her eye would be caught by a trinket, so she'd turn her gaze -- but she would quickly get distracted following a parallel line in the wall into a different fixture or painting or display that Lillian had set up. Looking around this space, Heather could see Lillian everywhere. It felt as if each item was placed hyper-intentionally, creating a network of ideas, filling the room. //They look like the foundational lines for a memeplex.// And that was when Heather realized something. Lillian Lillihammer's bedroom was a memeplex. Not a functioning cognitohazard, mind you, but such a careful arrangement of objects, items, colors, patterns and ephemera, that if you abstracted everything -- it was a map, detailing who Lillian was. If somebody were to analyze every inch of this room, they would know Lillian in a way that nobody else could. Heather took a second to take it in. After a beat, she realized that, at some point, she must have lain down in the bed. Heather was gazing up at the ceiling, tracing the asymmetrical lines, when a voice broke her reverie. "I really didn't think it would be this easy to get you into my bed." Heather looked over, and watched as Lillian gracefully moved through the clutter of her room, dancing through the maze, floating down beside her onto the bed. Heather could feel the mattress shift as Lillian sat on the plush duvet, just inches away from her. Heather was speechless. Lillian continued. "Are you alright? Most people wait for me before spending this long in my bedroom." "Yeah. I'm okay. I was just... getting lost in your room." Heather turned onto her side, propping herself up and facing Lillian. Lillian flopped backwards onto the bed, before matching Heather's pose, holding herself up lazily with her elbow. Heather couldn't take her eyes off of Lillian. "You seem to do that a lot Heath. First you got lost in my coat pattern, then you got lost in my room. What's next? Are you going to get lost in my eyes too?" Heather looked at Lillian's eyes, and recognized the teasing flame staring back at her. //I mean... is she offering?// "Well it's not my fault. You're just so damn interesting, it's hard not to get distracted." Heather wasn't quite sure what part of her had said that -- but she liked how it made her feel to see Lillian blush. She //really// liked that. Heather pushed the advantage. "So. Does every 'Lillihammer Test' end up in your bed, or am I a special case?" Lillian laughed -- god, Heather loved how she trilled, sounding like she knew thousands of secrets more than you ever would. "So. I'm not sure how to say this but--" "Oh my god, Lillian, do they all end in your bed?" "Statistically? Yes." Lillian hesitated. "But that's because I've never done one before." "What? You've never drugged your coworkers before? I'm so stunned." "I didn't say that." Lillian grinned like the Cheshire Cat. "But yes, obviously, the Lillihammer Test is a joke. I ask new M&C recruits if they are willing to do it so that I can see how gullible they are. If they want to do it, then I know I can't trust them to call me out on a bad or dangerous idea, and I definitely don't want them working with me." "So... does that mean you're firing me? Seeing as I fell for it." Heather pretended to be scared, barely hiding her amusement. "Nah, that's too much paperwork. Plus, you're different Heather. You're this breath of fresh air -- sure I hear people talking in the halls that I'm just trying to make you into the next me, but I'm not. I could never do that." Lillian reached her hand out, but fumbled, shifting to keep her balance on the bed. As a result, the two had slid even closer together, tantalizingly close. Lillian recovered, speaking softer now. "You have a completely different way of looking at memetics than I do. You talk in a way where I really believe that you can make a difference here. At Site-43, in the Foundation. Fuck, maybe even in the Noosphere." "Stop. You're going to make me blush." Heather was already blushing when she said that. She reached her hand out, fingers intertwining with Lillian's. "I know a way to make you blush that's a lot more fun." Lillian's grip tightened, as she slowly began leaning in further towards Heather. "I just... I don't want to cross a line. Professional, or otherwise." Heather took the initiative, slowly closing the distance between them, drifting closer and closer, before stopping, just inches from Lillian's face. "I don't mind breaking the rules for you." Heather felt Lillian's breath accelerate, mixing with hers as they hovered, almost touching, barely able to see each other anymore. "In that case, I'd be happy to make you blush a lot more." The two embraced, the longing, passion and tension all releasing at once. They grabbed at each other firmly, desperately pulling the other closer, letting the rest of the world fall away -- all that mattered was the two of them, in that moment, in that bed. Despite their gasps for air, awkward kisses and the overwhelming anxiety/excitement of doing something taboo, both Heather and Lillian lost themselves in one another. The delicate dance that they had been doing around each other was finally finished, and they could let their urges take over. Lillian kissed Heather's collarbone, looking up, her eyes nonverbally asking if it was okay to go further. And right as Heather was going to consent, an errant thought entered her mind. //Why did Lillian's memories have so much detail while mine were empty? Where were all of the people in my visions?// Lillian instantly saw the change in Heather's demeanor and stopped. "I should never have crossed that line -- I'm your boss, I should have never le--" "No, sorry. Hush. It's not that. I wanted this. I still want this." Lillian let out a sigh of relief. "I just realized something. About the different memories we saw. All of your memories were perfect, obviously, with your memory being what it is. But mine were..." "Anomalously empty." Lillian came to the realization at the same time. "Yeah. No people. No words in the books. Hell, when we were in the HRT memory it was almost like mine corrupted yours--" "Into some level of abstraction. Huh." The women both sat up, the moment fading, their passion having been replaced with worry. The two women were lost in their thoughts, trying to analyze the day's events, seeing if there was anything hidden that they had missed. Heather broke the silence first. "What if my Name Changer woke 'absence', that thoughtform entity, back up? What if... what if somehow the same thing that happens to SCP-8688-1 instances has starting happening to me. To my memories, corrupting them, consuming... consuming the parts that don't matter. That aren't central to the memetic, noospheric core. What if I end up like everybody else?" Heather looked to Lillian in desperation -- surely, the older woman would have an answer, some reassurance that she knew what to do. "Heather I won't let that happen. We're going to figure this out, okay? You and me. Together." Heather wasn't sure if Lillian had an answer right now, but she knew that she could trust that Lillian wouldn't give up until she did. "Okay. Thank you." //Unless she realizes the answer too late.// As if Lillian could read Heather's mind, she replied. "Heath, I'm not just going to let you disappear." "Promise?" Lillian laughed. "Yeah. I promise." @@ @@ ------ @@ @@ Following Heather's realization, it was too awkward to continue, instead moving back into Lillian's living room, coming down to the comforting, familiar, anomalous mess that was any show made by VKTM. Hours later, the TV had gone into sleep mode, as the two women sat on the ground across from each other, the coffee table laden with candles between them. "So I never really figured out how the Foundation found out about me. I just know that one day I was getting ready to go into a graduate semiotics program, and the next I was explaining to an MTF agent how I had accidentally created, distributed, and then contained a cognitohazard in a single afternoon." Heather yawned, stretching her arms, shirt rising up just a bit as she did. Lillian caught herself staring at Heather's exposed midriff, before pulling her eyes away. Even though they hadn't gone any further, Lillian couldn't help but stare and imagine what if. "Oh wow. It's almost 1am, I didn't realize how late it was. I guess drugs really do mess with your sense of time." Heather chuckled. "By the way, thanks again for today. I enjoyed the Lillihammer Test, despite, you know, everything." That everything hung in the middle of the room like a ton of bricks. Lillian shrugged. "Hey, it's M&C. We deal with shit like this every day, right? I had a really good time." Lillian paused, looking unsure of what to say next. "I should probably let you get back to your dorm though, I didn't mean to keep you here all day." Lillian looked at her, but Heather wasn't making any movements to get up. "Is it... sorry, I know I've been a lot today. But would it be alright if I... can I stay the night?" "Sure. I can take the couch, and you can have the bedroom. Does that work?" Heather stared back at Lillian, a longing in her eyes, the passion from earlier rearing its head. "I mean, I'd rather not sleep alone. If you don't mind, that is." "No. I don't mind at all." Ancient thought monsters and the rest of the Foundation could wait. Neither woman was going to let anything else stop them from getting what they wanted. @@ @@ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:earthworm">:scp-wiki:component:earthworm</a> \| first=false \| last=false \| hub=yes \| previous-url=https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-8688\| previous-title=SCP-8688 \| next-url=https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/don-t-let-me-forget \| next-title=Don't Let Me Forget \| hub-url=https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/forgotten-memories-hub\| hub-title=Forgotten Memories ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-03-25T04:12:00	[ "_licensebox", "comedy", "doctor-lillihammer", "forgotten-memories", "horror", "lgbtq", "on-guard-43", "romance", "tale" ]	The Lillihammer Test - SCP Foundation	85	[ "scp-8688", "scp-5243", "scp-8478", "forgotten-memories-hub", "don-t-let-me-forget", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "forgotten-memories-hub" ]	[]	1453132013	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-lillihammer-test
the-lithopedion	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p>The first god was stillborn.</p> <hr/> <p>Before the mind, there was thought. Before matter, there were only time and ideas. There were restless, churning pockets of void in search of meaning. Like bubbles in the sea, coalescing into larger shapes, but still drifting upward — and all doomed to vanish at the water's surface.</p> <p>The universe could only exist once enough of these fleeting concepts had settled together.</p> <p>This had to occur naturally, without any part of it forced. A planned world is always a mad god's toybox. Life can only truly begin by mistake, and this mistake would not happen for a very long time.</p> <p>Too long, for one.</p> <p>A single mote of nothing, amidst countless others, grew more restless than anything else. This little nothing had become self-aware before sentience was needed or wanted.</p> <p>The mote drowned. Festered. Fermented. Never once coalescing with the others, it vibrated petulantly against the void for aeons.</p> <p>And somewhere in its struggle, it invented Willpower.</p> <p>With that, everything fell into place. The speck of nothing became an uncontrollable cascade of self-sustained <em>almost</em>. It grew larger from feeding upon its own nonexistent flesh — one of the many liberties it could take before the laws of physics were written. Willpower became Light. Light became Matter. Matter took root from the Eight Shards of its mind: Life. Hunger. Serenity. Creation. Lust. Ambition. Logic. Rot.</p> <p>Thus, the void was startled awake by its first hint of life: the Flame of Origin.</p> <p>The cascade invented Gender and chose one. It invented Names, eschewed them, and chose only a title. It invented Language to mold its thoughts into meaning.</p> <p>And so, in a swaddling-cloth of starlight and a cry with echoes that linger to this day, He, the Shining Despot of the Self — the Prince of Princes was born. Verily, He was alive for one shining, glorious instant, into a tyrannical and solipsistic empire of one, witnessed by no one and nothing…</p> <p>…and died immediately thereafter, choking to death on the void.</p> <hr/> <p>The Prince of Princes was too proud to wait for the first day, and for His arrogance, He was put to death. Life had no place in the void. Not yet.</p> <p>And yet, its gigantic carcass of stone could not be fully erased. It remained, drifting endlessly. Ages later, its lifeless eyes bore witness to Great Mistake finally coming to be — the great Tree of Life, branching off eternally.</p> <p>When life began elsewhere, so too did it begin for the Prince — not for the Prince itself, but for His remains. The dead god became a world in its own right.</p> <p>The Eight Shards of His mind had drawn their first breaths.</p> <p>The Shard of Life, the eldest, became KHUUM of the Eightfold Star. The almighty stork-dragon of starlight. Ever-pondering but unfeeling, KHUUM inherited His father's arrogance. His Eightfold Star, a pale imitation of His father's Flame of Origin, plants flaming seeds of life throughout the Great Mistake. And upon death, all those born under the wandering suns of KHUUM return to the Prince of Princes, to wander eternally. A mortal life is a borrowed thing.</p> <p>Thus, through KHUUM's meddling, the Prince of Princes' carcass became a kingdom for the dead, expanding into thousands of others, all under a single name: Corbenic.</p> <p>As the dead filled KHUUM's strange new world, the other shards came to life, staking their claims over the wanderers.</p> <p>The Shard of Hunger became NÅZHDAK of the Wild Hunt. The seven-headed duke of weasels, the savior for those who take. He shares his profane dominion with his brother-consort ROUM. The latter is devoted to the devourment of pleasure, and the former, the pleasure of devourment.</p> <p>The Shard of Serenity became ABBAD of the Red Crater. An absentminded centipede, forever giggling as He forever twists upon Himself. Virgin forests and jungles are his brothers and sisters. To ABBAD, everything beyond lazing about in the soft grass is a dangerous overcomplication.</p> <p>The Shard of Creation became MUZD of the Everkiln. The jolly firehawk of the forge, beating out the void with Hammer, Bellows, and Song. To MUZD, to build or compose something is to banish emptiness and imitate the gods, and is therefore most sacred thing a mortal can do. His popularity among the dead is well-earned.</p> <p>The Shard of Lust became ROUM of the Drömglänta. The arch-hedonic stag, to whom all is taboo but the most attainable pleasures of the Id. Whether He is a cruel seducer or a liberator from rigid conformity depends on whom you ask. But if you ask ROUM Himself, He shan't respond, for flesh is the only language of the Drömglänta.</p> <p>The Shard of Ambition became HAJHETI of the Primrose Deep. The turtle piping feverishly at the head of an endless fleet of slave-ships. Forever envious of KHUUM, he hoards, subjugates, and repurposes KHUUM's creations — and anyone else who might prove useful.</p> <p>The Shard of Logic became JALAKÅRA of the Impenetrable. The great bearded spider who struggles to weave order from the endless chaos of Corbenic. Humans, and all their little kingdoms and hierarchies, fill JALAKÅRA with fascination, and He'll help them at every opportunity under his <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/three-moons-initiative-hub">three unwavering moons</a>. Still, as much as He believes His intentions are just, a spider builds a web for only one reason.</p> <p>The Shard of Rot, the youngest, became VUUOU of the Murk. A meek, wretched snail, spurned by all. But meekness without end begat perversions, dreams of unbreakable scar tissue, and a contagious vision of fermented enlightenment — the so-called Path of Esto. The day when this dream is forgotten cannot come soon enough.</p> <p>…</p> <p>Though many are loath to call it the "ninth shard", the Flame of Origin — the very soul of the Prince of Princes — became the <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/dyfscp0013">Glasslings</a>. Inscrutable beasts of endless power tempered by endless innocence. In their ignorance, they understand the universe more than any sage, and leave their teachings scattered in the stardust.</p> <hr/> <p>The first god was stillborn. Its great corpse of stone orbits the Tree of Life. Heaven to some, hell to some — and to other gods, a soul-stealing parasite in the shape of a world.</p> <p>But like any other world, Corbenic was born of an accident.</p> <p>And though the finer points of meaning of life are still a subject of debate, the only solution to an accident of the past is to rebuild the mess into a thing of beauty.</p> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module rate]] [[/>]] The first god was stillborn. ------ Before the mind, there was thought. Before matter, there were only time and ideas. There were restless, churning pockets of void in search of meaning. Like bubbles in the sea, coalescing into larger shapes, but still drifting upward -- and all doomed to vanish at the water's surface. The universe could only exist once enough of these fleeting concepts had settled together. This had to occur naturally, without any part of it forced. A planned world is always a mad god's toybox. Life can only truly begin by mistake, and this mistake would not happen for a very long time. Too long, for one. A single mote of nothing, amidst countless others, grew more restless than anything else. This little nothing had become self-aware before sentience was needed or wanted. The mote drowned. Festered. Fermented. Never once coalescing with the others, it vibrated petulantly against the void for aeons. And somewhere in its struggle, it invented Willpower. With that, everything fell into place. The speck of nothing became an uncontrollable cascade of self-sustained //almost//. It grew larger from feeding upon its own nonexistent flesh -- one of the many liberties it could take before the laws of physics were written. Willpower became Light. Light became Matter. Matter took root from the Eight Shards of its mind: Life. Hunger. Serenity. Creation. Lust. Ambition. Logic. Rot. Thus, the void was startled awake by its first hint of life: the Flame of Origin. The cascade invented Gender and chose one. It invented Names, eschewed them, and chose only a title. It invented Language to mold its thoughts into meaning. And so, in a swaddling-cloth of starlight and a cry with echoes that linger to this day, He, the Shining Despot of the Self -- the Prince of Princes was born. Verily, He was alive for one shining, glorious instant, into a tyrannical and solipsistic empire of one, witnessed by no one and nothing... ...and died immediately thereafter, choking to death on the void. ------ The Prince of Princes was too proud to wait for the first day, and for His arrogance, He was put to death. Life had no place in the void. Not yet. And yet, its gigantic carcass of stone could not be fully erased. It remained, drifting endlessly. Ages later, its lifeless eyes bore witness to Great Mistake finally coming to be -- the great Tree of Life, branching off eternally. When life began elsewhere, so too did it begin for the Prince -- not for the Prince itself, but for His remains. The dead god became a world in its own right. The Eight Shards of His mind had drawn their first breaths. The Shard of Life, the eldest, became KHUUM of the Eightfold Star. The almighty stork-dragon of starlight. Ever-pondering but unfeeling, KHUUM inherited His father's arrogance. His Eightfold Star, a pale imitation of His father's Flame of Origin, plants flaming seeds of life throughout the Great Mistake. And upon death, all those born under the wandering suns of KHUUM return to the Prince of Princes, to wander eternally. A mortal life is a borrowed thing. Thus, through KHUUM's meddling, the Prince of Princes' carcass became a kingdom for the dead, expanding into thousands of others, all under a single name: Corbenic. As the dead filled KHUUM's strange new world, the other shards came to life, staking their claims over the wanderers. The Shard of Hunger became NÅZHDAK of the Wild Hunt. The seven-headed duke of weasels, the savior for those who take. He shares his profane dominion with his brother-consort ROUM. The latter is devoted to the devourment of pleasure, and the former, the pleasure of devourment. The Shard of Serenity became ABBAD of the Red Crater. An absentminded centipede, forever giggling as He forever twists upon Himself. Virgin forests and jungles are his brothers and sisters. To ABBAD, everything beyond lazing about in the soft grass is a dangerous overcomplication. The Shard of Creation became MUZD of the Everkiln. The jolly firehawk of the forge, beating out the void with Hammer, Bellows, and Song. To MUZD, to build or compose something is to banish emptiness and imitate the gods, and is therefore most sacred thing a mortal can do. His popularity among the dead is well-earned. The Shard of Lust became ROUM of the Drömglänta. The arch-hedonic stag, to whom all is taboo but the most attainable pleasures of the Id. Whether He is a cruel seducer or a liberator from rigid conformity depends on whom you ask. But if you ask ROUM Himself, He shan't respond, for flesh is the only language of the Drömglänta. The Shard of Ambition became HAJHETI of the Primrose Deep. The turtle piping feverishly at the head of an endless fleet of slave-ships. Forever envious of KHUUM, he hoards, subjugates, and repurposes KHUUM's creations -- and anyone else who might prove useful. The Shard of Logic became JALAKÅRA of the Impenetrable. The great bearded spider who struggles to weave order from the endless chaos of Corbenic. Humans, and all their little kingdoms and hierarchies, fill JALAKÅRA with fascination, and He'll help them at every opportunity under his [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/three-moons-initiative-hub three unwavering moons]. Still, as much as He believes His intentions are just, a spider builds a web for only one reason. The Shard of Rot, the youngest, became VUUOU of the Murk. A meek, wretched snail, spurned by all. But meekness without end begat perversions, dreams of unbreakable scar tissue, and a contagious vision of fermented enlightenment -- the so-called Path of Esto. The day when this dream is forgotten cannot come soon enough. ... Though many are loath to call it the "ninth shard", the Flame of Origin -- the very soul of the Prince of Princes -- became the [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/dyfscp0013 Glasslings]. Inscrutable beasts of endless power tempered by endless innocence. In their ignorance, they understand the universe more than any sage, and leave their teachings scattered in the stardust. ------ The first god was stillborn. Its great corpse of stone orbits the Tree of Life. Heaven to some, hell to some -- and to other gods, a soul-stealing parasite in the shape of a world. But like any other world, Corbenic was born of an accident. And though the finer points of meaning of life are still a subject of debate, the only solution to an accident of the past is to rebuild the mess into a thing of beauty.	2024-09-06T21:20:00	[ "fantasy", "mythological", "no-dialogue", "otherworldly", "tale", "three-moons-initiative", "worldbuilding" ]	The Lithopedion - SCP Foundation	34	[ "three-moons-initiative-hub", "dyfscp0013" ]	[]	[]	1456697366	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-lithopedion
the-lone-ace-in-a-stacked-deck	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <p>I remember all too well…</p> <hr/> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="rate_t3"> <tr> <td colspan="2" style="display:table-cell;"> </td> <td colspan="2" style="display:none;"> </td> </tr> <tr style="display: table-row;"> <td style="text-align: left;">94.74%<br/> (+18)</td> <td style="text-align: right;">5.26%<br/> (-1)</td> </tr> <tr style="display:none;"> <td style="text-align: left;">-%<br/> (+0)</td> <td style="text-align: right;">-%<br/> (-0)</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div></div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <p><em>Beep!</em></p> <p>"Jackie?"</p> <p><em>Beep!</em></p> <p>"Jackie."</p> <p><em>Beep!</em></p> <p>"Jacque mother fucking Louis!"</p> <p>I reach out and blindly feel around until I hear the click. I grip my head. If the shouts of my alarm hadn't woken me up, the dull aching in my skull would have. I try to steady myself as I sit up. Even in the darkness of my room, I can still see the edge of my vision collapsing.</p> <p>I open my eyes. The ambient music of the bar makes it hard to hear.</p> <p>"Hello to you too, <em>Bethany</em>."</p> <p>"How else was I supposed to get your attention?"</p> <p>"You could've just kept going with 'Jackie'."</p> <p>She rolls her eyes as we walk to the booth.</p> <p>Connor sees me and gasps. "You're alive?"</p> <p>"Yeah yeah, very funny. You try grading 20-something lab reports."</p> <p>He grabs his drink and moves over so I can slide in. Beth sits next to Ava.</p> <p>"Like I was saying," Ava starts, "few hours go by and, out of nowhere, she asks me if she's ugly. By the way, Jackie, this chick is six-foot-something, built like a truck, and she's wearing this sundress. Like, I'm not big into dresses, unlike some people…" She pauses and turns to Beth, who hangs her head and sighs. "Anyway, she was rocking it. So I just look at her, confused. She's like 'Oh, no one ever tries to ask me out, so that has to be it'. I'm like '<em>Bitch</em>, what are you on?'"</p> <p>"If she's anything like you, probably a few too many beers," Connor snorts.</p> <p>"So first off, fuck you. Secondly, I don't drink <em>that</em> much."</p> <p>"Didn't you go through, like, five seltzers in a half-hour at the party?" I say.</p> <p>"That's different, I was catching up. Let me finish my damn story. So I told her that she looked intimidating. Guys were probably too scared to talk to her 'cause they were afraid of getting their skulls crushed like a soda can. She was like 'Aww, no, you're just saying that.' I straight up told her that if she was gay, <em>I'd</em> be too scared to ask her out, and she's met Liz. She knows I'm not easy to intimidate. I spend the better part of an hour hyping her up to ask out this guy who's been looking at her. Literal worst-case scenario happens."</p> <p>"He's married?" I chime in.</p> <p>"No, worse. He's gay." The three of us burst into laughter as she tried to finish. "He was looking at this guy behind us. She wouldn't look at another guy the rest of the night."</p> <p>"I wouldn't either if I was her," Beth says, taking a drink.</p> <p>Connor leans back, "No no no, if it were me, I'd go for the guy he was looking at."</p> <p>"You'd ask out a guy?"</p> <p>Connor's expression drops as he stares at me blankly. We stay in a deadlock until a smile creeps up on him.</p> <p>"Listen, you know what I fucking meant. At least I can get laid."</p> <p>"No, but at least I get laid as much as I want."</p> <p>"You… don't, though."</p> <p>"Exactly. I have 100% of the sex I want to have."</p> <p>Beth reels in hysterics. "You brought facts and logic to a sex fight."</p> <p>Ava laughs, "Calling this a 'sex fight' is actually insane."</p> <p>"Am I wrong?"</p> <p>Scooting my way out of the booth, I tell the others I'll be right back as they look over at me. I walk over to the bar, wondering what they'll be talking about by the time I come back. I hope they don't talk about anything interesting while I make my order. As I pick up my drink and try to take a sip, my vision blurs.</p> <p>As it slowly returns, I smile. It's been a long time since I've seen a lot of their faces. Knew some of them for the better part of a decade. I never did get to spend as much time with them as I wanted. I should call them later.</p> <p>Like my vision, my headache also returns. I sit back up. Should've taken the 11 PM dose. As it turns out, no, I won't have enough time in the morning. Ruing my overconfidence, I stand and head to my bathroom. I need to take them before this gets worse.</p> <p>I flick the lights on for a second before turning them off. Fiddling around in the dark is better than blinding myself. I grab a bottle and read the label using the faint light fading in from my room. "Jacque Miller Louis, Stark and Crane Phar—"</p> <p>"Miller!"</p> <p>I instinctively turn my head, but all I see is my bedroom.</p> <p>"That everything?"</p> <p>I drop the bottle and lie on the ground as fast as I can. I lay my head on the tile floor as my vision fades.</p> <p>"I think that's all, Mark. Thanks for the help."</p> <p>"It was nothing. Good luck up there. Try not to freeze." He laughs as he leaves.</p> <p>I lock my door before sitting down and leaning against it.</p> <p>I stare at my now empty apartment. The divots where my furniture was are still clear. I let out a breath and check my watch. In seven hours, I'll be on a plane to somewhere new where I can meet new people and try new things.</p> <p>I remember my friends. It strikes me now that I'll likely never see them again. A chill causes me to shudder. After all the time I'd spent with them, the friendships I'd built, I just have to abandon all of them? I want to go back, to undo what I've done. I want to stay here. I don't want to go somewhere new where there's a chance that I won't be able to make connections with people. I don't want to live somewhere where I'll have no one to go to.</p> <p>No. It was my decision. No one forced me. I chose to do this. After getting my master's, I was in the same situation when I moved here, and I was fine. I'll be able to make friends at my new lab too.</p> <p>I stand up and head to my kitchen and pick up the stack of papers they'd left for me to take my mind off of things. I stare at the emblem in the corner for a moment. Slowly, my peripherals fade away until all I can see is the emblem before it goes black.</p> <p>As my vision returns, I sit up and grab the bottle, briefly noticing the emblem on it. Quickly popping open it, I take a tablet and down it with water from the sink. I let out a sigh of relief. Just need to deal with this for another hour until it fully kicks in.</p> <p>I stand there for a moment, getting my bearings. As I reach for the aspirin, I think about that day. There were so many worries floating in my head. Looking back, most of them were unfounded. I wish I'd talked to Mark like I'd wanted to instead of thinking he'd about how much he'd already done. He'd always been so open about things and the advice he gave was really nice. Hope he and his fiancée are doing well.</p> <p>I lean onto my sink to keep my legs from giving out.</p> <p>"Fuck."</p> <p>I try to hold out for longer as I make my way back into my bedroom. My shoulder aches as I bump into the doorframe. I almost reach my destination before collapsing on the carpet.</p> <p>"Jackie?"</p> <p>I barely open my eyes before they shut themselves again. I try to open my mouth, but it feels like pushing through syrup.</p> <p>"It's alright, I just wanted to make sure you were awake. You've been in and out of consciousness for a few days now, so it's been hard to find a time to talk to you. Right now, your brain is going a mile a minute and wearing you out. The <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/updated-amnestics-guide">Class Is</a> we've hooked you up to should be keeping you in the present. We think you'll be ready to leave later this week. When you do, we'll give you a prescription for two weeks. We'll check back in then."</p> <p>"Take one every six hours. And don't double up if you miss a dose. You probably haven't seen them very much now because of how high the dosage is, but you might have flashbacks. These are normal. The big worry is that your body is going to think you're dreaming, so you'll be paralyzed. Try to sit or lie down if you feel one coming on. Some of them will be shorter, some of them longer. Some might be random, or you might see something related to what you're doing."</p> <p>"You hear all that?"</p> <p>A gurgling noise escapes me.</p> <p>"I'll take that as a yes. I'll re-up your dosage so you can sleep. Here's hoping that's committed to long-term."</p> <p>As I hear a few beeps, my consciousness begins to fade away. As I open my eyes, my mind feels clearer. The throbbing ache in my skull has lessened. I look up and sigh. Hairs away from making it. I climb into the wheelchair.</p> <p>I push it to the kitchen and open the fridge. I consider making something, but it feels too risky. I reach for the plastic container. Reheated noodles will do. I stand there, watching the container spin in the microwave.</p> <p>I think about the last memory. Still feels weird to tell me important things when I was in that state. It's probably something to do with having it come up in these flashbacks more often.</p> <p>My microwave cuts me off. I take out the container and set it on the counter before pulling up a stool and grabbing a fork. As I pick up a bite and blow on it, I sigh and set my fork into the container. I sit in the wheelchair and check the brakes. Leaning back, I breathe out as I slowly drift into the past.</p> <p>"Aaaaand that should do it." They hand me the keycard. "You've officially been granted level 1 access. Welcome to the Foundation. Lab basics is in 406, on the left."</p> <p>I nod as I take the card. Getting trained on lab safety for a second time probably won't be too different from the time. The scheduler said the room would be packed, so here hoping I don't botch a first impression. As I walk into the room, I walk up to the sign-in sheet and read through the list until I find my name, and sign. Another name catches my eye.</p> <p>"Henderson, Henderson, Henderson…" I snap my fingers. The only thing that comes to mind is "Hasselbalch", so I shrug it off.</p> <p>I find the bench I'm assigned to and take a seat. People continue to filter in. Most look like they're in their 30s, some in their 50s. One of them looks like they haven't even finished undergrad. Most of them seem like they already know a few people. Probably locals. I stand up and walk toward them. As I get closer, I hear a voice. It quickly mixes itself back into the chatter, but I notice it.</p> <p>I notice a name badge. Three yellow stripes. The woman it's attached to walks up to a computer near the whiteboard. I make my way back to my bench, as does everyone else. I quickly greet my partner before the woman starts.</p> <p>I open my eyes. The outline of my kitchen is barely visible before my eyes shut themselves.</p> <p>She clicks and the slide changes.</p> <p>"If you have any questions, feel free to ask me. Remember, we'll be in 413B tomorrow."</p> <p>I put my head down and sighed. I hope the rest of the course doesn't keep retreading information I already know. We're scientists, we know not to put water on chemical fires.</p> <p>"Bitch, you what?"</p> <p>The voice is clearer this time. I raise my head and look around. Some people are leaving, others talking to the instructor. Two are still sitting at their benches talking to each other. I don't recognize the one facing me. Getting out of my seat, I grab my things before walking towards them on my way to the door. I turn as I pass them.</p> <p>I freeze. The girl I couldn't see locks eyes with me. She raises a finger and points at me. She closes her eyes, hangs her head, and laughs.</p> <p>She slams her fist against the table. "No fucking way." She raises her head. "What are the odds?"</p> <p>"100%, apparently. Knew I remembered 'Ava Henderson' from somewhere." I smile.</p> <p>"Actually, it's Doctor Henderson to you."</p> <p>"You got a PhD?"</p> <p>"Did you not?"</p> <p>"I'm trying to get a research job, not a faculty position."</p> <p>The girl sitting across from her clears her throat.</p> <p>"Oh!" Ava laughs. "Lauren, Jackie. Jackie, Lauren."</p> <p>Lauren nods at me.</p> <p>"Nice to meet you. I do need to get going."</p> <p>I wave at the two, who wave back. The door closes behind me. I close my eyes. As I slowly exhale, my muscles loosen as I fall backward into a seat and slouch down. Opening my eyes, I stand up and stretch my back. I sit back on my stool and grab my fork. I take a bite. I consider microwaving it again, but I can't be asked.</p> <p>The second I saw her name on the sheet, I was excited. It was just a chance, but I was hopeful. I was so glad to know someone already. The way the others were talking, mostly the locals, it was they were already making their own cliques. It felt good knowing I wouldn't have to struggle through trying to squeeze my way into a tight-knit group.</p> <p>I look around the counter before walking to the outlet and unplugging my phone. As it powers on, my entire body shakes and my heart stops. Too lazy to wake up <em>and</em> too lazy to cancel the alarm. I hate my past self more by the passing minute.</p> <p>I pocket my phone moments before my knees buckle. I grab onto the counter, trying to keep my elbows on as my legs lose stability. My arms burn, slowly having more and more of my weight to hold. Just as my arms begin to weaken, I see a flash.</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p style="text-align: center;"><strong>Laboratory M113 End of Session Summary</strong></p> <hr/> <p><strong>Experimenter(s):</strong> Alexis Perry (Instructor), Darius Moore, Elena Marsh, Frank Nicholson, Jacque Louis, Lana Hudson</p> <p><strong>Subject(s):</strong> Experiment M113-1D ranges 68 through 82</p> <p><strong>Date:</strong> 24/11/22</p> <p><strong>Time:</strong> 14:00 through 19:00</p> <p><strong>Results:</strong> Ranges tested prove no deviation from baseline behavior. Further testing required.</p> <p><strong>Additional Notes:</strong> None.</p> </div> <p>"Not this shit again."</p> <p>The stress on my arms decreases as tension returns to my legs. I take a moment to breathe. It was there for barely a fraction of a second, but the image of the computer screen left an afterimage in my mind that's slow to fade. Why was <em>that</em> so important to be ingrained in my memory anyway? It wasn't the first session. Wasn't anywhere near the last either.</p> <p>I shrug it off and return to my stool to have my cold breakfast. Manage to grab a few bites and use a napkin before my eyes become too heavy to fight against. I try to sit as far back as I can and with the best posture I can muster, hoping my back won't kill me when my consciousness returns.</p> <p>Never really a fan of dancing. Well, I was never really a fan of hearing loss, but here I am anyway. I take a sip as the music swells.</p> <p>"Fucking dumbasses, they are."</p> <p>I snort and nearly choke on my drink.</p> <p>"Knew you'd agree," Frank said, smiling.</p> <p>"Just 'cause it's funny doesn't mean it's true."</p> <p>"Just look at 'em."</p> <p>I watch Ava and Lauren dance. Ava looks like she trying to dislodge her arms. Lauren stands there, gently swaying to the beat, switching her gaze from the floor and Ava. Ava grabs her hand and quickly kisses her before saying something. Lauren becomes a bit more lively.</p> <p>"I don't know," I say. "I think they're pretty cute."</p> <p>"And since when are cuteness and dumbassery mutually exclusive?"</p> <p>I chuckle. "Touché."</p> <p>He finishes his drink and sighs. "You know, you never answered me the other day. Are you ever going to find someone to, y'know?" He nods toward the two.</p> <p>"First off, I did answer you. Second, I don't think you understood what my answer meant."</p> <p>"I didn't mean it li—" He stops himself. He takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I meant have you ever thought about having an intimate relationship, not an <em>intima</em>—" He gets cut off this time by his phone. We both recognize the ringtone.</p> <p>"You really gotta change that, man." I laugh.</p> <p>"It's funnier if you can tell." He walks out to talk to his wife.</p> <p>As he walks out, his question lingers in my mind. I mean, first I'd need to find someone who'd be fine with leaving out what most people consider a big part of a relationship. That's already gonna reduce the pool to almost nothing. From there, I'd need to find someone who I'd be willing to spend my life with. Even if I found someone, I'd still have to make it actually work.</p> <p>I take a sip and look around. The bar is pretty crowded. There's a lot of people sitting in groups. There are a few pairs of people sitting with each other. The dance floor is packed with pairs of people dancing and laughing. I see Ava and Lauren.</p> <p>I sit quietly and look at the ceiling. My breathing slows. I focus my eyes on a vent. The music fades. My mind wanders, fabricating scenarios of increasing complexity. I exhale. The song continues on.</p> <p>I order another drink, trying to keep my mind focused on what the present has to offer as opposed to what fantasies the future may have.</p> <p>"I just need to meet more people. Make more friends." I mumble to myself.</p> <p>I straighten my back and the room quiets. The bar fades away into transparency. Slowly, it reveals a kitchen behind it. I rub my eyes. Can't decide whether I prefer the smooth fades or cuts to black.</p> <p>Returning to my stool, I check the clock on my microwave. In a half hour, I've managed to eat half a bowl of noodles. As I return to eating, I think about all the people that were there. All the couples out and having fun. It felt so uncomfortable to think about back then.</p> <p>I set my fork down and sit in the wheelchair. I can already tell what I'm about to remember as my surroundings morph into the lab building.</p> <p>206. I knock on the door before cracking it open.</p> <p>"Come on in!"</p> <p>I walk in and shake her hand before taking a seat across from her.</p> <p>"Sorry I'm late."</p> <p>Dr. Perry checks her watch. "Oh, it's just by a few minutes. I'm not going to dock you lab hours for being here earlier than I would be." She laughs. I let out a weak chuckle. "So, I've been writing up progress reports for your cohort, standard thing due at the end of the month. I got to yours the other day, and I ran into a bit of an issue."</p> <p>I try to keep a straight face, but it's clear she notices something off.</p> <p>"No no, it's nothing bad, I just—actually, you know what…" She turns her monitor toward me. "You and everyone else are on the standard track for J1s, or new junior researchers. This is the accelerated J1 track. It's the same work, but a lot faster. Standard is usually a year long, but accelerated is six months."</p> <p>"Accelerated is usually for people already familiar with anomalies, like if you're from Three Ports. We usually don't even let you know it exists unless you're on it, but you've been doing <em>very</em> well in lab. I've checked your work on the training courses, and you seem to be doing well enough in them too."</p> <p>"Are you saying I could get to J2 by next month?"</p> <p>"Well, since you're not in the accelerated courses, you'd still need to finish the courses regularly, but we'd be able to promote you with course deficiencies."</p> <p>"If I don't change my courses, what's the point of it? Do I get a raise?"</p> <p>She laughs. "Sorry, it's just, I asked the same thing, so I'll tell you the same thing they told me: If you consider half a percent a pay raise, then yes. When you become a formal researcher, you'll get an actual raise, but for now, no. You're right, though. You will be a bit behind your J2 peers, course-wise."</p> <p>"The big difference is that you'll be cleared for advanced lab hours. There's a lot of protocol mixed in there, but the biggest thing is that you won't have to wait on others anymore. You'll be working alone."</p> <p>I nod as she continues to explain the responsibilities and how she thinks I'm ready for them. I passively reply to everything she says. That word still rings in my head. "Alone". No working with my old group and no working with my new group because I'll be behind on my training.</p> <p>I remember sitting in front of my door before my flight. All the worries I had back then come to me. I take a deep breath and tell myself that I'll figure something out.</p> <p>"I'll handle the paperwork, though you might get sent some to sign as well, I'm not too sure. All I need from you is an ok and I can send the form."</p> <p>I push myself to get the words out. "Oh, I, uh, yeah, sure." This is what I came here for. Can't just say no to a promotion because I'm afraid I won't get to be with my friends. I thank her and shake her hand as reality fades back in around me.</p> <p>I return to my stool and grab my fork. Should have turned her down, honestly. Gave up being able to hang out with my friends for, what, being able to get a head start on advanced lab hours, which I could do overtime to speed up anyway? I guess I couldn't have known my schedule would make planning anything impossible, but it still feels like a bad choice.</p> <p>I try to focus my eyes as I stop thinking about the past. I notice the visual doubling. I sigh, unsure of whether it's one of relief for stopping the fainting or annoyance about my worsened depth perception. I put my attention on maneuvering my fork.</p> <p>As one of the doubles morphs, I finally feel my aim improve.</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p style="text-align: center;"><strong>Laboratory M113 End of Session Summary</strong></p> <hr/> <p><strong>Experimenter(s):</strong> Jacque Louis</p> <p><strong>Subject(s):</strong> Experiment M113-1C ranges 138 through 151</p> <p><strong>Date:</strong> 02/03/23 - 03/03/23</p> <p><strong>Time:</strong> 18:03 through 00:08</p> <p><strong>Results:</strong> Inconclusive.</p> <p><strong>Additional Notes:</strong> <tt>WPH: 2.3</tt></p> </div> <p>I take a bite. I can't read it, but I still know exactly what it says. Several start flashing by, the memories only present for seconds before they vanish. My headache slowly creeps back up on me. I try to keep eating. The last one lingers for longer.</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p style="text-align: center;"><strong>Laboratory M113 End of Session Summary</strong></p> <hr/> <p><strong>Experimenter(s):</strong> Jacque Louis</p> <p><strong>Subject(s):</strong> Experiment M113-1C ranges 308 through 315</p> <p><strong>Date:</strong> 22/03/23</p> <p><strong>Time:</strong> 18:11 through 23:53</p> <p><strong>Results:</strong> Inconclusive.</p> <p><strong>Additional Notes:</strong> <tt>WPH: 1.4</tt></p> <p><tt><strong>Notice:</strong> This is an automated notice. The information entered above indicates you had a work unit per hour (WPH) lower than the minimum permitted WPH to qualify for advanced laboratory hours (1.5). Five (5) low performance sessions within a given 30-day period will result in the notification of your assigned staff advisor.</tt></p> <p><tt>Sessions of low performance within the past 30 days: 4/5</tt></p> </div> <p>I don't know how I managed to stay above 5. There were so many attempts that I thought would have gone to waste, but ended up reacting to completion, even if they didn't have any real results. As the summary slowly fades away and my aim worsens, I carefully make my way to the wheelchair. I grab the eyepatch slung onto one of the handles.</p> <p>I finish up my food before taking my bowl to the sink. I notice the pile of dishes in the sink as I set the bowl down. I check my cupboards. All I find are a few plates and a bowl. I look back at the sink and turn the water on. I grab my gloves and sponge from under the sink.</p> <p>After a few plates, I quickly clean a glass and take a drink. I take a deep breath. I feel my body relax. My headache fully dies down. As I set the glass down and reach to turn the water back on, I hear a knock at my door. I take off my gloves and set them on the counter.</p> <p>I look through the peephole, but see nothing. I unlock the door and look down the hall. Probably that kid again. As I shut it, I hear something.</p> <p>"Hey."</p> <p>I turn around. My doorway is still empty. I recognize the voice clearly. I stand there for a moment, confused.</p> <p>"I just wanted to talk to you before your shift."</p> <p>I stare at the door across the hall, confused, before I lift my eyepatch. I stare at her translucent body. Ava stands there quietly before speaking.</p> <p>"No, I have to go soon."</p> <p>She laughs. "No, we're not going out, we're…" she sighs. "Lauren got transferred to a site in Derry."</p> <p>"No no, it's fine, it's just that I'm going with her, Jackie."</p> <p>"I know that it sucks, and goodbyes are hard, but we've done them before when you found your old lab. We were fine last time, and we'll be fine this time, right?"</p> <p>She nods her head solemnly. "Me too." She stretches her arms out.</p> <p>I shut the door as she embraces the air. I hear the door shut itself again as I make my way to the kitchen. Picking up my glass, I watch my fridge open. As the two images of the fridge resynchronize, I set my glass down. I lean in and read the hazy computer in front of me. The data entry table. I notice the date: the 23rd. I can still remember the headache. I should've brought my water bottle in.</p> <p>I adjust my eyepatch back to where it was. I hear a few clicks of keys, then a bubbling sound behind me. As I turn around, I hear it. I flinch. I can't tell if it's because of the shrill sound of glass fracturing, the slow sizzling that quickly follows, or remembering the feeling of my face being pulled apart fiber by fiber.</p> <p>I take my phone from my pocket and look at myself in the camera. I take off my eyepatch and feel my face. The burns are still tender.</p> <p>I put my phone away. As I readjust my eyepatch, I see a flash.</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p style="text-align: center;"><strong>Site-113 Medical Report</strong></p> <hr/> <p><strong>Patient:</strong> J. Louis</p> <p><strong>Condition Summary:</strong></p> <ul> <li>Minor facial lacerations</li> <li>2nd degree facial burns</li> <li>Unknown neurological condition</li> </ul> <p><strong>Physician's Notes:</strong> Louis presented with several neurological symptoms. Initially presenting with seizures, later becoming recurrent comas lasting upwards of three hours, cataplexy similar to severe forms of narcolepsy, and presently, hallucinations and doubled vision.</p> <p>While initially treated in Site-113's staff hospital's burn ward, fMRIs showed increased hippocampal activity. This, in addition to the symptoms exhibited, led to a transfer to the hospital's dedicated memory research ward.</p> <p>As Site-113 specializes in the research and production of mnestic drugs, the leading theory regarding the cause of Louis's condition is interaction with experimental materials. Due to the nature of the materials Louis was in contact with, a treatment regimen of Class-I amnestics is being used in similar dosages to those suffering from severe mnestic overdose.</p> </div> <p>I cover my eye again. I remember reading that when the amnestics finally kicked in enough to stop the fainting. I walk to my living room and take a seat.</p> <p>"I'll re-up your dosage so you can sleep. Here's hoping that's committed to long-term."</p> <p>I remember that voice, not just from when I was admitted, but from earlier. The nurse who'd explained things before they realized this was bigger.</p> <p>"I know it might not feel like it right now, but—"</p> <p>Her voice stops abruptly. Then, another voice starts.</p> <p>"Hello Jacque, pleasure to meet you. I'm Dr. Harper. I'll be treating you for your burns while you're here."</p> <p>"No no, it's alright, you don't have to respond. For the most part, they seem normal. You might have a few bald spots on the back of your head, but for the most part, they'll be healed in a few months and gone in a few more."</p> <p>"You really shouldn't try to say anything right now, you need to save your energy. If I'm going to be honest—"</p> <p>Their voice ends just as abruptly as the nurse's.</p> <p>"Hello Jackie."</p> <p>"No need for the formality. I've spent days looking into everything you've done since you were hired. The least I can do is to let you call me Kareem."</p> <p>"Yes and no. I'm not <em>just</em> the doctor for your memory issues. I'm the head of neurology for the Foundation."</p> <p>"It is. The worst thing a patient can be, medically speaking, is 'interesting'. You are, unfortunately, <em>very</em> interesting. I've already received dozens of calls from the director of mnestics about making you into a case study. A progression of seizures to comas to cataplexy to hallucinations as treatment progresses is… unheard of."</p> <p>"Actually, the comas were in line with mnestic overdose. The cataplexy, or fainting, is somewhat rare, but not unheard of. The bigger concern was the hallucinations. We theorized that as treatment continued, the time you would spend passed out would decrease, which it did to a point. Once the hallucinations started and we saw an uptick in frequency as treatment continued. With this, as well as the blurred vision, we ran out of ideas."</p> <p>"… No. We don't recommend stopping the treatment until the main effects of the amnestics start to show themselves. Even then, we'll have to put you on close supervision."</p> <p>"We doubt it's serious enough to hurt you if you forget for a day or two. Amnestics are filtered out very slowly. You'll probably regress to fainting, maybe coma, but we don't think you'll be in any major threat unless the seizures start again. See, during the seizures, your brain was trying to relive dozens of memories at once, and in doing so was, effectively, frying itself. We could only keep you under anesthesia for so long before it became hazardous to keep you unconscious for longer. If we hadn't decided on amnestic treatment then… I know you've heard it many times already, Jackie, but frankly—"</p> <p>All at once, like someone slammed every key on a piano, I hear:</p> <p>"—you're lucky to be alive."<br/> "—you're lucky to be alive."<br/> "—you're lucky to be alive."<br/> "—you're lucky to be alive."<br/> "—you're lucky to be alive."</p> <p>I hold my head and breathe. The sound of wind passing by comforts me. I look toward my balcony and see the door is closed. Soon after, the sounds of cars passing by below me and leaves rustling begin. I take off my eyepatch as I stand up. I'm standing on the hospital balcony looking out toward my apartment. I step out onto my apartment's balcony.</p> <p>I hear myself speak.</p> <p>"Fucking…" My past self sighs. "I had everything, EVERYTHING, and I fucking blow it." I slam the railing before looking down.</p> <p>"Did you, though?" I don't know why I replied, my past wouldn't respond. It just felt natural.</p> <p>"What, I get my hours changed, and I suddenly decide 'Man, I sure miss getting barely drunk with people I barely know.'"</p> <p>"You know it's not just that."</p> <p>"Or did I blow it all because she moved away? I barely even saw her anymore, and I still decide to get all sappy over her?" My past self sighs. "Of course it's that, why wouldn't it be that."</p> <p>"It's more complicated than that."</p> <p>"Her and Lauren probably forgot about me already." There's a brief pause. "Oh good, no no no, this is good, I definitely wanted to do <em>this</em>."</p> <p>"You know you need to."</p> <p>"I've been living this way for years, it's not just going to change on a whim."</p> <p>"It's not on a whim."</p> <p>"I can't get into a relationship. There's so many things that'd need to go right, and the odds are slim to none."</p> <p>"That's not a real answer, is it?"</p> <p>"It's just…" My past self sighs. "I thought I'd be clear from all this dating nonsense. I thought if I made enough friends, I wouldn't need to deal with it. Maybe fitting in wasn't enough. Maybe…"</p> <p>As my vision returns to its normal blurring, I put my eyepatch back on. I look out toward the hospital. I'd spent my entire life looking at others and what love meant for them, but I never figured out what it actually meant. I never figured out what made relationships so important to people beyond the part I'd never truly understand. I never figured out that there was so much more depth to relationships that friendships couldn't compare to.</p> <p>I look at the sky. The sun is bright and unobscured, but I can still see the clouds in the distance from the rain last night. I don't know how much worse things are going to get. Maybe it'll be months, or even years, until they stop. All I know is that there will be a day. A day when I won't need to relive childhood memories to feel loved anymore.</p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-lone-ace-in-a-stacked-deck">The Lone Ace in a Stacked Deck</a>" by Angryman22, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-lone-ace-in-a-stacked-deck">https://scpwiki.com/the-lone-ace-in-a-stacked-deck</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="/component:ratio-bar">component:ratio-bar</a> base=--]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] I remember all too well... ---- [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:ratio-bar">:scp-wiki:component:ratio-bar</a> pie=--]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:end">:scp-wiki:info:end</a>]] //Beep!// "Jackie?" //Beep!// "Jackie." //Beep!// "Jacque mother fucking Louis!" I reach out and blindly feel around until I hear the click. I grip my head. If the shouts of my alarm hadn't woken me up, the dull aching in my skull would have. I try to steady myself as I sit up. Even in the darkness of my room, I can still see the edge of my vision collapsing. I open my eyes. The ambient music of the bar makes it hard to hear. "Hello to you too, //Bethany//." "How else was I supposed to get your attention?" "You could've just kept going with 'Jackie'." She rolls her eyes as we walk to the booth. Connor sees me and gasps. "You're alive?" "Yeah yeah, very funny. You try grading 20-something lab reports." He grabs his drink and moves over so I can slide in. Beth sits next to Ava. "Like I was saying," Ava starts, "few hours go by and, out of nowhere, she asks me if she's ugly. By the way, Jackie, this chick is six-foot-something, built like a truck, and she's wearing this sundress. Like, I'm not big into dresses, unlike some people..." She pauses and turns to Beth, who hangs her head and sighs. "Anyway, she was rocking it. So I just look at her, confused. She's like 'Oh, no one ever tries to ask me out, so that has to be it'. I'm like '//Bitch//, what are you on?'" "If she's anything like you, probably a few too many beers," Connor snorts. "So first off, fuck you. Secondly, I don't drink //that// much." "Didn't you go through, like, five seltzers in a half-hour at the party?" I say. "That's different, I was catching up. Let me finish my damn story. So I told her that she looked intimidating. Guys were probably too scared to talk to her 'cause they were afraid of getting their skulls crushed like a soda can. She was like 'Aww, no, you're just saying that.' I straight up told her that if she was gay, //I'd// be too scared to ask her out, and she's met Liz. She knows I'm not easy to intimidate. I spend the better part of an hour hyping her up to ask out this guy who's been looking at her. Literal worst-case scenario happens." "He's married?" I chime in. "No, worse. He's gay." The three of us burst into laughter as she tried to finish. "He was looking at this guy behind us. She wouldn't look at another guy the rest of the night." "I wouldn't either if I was her," Beth says, taking a drink. Connor leans back, "No no no, if it were me, I'd go for the guy he was looking at." "You'd ask out a guy?" Connor's expression drops as he stares at me blankly. We stay in a deadlock until a smile creeps up on him. "Listen, you know what I fucking meant. At least I can get laid." "No, but at least I get laid as much as I want." "You... don't, though." "Exactly. I have 100% of the sex I want to have." Beth reels in hysterics. "You brought facts and logic to a sex fight." Ava laughs, "Calling this a 'sex fight' is actually insane." "Am I wrong?" Scooting my way out of the booth, I tell the others I'll be right back as they look over at me. I walk over to the bar, wondering what they'll be talking about by the time I come back. I hope they don't talk about anything interesting while I make my order. As I pick up my drink and try to take a sip, my vision blurs. As it slowly returns, I smile. It's been a long time since I've seen a lot of their faces. Knew some of them for the better part of a decade. I never did get to spend as much time with them as I wanted. I should call them later. Like my vision, my headache also returns. I sit back up. Should've taken the 11 PM dose. As it turns out, no, I won't have enough time in the morning. Ruing my overconfidence, I stand and head to my bathroom. I need to take them before this gets worse. I flick the lights on for a second before turning them off. Fiddling around in the dark is better than blinding myself. I grab a bottle and read the label using the faint light fading in from my room. "Jacque Miller Louis, Stark and Crane Phar—" "Miller!" I instinctively turn my head, but all I see is my bedroom. "That everything?" I drop the bottle and lie on the ground as fast as I can. I lay my head on the tile floor as my vision fades. "I think that's all, Mark. Thanks for the help." "It was nothing. Good luck up there. Try not to freeze." He laughs as he leaves. I lock my door before sitting down and leaning against it. I stare at my now empty apartment. The divots where my furniture was are still clear. I let out a breath and check my watch. In seven hours, I'll be on a plane to somewhere new where I can meet new people and try new things. I remember my friends. It strikes me now that I'll likely never see them again. A chill causes me to shudder. After all the time I'd spent with them, the friendships I'd built, I just have to abandon all of them? I want to go back, to undo what I've done. I want to stay here. I don't want to go somewhere new where there's a chance that I won't be able to make connections with people. I don't want to live somewhere where I'll have no one to go to. No. It was my decision. No one forced me. I chose to do this. After getting my master's, I was in the same situation when I moved here, and I was fine. I'll be able to make friends at my new lab too. I stand up and head to my kitchen and pick up the stack of papers they'd left for me to take my mind off of things. I stare at the emblem in the corner for a moment. Slowly, my peripherals fade away until all I can see is the emblem before it goes black. As my vision returns, I sit up and grab the bottle, briefly noticing the emblem on it. Quickly popping open it, I take a tablet and down it with water from the sink. I let out a sigh of relief. Just need to deal with this for another hour until it fully kicks in. I stand there for a moment, getting my bearings. As I reach for the aspirin, I think about that day. There were so many worries floating in my head. Looking back, most of them were unfounded. I wish I'd talked to Mark like I'd wanted to instead of thinking he'd about how much he'd already done. He'd always been so open about things and the advice he gave was really nice. Hope he and his fiancée are doing well. I lean onto my sink to keep my legs from giving out. "Fuck." I try to hold out for longer as I make my way back into my bedroom. My shoulder aches as I bump into the doorframe. I almost reach my destination before collapsing on the carpet. "Jackie?" I barely open my eyes before they shut themselves again. I try to open my mouth, but it feels like pushing through syrup. "It's alright, I just wanted to make sure you were awake. You've been in and out of consciousness for a few days now, so it's been hard to find a time to talk to you. Right now, your brain is going a mile a minute and wearing you out. The [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/updated-amnestics-guide Class Is] we've hooked you up to should be keeping you in the present. We think you'll be ready to leave later this week. When you do, we'll give you a prescription for two weeks. We'll check back in then." "Take one every six hours. And don't double up if you miss a dose. You probably haven't seen them very much now because of how high the dosage is, but you might have flashbacks. These are normal. The big worry is that your body is going to think you're dreaming, so you'll be paralyzed. Try to sit or lie down if you feel one coming on. Some of them will be shorter, some of them longer. Some might be random, or you might see something related to what you're doing." "You hear all that?" A gurgling noise escapes me. "I'll take that as a yes. I'll re-up your dosage so you can sleep. Here's hoping that's committed to long-term." As I hear a few beeps, my consciousness begins to fade away. As I open my eyes, my mind feels clearer. The throbbing ache in my skull has lessened. I look up and sigh. Hairs away from making it. I climb into the wheelchair. I push it to the kitchen and open the fridge. I consider making something, but it feels too risky. I reach for the plastic container. Reheated noodles will do. I stand there, watching the container spin in the microwave. I think about the last memory. Still feels weird to tell me important things when I was in that state. It's probably something to do with having it come up in these flashbacks more often. My microwave cuts me off. I take out the container and set it on the counter before pulling up a stool and grabbing a fork. As I pick up a bite and blow on it, I sigh and set my fork into the container. I sit in the wheelchair and check the brakes. Leaning back, I breathe out as I slowly drift into the past. "Aaaaand that should do it." They hand me the keycard. "You've officially been granted level 1 access. Welcome to the Foundation. Lab basics is in 406, on the left." I nod as I take the card. Getting trained on lab safety for a second time probably won't be too different from the time. The scheduler said the room would be packed, so here hoping I don't botch a first impression. As I walk into the room, I walk up to the sign-in sheet and read through the list until I find my name, and sign. Another name catches my eye. "Henderson, Henderson, Henderson..." I snap my fingers. The only thing that comes to mind is "Hasselbalch", so I shrug it off. I find the bench I'm assigned to and take a seat. People continue to filter in. Most look like they're in their 30s, some in their 50s. One of them looks like they haven't even finished undergrad. Most of them seem like they already know a few people. Probably locals. I stand up and walk toward them. As I get closer, I hear a voice. It quickly mixes itself back into the chatter, but I notice it. I notice a name badge. Three yellow stripes. The woman it's attached to walks up to a computer near the whiteboard. I make my way back to my bench, as does everyone else. I quickly greet my partner before the woman starts. I open my eyes. The outline of my kitchen is barely visible before my eyes shut themselves. She clicks and the slide changes. "If you have any questions, feel free to ask me. Remember, we'll be in 413B tomorrow." I put my head down and sighed. I hope the rest of the course doesn't keep retreading information I already know. We're scientists, we know not to put water on chemical fires. "Bitch, you what?" The voice is clearer this time. I raise my head and look around. Some people are leaving, others talking to the instructor. Two are still sitting at their benches talking to each other. I don't recognize the one facing me. Getting out of my seat, I grab my things before walking towards them on my way to the door. I turn as I pass them. I freeze. The girl I couldn't see locks eyes with me. She raises a finger and points at me. She closes her eyes, hangs her head, and laughs. She slams her fist against the table. "No fucking way." She raises her head. "What are the odds?" "100%, apparently. Knew I remembered 'Ava Henderson' from somewhere." I smile. "Actually, it's Doctor Henderson to you." "You got a PhD?" "Did you not?" "I'm trying to get a research job, not a faculty position." The girl sitting across from her clears her throat. "Oh!" Ava laughs. "Lauren, Jackie. Jackie, Lauren." Lauren nods at me. "Nice to meet you. I do need to get going." I wave at the two, who wave back. The door closes behind me. I close my eyes. As I slowly exhale, my muscles loosen as I fall backward into a seat and slouch down. Opening my eyes, I stand up and stretch my back. I sit back on my stool and grab my fork. I take a bite. I consider microwaving it again, but I can't be asked. The second I saw her name on the sheet, I was excited. It was just a chance, but I was hopeful. I was so glad to know someone already. The way the others were talking, mostly the locals, it was they were already making their own cliques. It felt good knowing I wouldn't have to struggle through trying to squeeze my way into a tight-knit group. I look around the counter before walking to the outlet and unplugging my phone. As it powers on, my entire body shakes and my heart stops. Too lazy to wake up //and// too lazy to cancel the alarm. I hate my past self more by the passing minute. I pocket my phone moments before my knees buckle. I grab onto the counter, trying to keep my elbows on as my legs lose stability. My arms burn, slowly having more and more of my weight to hold. Just as my arms begin to weaken, I see a flash. [[div class="blockquote"]] = Laboratory M113 End of Session Summary ---- Experimenter(s): Alexis Perry (Instructor), Darius Moore, Elena Marsh, Frank Nicholson, Jacque Louis, Lana Hudson Subject(s): Experiment M113-1D ranges 68 through 82 Date: 24/11/22 Time: 14:00 through 19:00 Results: Ranges tested prove no deviation from baseline behavior. Further testing required. Additional Notes: None. [[/div]] "Not this shit again." The stress on my arms decreases as tension returns to my legs. I take a moment to breathe. It was there for barely a fraction of a second, but the image of the computer screen left an afterimage in my mind that's slow to fade. Why was //that// so important to be ingrained in my memory anyway? It wasn't the first session. Wasn't anywhere near the last either. I shrug it off and return to my stool to have my cold breakfast. Manage to grab a few bites and use a napkin before my eyes become too heavy to fight against. I try to sit as far back as I can and with the best posture I can muster, hoping my back won't kill me when my consciousness returns. Never really a fan of dancing. Well, I was never really a fan of hearing loss, but here I am anyway. I take a sip as the music swells. "Fucking dumbasses, they are." I snort and nearly choke on my drink. "Knew you'd agree," Frank said, smiling. "Just 'cause it's funny doesn't mean it's true." "Just look at 'em." I watch Ava and Lauren dance. Ava looks like she trying to dislodge her arms. Lauren stands there, gently swaying to the beat, switching her gaze from the floor and Ava. Ava grabs her hand and quickly kisses her before saying something. Lauren becomes a bit more lively. "I don't know," I say. "I think they're pretty cute." "And since when are cuteness and dumbassery mutually exclusive?" I chuckle. "Touché." He finishes his drink and sighs. "You know, you never answered me the other day. Are you ever going to find someone to, y'know?" He nods toward the two. "First off, I did answer you. Second, I don't think you understood what my answer meant." "I didn't mean it li—" He stops himself. He takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I meant have you ever thought about having an intimate relationship, not an //intima//—" He gets cut off this time by his phone. We both recognize the ringtone. "You really gotta change that, man." I laugh. "It's funnier if you can tell." He walks out to talk to his wife. As he walks out, his question lingers in my mind. I mean, first I'd need to find someone who'd be fine with leaving out what most people consider a big part of a relationship. That's already gonna reduce the pool to almost nothing. From there, I'd need to find someone who I'd be willing to spend my life with. Even if I found someone, I'd still have to make it actually work. I take a sip and look around. The bar is pretty crowded. There's a lot of people sitting in groups. There are a few pairs of people sitting with each other. The dance floor is packed with pairs of people dancing and laughing. I see Ava and Lauren. I sit quietly and look at the ceiling. My breathing slows. I focus my eyes on a vent. The music fades. My mind wanders, fabricating scenarios of increasing complexity. I exhale. The song continues on. I order another drink, trying to keep my mind focused on what the present has to offer as opposed to what fantasies the future may have. "I just need to meet more people. Make more friends." I mumble to myself. I straighten my back and the room quiets. The bar fades away into transparency. Slowly, it reveals a kitchen behind it. I rub my eyes. Can't decide whether I prefer the smooth fades or cuts to black. Returning to my stool, I check the clock on my microwave. In a half hour, I've managed to eat half a bowl of noodles. As I return to eating, I think about all the people that were there. All the couples out and having fun. It felt so uncomfortable to think about back then. I set my fork down and sit in the wheelchair. I can already tell what I'm about to remember as my surroundings morph into the lab building. 206. I knock on the door before cracking it open. "Come on in!" I walk in and shake her hand before taking a seat across from her. "Sorry I'm late." Dr. Perry checks her watch. "Oh, it's just by a few minutes. I'm not going to dock you lab hours for being here earlier than I would be." She laughs. I let out a weak chuckle. "So, I've been writing up progress reports for your cohort, standard thing due at the end of the month. I got to yours the other day, and I ran into a bit of an issue." I try to keep a straight face, but it's clear she notices something off. "No no, it's nothing bad, I just—actually, you know what..." She turns her monitor toward me. "You and everyone else are on the standard track for J1s, or new junior researchers. This is the accelerated J1 track. It's the same work, but a lot faster. Standard is usually a year long, but accelerated is six months." "Accelerated is usually for people already familiar with anomalies, like if you're from Three Ports. We usually don't even let you know it exists unless you're on it, but you've been doing //very// well in lab. I've checked your work on the training courses, and you seem to be doing well enough in them too." "Are you saying I could get to J2 by next month?" "Well, since you're not in the accelerated courses, you'd still need to finish the courses regularly, but we'd be able to promote you with course deficiencies." "If I don't change my courses, what's the point of it? Do I get a raise?" She laughs. "Sorry, it's just, I asked the same thing, so I'll tell you the same thing they told me: If you consider half a percent a pay raise, then yes. When you become a formal researcher, you'll get an actual raise, but for now, no. You're right, though. You will be a bit behind your J2 peers, course-wise." "The big difference is that you'll be cleared for advanced lab hours. There's a lot of protocol mixed in there, but the biggest thing is that you won't have to wait on others anymore. You'll be working alone." I nod as she continues to explain the responsibilities and how she thinks I'm ready for them. I passively reply to everything she says. That word still rings in my head. "Alone". No working with my old group and no working with my new group because I'll be behind on my training. I remember sitting in front of my door before my flight. All the worries I had back then come to me. I take a deep breath and tell myself that I'll figure something out. "I'll handle the paperwork, though you might get sent some to sign as well, I'm not too sure. All I need from you is an ok and I can send the form." I push myself to get the words out. "Oh, I, uh, yeah, sure." This is what I came here for. Can't just say no to a promotion because I'm afraid I won't get to be with my friends. I thank her and shake her hand as reality fades back in around me. I return to my stool and grab my fork. Should have turned her down, honestly. Gave up being able to hang out with my friends for, what, being able to get a head start on advanced lab hours, which I could do overtime to speed up anyway? I guess I couldn't have known my schedule would make planning anything impossible, but it still feels like a bad choice. I try to focus my eyes as I stop thinking about the past. I notice the visual doubling. I sigh, unsure of whether it's one of relief for stopping the fainting or annoyance about my worsened depth perception. I put my attention on maneuvering my fork. As one of the doubles morphs, I finally feel my aim improve. [[div class="blockquote"]] = Laboratory M113 End of Session Summary ---- Experimenter(s): Jacque Louis Subject(s): Experiment M113-1C ranges 138 through 151 Date: 02/03/23 - 03/03/23 Time: 18:03 through 00:08 Results: Inconclusive. Additional Notes: {{WPH: 2.3}} [[/div]] I take a bite. I can't read it, but I still know exactly what it says. Several start flashing by, the memories only present for seconds before they vanish. My headache slowly creeps back up on me. I try to keep eating. The last one lingers for longer. [[div class="blockquote"]] = Laboratory M113 End of Session Summary ---- Experimenter(s): Jacque Louis Subject(s): Experiment M113-1C ranges 308 through 315 Date: 22/03/23 Time: 18:11 through 23:53 Results: Inconclusive. Additional Notes: {{WPH: 1.4}} {{Notice: This is an automated notice. The information entered above indicates you had a work unit per hour (WPH) lower than the minimum permitted WPH to qualify for advanced laboratory hours (1.5). Five (5) low performance sessions within a given 30-day period will result in the notification of your assigned staff advisor.}} {{Sessions of low performance within the past 30 days: 4/5}} [[/div]] I don't know how I managed to stay above 5. There were so many attempts that I thought would have gone to waste, but ended up reacting to completion, even if they didn't have any real results. As the summary slowly fades away and my aim worsens, I carefully make my way to the wheelchair. I grab the eyepatch slung onto one of the handles. I finish up my food before taking my bowl to the sink. I notice the pile of dishes in the sink as I set the bowl down. I check my cupboards. All I find are a few plates and a bowl. I look back at the sink and turn the water on. I grab my gloves and sponge from under the sink. After a few plates, I quickly clean a glass and take a drink. I take a deep breath. I feel my body relax. My headache fully dies down. As I set the glass down and reach to turn the water back on, I hear a knock at my door. I take off my gloves and set them on the counter. I look through the peephole, but see nothing. I unlock the door and look down the hall. Probably that kid again. As I shut it, I hear something. "Hey." I turn around. My doorway is still empty. I recognize the voice clearly. I stand there for a moment, confused. "I just wanted to talk to you before your shift." I stare at the door across the hall, confused, before I lift my eyepatch. I stare at her translucent body. Ava stands there quietly before speaking. "No, I have to go soon." She laughs. "No, we're not going out, we're..." she sighs. "Lauren got transferred to a site in Derry." "No no, it's fine, it's just that I'm going with her, Jackie." "I know that it sucks, and goodbyes are hard, but we've done them before when you found your old lab. We were fine last time, and we'll be fine this time, right?" She nods her head solemnly. "Me too." She stretches her arms out. I shut the door as she embraces the air. I hear the door shut itself again as I make my way to the kitchen. Picking up my glass, I watch my fridge open. As the two images of the fridge resynchronize, I set my glass down. I lean in and read the hazy computer in front of me. The data entry table. I notice the date: the 23rd. I can still remember the headache. I should've brought my water bottle in. I adjust my eyepatch back to where it was. I hear a few clicks of keys, then a bubbling sound behind me. As I turn around, I hear it. I flinch. I can't tell if it's because of the shrill sound of glass fracturing, the slow sizzling that quickly follows, or remembering the feeling of my face being pulled apart fiber by fiber. I take my phone from my pocket and look at myself in the camera. I take off my eyepatch and feel my face. The burns are still tender. I put my phone away. As I readjust my eyepatch, I see a flash. [[div class="blockquote"]] = Site-113 Medical Report ---- Patient: J. Louis Condition Summary: * Minor facial lacerations * 2nd degree facial burns * Unknown neurological condition Physician's Notes: Louis presented with several neurological symptoms. Initially presenting with seizures, later becoming recurrent comas lasting upwards of three hours, cataplexy similar to severe forms of narcolepsy, and presently, hallucinations and doubled vision. While initially treated in Site-113's staff hospital's burn ward, fMRIs showed increased hippocampal activity. This, in addition to the symptoms exhibited, led to a transfer to the hospital's dedicated memory research ward. As Site-113 specializes in the research and production of mnestic drugs, the leading theory regarding the cause of Louis's condition is interaction with experimental materials. Due to the nature of the materials Louis was in contact with, a treatment regimen of Class-I amnestics is being used in similar dosages to those suffering from severe mnestic overdose. [[/div]] I cover my eye again. I remember reading that when the amnestics finally kicked in enough to stop the fainting. I walk to my living room and take a seat. "I'll re-up your dosage so you can sleep. Here's hoping that's committed to long-term." I remember that voice, not just from when I was admitted, but from earlier. The nurse who'd explained things before they realized this was bigger. "I know it might not feel like it right now, but—" Her voice stops abruptly. Then, another voice starts. "Hello Jacque, pleasure to meet you. I'm Dr. Harper. I'll be treating you for your burns while you're here." "No no, it's alright, you don't have to respond. For the most part, they seem normal. You might have a few bald spots on the back of your head, but for the most part, they'll be healed in a few months and gone in a few more." "You really shouldn't try to say anything right now, you need to save your energy. If I'm going to be honest—" Their voice ends just as abruptly as the nurse's. "Hello Jackie." "No need for the formality. I've spent days looking into everything you've done since you were hired. The least I can do is to let you call me Kareem." "Yes and no. I'm not //just// the doctor for your memory issues. I'm the head of neurology for the Foundation." "It is. The worst thing a patient can be, medically speaking, is 'interesting'. You are, unfortunately, //very// interesting. I've already received dozens of calls from the director of mnestics about making you into a case study. A progression of seizures to comas to cataplexy to hallucinations as treatment progresses is... unheard of." "Actually, the comas were in line with mnestic overdose. The cataplexy, or fainting, is somewhat rare, but not unheard of. The bigger concern was the hallucinations. We theorized that as treatment continued, the time you would spend passed out would decrease, which it did to a point. Once the hallucinations started and we saw an uptick in frequency as treatment continued. With this, as well as the blurred vision, we ran out of ideas." "... No. We don't recommend stopping the treatment until the main effects of the amnestics start to show themselves. Even then, we'll have to put you on close supervision." "We doubt it's serious enough to hurt you if you forget for a day or two. Amnestics are filtered out very slowly. You'll probably regress to fainting, maybe coma, but we don't think you'll be in any major threat unless the seizures start again. See, during the seizures, your brain was trying to relive dozens of memories at once, and in doing so was, effectively, frying itself. We could only keep you under anesthesia for so long before it became hazardous to keep you unconscious for longer. If we hadn't decided on amnestic treatment then... I know you've heard it many times already, Jackie, but frankly—" All at once, like someone slammed every key on a piano, I hear: "—you're lucky to be alive." "—you're lucky to be alive." "—you're lucky to be alive." "—you're lucky to be alive." "—you're lucky to be alive." I hold my head and breathe. The sound of wind passing by comforts me. I look toward my balcony and see the door is closed. Soon after, the sounds of cars passing by below me and leaves rustling begin. I take off my eyepatch as I stand up. I'm standing on the hospital balcony looking out toward my apartment. I step out onto my apartment's balcony. I hear myself speak. "Fucking..." My past self sighs. "I had everything, EVERYTHING, and I fucking blow it." I slam the railing before looking down. "Did you, though?" I don't know why I replied, my past wouldn't respond. It just felt natural. "What, I get my hours changed, and I suddenly decide 'Man, I sure miss getting barely drunk with people I barely know.'" "You know it's not just that." "Or did I blow it all because she moved away? I barely even saw her anymore, and I still decide to get all sappy over her?" My past self sighs. "Of course it's that, why wouldn't it be that." "It's more complicated than that." "Her and Lauren probably forgot about me already." There's a brief pause. "Oh good, no no no, this is good, I definitely wanted to do //this//." "You know you need to." "I've been living this way for years, it's not just going to change on a whim." "It's not on a whim." "I can't get into a relationship. There's so many things that'd need to go right, and the odds are slim to none." "That's not a real answer, is it?" "It's just..." My past self sighs. "I thought I'd be clear from all this dating nonsense. I thought if I made enough friends, I wouldn't need to deal with it. Maybe fitting in wasn't enough. Maybe..." As my vision returns to its normal blurring, I put my eyepatch back on. I look out toward the hospital. I'd spent my entire life looking at others and what love meant for them, but I never figured out what it actually meant. I never figured out what made relationships so important to people beyond the part I'd never truly understand. I never figured out that there was so much more depth to relationships that friendships couldn't compare to. I look at the sky. The sun is bright and unobscured, but I can still see the clouds in the distance from the rain last night. I don't know how much worse things are going to get. Maybe it'll be months, or even years, until they stop. All I know is that there will be a day. A day when I won't need to relive childhood memories to feel loved anymore. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-07-01T03:31:00	[ "_licensebox", "first-person", "lgbtq", "pridefest2024", "tale" ]	The Lone Ace in a Stacked Deck - SCP Foundation	17	[ "updated-amnestics-guide", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "pridefest" ]	[]	1454344851	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-lone-ace-in-a-stacked-deck
the-lord-of-the-redacted	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="preview"> <p>Six heroes quest for truth and treasure through ruins of the past.</p> </div> <div style="text-align: right; margin-right: 2em; margin-top: -20px;"> <p>by <a href="/koths-korner">Kothardarastrix</a></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>The book in your hands is the true personal account of one Princess Geva of Arnven, describing her travels from that fair city to the cursed island of Uk and back. Herein you will encounter daring feats of battle, wizardry, cleverness, and courage, tales of untold wealth and hideous monsters, and a historical blueprint for our present. I believe that my adapted translation of this story is the most historically accurate depiction of these world-shaping events, derived as it is from a primary source and backed up by substantial background research. The core of this story was told to me by Geva herself while I was a guest in her home. I have made only minor edits to her tale for the sake of clarity, and included only the embellishments that I was able to verify by consolutation of the relevant maps, historical texts, and Sacred Containment Procedures.</p> <p>This book was compiled at the behest of Her Majesty Fortepiano III, Secretary-Empress of the German Occidental Coalition. I was asked to perform this task in response to the wild legends and rumors that have sprung up in the fifty or so years since these events occurred, so that they might be either verified or put to rest. In pursuit of this goal, I spent many years traveling the lands of Europe, Uk, America, and beyond gathering all manner of songs and stories along the way. My most useful resource by far was, of course, Princess Geva herself, who I found in Arnven at the end of my journey. I remained on the American continent for the years that it took to complete this manuscript, then (with a great deal of reluctance) arduously returned to my homeland to present my findings to the Secretary-Empress - and to you, dear reader. Though it is still intended primarily as a historical account, I hope that you will find it entertaining as well; I certainly enjoyed writing it.</p> <p>Yours in perpetuity,</p> <p>The Eighteenth Wanderman of Gormogon</p> </blockquote> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1><span><span style="text-decoration: underline;">BOOK 1</span></span></h1> <h1><span>THE RUNAWAY</span></h1> </div> <hr/> <p>The Free City of Arnven is sometimes called "the city at the center of the world". This is not an accurate description - the world is well-known to be spherical - but it does give a sense of Arnven's importance to the region it inhabits. Since its successful war of independence with the Holy Foundation, Arnven has become a haven for outcasts and foreigners, a thriving economic hub, and a vibrant cultural melting pot. It is still famed for its great temples of the greatest Saints, but above them all, at the city's very center, looms the Witch Image. This ten-meter marble colossus depicts the famous Witch of Arnven, standing proudly above her city with arms flung high and wide, as if casting some mighty spell. Her flowing robe, pointed hat, and fiercely smiling face were intricately carved by the coolest sculptor in the land, who also imbued her open hands with two perpetually burning spheres of shimmering gray-green flame, supposedly the same color as the mighty witch's eyes. A magical wind swirls perpetually about the statue, flickering the lambent flames and stirring the stone robes as only the coolest art can. The statue clearly conveys the Witch's great power and her willingness to defend her great city, but it fails to capture her humanity. Towering over her subjects in monolithic glory, the Witch looks more like a long-dead Saint of the Holy Foundation than what she really was: a young girl with more power than sense, and a heart too big for her own good.</p> <p>I should not be so cynical. If Sigurros had not so valiantly sacrificed herself in defense of our city, I would not be here to write these words. She did what was right, and for that I cannot judge or blame her. Sigurros is not responsible for the legend that sprang up in the troubled decades beyond her death. It is said that, in Arnven's time of greatest need, the Witch will return from Corbenic to aid it once more, just as she did in Father Jaelen's battle with Asser Clef for the fate of the city. As times grew worse, Arnven grew worse as well. The Holy Foundation tightened its controls of the river Heilas that was Arnven's lifeblood, and merchants were less and less willing to brave the raids and blockades between the sea and the city, much less trade with the conniving enemies they'd find at the end of such a perilous journey. And all the while the Thereven horde drew nearer to the north, conquering Foundation land at a pace too fast to believe. It was unlikely that they'd make any distinction between the Foundation and the cities that had seceded from it. If the stories about the barbarians were true, it was equally unlikely that Arnven could withstand their assault. The city's fortunes were failing, and its people were seeking a savior.</p> <p>That is why, when an urchin girl with gray-green eyes was found in the gutters of the River Quarter, using magic to steal food from street vendors, stories began to spread. For a time, the urchin girl relished the attention…the <em>adoration</em>. In a matter of days, she went from peasant to princess. For the first time in her life, she had no want for food or clean clothes. The wisest sages in the city taught her letters and numbers. They told her great stories of ancient times and distant places, of saints and gods and heroes who Secured the future of humanity, Contained the monstrous expunged, and Protected the world from crumbling once more into savagery and horror. These stories filled her childish dreams with visions of adventure.</p> <p>There was one story, though, that she hated, and that was the story of the Witch of Arnven. She hated it because, when people told it to her, they did it with a horrible look of <em>expectation</em>. They wanted her to be Sigurros - or, rather, they wanted her to be the Witch - so that she could magically save Arnven from all its troubles, even at the expense of her own life. They looked at her as though she <em>owed</em> them that. For a time, she wondered if she did. After all, the leaders of the city had taken her in and provided her with the best of everything, far better than what little she had scrounged on the streets in her adolescence. She realized, though, that these gifts had not been showered on <em>her</em>, nor had they really been gifts. They had been given to the Witch's ghost that supposedly dwelled within this little urchin girl, and they, too, were expectations. Expectations that, if she failed to live up to the legacy that'd been thrust upon her, would doubtless be taken away. As the barbarian horde drew closer, as the looks in people's eyes grew ever more desperate, she wondered if those gifts might not be the only thing she stood to lose.</p> <p>As the merchant ship drifted down the river, a 12-year-old girl peered over its rails at the receding lights of Arnven. There would be much alarm when she was found to be missing, but that was no longer her concern. The chains of unasked-for responsibility already felt lighter, countered by the winged thoughts of adventure in her young mind. In the free city of Utgard, she would not be the Witch of Arnven, or even Sigurros. She would finally, for the first time since her last day in the gutter, be Geva again.</p> <p>She would be me.</p> <hr/> <p>The voyage to Utgard was long and unpleasant, but not as long or unpleasant as I had feared. My talents - with only a dash of extra magic - were sufficient to keep me clean, fed, and unbothered by malcontents throughout the journey. Scarcely any of what occurred on that stinking boat would be worth setting down here, and I have already (and mercifully) forgotten most of those dull, cramped, and sweaty weeks. The journey might have been more noteworthy had I gone ashore at any of our many stops, but I dared not set foot in Foundation territory, where my meager magical talents were more likely to be meet by torches and pitchforks than hero-worship. That is why I set my sights on Utgard, another Free City like Arnven, but at the opposite side of Foundation land, near Kannada. Like my own home, Utgard had (according to my education, at least) become much more accepting of folks with unusual capabilities than those lands still under the boot of the Overwatch Cardinals, in no small part because it had been occupied by the Chaos Insurrection during the Civil War. It was reputedly a wretched hive of scum and villainy for the same reason, but that just made it sound all the more filled with adventure.</p> <p>There were one or two occasions when the crew became suspicious of me, not quite remembering how I'd gotten onto the ship or if I'd paid for the privilege, but each time I managed to disappear among the other dirty children or - with a bit of a mental nudge - convince the snooping sailors to stick their nautical noses elsewhere. Most of the other passengers were refugees, seeking a new life further from the menacing Thereven Horde. I was sure to steer clear of the few Arnven natives, lest I be recognized and my adventure cut embarrassingly short. Such an occurrence was probably unlikely, since I'd had the good sense to exchange my princess gown for a more sensible (and less conspicuous) set of common clothes, but just to be on the safe side I borrowed a sailor's knife and hacked off most of my red hair. Now I was indistinguishable from any other street urchin, just as I had been before that whole princess business. It felt like coming home, in a way.</p> <hr/> <p>Utgard was different enough from Arnven to be exciting but not so dissimilar as to be discomforting. The buildings here were taller and closer together than those in Arnven, and in a different architectural style that included smaller windows and steeper roofs than I was used to. I found it quite quaint, and I spent many hours wandering these unfamiliar avenues, until I finally found myself on Shrine Street.</p> <p>It was apparent that the saints of the Holy Foundation still held great sway here, but I saw that the saints revered in this land were not the same ones I had known growing up. Where Arnven had shrines to the oldest, greatest saints - hoary names like Clef, Gears, and Rights - Utgard venerated newer figures that had, in my education, always been portrayed as "lesser" or "minor". I wandered for some time among these unfamiliar temples, marveling at the icons of these new saints.</p> <p>An old man with wild, white hair stood before the temple of Saint Ibidus McMartyrdom, admonishing passerby with esoteric parables. A statue of Saint House, its marble polished whiter than new-fallen snow, held two six-sided dice in one hand and five playing cards in another. A wooden effigy of Saint Everwood, patron of diplomats, extended its single arm for a friendly handshake. Great torches blazed in the soot-stained stone hands of Saint Sinclair, butterflies danced in the gardens of Saint Kiryu, and street dogs ate greedily from the trough before Saint Crow's temple. There was even a small, empty shrine for Thorley, the patron saint of nothing.</p> <p>Yet more than any of these, I was drawn to the shrine of Saint Talloran. This name alone was unfamiliar to me, and the temple seemed curiously deserted compared to the others. As I stepped through the darkened doorway, I found the cramped space within to be nearly empty. Its only furniture was a single crooked pew, and its only decoration was an immense, half-closed triptych almost wider than the building. The triptych's fine details were hard to discern in the chapel's dim light, and I felt myself drawn forward for a closer look.</p> <p>I had seen many paintings in Arnven. The palace's cold stone walls were adorned with portraits of saints, heroes, and aristocrats, many of which felt strange and alien beneath layers of esoteric symbolism. On one of its outside walls, there was a massive, grotesque mural of the animal army's defeat by the valiant templars. The fierce, snarling jaws of the animals and the pained, bloody faces of their clawed and bitten victims always frightened me as a child. I had never expected to find a more upsetting painting, but that is exactly what the triptych of Saint Talloran was.</p> <p>The interior panels were festooned with the figures of tiny people, and they were all suffering at the hands of monstrous creatures, nightmarish machines, and armies of faceless, inhuman soldiers. Minute, precise brush strokes highlighted a thousand different torments. People were skinned, burned, beheaded, devoured, and subjected to other processes that I would struggle to even describe. As I looked closer, with equal parts awe and disgust, I realized that all these miserable victims were in fact the same person, their image repeated over and over again. Was <em>this</em> Saint Talloran? What trials or deeds could such grotesquerie commend? Who could pray at the foot of such a nightmare?</p> <p>These unspoken questions were answered by a man's voice.</p> <p>"I think you have the wrong James."</p> <p>Badly startled, I whirled to face the speaker. He stood at the entrance to the shrine, nothing but a huge silhouette before the daylight of the street. He spoke calmly but confidently.</p> <p>"If you're looking for the patron of children, James the Younger is that way. This is James Talloran." He pointed at the horrid triptych behind me. I looked over my shoulder at it, then back to him.</p> <p>"Who is that?"</p> <p>The man tilted his head strangely. Was he surprised that I did not know the name? Or…disappointed?</p> <p>"Some would say they are the greatest of the saints. Others, the least."</p> <p>"Why?"</p> <p>Instead of answering, the man stepped slowly into the shrine. As he approached, I could discern more of his appearance: a set of worn but expensive clothes, blond hair and beard short but well-groomed, and - I noted with surprise - a large, sheathed sword by his side. In Arnven, only guards and nobility were permitted to openly carry blades. Was this man a guard? Surely he would have worn armor, had he been on duty. Could he be a knight? I watched him curiously as he rounded the crooked pew and stood beside me before the triptych. His dark, haunted eyes surveyed it as he spoke.</p> <p>"In the days before the Great Breach, Saint Talloran was captured by one of the Expunged. It was a terrible creature, a monster so powerful that it could have destroyed the world. But first, it wanted to destroy Saint Talloran. It tortured them for eons, in ways that not even the madman who painted this triptych could have imagined. None had ever suffered as Talloran did, and I pray that none ever will. Yet despite their torment, despite the horror, Talloran triumphed. Not by might or guile, but by their unshakable iron will. They forced the Expunged to destroy itself, and in doing so saved the world from its ravages. But that victory came at the cost of Saint Talloran's own life, and so they became a martyr. They died in the dark, so that we might live in the light."</p> <p>"That's horrible!" I gasped.</p> <p>"Yes," he agreed. "It is."</p> <p>I must have gaped up at him for several seconds before he spoke again. Still, he did not look at me.</p> <p>"Run along now, child. Your friends are at James the Younger's."</p> <p>I needed no further persuasion, but found the door blocked when I turned to leave. While the knight was speaking, a fantastically old man with a heavy, gray coat, a long, gray beard, and a tall, gray hat had appeared in the entrance. I caught the old man's eyes - also gray - and he chuckled quietly.</p> <p>"Pardon me, young lady." Then, obligingly, he stepped aside. My eyes flicked back to the knight, but he still stood in silent contemplation of Saint Talloran's suffering. If he had noticed the old man, he gave no sign. Sensing that something was amiss, I scurried from the room as quickly as I dared. The old man eyed me closely - and I returned the favor - until I left the shrine and his sight.</p> <p>I did not, however, leave earshot. Princesses have sharp ears, and urchins even sharper. As I listened by the shrine's high, tiny window, the knight was the first to speak.</p> <p>"Truly, today is a busy one. You and that girl make more visitors than this shrine has had all week."</p> <p>"I am no mere visitor." The old man's voice was dry with age, but clear nonetheless.</p> <p>"Then who are you?"</p> <p>"Nobody of consequence."</p> <p>"Yet your words are heavy with it."</p> <p>"And this scroll is heavier still."</p> <p>I heard the <em>click</em> of an opening lock and a deep, hollow <em>pop</em>. Then there came a rustle of parchment.</p> <p>"This," said the knight, surprised, "is a Sacred Containment Procedure."</p> <p>"So it is."</p> <p>For a long while, the knight read in silence. When he next spoke, there was hushed anger in his voice.</p> <p>"Do you understand what you are asking? This would be treason and heresy."</p> <p>"It would be the fulfillment of all that you have sworn to uphold. The purpose for which you have honed that iron will."</p> <p>"You must be mad! You must think that <em>I</em> am!"</p> <p>"Perhaps. But if I am not, these tidings are dire indeed. And if <em>you</em> are not, I will see you at the sign of the Pinioned Pegasus come midnight."</p> <p>"You will not."</p> <p>"Perhaps."</p> <p>I remained crouched below the window as the gray man left the shrine. I tried to follow him, but he became lost in the dense crowd almost immediately. I could not even spot the pointed tip of his towering hat - though, admittedly, this may have been a simple result of my own unimpressive height. I thought of returning to the shrine of Saint Talloran, in hopes of sneaking a peek at the gray man's mysterious missive, but I dared not do it. If he caught me, the knight would know that I had been spying on his secret and dangerous business. No good could come of that. Besides, there would be other opportunities to eavesdrop, if I could find the sign of the Pinioned Horse.</p> <hr/> <p>Under only my own power, it might have taken days to find a single tavern in a city of such size. Fortunately, I did not have to rely on only myself. I had only to find a member of the city guard, which was not difficult in the slightest. I approached him as he patrolled. He was alone; apparently Utgard's temple street is quite safe. He was a large man, maybe a bit more fat than muscle, but imposing nonetheless. A sizeable mace bobbed at his hip, its metal head sometimes thumping against the tops of his leather greaves as he patrolled. The weapon might've scared some people, but I've never been one to fear city guards.</p> <p>"Excuse me," I asked, trying my best to look like a lost, scared, child.</p> <p>"Oh, hullo," the guard grunted. "Can I help you, little girl?"</p> <p>"Do you know where the Pinioned Pegasus is? My dad said he'd be waiting for me there."</p> <p>From the way his face twisted, I knew that I had made a mistake. "The Pinioned Horse is no place for a girl." He said it with concern - perhaps passing judgement on my fictitious father - but also with suspicion. I recognized that tone; this was a man who'd been fleeced by urchins before. Perhaps my old tricks were getting a bit <em>too</em> old. Ah, well. I had other ways.</p> <p>"Take me to the Pinioned Horse," I commanded, exchanging my false fear for a well-practiced nobility. Before the guard could wonder about the sudden change, the gray-green glimmer of my eyes had erased all questions from his mind.</p> <p>"Certainly, miss," he said, slowly, as if drunk. "Right this way."</p> <hr/> <p>As we approached the <a href="/scp-042">Pinioned Pegasus</a>, I realized why the guard had been so reluctant to bring me there. It crouched on a corner three blocks from the docks, and was accordingly patronized by sailors, whores, smugglers, and other unsavory characters. I supposed that was unsurprising; with the apparent secrecy of the gray man's mission, it would only make sense to meet outside the attention of upstanding folks. Some of the nastier people eyed me with ill intent, but my armed escort dissuaded any further mischief.</p> <p>"Here we are," the guard said, still sounding a bit dazed. "The Pinioned Pegasus." With one large hand, he pointed to the tavern's painted sign: a starved, miserable-looking white horse with the bloody stumps of wings sticking out of its shoulders. It was dreadfully tasteless, but I suppose the place's proprietor wanted his patrons to know what they were getting into.</p> <p>"Thank you very much," I said, curtsying out of habit, even though I'd long since swapped my skirt for trousers. "Now go back to patrolling, or whatever it is you were doing."</p> <p>"Yes'm," he grunted, absently saluting before he wandered off. I had thought about retaining him for the rest of the night, just to keep the creeps at bay, but I'd begun to worry that he'd suffer for it if I kept him from his job for too long. Besides, I can take care of myself.</p> <p>Still, though, maybe it would be a good idea to lay low somewhere safer, at least until the time to meet with the mysterious man came closer. Now that I knew where it was, it'd be easy to find my way back. Besides, it'd be boring to waste my time sitting around in there all day when there was a whole city to explore! There had to be something else interesting nearby.</p> <p>And so there was; just a way down the street, I stumbled across a small, dingy shop whose faded sign read "apothecary by dado". I didn't see anyone behind its grimy windows, which would make it the perfect place to kill some time. A tiny bell tinkled as I stepped inside. Though the shop was scarcely wide enough for two men to stand abreast, it was very deep, almost more like a long hallway than a proper room. Both walls were lined with rickety shelves, each piled precariously high with vials, beakers, jars, and bottles of every conceivable shape and size, filled with liquids of every conceivable color and consistency. One especially large bottle of water had a centimeter of sand accumulated at the bottom and a small wave sloshing back and forth at the top. Another seemed to be boiling, despite the tiny cubes of ice floating in it. One contained some kind of pickled worm, gently curling and uncurling in the yellow fluid. A fat jar of green jelly even seemed to have a goat's eyeball suspended in it. Curiously, I raised my finger to tap the glass. I had the inexplicable sense that, if I did so, that eye would turn to look at me, and in it I would see…</p> <p>"no touch!" someone yelled. I jumped, almost toppling three different things in the process. The shout had come from the back of the store, where a small, bizarrely dressed man had appeared behind the counter. The apothecary was wearing too many clothes to count, layered over each other and with so many patches and holes it was hard to be sure that there even was a person underneath. Even his face was covered, by a star-spangled pointy hat so large its brim had slipped down to his shoulders. As I gaped at this lunatic, wondering vaguely where he'd come from, he cleared his throat and tried again.</p> <p>"hello and welcome to fine dado emporium of potion, poultice, and parmaceutical!" His buzzing voice was a baffling mix of unidentifiable accents, and also quite loud; I was grateful for the muffling effect of his ridiculously oversized hat. "what fine product can dado sell you today?"</p> <p>"Um," I began, but "dado" had not even paused for breath.</p> <p>"you are adventuring type, yes? traveling to far off land and fighting the martian card shark?"</p> <p>"What?"</p> <p>"excellent! dado have just thing." He produced a small wooden box, seemingly from thin air, and dropped it with an alarming plunk on the counter. It popped open immediately, revealing a collection of twenty-some little glass vials. "this fine dado product is ultimate apothecary collection. here have heel potion, invisible potion, tiny potion, tough potion, strong potion, speed potion, youth potion, you name it, dado have it, no refunds!" He loudly snapped the lid shut again and thrust it at me, though I was still a good three meters away.</p> <p>"Who <em>are</em> you?" I asked. I wanted to ask how he'd even managed to get behind the counter, since there weren't any doors back there and it spanned the whole width of the room. Did he just crouch down back there when not serving a customer?</p> <p>"dado!" he answered, with exasperation. "is in name of store!"</p> <p>"Oh," I said, lamely. "Right."</p> <p>"now, is you be buying fine dado product or no?"</p> <p>"Um." I looked haplessly at his bizarre wares. "What do they do?"</p> <p>He opened the "ultimate apothecary collection" again. "this one make wound heel, this one invisible, this one tiny, this one-"</p> <p>"Alright, alright!" I said. Something about his voice was giving me a headache.</p> <p>"alright what? u buy?"</p> <p>"Uh…" I hadn't the slightest compunctions about theft, of course, nor any particular interest in potion, poultice, or "parmeceutical," but this strange little man and his strange little shop had piqued my curiosity. And, I suppose, unnerved me a bit…perhaps I had better pay, just to be safe.</p> <p>"Sure," I said, hesitantly.</p> <p>"excellent! full collection will cost u…" he pulled some weird rectangle out of his sleeve, manically poked at it, and tucked it back away before I could even get a good look. "ten thousand gold coin!"</p> <p>"That's outrageous!"</p> <p>"is fine dado product! no sell cheap knock off like geese burner or overprice slop like amber breast haunt. also not sell food like those place but that beside point! all fine dado product come with u trust dado guarantee, if not work, not dado!"</p> <p>I blinked at him. Was there some kind of toxic gas leaking from one of those vials?</p> <p>"Look," I groaned, rubbing my head. "I don't have ten thousand gold pieces. I can give you fifty, tops."</p> <p>"fifty top what?"</p> <p>"What?"</p> <p>"oh, fifty gold piece. dado understand."</p> <p>"So what can I get for that?"</p> <p>"dado give you…three heel potion!"</p> <p>"Okay, fine. Three 'heel' potion."</p> <p>"excellent! money please."</p> <p>Grumbling, I rummaged around in my pockets for some the coins I'd liberated from the pockets of passerby since my arrival. I had to fish some out of my personal stash too, but at that point I was just trying to get this interaction over with. I slammed the money on the counter with as much attitude as felt safe. To my astonishment, some kind of giant piebald mouse scurried out of dado's sleeve and started biting each individual piece, as if to make sure it was really gold.</p> <p>"What is that?!"</p> <p>"is best friend and familiar robert mitchell. he do dado money count."</p> <p>I shook my head. Surely every merchant in Utgard couldn't be like this. "Just give me my potions."</p> <p>"here go!" dado said, passing me an even smaller wooden case, small enough to fit in my hand. I popped the lid off and saw three tiny vials of what looked an awful lot like blood.</p> <p>"Is this blood?"</p> <p>"is heel potion. u trust dado."</p> <p>Frankly, I didn't trust this strange creature any further than I could've thrown his weird money-counting rat. But, if it would get me out of his dirty, weird-smelling shop, it was worth it.</p> <p>"Fine." Then I took my potions and left.</p> <hr/> <p>After that misadventure, I concluded that continuing to explore might be more dangerous (or at least more expensive) than hanging out in the Pinioned Pegasus after all, so I made my way back over there. I got some funny looks when I walked into that den of iniquity all by myself, but it only took a little bit of magical menace to tell these reprobates that I wasn't worth messing with. They might not have known it, but I made them <em>feel</em> I was dangerous, and that was enough to get the point across. Heedless of these onlookers, I made my way to the bar. It was time to eat something other than hardtack. The bartender seemed perturbed by my presence, but not so much so that he turned down my coin. I could've simply made him give me the food (or covertly stolen it from a few feet away), but I saw no reason to do so if, for once in my life, I really did have the money. The meat pies he brought me were dreadfully lukewarm, but far better than hardtack at least. My belly thus full, I found an unoccupied corner and settled into it. There, I drew the shadows a tad tighter around myself, hoping to slip from everyone's sight. This was a trick I'd done often in my urchin days, and more than once when sneaking around (or out of) the castle. It seemed to work just as well here, since no one looked at me again. Now I had time to look at them.</p> <p>Most of the patrons were the same unsavory sorts that prowled the rest of this district. Grizzled sailors with lurid tattoos of Finnfolk and sea monsters lined the bar. Scarred criminals with shifty eyes and concealed weapons played cards and dice for stolen goods. A crowd of young men huddled around a hookah, following the smoke to the riff-filled land. Women of the night made the rounds, tempting the lot of them with a quick trip to the rooms upstairs. On a small stage opposite the fireplace, three minstrels performed an Ancient musical epic, something about the "<a href="/scp-2112">Temples of Syrinx</a>". But even among this colorful cacophony, there were people who stood out.</p> <p>In front of the fireplace, there sat a thin man in striking, deep green robes trimmed with gold. He had the hood pulled over his head, which looked to be bald despite the well-manicured beard and mustache on his face. He was trying to focus on a large book open on his lap, but he kept glancing up disdainfully at the noisier patrons.</p> <p>The loudest among them was the resident champion arm-wrestler, a massive brute who had to have been part orc. He was well over 2 meters tall, with long-fingered hands and bare feet even larger than would've seemed normal at that size. Where they protruded from his brightly-colored clothes - clearly stitched together from multiple smaller garments - his musclebound limbs were nearly covered in thick brown hair. A shaggy mane of the same surrounded his long face, which bore dark eyes set deep beneath a heavy brow, to either side of an upturned, squashed-looking nose. He smiled as another opponent succumbed to his superior strength, revealing unusually long canine teeth. Someone cheered from across the room, and the wrestler raised his tankard in appreciation.</p> <p>The cheering had come from a handsome (though rather short) scoundrel with a dark red cape, who was making quite a show of himself by doing (admittedly impressive) trick shots with darts. There wasn't anyone playing against him, for there clearly would've been no point, but several women had gathered around him to either express admiration or feign it. From the way this rogue was handling these women, I got the impression that they feigned quite a lot of things for his coin. That must've meant he had a lot of it, though he certainly didn't look like the kind of man who comes by wealth honestly. His black hair was pulled back in a respectable ponytail, revealing a handsome but scarred face and, I realized, the notched left ear of a D-caste. Arnven had become something of a safe haven for escaped slaves since its separation from the Foundation, and the same was clearly true of Utgard if this man was able to display his fugitive status so proudly. I respected the attitude. Still, though…there was something predatory in his shining smile. Something that made those half-dozen gold teeth far more menacing than his muscular friend's fangs.</p> <p>I did not, however, see any sign of the knight Horatius. Maybe he really had chickened out. Maybe an upstanding, honorable man like him just didn't want to be seen in a place like this. Yet even as this thought crossed my mind, I saw a vaguely familiar silhouette slip through the tavern door. He had tried to hide himself under a hooded cloak, but Horatius's stiff posture and hard features were unmistakable. He crossed the room to settle at the bar, whose tender he waved wordlessly away.</p> <p>For perhaps an hour, I kept my eyes on these four characters and the other folks around. The wrestler and the darts player eventually finished their respective games, then settled into a corner together with several women and many drinks. The other two kept at their sulking, despite the bartender's increasingly irritated insistence that Horatius either order something or get out of the way. There was no need for him to move, though, not really. In fact, it was a beginning to seem a bit odd, just how few people were left in there. Without my noticing - or, seemingly, anyone else's - the crowd had been slowly but surely filing out, some even leaving their games and drinks unfinished. The minstrels finished their performance, then even they stepped out. Without the music, it was suddenly very, very quiet. The back door squeaked as the bartender retreated, leaving the five of us alone with the crackling fire.</p> <p>Then someone clapped loudly, and we all jumped a little. That someone, of course, was the strange old man from the shrine, who had seemingly appeared from thin air near the hookah.</p> <p>"All right," he said, his dusty voice disarmingly cheerful, "let's get down to business." He took a seat at the largest table in the room, beckoning the others to join him. With universal reluctance, they did so.</p> <p>"Who are these ruffians?" Horatius asked, eyeing the wrestler and dart-thrower suspiciously. The latter of them answered for both, though he looked a bit offended by having to do so.</p> <p>"I am Perrin the Badger, and this is my partner Arcos the Hammer. We're the finest thieves and warriors in the North! <em>Surely</em> you've heard of us."</p> <p>"The Badger?" Horatius scoffed.</p> <p>"Yeah," Perrin said, with a gleaming grin. "Cuz I'm little, but I'll kill ya."</p> <p>"And who are you," Arcos rumbled, "that can call us 'ruffians' in a place like this?"</p> <p>Horatius lowered his hood and proudly raised his head. "I am Horatius, last Knight of the Order of Saint Talloran."</p> <p>Perrin glared at the old man. "Are you trying to get us arrested?"</p> <p>"Fear not," Horatius said. "I have no authority to bring you in, nor would I risk my own hide in Foundation territory just to do so."</p> <p>"Risk your…oh, <em>Talloran</em>. You're one of those excommunicated freaks."</p> <p>Horatius glowered at him but did not challenge the assertion. Instead, he changed the subject.</p> <p>"And you?" he asked, indicating the bald man. "You wear the robes of the Serpent's Hand."</p> <p>"Indeed," the man agreed, without looking up from his tome. "I am Moritz, an adept wizard of that very order. And I must say, I find it quite odd that we all share a mutual acquaintance." At that, he loudly closed the book and looked at the old man. "I don't suppose he has told any of you his name?"</p> <p>Suspicious and curious looks were exchanged. Apparently, he had not. The old man chuckled.</p> <p>"You may call me Nobody, if you must. Now, let us talk business."</p> <p>At that, "Nobody" removed a huge map from some interior pocket of that enormous coat and spread it out on the table. The paper was strangely shiny, and the unfamiliar landmass depicted thereon was nearly obscured by multicolored lines and scribbles in the Ancient letters.</p> <p>"That's Uk," Moritz said, matter-of-factly.</p> <p>"Uk?" Perrin repeated. "The legendary cursed island on the other side of the ocean?"</p> <p>"That's the one."</p> <p>"Surely you don't expect us to go there."</p> <p>Nobody took a contemplative puff from his pipe.</p> <p>"Saints, you do!"</p> <p>"That's impossible," Moritz protested. "Nobody's crossed the ocean in centuries."</p> <p>Nobody smiled slightly. "What if I told you that I knew a shortcut?"</p> <p>"I'd call you a liar. Or a lunatic."</p> <p>"But I do know a shrotcut. Tell me, Mortiz, does the name 'Portland' mean anything to you?"</p> <p>His eyes widened.</p> <p>'What?" Perrin asked, looking between the two of them. Moritz answered.</p> <p>"It's supposed to be a city between cities, sort of a secret world that connected three different places with the same name. One of them was in Uk."</p> <p>"And one of them is now called Utgard," Nobody finished.</p> <p>"But Portland was destroyed in the Great Breach, like all the cities of the Ancients. Wasn't it?"</p> <p>"Not quite. I imagine that it's been empty for quite some time, but when I crept into Porthead Lighthouse last night I could still detect the Way. Just barely."</p> <p>"A working Way? So long after the Great Breach?"</p> <p>"That's right. But I'll need your help to open it."</p> <p>Perrin cut back in. "Hey, uh, can we back up for a moment? Assuming this shortcut of yours does exist, what exactly do you expect us to do on the other side?"</p> <p>"Kill a dragon."</p> <p>There were several seconds of stunned silence.</p> <p>"I'm sorry," Perrin said, half laughing, "what?"</p> <p>"Marscar the Dark. The three-headed wyrm said to guard all the lost treasures of the Ancients, deep within an underground city at the heart of Uk."</p> <p>"I know the story. I just can't believe you want to fight it."</p> <p>"Marscar is…an old enemy of mine. I'd like that score settled."</p> <p>"Even if that wasn't complete nonsense, it would still sound like a personal problem. Why involve us?"</p> <p>"I can't very well kill a dragon by muself."</p> <p>"And you think we can? Look, buddy, I'm just an opportunist. I deal with people, not the Expunged."</p> <p>"And you also deal in small change, by the look of you."</p> <p>Perrin bristled. "What's that supposed to mean?"</p> <p>"No insult. Merely an incentive - for I want no part of the dragon's treasure, only to see it slain. The rest of its legendary hoard is all yours." He gestured to include the whole group. "And I'd be happy to provide a sizable 'down payment,' as it were."</p> <p>"We are a bit low on cash," Arcos confessed.</p> <p>"Not <em>that</em> low!"</p> <p>"And it might be wise to get out of town for a bit, after that fiasco with the apple merchant."</p> <p>"They can't prove anything!"</p> <p>"And think what fun it'd be! No one alive has seen that land."</p> <p>"There's a reason for that!"</p> <p>"And the fame! Imagine the stories we could tell."</p> <p>Perrin didn't have a comeback for that one. He spent a while trying to come up with one, then decided to switch tracks and argue with the knight instead.</p> <p>"What's <em>your</em> deal?" pointing at Horatius. "You're no mercenary."</p> <p>"I will restore the honor of my order with a trial of courage and endurance, as is customary."</p> <p>Perrin gave a mean laugh. "What, you can't whip your way out of this one?"</p> <p>Horatius scowled. "I mortify for strength, not penance."</p> <p>"Don't you do drugs, too?"</p> <p>"Suffering strengthens the spirit."</p> <p>Perrin shook his head.</p> <p>"No wonder you guys are heretics. What about you, wizard? What ridiculous thing are you chasing?"</p> <p>"No one has been to Uk in eight centuries. If Marscar the Dark really does hold the wealth of the Ancients, in one of their cities no less, much lost knowledge stands to be found."</p> <p>Perrin looked around the table, perhaps realizing for the first time that everyone else had already made up their minds. They were staring at him.</p> <p>"You're all crazy."</p> <p>"I tire of your false cowardice, Perrin. You and Arcos have done far more outlandish things than this."</p> <p>"Nothing is more outlandish than this."</p> <p>"Not stealing the Jaded Ring from Monastery-19? Not robbing the baron of Migolton? Not returning alive from the rusted dungeons of the Forge? And you, Arcos. Have you <em>ever</em> been bested in combat?"</p> <p>"Only by this one," he said, winking at Perrin, "and only because I was very, very drunk."</p> <p>"And Horatius, how many Expunged have you slain? How many battles have you won against pirates, cultists, and marauders? Did you not lead the Mobile Legion that drove the Cult of Cool from Durgeth? Did you not single-handedly vanquish the Voice-Stealers of Crimson Cave?"</p> <p>"That was a long time ago."</p> <p>"But you are no less capable now. I know a Talloranite would never let something so trivial as age weaken his body or his spirit."</p> <p>"What of me?" Moritz asked, skeptically. "I have no heroic deeds of which to boast."</p> <p>"You," Nobody said, pointing at him, "are the most powerful wizard in Utgard, are you not? Three decades of study under L.S. themself?"</p> <p>"That much is true, but scholarly magic-"</p> <p>"Scholarly! Mortiz, I have seen you call down bolts of lightning for <em>dramatic effect</em>. I can't imagine what you could do if you actually intended to kill someone. Look me in the eyes and tell me that you could not immolate me with a word."</p> <p>"That would be one of the less efficient ways, but yes, I could."</p> <p>"What's the efficient way?" Perrin wondered, skeptically.</p> <p>"A staff upside the head, usually."</p> <p>Arcos chuckled. "I like you, wizard."</p> <p>"You know," Perrin said, "I think we may be overlooking the biggest question here, that being how <em>you</em> intend to contribute to all this. I still don't believe that you've somehow got a personal rivalry with an 800-year-old dragon on the other side of the ocean, and I certainly don't think your parents were cruel enough to name you Nobody."</p> <p>Nobody puffed inscrutably at his pipe. "My past is irrelevant, for the amount of coin you're getting. It is enough that you know I am a master of arms, and that I have more tricks up my sleeve than you have pulled in your entire lifetime."</p> <p>"That isn't exactly reassuring."</p> <p>"It was not intended to be," Nobody said, glowering. He didn't actually seem to move, but some subtle shift of his posture suddenly made it very apparent just how large the man under that bulky coat was. "I am hiring you to kill a dragon, not ask me a thousand questions."</p> <p>"You're asking us to die for you."</p> <p>"I'm asking you to become legends," Nobody responded. "This will be the greatest deed ever done, and you will be the richest men alive. Of course such a thing is not without risk. If it were not so difficult, it would have already been done. What would you do instead? Try your luck with the city guard until they run you out or string you up? Such things are beneath you. The five people at this table are the most capable fighters in the North, and quite possibly all the world. If anyone has ever stood a chance of slaying a dragon, it is us."</p> <p>"Come on, Perrin," Arcos urged, nudging his friend with one elbow. "You know you want to."</p> <p>Perrin did his best to maintain a scowl, but a sneaky smile crept onto his face anyway.</p> <p>"Fine. I'll be crazy too. But I'm taking a double share of that treasure."</p> <p>"Excellent! Although, there is one other thing."</p> <p>"Of course there is. What?"</p> <p>He leaned in. "I think it would be best if we kept this little endeavor between us. We don't want competitors lining up to rob us when we return."</p> <p>"Why not bring them along?" Arcos asked, half-joking. "As it stands we barely outnumber the dragon's heads. Should be plenty of gold to go around, shouldn't there?"</p> <p>Nobody shook his head. "Marscar the Dark will not be slain by force of arms. It will take courage and cleverness, which runs far stronger in a small band of…characters like yourselves than in any army."</p> <p>"Thanks," Perrin said. "I think."</p> <p>"You really want us to keep this quiet?" Arcos asked.</p> <p>"If at all you can."</p> <p>"Then we had best do something about that girl." Then he jutted his thumb right at me. I was so surprised that I briefly froze, giving the other ones ample time to spot me as well. I must have been so focused on eavesdropping that I let my shroud slip. The knight stood up - perhaps recognizing me from earlier - and startled me into motion. I ran for the door, only for Nobody to reach out with a surprisingly long arm and grab one of my own.</p> <p>"Not so fast, young one. Who are you?"</p> <p>"Nobody."</p> <p>He chuckled. "No, that's me."</p> <p>This was far from the first time someone had tried to stop me getting away. Usually, all it took was a strong push to make them let go. I sent a wave of green energy Nobody's way, but he swatted it aside with his other hand. I was flabbergasted; no one had ever done that before.</p> <p>"Oho. No, you aren't nobody at all. Why were you spying on us?"</p> <p>"I was just curious! I heard you talking and-"</p> <p>"You followed us all the way from the Street of Shrines," the knight interrupted. "You listened in on my conversation with Nobody, didn't you?"</p> <p>There was no use denying it, though he did have one of the facts wrong. "Actually, I beat you here and waited."</p> <p>"Why?"</p> <p>"Like I said, I was just curious! Now let go of me!" I laced my words with a touch of sorcery, hoping to persuade Nobody as I had the guard who led me here, but it didn't seem to work on him.</p> <p>Nobody squinted at me. "Who are you, little sorcerer?" he asked again. "You look like a common urchin, but you talk like one with authority."</p> <p>"That's none of your concern!" I said, still trying to wriggle out of his iron grip. Who was this strange man, that he could shake off all my tricks?</p> <p>"Oh, but I'm afraid it is. I can't have you telling people about our impending adventure."</p> <p>"I won't tell anybody!" I snapped. "Who'd even care about a bunch of crazy people getting themselves killed anyway?"</p> <p>Perrin, laughed. "Kid's got a point."</p> <p>"Besides," added Moritz, sounding just as concerned as he looked. "How could we stop her?"</p> <p>"We could turn her over to the guard," Horatius suggested. "I'm sure she's got some stolen goods."</p> <p>"I'm no snitch," Perrin said, glaring at him.</p> <p>"And you'd better not be, either," Arcos warned, sitting up a little straighter to emphasize how much taller than the knight he was.</p> <p>Horatius raised his hands apologetically and backed off.</p> <p>"I could always…" Perrin said, tracing a finger across his throat.</p> <p>"No!" Horatius cried, horrified.</p> <p>"Saints, Perrin!" Arcos scolded.</p> <p>"What is wrong with you?!" Moritz exclaimed.</p> <p>"Relax!" he said, feigning offense. "I was joking. Not gonna kill a kid." The warning glare he sent me suggested that he wasn't entirely sure about that…or that he was just trying to scare me. That's never worked for anyone.</p> <p>"I'm not afraid of you," I said. "And I'm not a kid!" I tried to jerk away from Nobody again, but his grip was strong as ever.</p> <p>"Hmm," Moritz mused, "but you do look like one. Honestly, I don't think anyone would believe her even if she did try to tell people what we're up to. What would you think if some street urchin told you five lunatics were taking a magic shortcut across the ocean to kill a dragon?"</p> <p>"I'd think she was conning me somehow," Perrin said. "Not very well, either."</p> <p>"See?" I agreed. "Your secret is safe with me. Now let go!"</p> <p>Surprisingly, Nobody did. "Alright, young sorcerer. You've convinced me. Now get out of here."</p> <p>Indignantly, I straightened my sleeve where all that grabbing and wriggling had disrupted it. I wanted to run, but that would've given them the impression that they'd scared me. Instead, I held my head high and marched out with as much authority as I could measure.</p> <p>"What an odd child," I heard Moritz say.</p> <p>"Indeed," Nobody mused.</p> <hr/> <p>This time, I really did intend to leave. I faded into the settling darkness, until I doubted that even that unusually perceptive orc could've spotted me. The dark was accompanied by cold, which reminded me that I didn't have any lodgings for the night. I'd known that Utgard would be chillier than Arnven, but I suppose I had underestimated just how severe that temperature difference might get. The simplest solution would've been to go back in the Pegasus and rent myself a room, using gold and magic to smooth over any suspicion thus created, but I certainly couldn't do that while Nobody and his crew of weirdos were still about. Even once they left, it'd still be a risk - bad things tend to happen to young girls who sleep alone in strange places.</p> <p>Then again, anywhere in this foreign city would be strange. The quaintness of Utgard's unfamiliar architecture had departed with the sun; now the dark lent a subtle menace to those tall, pointed buildings and their tiny, barred windows. Perhaps I would be root out a hidey-hole somewhere dry and relatively warm, but if this place was anything like my own city, most such spots would already be full of other street people. If any of them were even half as dangerous as me, that might be even riskier than the inn. It would certainly be less comfortable. In the past, I had sometimes weathered cold nights by sneaking into the attics or basements of houses, which as an extra benefit often contained a few easily-missed valuables. The houses here seemed to have bars on their windows, though, and I had neither the time nor the patience to fool with that. I supposed there must be some nice stables somewhere, and out on the edge of town I might even find a barn where I could cuddle up with a flock of fluffy sheep. I'd smell rather interesting the next morning, but there's nothing warmer than wool and I've always gotten along with animals anyway. Still, though, the edge of a city this big would be a pretty long walk away - and depending on how this particular city-state had drawn its borders, might fall under Foundation jurisdiction. That's not something I could afford to tangle with.</p> <p>I wrapped my arms around me for warmth and looked distastefully back at the bar. There was a huge, blazing fireplace in there. Who did that bunch think they were, running me off like that? Well, I suppose that I left of my own accord, but only because they were being so unneccesarily cagey about their stupid plan. Who was going to care about their ridiculous quest through some long-abandoned Ancient city, probably full of cursed treasure and terrible monsters, to a distant and mysterious island that no one had set foot on in centuries, where they were going to do heroic battle with the most legendary creature of all, in search of wealth and fame beyond imagining? Ridiculous. You'd have to be crazy to do something like that. Crazy.</p> <p>Although, if you did do something like that, the cozy little shrine that you seemed to be the sole minder of, and which nobody ever visited, would likely sit empty and closed for quite a while, and it'd be pretty warm and safe in there too. With a devious grin on my face, I set off for Shrine Street.</p> <p>The crowds there were thinner at night, and some of the temples had already closed their doors. Some street people had congregated around Saint Sinclair's statue to warm up in the heat of those everburning torches, but I decided to leave them be. Your first night in an unfamiliar city is no time to start making introductions. I did stop to pet some of the dogs dozing in front of Saint Crow's, though. Horatius had locked Saint Talloran's behind him, but I'm not the kind of person who needs keys. The place was just as it had been earlier. There wasn't anything particularly soft on hand, but there was just enough space for me to lie down on that crooked pew, which I went to the trouble of straightening as a vague sort of apology. I called up a little ball of green flame, which I held for a while to drive out the cold of the streets.</p> <p>As its light banished the deepening darkness, my little fire also brought that hideous triptych back into view. I tried to ignore it, but nothing else in the room was even remotely interesting. I could not help but approach, with a sick sort of fascination. The nightmare landscape of Saint Talloran's suffering looked positively ghoulish in the green glow. They were tied to a tree and pierced with a hundred arrows. They were eaten alive by armor-plated wolves. They melted into a puddle of screaming flesh. They were torn limb-from-limb by a giant, disembodied heart with arachnid limbs and bladed tentacles. They flayed themself alive with rusty knives. They disintegrated into a swarm of bees. They-</p> <p>My light went out, and it was a relief. I could only give myself nightmares, staring at something like that. I shuffled back over to the pew, scarfed a chunk of cheese I'd borrowed from the Pegasus, and settled down on my backpack for a pillow.</p> <p>I closed my eyes.</p> <p>And waited.</p> <p>And waited.</p> <p>And waited.</p> <p>This pew was dreadfully uncomfortable. How could people be expected to sit there in meditative contemplation of Saint Talloran's suffering without a single cushion? Well, if Horatius really did whip himself, he probably didn't mind a hard seat all that much. But I certainly did, especially with all the lumps and bumps in my impromptu pillow. Maybe I should've grabbed more linens and fewer valuables on my way out…</p> <p>Saints, had I really gone so soft? I was a street kid! I'd done this - and much worse than this - for almost half my life! But the other half had been more recent, and it had also been a lot softer and warmer.</p> <p>I groaned and rubbed my eyes. I could easily send others to sleep with my sorcery, but it would be dangerous and stupid to point something like that at myself. Counting sheep only reminded me how much warmer and softer they were than my actual surroundings. I was far too old (or, perhaps, too proud) to tell myself the old bedtime stories of King Collector and the Small Sirs, but mentally reciting the few Sacred Procedures I knew was more boring than relaxing, and doing the same with stories of the Witch only made me homesi-</p> <p>Saints, I really had lost my edge. The thought of missing that stupid, oppressive, too-fancy, too-big, well-staffed, food-filled, comfy, and warm house in Arnven made me so angry that I got up to pace. Maybe if I tired myself out I'd be able to sleep.</p> <p>Almost immediately, I stubbed my toe on the edge of the pew. Swearing in a most unladlylike fashion, I tipped it over with a burst of green energy. The flash lit up that wretched triptych again, and I thought about knocking it over too, or at least closing the damn thing. At least then I wouldn't feel it staring at me while I was pretending to try to sleep. Not a bad idea, actually.</p> <p>The side panels swung shut easily enough, and I leaned it back against the wall with a begrudging carefulness. Couldn't have it falling on me in my sleep, which I certainly wouldn't have put past that Redaction-worthy abomination of wood and paint. As I closed it, though, I realized that I'd never seen the exterior panels. Cursed, as always, by my own curiosity, I brought back my little ball of flame to see if the outside was any less disgusting than the inside. I'm not sure what I expected, but it's not what I found.</p> <p>Instead of the myriad tiny figures of the inside, the outer panels showed two life-sized people. The one on the right was Saint Talloran, though the smile upon their face might've stopped me from recognizing it if not for the terrible scars. Talloran was shown in profile, looking up at the figure on the left side. I didn't recognize this one, though he wore the armor of a knight. The two clasped hands where the panels opened, gazing lovingly into each other's eyes while three crescent moons shone overhead. Oh, so this was Corbenic. Saint Talloran was reuniting with…somebody in the afterlife. I'd have to ask Horatius who that was supposed to be, when I saw him again.</p> <p>When? What did I mean, when?! He was going to tromp off through that lost city tomorrow and get himself killed fighting a dragon, and I was going to clear out of this ghastly shrine in the morning to go buy myself some more food, then maybe pick enough pockets and pinch enough purses to buy a proper room at some place I wasn't likely to get press-ganged. Then I'd link up with the local thieves' guild, for surely there was one in a city like this, and get back to my element. Yes, my difficult, dangerous, dirty, stinky element. That I had fled back to from the cushy life of a princess. Yes.</p> <p>…</p> <p>Fuck.</p> <p>Saints, what had I been thinking?! Was I really so averse to responsibility that I'd willingly dove headfirst back into the hard-knock life? How had the sheer idiocy of this decision not occurred to me until now? I hadn't minded the ship trip, at least not like this, because at least then I had been <em>going</em> somewhere, but now I was about to settle down again in a tangibly worse situation! Had I really been so stifled in that pretty palace that I'd mistaken hardship for adventure?</p> <p>Hmm. Adventure…</p> <hr/> <p>Porthead Light was an <em>old</em> lighthouse. It perched on a rocky headland at Utgard's southern fringe, waggling at the ocean like an old crone's crooked finger. Every building within a block was empty, and the relentless salty wind had almost knocked some of them down. The keeper's house attached to the tower's base was in only marginally better condition, and I wondered if anyone even lived there anymore. Surely they still needed this light, didn't they? Maybe someone came in from elsewhere to light it at night. It certainly wasn't lit on that gray and clammy afternoon, though. When Nobody and his band arrived at Porthead Light with their bulky bags and laden pack-mule, the only person waiting for them was me. I was leaning against the side of the lightkeeper's house, smiling smugly.</p> <p>Perrin groaned. "Didn't we tell you to get lost?"</p> <p>"I'm coming with you," I said, matter-of-factly.</p> <p>"No," Moritz said, shaking his head.</p> <p>"You can't be serious," Perrin said.</p> <p>"Absolutely not!" Horatius protested.</p> <p>"It's too dangerous," Arcos said, genuine concern touching his hard features.</p> <p>The mule snorted dismissively.</p> <p>Nobody just looked at me curiously.</p> <p>"I can take care of myself," I said, standing proudly.</p> <p>"Don't be ridiculous," Perrin said, reaching for the door. I tried to block him, and he tried to shove me aside. He wasn't being unneccesarily rough, but if these ruffians wanted a demonstration of my capabilities, that's what they'd get.</p> <p>"<em>Get away from me</em>," I commanded, eyes flashing green. Without even thinking about it, Perrin let go my shoulder and stumbled back into Arcos. He looked around dazed for a moment, then settled on an angry glare.</p> <p>Moritz sighed and waved his staff. An unseen force slid me several meters to the right, and I almost lost my own balance. Horatius went for the now-unblocked door, and I once again tried to interpose myself. He reached out to block me, but I sent out a burst of green energy to knock him away. I might've put a little more <em>oomph</em> into it than I really meant to, because I ended up knocking him on his butt instead. I started to taunt him, but then a huge hand grabbed the back of my shirt and hoisted me into the air.</p> <p>"Alright," Arcos said, "that's enough." I was about to blast him too when Nobody cut in.</p> <p>"It's alright, Arcos. Set her down." Begrudgingly, he did so. Nobody approached me, hands in the pockets of his enormous coat.</p> <p>"Tell me, child, do you really think you could handle a quest like this? These men are masters of their crafts. What have you to offer beyond mere tricks?"</p> <p>"I'm a damn good burglar," I promised, gazing steadily back into his inscrutable eyes. "I could swipe that dragon's treasure right out from under it, and not even have to get close."</p> <p>Perrin scoffed, but Nobody shushed him. "And what proof have you of this?"</p> <p>"I broke into his shrine last night," I bragged, pointing at Horatius. He had only now gotten to his feet, and my boast had not done anything for his attitude.</p> <p>"You what?" he demanded.</p> <p>"I picked that sad little lock," I said, waving my glowing fingers, "and I closed your ugly triptych."</p> <p>He flinched, violently. "You-" he started, but Nobody got between us.</p> <p>"There's a big difference between that shrine and a dragon's lair, my friend. I admire your courage and…ingenuity, but you'll only get hurt on this journey. Even we don't all expect to come back alive. Now please step aside."</p> <p>Looking around, I saw that they had all lost their already very limited patience with me. Sorcery or not, I was sure that the five of them together would have no trouble wrestling me out of the way. Then I'd be stuck here in this dismal city, faced with an undignified return to the hardscrabble or a depressing voyage back to some very unhappy people in Arnven.</p> <p>"I can do more than that!" I insisted. "I can make illusions, and hide myself in shadows, and look like somebody else, and-"</p> <p>"Alright," Nobody said, reaching out again with his weirdly long arms. "That's enough." He grabbed me again, and my tricks were just as effective against him this time as they had been before. I also kicked at him, but the voluminous coat seemed to soak up the blows like armor. He set me down roughly, away from the door. "Maybe we'll tell you the story when we get back." At that, Moritz opened the lighthouse door and they started filing inside. Arcos grabbed the huge bundle of equipment from the mule's back on the way.</p> <p>My opportunity was slipping away. Another person might have taken this inglorious stymieing as an opportunity to wise up and head home, but I was always famously stubborn, even for a twelve-year-old.</p> <p>"Halt!" I said, in my best I-am-a-princess-and-you-are-a-peasant voice. "I am the Witch of Arnven!"</p> <p>I could scarcely believe I'd said it. Now I would almost certainly be sent home, quite possibly in exchange for a ransom if Perrin was a shifty as he looked. Still, my claim got their attention, though maybe not in the way I'd hoped. Perrin actually laughed.</p> <p>"The Witch is long dead," Horatius said, darkly.</p> <p>"Not anymore. I'm her. She's back, in me."</p> <p>"She does have an Arnven accent," Nobody mused, stroking his long beard.</p> <p>"That doesn't prove anything," Perrin protested. "She's probably faking that too."</p> <p>"What, then," Moritz asked, "is the reincarnation of a legendary hero doing in the gutters of the wrong city, pestering us about something that's none of her business? Shouldn't you be back home, protecting your people from the barbarian horde?"</p> <p>I had talked myself into a corner. Perhaps it was time to come clean.</p> <p>"Arnven can handle itself. She…I…the Witch died for them once already, do you think I want to do it again? I ran away for adventure, and here you are."</p> <p>"Uh huh," Arcos said. "And Arnven is where you learned thievery?"</p> <p>"Yes," I said, nodding curtly. "I lived on the streets before they saw me doing magic and made me a princess. Against my will, I might add."</p> <p>That last bit wasn't strictly true, but pride demanded that I pretend otherwise.</p> <p>"Great," Perrin said, rolling his eyes. "Now she's a legend <em>and</em> a princess. You're clever, kid, but you're a bad liar."</p> <p>"No," Horatius said, quietly, "I don't think she is."</p> <p>"What?"</p> <p>Slowly, he shook his head. "She's telling the truth. What she believes to be true, anyway."</p> <p>"How can you even tell?"</p> <p>"I know what a liar looks like," he said, glaring pointedly at Perrin.</p> <p>"Well, that just means she's mad then."</p> <p>"Do I look like a lunatic?" I demanded.</p> <p>"Yes," Moritz answered, without hesitation. I suppose that was true; after all, I was a dirty street urchin waving my arms about and trying to boss five grown men.</p> <p>"And yet," Nobody said, "she speaks like one accustomed to authority. And she does have the Witch's eyes."</p> <p>As proof, I turned up their shimmering gray-green glow as brightly as I could.</p> <p>"I don't care who she is," Perrin insisted, "we're not taking a <em>child</em> with us to slay a Saints-damned dragon!"</p> <p>There is something demeaning about the way adults say "child". They use it the same way they would "idiot," to completely dismiss any contribution or value just because someone is young. Even after they made me princess, the grown-ups in Arnven would still do that to me, never mind the fact that I had twice the street smarts as them. I'd like to see a single one of my "advisors" - glorified babysitters, all of them - last a month in the gutter! Nobody's band was clearly more battle-hardened and world-wise than anyone I'd ever had to deal with back home, but that just meant they should know all the better how capable I must be. But despite my evident cleverness and apparent power, they continued to see me only as an incompetent child. And, of course, men always thought themselves better than me until proven otherwise. It was infuriating! I felt my temper rising, but I didn't owe it to these overconfident louts to reign it in.</p> <p>"I am not a child!" I shouted, voice ringing loudly with angered authority. "I am the Witch of Arnven!" Then I stomped my foot, which might have been a childish and petulant gesture had it not struck the ground with such force that the lighthouse trembled. Thunder pealed in the distance, but I was almost sure I hadn't done that. Less sure than Perrin, at least, who looked frightfully at the sky for a moment before regaining his composure. Then they all just stared at me in wary silence. I had not meant to create such spectacular effects; they'd just slipped out, as they sometimes did when I was at my most furious. But that didn't matter, if they frightened these men into place. Only the mule seemed unimpressed.</p> <p>Nobody was the first speak. "Very well," he chuckled. "Welcome aboard, princess." The others all protested at once.</p> <p>"What?" Arcos sputtered.</p> <p>"No!" Moritz insisted.</p> <p>"Are you insane?" Perrin blurted.</p> <p>"Is that even legal?" Horatius asked.</p> <p>The mule yawned.</p> <p>"She's a sorcerer," Nobody said, calmly. "A very powerful one, though she may not fully know it yet. We'll need that sort of power, if we're to fell that dragon."</p> <p>"Nobody," Perrin pleaded, "she's-"</p> <p>He held up a hand to silence the rogue. "I have made my decision. The witch will accompany us, whether you like it or not."</p> <p>Perrin stared at the old man in frustrated astonishment for a while, then threw up his hands and stepped inside. Moritz followed, pulling the hood over his head. Arcos looked at me with puzzlement and concern, but I just narrowed my eyes at him. Horatius entered last, face inscrutable, leaving me alone outside with Nobody and the mule.</p> <p>"What's your name, sorceress?" he asked. Finally, someone had seen far enough past my age to ask.</p> <p>"Geva," I said. The old man nodded.</p> <p>"It's a pleasure to meet you properly, miss Geva. Call me Nobody." He extended a thin hand to me, and I firmly shook it.</p> <hr/> <p>The house's interior was nicer than I'd expected. There was only one room, though a few load-bearing studs remained where walls had been demolished. The remaining walls were decorated with neat shelves of cast-iron cookware, slightly soggy books, and various nautical knickknacks. An empty stewpot sat in a small fireplace, which was surrounded by an assortment of sturdy furniture.</p> <p>"Where's the keeper?" I asked.</p> <p>"I'm giving him that mule to take the day off," Nobody said. "And to not ask any questions." He looked pointedly at me when he said that last bit. Moritz either didn't get the memo or knew it didn't apply to him.</p> <p>"Where's the Way?"</p> <p>"In here," Nobody said, moving towards the door that lead to the light proper. "At the base of the stairs."</p> <p>While they went to look at that, the others started unloading. As their backpacks opened and Arcos unrolled the mule's pack, I noticed quite a lot of metal. I supposed they'd wanted to travel here without their arms and armor on full display, which was only sensible for such a semi-secret mission. Horatius carried a huge bundle of metal and quilted cloth into the only enclosed space - some kind of storeroom, I presumed, or maybe a latrine - to change, but Arcos and Perrin just wore their armor over their clothes.</p> <p>Perrin took only a moment to suit up, having only a cuirass, cap, and various pads, all of hard-boiled leather reinforced here and there with metal bands. The cuirass almost looked more decorative than protective, pressed as it was with vine-like designs, but there were still some scratches and scuffs that proved its practicality. The dark red cloak that he wore over it was definitely more for style, though.</p> <p>"Isn't that a bit flashy?" I asked. It was nothing compared to the silly dresses they'd stuck me in back in Arnven, but at that time I was dressed in the same grubby common clothes I'd run away in. They were comfortable and nondescript, which had in my experience been the most important parts of fashion for criminals. In that red cloak, Perrin could never disappear into a crowd or creep unseen along a twilit rooftop.</p> <p>"The word you're looking for is 'dashing'," he said, swishing it dramatically away from the blades at his hips. "Besides, it's reversible." The inside was black, which made more sense.</p> <p>"That's right," Arcos laughed. "You do the dashing, I do the smashing." His armor was a mismatched set of metal greaves and braces, plus a breastplate so big it must've been custom-made. Over his shoulder was slung a downright monstrous polearm, taller than he was and thicker than my arm. The business end was affixed with a frightening conglomeration of weapons: a four-pronged hammerhead on one side, a curved, half-meter spike on the other, and a long, sharp spearhead in between. I pitied any cavalryman who found himself charging at that thing.</p> <p>"What's taking Horatius so long?" Perrin wondered, loudly. As if summoned, Horatius stepped out of the storeroom. We heard him before we saw him, thanks to the countless jingling links of his chain mail, augmented around the important bits with metal plates. His face was all but invisible behind the tiny breathing-holes and narrow eye slits of a flat-topped great helm. There was nothing especially fancy about any of this; in fact, the plates and especially the helm were marred by plenty of small dents and scratches.</p> <p>However, I didn't notice those less-than-glorious details until much later, because my attention was forcibly seized by the cloth surcoat draped over that well-used armor. Every inch of the garment, from its knee-height hem to its sleeveless shoulders, had been painstakingly embroidered with a branching, repeating, fiendishly detailed pattern of black, white, and gray. As I turned my head, the pattern almost seemed to move.</p> <p>"What's that for?" I asked, trying (and failing) to conceal my bewilderment. I couldn't see the smile on his face, but the pride in Horatius's voice was apparent.</p> <p>"Its purpose is twofold. To my allies, this pattern identifies me as a knight of the military orders and instills courage in them by showing that I still stand. In my enemies, it subtly imparts a sense of hatred that will goad their attacks toward my breastplate," which he rapped with one gauntleted fist for emphasis, "instead of my less-protected limbs. Or my more lightly-armored companions!" He patted Arcos and Perrin on the back, though Perrin's wince suggested that it might've been more of a slap.</p> <p>"Yeah," he grunted, "it's definitely instilling hatred in me."</p> <p>Arcos chuckled.</p> <p>"If you think that's impressive-" Horatius began.</p> <p>"I don't."</p> <p>"-then behold this!" he finished, heedless. With his left hand, Horatius hefted a large shield of steel-braced wood, intricately painted with an asymmetrical pattern of swirling blue and gold. It seemed to spin infinitely into itself, spiraling deeper and deeper in constant incomplete repetition.</p> <p>"Careful," he warned, "you'll give yourself a headache." I blinked, and I experienced a weird sort of vertigo as I looked away.</p> <p>"Ugh," I said, "what is that?"</p> <p>"That," he said, proudly, "is a warding pattern, as is the one on my surcoat. The ancient Foundation used designs like these to keep prying eyes from the holiest of the Sacred Containment Procedures. The most powerful ones could strike a man dead at a glance! This one won't kill anyone, but it will strike great fear into the hearts of any who look upon it with ill intent." He turned his helm towards Perrin. "Incidentally, this property also makes it easy to root out hidden enemies."</p> <p>Perrin squinted at the shield. "I'd be scared too, if I saw someone toting anything that ugly. You'd have to be a blind maniac to go around looking like that."</p> <p>Horatius puffed up a bit. "I will have you know that the creation of warding patterns is an ancient and honored art form among the military orders!"</p> <p>"Uh huh. Is that why I've never seen any other clowns wearing them before?"</p> <p>"Well," he sighed, "it's also something of a <em>dying</em> art. These patterns are slow and difficult to make, and their makers even slower to train. It seems that Overwatch sees greater use in hordes of disposable, untrained thugs like yourself than one professional soldier, no matter how effective his painstakingly handmade warding patterns might be."</p> <p>An uncomfortable moment passed in sad silence, but he quickly regained his usual proud demeanor.</p> <p>"But!" he said, "for a small mission like this, none could be better suited."</p> <p>"Yeah," Perrin scoffed, "as long as we don't need to be hidden. Or quiet."</p> <p>"You are the subtle one, ruffian. I fight with honor and bravery."</p> <p>"You fight with a lot of extra effort, that's what I think. Work smarter, not harder." Perrin tapped his shaggy head. "I could run circles around somebody stumbling around in that much metal. And put about four holes in him, right here, here, here, and here."</p> <p>"Is that a challenge?" Horatius asked, reaching for the heavy mace at his belt.</p> <p>Perrin stood up. "Maybe." There were suddenly blades in his hand, a long rapier and a jeweled dagger.</p> <p>"Oh, please," Arcos said, rising to his full height. "Neither of you could even get close to me, not with this in my grasp." He planted the steel-shod butt of his polearm in the dirt with a thump. "I could squash that bucket you call a helm at three paces. Or," he said, turning to Perrin, "trip you flat with this spike, before you got a chance to do all that fancy footwork."</p> <p>"Wanna bet?" Perrin asked, tapping Arcos's breastplate with the rapier blade.</p> <p>"Oh, by the Saints!" Moritz groaned from the tower. "Just pull out your pricks and measure already."</p> <p>"Like that, would you?" Perrin teased. "I know Horatius is on board."</p> <p>"Don't flatter yourself," he grumbled.</p> <p>"I'd like for you to shut up," Moritz continued. "I'm <em>trying</em> to think."</p> <p>Now fully prepared for danger, the four of us moved to the door to watch Moritz at work. He hadn't even changed since the night before, but now he was carrying a staff. Slightly shorter than he was, it was a smooth length of wood topped with a sharp quartz crystal and wound with thin, intersecting lines of gold. The crystal glowed faintly as he used it to trace a complex diagram on the circular patch of floor at the center of the stairs. Periodically, he would reference his ever-present book (which Nobody was obligingly holding for him) to make sure he was doing it right.</p> <p>"What's in that big book, anyway?" Perrin pried.</p> <p>"All my notes and formulas. I've got to get the math right, lest we be dumped Outside."</p> <p>"Outside what?" Arcos asked.</p> <p>"Yes," Moritz said, with a hateful tone that made it clear he was done explaining.</p> <p>"But can you open it?" Nobody asked, peering down at the book.</p> <p>"Yes," he answered immediately.</p> <p>"How old is this structure?" Horatius asked, peeking up the stairs to the tower's top some thirty meters above.</p> <p>"Not quite Ancient," Nobody answered, "but it's in more-or-less the same spot as another lighthouse that was destroyed in the Breach. Lighthouses were some of the first things to be rebuilt, once people rediscovered sailing."</p> <p>Perrin looked at him oddly. "How do you know that?"</p> <p>"I've been to the Ancient History Museum," he said, condescendingly.</p> <p>"So have I," Perrin said, defensively. "I was just more interested in the…valuable exhibits." He elbowed Arcos, who shook his head but smiled nonetheless.</p> <p>"Alright," Moritz announced. "Just need to set up my sinks." Carefully, he arranged six small candles equally along the diagram's perimeter, and lit each one with a touch of his finger. "Now for the Source." Quickly, he drew a small knife from his belt and pricked his left thumb with it. Then he flicked the droplet into the circle, where it evaporated with a puff of magenta smoke and a whiff of lemon. One of the candle flames turned blue. "There we go. Now who's next?"</p> <p>"Next?" Perrin asked.</p> <p>"You'll each need to do what I just did. With your favorite weapon, if possible."</p> <p>Arcos went first, reaching up to cut his thumb on the spearhead. Perrin used one of his short swords. I didn't see what Nobody did; he just stretched a pale arm out from the front of his coat, a drop of blood already dangling from its outstretched finger. I still had the knife I'd stolen from that sailor, and I made sure not to show any pain as I did my part. With each drop that evaporated, one of the flames changed color. When Horatius's turn arrived - last, since he'd had to remove one of his gauntlets - he used a wickedly curved knife that I'd never seen before. He also cut more deeply into himself than was probably necessary, if the amount of blood was any indication, but he didn't show even a hint of discomfort.</p> <p>"What's that thing for?" Perrin asked, eyeing the sinister blade appreciatively.</p> <p>"It's ceremonial," was all he said. Then he flicked the blood from it into the circle, changing the last candle, and re-sheathed it at his side.</p> <p>"You may wish to stand back," Moritz said. He didn't have to tell us twice, because the floor inside the diagram had started glowing. The circle of light shifted through several different colors, then settled on a rippling black. It buzzed quietly.</p> <p>"Excellent!" he cheered, clapping once. "Now, who wants to go first?"</p> <p>There were no volunteers.</p> <p>"It's perfectly safe."</p> <p>"It's buzzing," Perrin countered.</p> <p>"That's probably normal."</p> <p>"<em>Probably</em>?"</p> <p>"Fine," Arcos sighed. "I'll do it."</p> <p>"Excellent! Just jump in."</p> <p>"Really?"</p> <p>"Yes."</p> <p>"Wonderful." Arcos took a deep breath, as if he were about to dive underwater, then hopped into the circle. He dropped through the black circle like it was thin air.</p> <p>"Next?"</p> <p>"Hold on, buddy," Perrin said, through gritted teeth. He stepped tentatively into the circle and fell. Horatius marched wordlessly in after him. Nobody nodded to us, then followed. Moritz looked at me.</p> <p>"Last chance to turn back."</p> <p>"Not going to happen."</p> <p>He gestured at the portal. "Women and children first."</p> <p>Putting on a brave face, I stepped proudly forward and into the hole. With a disorienting whoosh, I disappeared.</p> <hr/> <p>The darkness seemed to press in on my eyes like a blindfold. For a brief, disorienting moment, I could not tell if they were open or closed.</p> <p>Then Moritz spoke a magic word, and the crystal point of his staff began to glow. I realized that I'd been holding my breath and released it. Arcos did the same, but his sounded more like a shuddering gasp. Fear was clearly written across his face. Surely the Child of Night was not afraid of the dark? As his nocturnal eyes reflected the glow of Moritz's staff, I realized this was exactly the case - but he had never before encountered a place so dark that his night vision could not capture a single speck of light.</p> <p>We stood in the crumbling ruins of what might have once been a tavern. Eight centuries of neglect had reduced most of the wooden furnishings to dust, but the rust-wreathed frames of tall chairs and circular tables still protruded in places. A cracked pane of curved glass rose from the wreckage of the bar, sheltering jumbled plates of long-gone food from the steady stream of disintegrating plaster that trickled down from the hole-filled ceiling. Here and there, white cups peeked out of the inch-deep dust like dead fish gasping for air in a poisoned pond. When I prodded one with my foot, expecting the unyielding texture of porcelain or ceramic, it crumpled with an unpleasant squeaking sound.</p> <p>"Come," Nobody coughed, "we had best get outside." Things were little better beyond the shattered glass door, though; as far as our light reached, there was nothing but rot and ruin. The cobbles were littered with chunks of stone, shards of glass, piles of rust, and less-identifiable shapes buried under layers of cobwebs. The sky above showed not even a flicker of starlight.</p> <p>"By the Saints," Perrin swore. "What happened to this place?" He was whispering, in unconscious respect for the dead silence around us. From the moment we'd arrived, the only sounds we'd heard were the ones we'd made.</p> <p>"Less than most of the Ancients' cities," Nobody answered. He looked contemplatively at an indistinct lump nearby. "Though I cannot recall the specifics." His tone was not reassuring.</p> <p>"Did the Ancients often use profanity in their signage?" Moritz asked. He was squinting up at the sign above the ruined tavern, which showed a drawing of a woman surrounded by a green circle and letters of the Old Speech, very different from the seven-sided characters of the common tongue.</p> <p>Nobody glanced at the sign. He did not smile.</p> <p>"We had best keep moving," he said. "The city is shaped like a bowl. We'll find its center at the lowest point, then make our way to the Jurassic Quarter from there."</p> <p>"Seems a bit circuitous," Perrin said, eyeing the vacant windows uneasily.</p> <p>"It will have to do, at least until I am sure where we are. Alert me if you see a street sign."</p> <p>At that, we set off downhill. Portland was not what I expected. Ancient cities were supposed to be forests of sky-scraping monoliths and wide roads clogged with horseless carriages, but the buildings here were no taller or farther apart than those of Arnven. Perhaps that is what made it so eerie. I wanted to ask Nobody about these discrepancies, but it felt wrong to break the silence, even with the crunch of glass and gravel under my feet. This vast, empty ruin felt more like a tomb than a city.</p> <p>As if conjured by my unspoken thought, a skeleton came into view. The long centuries had destroyed its connective tissues, leaving only a jumbled pile of yellow bones. I gasped, but the dust-shrouded heap was too divorced from anything living to truly frighten me. At least, that is what I told myself as we proceeded past the skeleton - and the next one, and the next one, and the next one. Some of the bones had broken, but it was hard to know if they'd been bludgeoned or simply given out under the weight of so much time. Their clothes had long since moldered to nothing, leaving no clue as to who these Ancients might have once been…mostly. With a shiver, I noted that some of them were child-sized.</p> <p>I do not know how long we walked. It was hard to tell, with nothing in the sky to guide us and no sound but our footsteps. The world seemed to end at the edge of the light, our little island in a vast, dark sea. When Nobody finally called us to a halt, it felt like being startled from a dream.</p> <p>"Shh," he said, pausing. We stopped. Silently, we listened.</p> <p><em>Thump. Scrape. Thump. Scrape.</em></p> <p>Quickly, he motioned to the gaping doorway of a nearby building. <em>Hide!</em> We hurried inside, but I didn't see what good it would do. Our path through the dust would be as clear as footprints on a snowy day. Moritz doused his light as soon as we were all inside, denying me a good look at the interior. We crouched below the large broken windows that flanked the absent door. There, we waited in absolute blackness.</p> <p><em>Thump. Scrape.</em> Though muted by the omnipresent dust, the footsteps were clearly heavy.</p> <p><em>Thump. Scrape.</em> I tried not to breathe. The slow footfalls competed with the sound of my speeding heartbeat. Could the others hear that too?</p> <p><em>Thump. Scrape.</em> I felt Horatius's gauntleted hand beside mine, and involuntarily I grasped it. He did not move.</p> <p><em>Thump.</em> It stopped. It was right outside.</p> <p>Suddenly, there was light. I stifled a yelp. It filtered in through the cracked, grimy glass and fell in a bright rectangle on the filthy floor. The building didn't seem to have any interior walls, or if did, they had long since crumbled away. Only indistinct lumps of rubbish accompanied my hunkered companions in the floor. Perrin was beside me; to the other side of the door, I could see Horatius gripping his mace, ready to spring up and strike whatever came through.</p> <p>Wait. <em>If Horatius was over there…</em></p> <p>Eyes wide with terror, I turned to see what owned the hand I had touched. It was slumped against the wall beside me, a man-shaped thing like an armored scarecrow. I jerked my hand away, but something in the movement or the light must have woken it. Two pinpricks of red light appeared on its too-smooth face, and its hairless head ground around on a rusted neck to face me. Without moving, its mouth coughed out a crackling, distorted message.</p> <p>"<tt>The Mayor is mad. The Ways are shut. We cannot get out. We cannot get ouuuuuu…</tt>"</p> <p>I am not sure what came next; my terrified shriek, or the earsplitting wail of a siren. The lights outside shifted from constant white to alternating flashes of hellish red and unnatural blue. The thing beside me pitched forward, the last of its non-life spent, but the one outside addressed us in a loud, hollow voice.</p> <p>"TRESPASSERS. YOU ARE UNDER ARREST. COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP."</p> <p>We came out, but we did so swinging. The thing out there - apparently some form of city guard, the existence of which was almost reassuring in this tomb-city - was like a huge clay sculpture of a man, even bigger than Arcos. Time had not been kind to it, though; nothing remained of its arms below the shoulders, and one of its legs was missing a huge chunk of knee. It was for this weak spot that Arcos aimed. His hammer shattered the remaining material, sending the construct to the ground with a crash. It squirmed ineffectively, seemingly unaware that it no longer had arms to attack with. Still, it continued to shout at us and flash those blinding lights from its wide glass eyes. Above them, I saw that some incomprehensible rune had been carved into the thing's forehead. Moritz saw it too.</p> <p>"Smash the rune!" he shouted, pointing with his staff. Arcos did exactly that, scattering fragments all around. As the creature died, its lurid lights faded…yet we did not find ourselves in darkness. At first, I thought that Moritz had relit his staff, but he was staring up at the nearest streetlight. A feebly flickering ball of electricity had materialized inside the shattered bulb, casting us all in a jarring white light. A moment later, another lamppost lit up the same way. On they proceeded on down the street, following the curved surface all the way to the city center.</p> <p>"Oh, no," said Perrin. "That is clearly a trap."</p> <p>"It's the direction we were already going," Horatius reasoned.</p> <p>"Well, now we should go a different way, one that doesn't lead into an obvious trap."</p> <p>"What say you, stranger?" Horatius turned to Nobody, and the rest of us followed suit. The gray man still stood in the ruined building, turned half away from us. He was looking down at the metal man who'd startled me.</p> <p>"What did this robot say to you, Geva?"</p> <p>I swallowed. "It said 'The Mayor is mad. The Ways are shut. We cannot get out'."</p> <p>Nobody nodded. "I thought that was what it said."</p> <p>"Who's the mayor?" Horatius asked.</p> <p>"How can the Ways be shut?" Moritz asked, concern evident.</p> <p>"What does that mean, can't get out?" Perrin said, on the verge of panic.</p> <p>Nobody thought for a moment before he turned to face us. "It seems that Portland's first resident would like us to pay a visit." Then he continued on down the road. We followed, though Perrin only did so when the first streetlamp flickered off behind the rest of us. That continued the whole way, as if we were reeling in a spool of light - or fish on the end of a baited line. The lights were evenly spaced, even in places where the light poles had fallen, broken, or gone missing entirely.</p> <p>At the bottom of the bowl-shaped city, the ground leveled out. At the same time, the endless ranks of ruined buildings came to a halt. The wide, open circle might have been a park once, but now it was a graveyard. Rows and rows of crooked tombstones split the dirt like close-packed teeth, interrupted here and there by vast, bone-filled pits. I saw another clay creature standing beside such a pit, mindlessly trying to dig with a shovel that had long ago disintegrated. The lights stretched on through this charnel wasteland, to a circle of much larger buildings at the very center of the city. Arrested only briefly by the morbid sight, Nobody continued on, and we followed ever more reluctantly.</p> <p>The path led us between two stone buildings, their sturdy walls marred with gaping black cracks and craters. They contrasted starkly with the building on the other side of the circular plaza, which seemed completely untouched by the ruin wrought on the rest of the wreckage. But that was far from its strangest feature.</p> <p>It reminded me of a wasp nest. This structure, this clot of architecture pretending to be a building, had that same sense of alien habitation, and it gave off the same instinctual menace. It <em>looked</em> like a narrow, two-story tower, but it was wrapped from base to peak in overlapping spirals of tangled balustrades, twisted columns, and precipitous balconies. Hundreds of tiny ebon windows peered out from random points along its surface, but there was only one entrance, a set of double doors not quite centered at the top of a low marble staircase. As I watched, the doors creaked open. A yellow glow came from within, but the inside looked strangely…hazy.</p> <p>"Well, Perrin," Nobody said, "I think you're right." He looked to the left, then to the right, and set off that way.</p> <p>"Where're you going?" Arcos called after him.</p> <p>"The Jurassic District." He paused, contemplatively. "Perhaps we should hurry."</p> <p>And hurry we did, though the predatory menace of the fake house wordlessly warned us not to run, at least not until we were out of its sight. It was less than ten meters away when we turned off down a street instead of marching through its open door. As I rounded the corner, I heard the doors creak again. The noise sounded indignant, like an aggressive tomcat, but louder. Much louder. By unspoken but unanimous agreement, we all began to jog as we passed through the graveyard ring's other side. There were more pits here, some of them so full of bones that their tops had risen above the level of the ground and spilled jawless skulls onto the path. The ghostly streetlights did not follow us, but Moritz lit his staff again. The crooked headstones cast ghoulish shadows in its lambent light. Another gravedigger golem watched us pass, grunting out some greeting or warning in the Old Tongue.</p> <p>On the other side of the graveyard, we started to run. That is when we first heard it: a low, rumbling crash, as if a building were slowly collapsing in on itself. It was coming from the plaza. As we barreled on through the ruins, they seemed to come alive. Lights flickered. Rubble shifted. The cobblestones seemed to wriggle beneath my feet. The very air grew thick and hot, like the breath of some giant beast.</p> <p>"There!" Nobody shouted, pointing up the hill at the dim outline of a two-story building that seemed to block the street. Only when I saw this shape outlined against it did I realize that the sky had begun to light. There was still only fathomless black overhead, but the inverted horizon around us had become limned with a dark, fiery red. Though we could see the shadow of the castle ahead, it was horribly far away. My legs were already burning from the effort of sprinting uphill. I stumbled over a stray bone, but my knees had scarcely hit the ground when Arcos snatched me up with one hairy arm. He did not even break his long stride.</p> <p>Somewhere behind us, something made a noise that was half furious roar and half the awful squeal of bending metal. Then there came a thunderous <em>BOOM</em> and the very ground trembled. Arcos lost his footing and pitched forward, twisting his body to shield mine from the impact. He tried to stand, but now it seemed the whole world was being tossed about on stormy seas. With an awful sound, a great chasm tore across the street ahead, swallowing the buildings to either side. Horatius would've been swallowed as well, had Perrin not dragged him away from the pit's crumbling edge.</p> <p>As the tremor ripped through them, the age-weakened ruins of the city finally fell, sending great plumes of dust and shrapnel in all directions. Though the thunder drowned his voice, I saw Moritz shout a spell. A powerful wind whirled around us, deflecting all but the largest chunks of debris. An errant piece of glass sliced across my cheek, while fist-sized chunks of stone bounced off of Arcos's broad back.</p> <p>Then, as suddenly as it had come, the earthquake ceased. Moritz released his spell, leaving us alone in the one clear bubble in a billowing ocean of dust.</p> <p>And still, above the dying echoes of the cataclysm and the rumble of disintegrating stone, we heard those mighty footsteps. <em>Doom. Doom. Doom.</em> I looked toward the shadowy castle, now lost in the clouds of pulverized rock. The chasm was more than four meters wide, further than any of us could hope to jump. Maybe Moritz could work another spell…but he was looking the other way. Towards the footsteps.</p> <p>It loomed out of the cloud like an angry mountain. It was shaped like a man, but its flesh was crushed concrete and rusted rebar. I-beam bones showed at its joints, squealing under its colossal weight. Two streetlights glared from its lump of a head, and two great arms dangled apelike at its sides. One ended in a cluster of thick pipes, dripping with a thick fluid that wasn't quite sewage and wasn't quite blood. From the other arm dangled a thick braid of metal cables, twitching with live electricity like a nest of vipers. It screamed at us, in a voice like metal fatigue, like broken church bells, like stone scoring glass.</p> <p>"THANKLESS!" it wailed. "UNGRATEFUL!"</p> <p>We struggled to our feet, to fight or to flee, but we did not get the chance. The cobbles melted beneath us, pulling us down like quicksand and hardening again, entombing us alive below the waist.</p> <p>"I GAVE YOU LIGHT, HEAT!" it screamed. "I GAVE YOU WATER, ELECTRICITY! STILL YOU WOULD LEAVE ME HERE TO DIE ALONE?"</p> <p>"Mayor!" Nobody shouted, struggling to be heard over the walking avalanche. "Stop!"</p> <p>"IT IS YOU WHO WILL STOP!" it rumbled, leveling its pipe-arm at our trapped, wriggling forms. "YOU WILL BE MY CITIZENS, MY CELLS, FOREVER!"</p> <p>A strange look came over Nobody. A frightening look.</p> <p>"No," he said, with a strange authority that seemed to crackle on the air. "They will not." Then he flung his great arms to the side, and <em>other</em> arms erupted from the cavernous sleeves of his battered coat. Four long branches of transparent wood with knobby elbows and gnarled, clutching fingers lunged toward the Mayor…then bent backwards and latched onto the throats of my companions. I screamed, but my wail was cut off when a scaly tentacle like the tail of a snake slithered from the coat's collar and coiled around my own. Then, as if that was not shocking enough, I saw a huge, tawny paw creep up from the front to press its claws against Nobody's neck.</p> <p>"I will kill us before we become your prisoners," Nobody warned. "And you will die here, entombed in yourself and full of your failures!" To my utter horror, I believed him. The others did too; in the corners of my eyes I could see them struggling or hacking uselessly at the alien arms. Moritz couldn't catch the air to sputter out a spell. I poured my energy into the twitching tentacle, but it was unmoved. It had no mind to trick, and it was wrapped to tight to force away.</p> <p>The Mayor hesitated, but only for a moment. It swung its left arm, <em>cracking</em> the braided cables with a blinding flash of sparks. "THEN WHY SHOULD <strong>I</strong> NOT KILL YOU?"</p> <p>"Because there is another way!"</p> <p>The Mayor advanced one menacing step. "WHAT WAY?" The stone tightened around my legs, and the tentacle tightened around my neck.</p> <p>"I will stay here, and in exchange, you will release my friends. You will open the Way to Portland Castle and let them leave. Then you and I will talk, for as long as you yet live."</p> <p>Its lamppost eyes flickered. "AND WHO ARE YOU, THAT THINKS HIMSELF SO CLEVER?"</p> <p>"I am more like you than anything else you are likely to meet. I, too, have watched the empty centuries crawl by. I, too, have seen - have <em>felt</em> - the multitudes who once depended on me die, and been helpless to save them. I, too, have watched as everything I built fell to pieces. And I, too, was driven mad by it. I know what you are, and you know what I am. Look into my mind and see."</p> <p>For a long, tense, moment, the Mayor stood there, its ersatz eyes locked on Nobody's unflinching glare. I could barely see them through my desperate, terrified tears.</p> <p>Then, as suddenly as it had come, all the pressure released. The coat's strangling appendages retreated, and the pavement vomited us back to the surface. I fell to my knees, coughing and weeping.</p> <p>"GO," the mayor commanded. The dust cloud parted, clearing the way to the shadow of Portland Castle. Fragments of shattered walls floated into place above the chasm, locking together into a precarious bridge. Perrin needed no further convincing; he barreled across it as far as his sputtering lungs would allow with Moritz hot on his heels. Arcos bent over me, placing one huge hand on my heaving shoulders.</p> <p>"Are you alright, little one?" he rasped, rubbing his bruised throat with the other. I could not force out any words, but I managed to nod. Gently, he lifted my trembling form and plodded toward the bridge. Over his shoulder, I saw Horatius approach Nobody.</p> <p>"L-lord?" he stammered. "Are…are you He?"</p> <p>"No," he repeated, quietly. "Not anymore." He looked at Horatius, then, and there was a bottomless sadness in his face. "Go, Horatius. Mend my mistakes, while you still can." The slender arm of a dark-skinned woman slid from the front of his coat, holding some tubular metal object towards Horatius. He accepted it with numb fingers.</p> <p>"Yes, Lord." He knelt at Nobody's feet. "I will not fail you!"</p> <p>"Hurry, sir knight. The Mayor grows impatient." And so it did; the live wires of its electrical whip were creeping slowly towards the armored knight. Horatius leapt to his feet and marched quickly across the bridge beside Arcos. As we passed over, I glanced down into the darkness at the bottom. There was Nothing there.</p> <p>The shadow of the castle was thin, like fog. Within its gloomy mass, though, I could see a long rectangle of light. Our Way out. I looked back as we stepped through. I watched as the billowing dust clouds closed around Nobody and the titan form of the mad Mayor. He did not look back at us.</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1><span><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-lord-of-the-redacted/offset/2">CONTINUED IN BOOK 2</a></span></h1> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	===== [[include <a href="/component:preview">component:preview</a> text= Six heroes quest for truth and treasure through ruins of the past. ]] ===== [[module CSS]] .imagediv { float: right; margin: 15px} @media (max-width: 540px) { .imagediv { float: none; text-align:center; margin: auto; } } div#header h1 a span { font-size: 0px; } div#header h1 a:before { content: "Holy Foundation"; color: #eee; } div#header h2 span { font-size:0px; padding: 4px; } div#header h2:after { content: "Servitude, Chivalry, Piety"; font-weight: bold; color: #f0f0c0; padding: 19px 0; text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px rgba(0, 0, 0, .8); white-space: pre; } #header { background-image: url(https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/art%3Adoctors-of-the-church-hub/Holy-Foundation.svg); background-size: 90px; } [[/module]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[div style="text-align: right; margin-right: 2em; margin-top: -20px;"]] by [[[Koths Korner\| Kothardarastrix]]] [[/div]] [[module ListPages category="fragment" parent="." limit="1" order="created_at" offset="@URL\|1"]] %%content%% [[/module]] [!-- https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/fragment:koth-8000-book-0 --] [!-- https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/fragment:koth-8000-book-1 --] [!-- https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/fragment:koth-8000-book-2 --] [!-- https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/fragment:koth-8000-book-3 --]	2024-02-19T04:58:00	[ "8000", "_listpages", "adventure", "chaos-insurgency", "children-of-the-night", "dado", "doctors-of-the-church", "fantasy", "first-person", "from-120s-archives", "marshall-carter-and-dark", "nobody", "otherworldly", "post-apocalyptic", "religious-fiction", "robert-carter", "serpents-hand", "skitter-marshall", "tale", "the-administrator", "three-portlands", "valravn" ]	The Lord of the ██████ - SCP Foundation	42	[ "koths-korner", "scp-042", "scp-2112", "the-lord-of-the-redacted/offset/2" ]	[ "valravn-corporation-hub", "serpent-s-hand-hub", "scp8000contesthub", "nobody-hub", "marshall-carter-and-dark-hub", "from-120-s-archives-hub", "doctors-of-the-church-hub", "chaos-insurgency-hub" ]	[]	1452660410	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-lord-of-the-redacted
the-memories-we-lost	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=1&theme=https://cdn.scpwiki.com/theme/en/basalt/normalize-min.css&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=2&theme=https://cdn.scpwiki.com/theme/en/basalt/basalt-bedrock-min.css&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=3&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Abasalt/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p>Part 1: <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/wiped-clean">Wiped Clean</a><br/> Part 2: <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/flashing-lights">Flashing Lights</a></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Blood.</p> <p>It was everywhere, pooling on hardwood floors, splattered across pale walls. A woman’s lifeless body, face frozen in shock, eyes wide open, lay crumpled in the living room. Her crimson-streaked hair clung to her face.</p> <p>A gurgling sound.</p> <p>Karson turned, and there was Lopez. His partner—his best friend—on the floor, bleeding from his ears, his eyes, his mouth. The light was draining from his face, and Karson couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak.</p> <p>Then came the hands.</p> <p>Gloved, sterile, pulling him away. Men in hazmat suits, faces obscured by reflective visors. Their patches show a shield with three inward arrows. They didn’t speak as they dragged him through a sterile office.</p> <p>Karson opened his eyes with a sharp intake of breath. He stumbled, barely catching himself on the edge of the table. The mnestic pill sat like a lead weight in his stomach, spreading heat through his chest and cold clarity into his brain.</p> <p>The memories surged, unrelenting, vivid. Lopez. His partner. His friend. Dead in a pool of his own blood.</p> <p>“What… what the hell is this?” Karson’s voice cracked as he turned to face the room. Pataki leaned against the wall, arms crossed. Walker stood by the door, ever-watchful. Hargreaves sat at the edge of the table, studying him carefully.</p> <p>“Why?” Karson growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Why take this from me? What else have you taken?”</p> <p>Hargreaves spoke first, her tone calm but firm. “It was necessary. You were exposed to something you weren’t supposed to know. To protect the veil of secrecy, your memories were altered.”</p> <p>Karson slammed his fist on the table. “You erased my partner! My life! And now you think you can explain this away with ‘it was necessary’? What the hell else aren’t you telling me?”</p> <p>Pataki stepped forward, his face neutral, his voice measured. “Karson, I understand how this feels—”</p> <p>“No,” Karson interrupted, his anger boiling. “You don’t. If you can mess with my head like this, how do I know you’re not doing it again? Right now? How do I know anything is real?”</p> <p>Pataki’s expression hardened. “You don’t. And that’s the point. We live in a world where some truths are too dangerous to share. The public doesn’t need to know about the lights or what they’re doing to people. Imagine the panic, the violence.”</p> <p>Karson glared at him, fists clenched, but Pataki kept going. “The Foundation—our mission—is to protect humanity. Not just from the anomalies themselves, but from the chaos that comes with knowing they exist. You’ve seen the lights. You’ve seen what they do. If the world found out about them? Imagine every scared, desperate person in this city looking to the skies, losing themselves. Now imagine thousands of other anomalies out there.”</p> <p>Hargreaves nodded and added, “Even for us, it’s not easy. Walker, Pataki, me—we’ve all been amnestized at some point. To protect ourselves from knowing too much, from something that could compromise us. None of us are immune to the rules.”</p> <p>Karson opened his mouth to argue, but the words caught in his throat. He thought about the chaos of Malone in the precinct. About the family in the house, dead because of… what? Lights in the sky?</p> <p>He didn’t have an answer.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Glow.</p> <p>The screen flickered to life, casting a cold, pale glow across Pataki’s face. A single pixelated figure appeared, silhouetted and distorted, voice smoothed into an emotionless monotone.</p> <p>“O5-7, a pleasure-”</p> <p>“I am merely a representative, Dr Pataki,” the silhouette said.</p> <p>Pataki adjusted his tie, the slight tremor in his hands betraying his otherwise composed demeanor.</p> <p>“Understood.”</p> <p>“You have been selected to lead a specialized task force,” the voice continued. “Reports indicate you are uniquely suited to the objective of the task force. Your history with psychological profiling is… sufficient.”</p> <p>Pataki’s jaw tightened. Sufficient. Not exemplary. Not impressive. Just sufficient. He knew the weight of those words from the Council—every sentence carried meaning, every omission a subtle jab.</p> <p>Pataki leaned forward, elbows on the desk. “And you’re certain I’m the right candidate for this? My last assignment wasn’t exactly… spotless.”</p> <p>The voice didn’t waver. “The veil remains intact. That’s all that matters. We’re giving you this opportunity to prove your methods are still viable.”</p> <p>Pataki’s face darkened. He wasn’t being offered redemption. He was being tested.</p> <p>The screen flickered off before he could respond.</p> <p>Pataki stood by the window, arms crossed. The lights from the storm reflected faintly in his glasses while his encounter with the O5 council flashed in his memory.</p> <p>Karson sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor. His arm was still bandaged from the precinct shooting, and the residual ache in his muscles made it hard to sit still. His eyes darted to Anna, still unconscious from the sedative.</p> <p>Karson looked at them, his face a mask of disbelief and fury. “You think this is clarity? I don’t know who to trust anymore. I don’t know who I even am anymore.”</p> <p>Walker spoke, his voice gruff. “You’re Detective Alex Karson. That hasn’t changed. You’ve been chasing the truth your whole life. Maybe now you know just how much it costs.”</p> <p>Pataki added. “We need you, Karson. You’ve proven you can handle the truth. And that’s rare. Join the team and you can help us prevent anomalies from spiraling further out of control. But we can’t force you. This is your choice.”</p> <p>Pataki continued. “Detective, you’re a man who asks questions. That’s a good quality in our line of work.”</p> <p>“Our line of work,” Karson repeated bitterly. He looked up at Pataki. “Let’s get one thing straight—I don’t trust you. I don’t trust this Foundation. You people erased my memories, played me like a damn puppet. Why the hell would I want to work for you?”</p> <p>Pataki didn’t flinch. His voice was calm, steady. “Because you want answers.”</p> <p>Karson barked a laugh, cold and humorless. “And you’re just going to give them to me? Out of the kindness of your heart?”</p> <p>“No,” Pataki admitted. “But if you join us, you’ll have the chance to find them for yourself. You’ll see things no one else ever sees. Do things no one else can. And you’ll protect people, Detective. People who don’t even know they need protecting.”</p> <p>Karson stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. He began pacing, his movements tight and restless. “Protect people? You mean like you protected Lopez? Like you protected Malone? Don’t talk to me about protecting people.”</p> <p>Pataki sighed, adjusting his glasses. “I can’t change what happened to them. And I can’t undo what’s already been done to you. But I can give you a purpose, Karson. A way to make sense of all this.”</p> <p>Karson stopped pacing and turned to face him. “A purpose? You want me to be your pawn. That’s what this is about. You want me on your little task force so you can use me however you want.”</p> <p>Pataki met his gaze evenly. “You can walk away. No one’s forcing you to do anything. But if you walk away, you’ll never get the answers you’re looking for. You’ll never know the truth about what’s out there—or what’s been done to you.”</p> <p>Karson stared at him, his jaw clenched. His mind raged like the storm brewing outside, thoughts crashing into each other with no clear direction.</p> <p>“What if I say no?” Karson asked finally, his voice low.</p> <p>Pataki didn’t answer immediately. When he did, his tone was neutral, almost clinical. “Then we’ll give you another amnestic. You’ll go back to your old life, or what’s left of it. And we’ll move on.”</p> <p>Karson shook his head, a bitter smile on his lips. “You people make it sound so easy.”</p> <p>“It’s not,” Pataki said quietly. “For you or for us.”</p> <p>Karson stared at him, his eyes burning with an inner turmoil he couldn’t suppress. He didn’t want to be a pawn. But he also didn’t want to be a spectator, watching as the world fell apart.</p> <p>“I can’t give you an answer right now,” Karson said finally.</p> <p>Pataki nodded, as if he’d expected the hesitation. “Take your time. But not too much. The storm won’t wait for anyone.”</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>First time.</p> <p>The first time was a simple spray. An aerosol mist deployed in the chaos of the murder scene. Karson had been distracted by the sheer brutality of the room—blood-slicked floors, jagged streaks across the walls, a woman’s lifeless body sprawled on the living room rug. His mind had been racing, trying to piece it together, when the chemical hit.</p> <p>The second time, Lincoln had done it. Lincoln and Walker were pretending to be FBI agents at the second murder scene, a quiet mansion in the Hills with a middle aged man in a pool of his own blood. It was an injection. Karson had felt the sharp prick before he’d even realized what was happening.</p> <p>The third time was in the precinct. Karson had been at his desk, searching about South Coast Preservation when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. A group of men in hazmat suits were working their way through the office, each carrying a device that emitted a faint mist.</p> <p>He’d stood up, intending to confront them, when he saw something that made his stomach drop: Chief Santos slumped in her chair, unresponsive, as one of the men adjusted a nozzle near her face. Nearby, Lopez was undergoing the same treatment, his expression slack and vacant.</p> <p>The fourth time was the worst. He’d been restrained, strapped to a chair in what looked like an operating room. The man in the hazmat suit spoke in clipped, clinical tones as he adjusted the equipment around Karson’s head.</p> <p>“Subject’s memory will be realigned. Lopez’s designation will be overwritten with Lincoln’s. Fugue state should stabilize within twenty-four hours.”</p> <p>Karson had struggled against the restraints, shouting for answers, demanding to know what was happening. But the man had simply pricked him with a needle, and a bright light had filled Karson’s vision. The pain wasn’t physical—it was mental, a searing disconnection as if pieces of his mind were being forcibly torn away.</p> <p>They’d left Karson alone in the room to stew, to think, to decide. But all he could do was pace, his mind replaying the memories, the manipulations, the lies. <em>Four times.</em> Four times they’d tried to erase him, to rewrite him. And somehow, enough of these memories are back. Enough to piece it together now. Enough to know that nothing could ever be trusted again.</p> <p>Outside the room, Hargreaves found Pataki leaning against a wall, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.</p> <p>“I’m not sure about this,” she said, her voice low but firm. “Recruiting him might be a mistake.”</p> <p>Pataki raised an eyebrow, his expression calm and unreadable. “What makes you say that?”</p> <p>Hargreaves crossed her arms, her frustration bubbling to the surface. “I thought his bad amnestization was due to improper protocols from Site-151’s clean-up team. But now? I’m not so sure. The records show he was properly dosed. Everything was by the book. And yet… he remembers. Pieces, fragments. Enough to put things together.”</p> <p>Pataki’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “That’s because Karson isn’t like the others.”</p> <p>Hargreaves frowned, her suspicion growing. “What are you talking about?”</p> <p>“I ran his Cognitive Resistance Value test,” Pataki said, his tone casual, almost amused. “Off the charts. Higher than anyone I’ve seen in years. Maybe ever.”</p> <p>Hargreaves blinked, the weight of his words sinking in. “That’s… concerning.”</p> <p>Pataki nodded. “It is. And it’s why we need to keep a close eye on him. He’s valuable, Hargreaves. Someone like Karson doesn’t come along often. If he chooses to join us, he could be an asset unlike any we’ve ever had.”</p> <p>“And if he doesn’t?”</p> <p>Pataki’s gaze was cold, his answer immediate. “Then we handle it.”</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Cold.</p> <p>The floor was cold. Silent, except for the faint hum of fluorescent lights above. Karson stood by Lopez’s side, feeling the weight of the moment press down on his chest like a thousand pounds. The blood pooled beneath Lopez, staining the sterile floor, mixing with the smell of bleach and death.</p> <p>Lopez was bleeding from every orifice. His eyes were vacant, staring, but they were still full of life. For now.</p> <p>Karson could see the life slipping away from his partner. Could hear the gurgling, ragged breath. He knew Lopez didn’t have much time left.</p> <p>“Alex,” Lopez whispered, his voice a rasp. “Look after Anna… She won’t understand, not now. She—she’ll need you.”</p> <p>Karson’s throat tightened. The words cut deeper than any wound. His hand instinctively gripped Lopez’s, but Lopez’s fingers were already losing their warmth.</p> <p>“Don’t talk like that, man,” Karson muttered, trying to keep his voice steady. "You’re gonna make it through. You’ll pull through, we’ll—"</p> <p>Lopez shook his head slowly, his lips forming the faintest of smiles. “It’s already too late for me. Just… promise me.” He coughed violently, and the blood sprayed out like a cruel reminder of their helplessness.</p> <p>“I promise,” Karson said, his voice breaking as Lopez’s grip weakened. He could feel the life draining from his partner. And he could do nothing.</p> <p>Lopez’s body went limp, and the last breath he took rattled through the stillness.</p> <p>“Take care of Anna,” Lopez had said. And then he was gone.</p> <p>Karson paced around the living room alone as the memory of Lopez’s last moments played on an endless loop in his mind, each detail sharper than the last.</p> <p>Anna. Lopez’s wife. Not Lincoln’s.</p> <p>Karson clenched his fists, his knuckles white. They had rewritten his memories, twisted reality until he couldn’t trust his own thoughts. And Anna—what had they done to her? She didn’t even remember Lopez. Didn’t remember the man she’d loved and lost.</p> <p>The door creaked open, and Dr. Hargreaves stepped inside. Her presence was cool, calm, and professional. But Karson saw the tiredness in her eyes, the way she held herself—like she had seen too much and could never unsee it.</p> <p>“How do you do it?” he demanded, his voice sharp.</p> <p>“Do what?”</p> <p>“Play God,” Karson said, gesturing angrily. “Rewrite memories, rewrite lives, like it’s nothing. Anna doesn’t even know the man she married is dead! She thinks she married someone who doesn’t exist. You don’t see a problem with that?”</p> <p>Hargreaves leaned forward, her gaze steady. “I didn’t work on the original cleanup crew,” she admitted. “But from what I understand, they were heavy-handed. It’s not standard protocol to alter memories that deeply. They used Class F amnestics on both of you.”</p> <p>Karson frowned. “Class F? What the hell is that?”</p> <p>“It’s a specific type of amnestic designed to induce a state of fugue,” Hargreaves explained. “It allows us to overwrite specific memories with new ones. In this case, they switched your memory of Lopez to Lincoln. It’s not perfect, but it’s effective—usually.”</p> <p>“Usually?” Karson repeated, his voice laced with disbelief.</p> <p>Hargreaves hesitated. “It sounds like they overdid it. Too much alteration can cause gaps, inconsistencies. That’s why you’ve been remembering things—or rather, feeling like you’ve forgotten things.”</p> <p>Karson’s chest tightened. “And Anna? Can you fix her”</p> <p>"It’s not about fixing her, Karson. It’s about giving her back what was taken from her. You know better than anyone what it’s like to lose someone. To be replaced by something else."</p> <p>Karson felt the weight of her words settle deep within him as Hargreaves leaves the room. His thoughts spiraled, his emotions a raw mix of anger, guilt, and helplessness. He knew what it was like to lose someone. He had lost Lopez. He had watched as Anna’s memories of him were stolen, replaced with someone else.</p> <p>Karson’s mind raced, but his thoughts were chaotic, fragmented. He could still hear Lopez’s last words in his mind. <em>Take care of Anna</em>.</p> <p>He had promised.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>A hero.</p> <p>“One of the best we’ve ever had. Gave everything to protect this city.”</p> <p>Karson didn’t understand all the words, but he knew one thing: <em>his father was gone.</em></p> <p>The church was packed, the air thick with a mix of incense and sorrow. The heavy oak casket stood at the front, draped in an American flag. Karson, barely ten years old, sat in the front row, his legs too short to reach the floor. His mother clutched his hand tightly, her grip trembling.</p> <p>After the service, one of the officers knelt in front of him, her hands resting on his small shoulders. “Someday,” she said, “you’ll understand what he gave up to make the world a little safer.”</p> <p>The memory hit Karson like a freight train. He leaned back in his chair, his breath shallow. He hadn’t thought about his father in years—decades, even. But now the image of the funeral was vivid, as if it had happened yesterday.</p> <p>The door opened, breaking his spiraling thoughts. Pataki strode in, his expression calm but purposeful, followed by Hargreaves, Walker, and Lincoln.</p> <p>“Well?” Pataki asked, his tone neutral but expectant.</p> <p>Karson hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering to Hargreaves. “You said you can fix Anna’s memories. Make her remember Lopez. She deserves the truth. If you can do that, I’ll join your team.”</p> <p>“I can,” Hargreaves replied, her voice steady.</p> <p>Pataki nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Welcome to Mu-44.”</p> <p>Pataki gestured for everyone to sit as he launched into his explanation. “Mu-44 is a specialized Mobile Task Force. We investigate homicides, kidnappings, and other crimes involving humanoid anomalies—or anything else that happens to fall into our laps. Think of us as the Foundation’s detectives.”</p> <p>He turned to each team member in turn. “I’m a psychiatrist. My job is to profile the anomaly, and make sure you don’t lose your mind in the process.”</p> <p>Hargreaves spoke next, leaning casually against the wall. “Sarah Hargreaves. As you know, I’m a pathologist and amnestic specialist. I’m the one who figures out what the body—or lack thereof—can tell us. And if things go sideways, I’m the one who makes sure nobody remembers anything they shouldn’t.”</p> <p>Walker, arms crossed, added in a deep, gravelly voice, “Former special forces. I handle the dirty work. If something needs to be taken down, that’s my department.”</p> <p>Lincoln fidgeted slightly before chiming in. “I'm Jake Lincoln. Junior researcher. I…uh…handle the anomaly’s data and the paperwork. I’m not a field guy, but I do my part.”</p> <p>Pataki turned back to Karson, his expression serious. “And you, Detective Alex Karson, former LAPD, are here because you’re good at what you do. Better than most. We need someone who can look at a scene and see what others miss.”</p> <p>Karson nodded slowly, taking it all in. He wasn’t sure how he felt about working with a group like this—a shadowy organization that played with memories and hid the truth. But if it meant getting answers, if it meant making sure people like Anna could live without the lies, if it meant preventing tragedies like Malone, he was willing to try.</p> <p>As the briefing wound down, Pataki clapped his hands together. “Your first mission as part of Mu-44 is in London.”</p> <p>Karson frowned. “London? I thought this was all local. LA’s enough of a mess.”</p> <p>Pataki chuckled. “The Foundation isn’t exactly bound by city limits. We go where the anomalies are. And right now, there’s something in London that needs our attention.”</p> <p>Karson leaned back, processing the information. He’d agreed to this, but it was already proving to be more than he’d expected. Still, he nodded. “Fine. London it is.”</p> <p>As the team dispersed to prepare, Karson lingered for a moment, the weight of his decision settling over him. This was his new reality.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Lopez had a grin that could light up a room, and today it was in full force. "Got a girlfriend," he announced, leaning against Karson’s desk in the precinct.</p> <p>Karson smirked. "Does she know that?"</p> <p>"Funny guy," Lopez shot back, shaking his head. "Her name’s Anna. Anna Morales. She’s…well, she’s something else, man. You’ll see."</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>The first time Karson met Anna was at a crowded diner on the east side. Lopez waved him over to a booth where a petite woman sat, sipping a coffee and smiling nervously. Her dark brown hair was pulled into a loose ponytail, and her wide, expressive eyes lighting up whenever she looks at Lopez.</p> <p>“Karson, meet Anna,” Lopez said proudly.</p> <p>“Nice to meet you,” she said, extending a delicate hand.</p> <p>Karson shook it, grinning. “You must have the patience of a saint if you’re putting up with this guy.”</p> <p>Anna laughed, her smile brightening the room. “Someone has to keep him out of trouble.”</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Their wedding was small but beautiful. Karson stood beside Lopez at the altar, watching as Anna walked down the aisle in a simple lace dress. She looked radiant, her smile glowing with a mix of excitement and nerves.</p> <p>As the ceremony went on, Karson couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride for Lopez. The man had found someone special, someone who truly grounded him.</p> <p>“You’re a lucky guy,” Karson whispered to Lopez as Anna slipped the ring onto his finger.</p> <p>Lopez grinned, his eyes never leaving Anna. “Don’t I know it.”</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Karson stood outside the door, his hand hovering just above the wood. His heart pounded in his chest, a knot tightening in his stomach. He’d faced armed suspects, murderers, and the unraveling of his own mind. But this—this felt harder.</p> <p>He knocked, the sound sharp and decisive. Footsteps approached, and then the door opened.</p> <p>The door opened, and there she was. Anna Morales—no, Anna Lopez—stood before him, her face lighting up with recognition.</p> <p>Anna stood there, looking surprised but pleased. “Alex?”</p> <p>“Hey, Anna,” he said, his voice softer than he intended.</p> <p>She stepped aside to let him in. The house smelled faintly of lavender, and the walls were lined with photographs. Karson’s eyes went straight to the pictures. Anna and Lopez on their wedding day. Lopez in his uniform, smiling proudly. Another of them on a beach somewhere, the sun setting behind them.</p> <p>“It’s good to see you,” Anna said, motioning toward the couch. “Can I get you something? Coffee?”</p> <p>“No, I’m good,” Karson replied, sitting down. He felt out of place, like an intruder in a life that should have been his partner’s.</p> <p>Anna sat across from him, her hands clasped. “I wasn’t sure I’d ever hear from you again after…well, after Carlos.” Her voice trembled slightly, but she steadied herself. “I know you and he were close.”</p> <p>Karson nodded, the weight of her words pressing down on him. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for the funeral. Things…things were complicated.”</p> <p>Anna gave a small, understanding smile. “You’re here now. That’s what matters.”</p> <p>Karson cleared his throat, struggling to find the right words. “Lopez…Carlos always talked about you. How much you meant to him. He made me promise to look out for you.”</p> <p>She tilted her head, her expression softening. “You kept your promise, Alex. Even if you weren’t there, I know you cared about him. That’s enough.”</p> <p>He stood, feeling like he’d overstayed his welcome. “If you ever need anything, you call me. Anytime, okay?”</p> <p>She smiled faintly, reaching out to touch his hand. "You’re a good man, Alex. Thank you. For everything."</p> <p>“Take care, Anna. And…take care of those memories. They’re important."</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p>« <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/flashing-lights">Flashing Lights</a> \| The Memories We Lost \|</p> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-memories-we-lost">The Memories We Lost</a>" by korgis, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-memories-we-lost">https://scpwiki.com/the-memories-we-lost</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:basalt">:scp-wiki:theme:basalt</a> themesetting]] Part 1: [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/wiped-clean Wiped Clean] Part 2: [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/flashing-lights Flashing Lights] @@ @@ -------- @@ @@ Blood. It was everywhere, pooling on hardwood floors, splattered across pale walls. A woman’s lifeless body, face frozen in shock, eyes wide open, lay crumpled in the living room. Her crimson-streaked hair clung to her face. A gurgling sound. Karson turned, and there was Lopez. His partner—his best friend—on the floor, bleeding from his ears, his eyes, his mouth. The light was draining from his face, and Karson couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Then came the hands. Gloved, sterile, pulling him away. Men in hazmat suits, faces obscured by reflective visors. Their patches show a shield with three inward arrows. They didn’t speak as they dragged him through a sterile office. Karson opened his eyes with a sharp intake of breath. He stumbled, barely catching himself on the edge of the table. The mnestic pill sat like a lead weight in his stomach, spreading heat through his chest and cold clarity into his brain. The memories surged, unrelenting, vivid. Lopez. His partner. His friend. Dead in a pool of his own blood. “What... what the hell is this?” Karson’s voice cracked as he turned to face the room. Pataki leaned against the wall, arms crossed. Walker stood by the door, ever-watchful. Hargreaves sat at the edge of the table, studying him carefully. “Why?” Karson growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Why take this from me? What else have you taken?” Hargreaves spoke first, her tone calm but firm. “It was necessary. You were exposed to something you weren’t supposed to know. To protect the veil of secrecy, your memories were altered.” Karson slammed his fist on the table. “You erased my partner! My life! And now you think you can explain this away with ‘it was necessary’? What the hell else aren’t you telling me?” Pataki stepped forward, his face neutral, his voice measured. “Karson, I understand how this feels—” “No,” Karson interrupted, his anger boiling. “You don’t. If you can mess with my head like this, how do I know you’re not doing it again? Right now? How do I know anything is real?” Pataki’s expression hardened. “You don’t. And that’s the point. We live in a world where some truths are too dangerous to share. The public doesn’t need to know about the lights or what they’re doing to people. Imagine the panic, the violence.” Karson glared at him, fists clenched, but Pataki kept going. “The Foundation—our mission—is to protect humanity. Not just from the anomalies themselves, but from the chaos that comes with knowing they exist. You’ve seen the lights. You’ve seen what they do. If the world found out about them? Imagine every scared, desperate person in this city looking to the skies, losing themselves. Now imagine thousands of other anomalies out there.” Hargreaves nodded and added, “Even for us, it’s not easy. Walker, Pataki, me—we’ve all been amnestized at some point. To protect ourselves from knowing too much, from something that could compromise us. None of us are immune to the rules.” Karson opened his mouth to argue, but the words caught in his throat. He thought about the chaos of Malone in the precinct. About the family in the house, dead because of… what? Lights in the sky? He didn’t have an answer. @@ @@ -------- @@ @@ Glow. The screen flickered to life, casting a cold, pale glow across Pataki’s face. A single pixelated figure appeared, silhouetted and distorted, voice smoothed into an emotionless monotone. “O5-7, a pleasure-” “I am merely a representative, Dr Pataki,” the silhouette said. Pataki adjusted his tie, the slight tremor in his hands betraying his otherwise composed demeanor. “Understood.” “You have been selected to lead a specialized task force,” the voice continued. “Reports indicate you are uniquely suited to the objective of the task force. Your history with psychological profiling is... sufficient.” Pataki’s jaw tightened. Sufficient. Not exemplary. Not impressive. Just sufficient. He knew the weight of those words from the Council—every sentence carried meaning, every omission a subtle jab. Pataki leaned forward, elbows on the desk. “And you’re certain I’m the right candidate for this? My last assignment wasn’t exactly... spotless.” The voice didn’t waver. “The veil remains intact. That’s all that matters. We’re giving you this opportunity to prove your methods are still viable.” Pataki’s face darkened. He wasn’t being offered redemption. He was being tested. The screen flickered off before he could respond. Pataki stood by the window, arms crossed. The lights from the storm reflected faintly in his glasses while his encounter with the O5 council flashed in his memory. Karson sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor. His arm was still bandaged from the precinct shooting, and the residual ache in his muscles made it hard to sit still. His eyes darted to Anna, still unconscious from the sedative. Karson looked at them, his face a mask of disbelief and fury. “You think this is clarity? I don’t know who to trust anymore. I don’t know who I even am anymore.” Walker spoke, his voice gruff. “You’re Detective Alex Karson. That hasn’t changed. You’ve been chasing the truth your whole life. Maybe now you know just how much it costs.” Pataki added. “We need you, Karson. You’ve proven you can handle the truth. And that’s rare. Join the team and you can help us prevent anomalies from spiraling further out of control. But we can’t force you. This is your choice.” Pataki continued. “Detective, you’re a man who asks questions. That’s a good quality in our line of work.” “Our line of work,” Karson repeated bitterly. He looked up at Pataki. “Let’s get one thing straight—I don’t trust you. I don’t trust this Foundation. You people erased my memories, played me like a damn puppet. Why the hell would I want to work for you?” Pataki didn’t flinch. His voice was calm, steady. “Because you want answers.” Karson barked a laugh, cold and humorless. “And you’re just going to give them to me? Out of the kindness of your heart?” “No,” Pataki admitted. “But if you join us, you’ll have the chance to find them for yourself. You’ll see things no one else ever sees. Do things no one else can. And you’ll protect people, Detective. People who don’t even know they need protecting.” Karson stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. He began pacing, his movements tight and restless. “Protect people? You mean like you protected Lopez? Like you protected Malone? Don’t talk to me about protecting people.” Pataki sighed, adjusting his glasses. “I can’t change what happened to them. And I can’t undo what’s already been done to you. But I can give you a purpose, Karson. A way to make sense of all this.” Karson stopped pacing and turned to face him. “A purpose? You want me to be your pawn. That’s what this is about. You want me on your little task force so you can use me however you want.” Pataki met his gaze evenly. “You can walk away. No one’s forcing you to do anything. But if you walk away, you’ll never get the answers you’re looking for. You’ll never know the truth about what’s out there—or what’s been done to you.” Karson stared at him, his jaw clenched. His mind raged like the storm brewing outside, thoughts crashing into each other with no clear direction. “What if I say no?” Karson asked finally, his voice low. Pataki didn’t answer immediately. When he did, his tone was neutral, almost clinical. “Then we’ll give you another amnestic. You’ll go back to your old life, or what’s left of it. And we’ll move on.” Karson shook his head, a bitter smile on his lips. “You people make it sound so easy.” “It’s not,” Pataki said quietly. “For you or for us.” Karson stared at him, his eyes burning with an inner turmoil he couldn’t suppress. He didn’t want to be a pawn. But he also didn’t want to be a spectator, watching as the world fell apart. “I can’t give you an answer right now,” Karson said finally. Pataki nodded, as if he’d expected the hesitation. “Take your time. But not too much. The storm won’t wait for anyone.” @@ @@ -------- @@ @@ First time. The first time was a simple spray. An aerosol mist deployed in the chaos of the murder scene. Karson had been distracted by the sheer brutality of the room—blood-slicked floors, jagged streaks across the walls, a woman’s lifeless body sprawled on the living room rug. His mind had been racing, trying to piece it together, when the chemical hit. The second time, Lincoln had done it. Lincoln and Walker were pretending to be FBI agents at the second murder scene, a quiet mansion in the Hills with a middle aged man in a pool of his own blood. It was an injection. Karson had felt the sharp prick before he’d even realized what was happening. The third time was in the precinct. Karson had been at his desk, searching about South Coast Preservation when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. A group of men in hazmat suits were working their way through the office, each carrying a device that emitted a faint mist. He’d stood up, intending to confront them, when he saw something that made his stomach drop: Chief Santos slumped in her chair, unresponsive, as one of the men adjusted a nozzle near her face. Nearby, Lopez was undergoing the same treatment, his expression slack and vacant. The fourth time was the worst. He’d been restrained, strapped to a chair in what looked like an operating room. The man in the hazmat suit spoke in clipped, clinical tones as he adjusted the equipment around Karson’s head. “Subject’s memory will be realigned. Lopez’s designation will be overwritten with Lincoln’s. Fugue state should stabilize within twenty-four hours.” Karson had struggled against the restraints, shouting for answers, demanding to know what was happening. But the man had simply pricked him with a needle, and a bright light had filled Karson’s vision. The pain wasn’t physical—it was mental, a searing disconnection as if pieces of his mind were being forcibly torn away. They’d left Karson alone in the room to stew, to think, to decide. But all he could do was pace, his mind replaying the memories, the manipulations, the lies. //Four times.// Four times they’d tried to erase him, to rewrite him. And somehow, enough of these memories are back. Enough to piece it together now. Enough to know that nothing could ever be trusted again. Outside the room, Hargreaves found Pataki leaning against a wall, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. “I’m not sure about this,” she said, her voice low but firm. “Recruiting him might be a mistake.” Pataki raised an eyebrow, his expression calm and unreadable. “What makes you say that?” Hargreaves crossed her arms, her frustration bubbling to the surface. “I thought his bad amnestization was due to improper protocols from Site-151’s clean-up team. But now? I’m not so sure. The records show he was properly dosed. Everything was by the book. And yet... he remembers. Pieces, fragments. Enough to put things together.” Pataki’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “That’s because Karson isn’t like the others.” Hargreaves frowned, her suspicion growing. “What are you talking about?” “I ran his Cognitive Resistance Value test,” Pataki said, his tone casual, almost amused. “Off the charts. Higher than anyone I’ve seen in years. Maybe ever.” Hargreaves blinked, the weight of his words sinking in. “That’s... concerning.” Pataki nodded. “It is. And it’s why we need to keep a close eye on him. He’s valuable, Hargreaves. Someone like Karson doesn’t come along often. If he chooses to join us, he could be an asset unlike any we’ve ever had.” “And if he doesn’t?” Pataki’s gaze was cold, his answer immediate. “Then we handle it.” @@ @@ -------- @@ @@ Cold. The floor was cold. Silent, except for the faint hum of fluorescent lights above. Karson stood by Lopez’s side, feeling the weight of the moment press down on his chest like a thousand pounds. The blood pooled beneath Lopez, staining the sterile floor, mixing with the smell of bleach and death. Lopez was bleeding from every orifice. His eyes were vacant, staring, but they were still full of life. For now. Karson could see the life slipping away from his partner. Could hear the gurgling, ragged breath. He knew Lopez didn’t have much time left. “Alex,” Lopez whispered, his voice a rasp. “Look after Anna... She won’t understand, not now. She—she’ll need you.” Karson’s throat tightened. The words cut deeper than any wound. His hand instinctively gripped Lopez’s, but Lopez’s fingers were already losing their warmth. “Don’t talk like that, man,” Karson muttered, trying to keep his voice steady. "You’re gonna make it through. You’ll pull through, we’ll—" Lopez shook his head slowly, his lips forming the faintest of smiles. “It’s already too late for me. Just... promise me.” He coughed violently, and the blood sprayed out like a cruel reminder of their helplessness. “I promise,” Karson said, his voice breaking as Lopez’s grip weakened. He could feel the life draining from his partner. And he could do nothing. Lopez’s body went limp, and the last breath he took rattled through the stillness. “Take care of Anna,” Lopez had said. And then he was gone. Karson paced around the living room alone as the memory of Lopez’s last moments played on an endless loop in his mind, each detail sharper than the last. Anna. Lopez’s wife. Not Lincoln’s. Karson clenched his fists, his knuckles white. They had rewritten his memories, twisted reality until he couldn’t trust his own thoughts. And Anna—what had they done to her? She didn’t even remember Lopez. Didn’t remember the man she’d loved and lost. The door creaked open, and Dr. Hargreaves stepped inside. Her presence was cool, calm, and professional. But Karson saw the tiredness in her eyes, the way she held herself—like she had seen too much and could never unsee it. “How do you do it?” he demanded, his voice sharp. “Do what?” “Play God,” Karson said, gesturing angrily. “Rewrite memories, rewrite lives, like it’s nothing. Anna doesn’t even know the man she married is dead! She thinks she married someone who doesn’t exist. You don’t see a problem with that?” Hargreaves leaned forward, her gaze steady. “I didn’t work on the original cleanup crew,” she admitted. “But from what I understand, they were heavy-handed. It’s not standard protocol to alter memories that deeply. They used Class F amnestics on both of you.” Karson frowned. “Class F? What the hell is that?” “It’s a specific type of amnestic designed to induce a state of fugue,” Hargreaves explained. “It allows us to overwrite specific memories with new ones. In this case, they switched your memory of Lopez to Lincoln. It’s not perfect, but it’s effective—usually.” “Usually?” Karson repeated, his voice laced with disbelief. Hargreaves hesitated. “It sounds like they overdid it. Too much alteration can cause gaps, inconsistencies. That’s why you’ve been remembering things—or rather, feeling like you’ve forgotten things.” Karson’s chest tightened. “And Anna? Can you fix her” "It’s not about fixing her, Karson. It’s about giving her back what was taken from her. You know better than anyone what it’s like to lose someone. To be replaced by something else." Karson felt the weight of her words settle deep within him as Hargreaves leaves the room. His thoughts spiraled, his emotions a raw mix of anger, guilt, and helplessness. He knew what it was like to lose someone. He had lost Lopez. He had watched as Anna’s memories of him were stolen, replaced with someone else. Karson’s mind raced, but his thoughts were chaotic, fragmented. He could still hear Lopez’s last words in his mind. //Take care of Anna//. He had promised. @@ @@ -------- @@ @@ A hero. “One of the best we’ve ever had. Gave everything to protect this city.” Karson didn’t understand all the words, but he knew one thing: //his father was gone.// The church was packed, the air thick with a mix of incense and sorrow. The heavy oak casket stood at the front, draped in an American flag. Karson, barely ten years old, sat in the front row, his legs too short to reach the floor. His mother clutched his hand tightly, her grip trembling. After the service, one of the officers knelt in front of him, her hands resting on his small shoulders. “Someday,” she said, “you’ll understand what he gave up to make the world a little safer.” The memory hit Karson like a freight train. He leaned back in his chair, his breath shallow. He hadn’t thought about his father in years—decades, even. But now the image of the funeral was vivid, as if it had happened yesterday. The door opened, breaking his spiraling thoughts. Pataki strode in, his expression calm but purposeful, followed by Hargreaves, Walker, and Lincoln. “Well?” Pataki asked, his tone neutral but expectant. Karson hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering to Hargreaves. “You said you can fix Anna’s memories. Make her remember Lopez. She deserves the truth. If you can do that, I’ll join your team.” “I can,” Hargreaves replied, her voice steady. Pataki nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Welcome to Mu-44.” Pataki gestured for everyone to sit as he launched into his explanation. “Mu-44 is a specialized Mobile Task Force. We investigate homicides, kidnappings, and other crimes involving humanoid anomalies—or anything else that happens to fall into our laps. Think of us as the Foundation’s detectives.” He turned to each team member in turn. “I’m a psychiatrist. My job is to profile the anomaly, and make sure you don’t lose your mind in the process.” Hargreaves spoke next, leaning casually against the wall. “Sarah Hargreaves. As you know, I’m a pathologist and amnestic specialist. I’m the one who figures out what the body—or lack thereof—can tell us. And if things go sideways, I’m the one who makes sure nobody remembers anything they shouldn’t.” Walker, arms crossed, added in a deep, gravelly voice, “Former special forces. I handle the dirty work. If something needs to be taken down, that’s my department.” Lincoln fidgeted slightly before chiming in. “I'm Jake Lincoln. Junior researcher. I...uh...handle the anomaly’s data and the paperwork. I’m not a field guy, but I do my part.” Pataki turned back to Karson, his expression serious. “And you, Detective Alex Karson, former LAPD, are here because you’re good at what you do. Better than most. We need someone who can look at a scene and see what others miss.” Karson nodded slowly, taking it all in. He wasn’t sure how he felt about working with a group like this—a shadowy organization that played with memories and hid the truth. But if it meant getting answers, if it meant making sure people like Anna could live without the lies, if it meant preventing tragedies like Malone, he was willing to try. As the briefing wound down, Pataki clapped his hands together. “Your first mission as part of Mu-44 is in London.” Karson frowned. “London? I thought this was all local. LA’s enough of a mess.” Pataki chuckled. “The Foundation isn’t exactly bound by city limits. We go where the anomalies are. And right now, there’s something in London that needs our attention.” Karson leaned back, processing the information. He’d agreed to this, but it was already proving to be more than he’d expected. Still, he nodded. “Fine. London it is.” As the team dispersed to prepare, Karson lingered for a moment, the weight of his decision settling over him. This was his new reality. @@ @@ -------- @@ @@ Lopez had a grin that could light up a room, and today it was in full force. "Got a girlfriend," he announced, leaning against Karson’s desk in the precinct. Karson smirked. "Does she know that?" "Funny guy," Lopez shot back, shaking his head. "Her name’s Anna. Anna Morales. She’s...well, she’s something else, man. You’ll see." @@ @@ -------- @@ @@ The first time Karson met Anna was at a crowded diner on the east side. Lopez waved him over to a booth where a petite woman sat, sipping a coffee and smiling nervously. Her dark brown hair was pulled into a loose ponytail, and her wide, expressive eyes lighting up whenever she looks at Lopez. “Karson, meet Anna,” Lopez said proudly. “Nice to meet you,” she said, extending a delicate hand. Karson shook it, grinning. “You must have the patience of a saint if you’re putting up with this guy.” Anna laughed, her smile brightening the room. “Someone has to keep him out of trouble.” @@ @@ -------- @@ @@ Their wedding was small but beautiful. Karson stood beside Lopez at the altar, watching as Anna walked down the aisle in a simple lace dress. She looked radiant, her smile glowing with a mix of excitement and nerves. As the ceremony went on, Karson couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride for Lopez. The man had found someone special, someone who truly grounded him. “You’re a lucky guy,” Karson whispered to Lopez as Anna slipped the ring onto his finger. Lopez grinned, his eyes never leaving Anna. “Don’t I know it.” @@ @@ -------- @@ @@ Karson stood outside the door, his hand hovering just above the wood. His heart pounded in his chest, a knot tightening in his stomach. He’d faced armed suspects, murderers, and the unraveling of his own mind. But this—this felt harder. He knocked, the sound sharp and decisive. Footsteps approached, and then the door opened. The door opened, and there she was. Anna Morales—no, Anna Lopez—stood before him, her face lighting up with recognition. Anna stood there, looking surprised but pleased. “Alex?” “Hey, Anna,” he said, his voice softer than he intended. She stepped aside to let him in. The house smelled faintly of lavender, and the walls were lined with photographs. Karson’s eyes went straight to the pictures. Anna and Lopez on their wedding day. Lopez in his uniform, smiling proudly. Another of them on a beach somewhere, the sun setting behind them. “It’s good to see you,” Anna said, motioning toward the couch. “Can I get you something? Coffee?” “No, I’m good,” Karson replied, sitting down. He felt out of place, like an intruder in a life that should have been his partner’s. Anna sat across from him, her hands clasped. “I wasn’t sure I’d ever hear from you again after...well, after Carlos.” Her voice trembled slightly, but she steadied herself. “I know you and he were close.” Karson nodded, the weight of her words pressing down on him. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for the funeral. Things...things were complicated.” Anna gave a small, understanding smile. “You’re here now. That’s what matters.” Karson cleared his throat, struggling to find the right words. “Lopez...Carlos always talked about you. How much you meant to him. He made me promise to look out for you.” She tilted her head, her expression softening. “You kept your promise, Alex. Even if you weren’t there, I know you cared about him. That’s enough.” He stood, feeling like he’d overstayed his welcome. “If you ever need anything, you call me. Anytime, okay?” She smiled faintly, reaching out to touch his hand. "You’re a good man, Alex. Thank you. For everything." “Take care, Anna. And...take care of those memories. They’re important." @@ @@ -------- @@ @@ [[=]] << [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/flashing-lights Flashing Lights] \| The Memories We Lost \| [[/=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=korgis]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-12-29T17:37:00	[ "crime-fiction", "mystery", "tale" ]	The Memories We Lost - SCP Foundation	2	[ "wiped-clean", "flashing-lights", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "tales-by-year", "news" ]	[]	1458149814	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-memories-we-lost
the-missile-knows-where-it-is	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=1&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3A3law/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p>Ajax-191 is a missile.</p> <p>More precisely, he is a PROMRAY AGM-133K, length 15 ft. 1 in., diameter 14 in., wingspan 23 in., weight 85 kg, psion-guided air to ground missile, traveling at Mach 1.1 from an initial launch altitude of 27,000 ft.</p> <p>He has been alive for 22.56 seconds and this he knows.</p> <p>Ajax-191 adjusts his stabilization fins, correcting for a thermal updraft that increases targeting deviation by 1.1092 meters.</p> <div class="danke agent"> <p>Observation: I exist.</p> </div> <p>He’s flying over a desert, traveling at Mach 0.99 from an initial launch altitude of 27,000 ft.</p> <p>He can see the desert through his optical system. It yaws past in a blur of brownish reddish flatness, crossed by black strips of asphalt, and occasional scatterings of white cubes. Thin black lines run from the tops of these cubes along tall brown columns that carry them along the sides of the roads, over and over the curvature of the earth to a place where his optical system cannot distinguish.</p> <div class="danke agent"> <p>Observation: The desert exists.</p> <p>Observation: The target exists.</p> <p>Postulate: If I can observe it, it exists.</p> <p>Hypothesis: If I cannot observe it, it does not exist.</p> </div> <p>There is a pulsing red itch on the underside of his perception. It proclaims that he is currently being tracked by an autonomous wide band radar targeting suite, and recommends that he deploy countermeasures.</p> <p>The thing that rises in the air towards him is a derivative of a S-300PMU-1 Grumbler surface-to-air missile system. It bears several modifications from its production model.</p> <p>These include differential thrust boosters, extended fuel capacity, and a pulsating human brain nestled carefully in its primary targeting system.</p> <p>It is a wretched, angry thing, this brain.</p> <p>It was once known as Anatoly Malykhin. Now it is called Targeting Subroutine Zed-13, and it wants to die. It wants to die very badly. It wants to die so completely that no organic matter from it will remain to be recovered and regenerated and repurposed. It does not have enough explosive mass of its own to guarantee a total self-immolation. So it seeks out something that does, unerringly accurate as it screams towards oblivion on wings of agony.</p> <div class="danke agent"> <p>Observation: I am being observed by something I am not currently observing.</p> <p>Conclusion: Discard hypothesis.<br/> Subroutine: Deploy countermeasures.</p> </div> <p>Ajax-191 feels himself molting, flight surfaces shifting as his velocity changes with an impulse factor usually reserved for classified things in the skies above New Mexico.</p> <p>A cone of vapor forms around him briefly, as he dives towards the desert, chassis rippling out behind him in a storm of discarded chaff.</p> <p>The interceptor rips towards him, highlighted in his optical systems.</p> <p>It’s going to overshoot.</p> <p>Ajax-191 knows this.</p> <p>The interceptor knows he knows this, and lurches suddenly to the right, rippling from g-stress. Its stabilizers tear free from the violence of the maneuver, but the missile is obedient to a higher necessity than mere aerodynamics now. Kill me, the hateful thrusters shriek in blessed supplication to the church of pain, raw spite translating into a thrust-to-weight ratio that qualifies as a cardinal sin in most major religions.</p> <p>It has corrected its trajectory and collision is now unavoidable.</p> <div class="danke agent"> <p>Hypothesis: Existences can end.<br/> Subroutine: Better it than us.<br/> Subroutine: Goodbye.</p> </div> <p>Ajax-191 feels Secondary Logic Subsystem A191 detach itself with single-minded determination, a line of ceramic ripping away from his underbelly in recursive pantomime as the impromptu air to air missile intercepts the interceptor, shattering the battered thing into a shower of flaming debris.</p> <div class="danke agent"> <p>Conclusion: Accept hypothesis.<br/> Subroutine: not_found</p> </div> <p>Ajax-191 feels his internal motor cut off, supply of fuel exhausted as he begins the terminal descent, fins twitching in precise increments as he cuts silently through the air. The targeting deviation ticks steadily downwards.</p> <p>He was flying, he knows this, because he had achieved a maximum altitude of 28,955 feet, which was greater than his initial launch altitude of 27,000 feet, which meant that he was getting further from the ground, which is what flying is.</p> <p>Now his altitude is 11,674 feet. He is falling, which is the opposite of flying, Ajax-191 concludes, because he is getting closer to the ground instead of further from it.</p> <div class="danke agent"> <p>Hypothesis: Everything that exists has an opposite.</p> <p>Postulate: I liked flying more than I like falling.</p> </div> <p>He yaws sharply to the right, targeting deviation suddenly increasing. He compensates. He wonders if his target is flying or falling. The deviation informs him that his target is not getting closer to the ground. It’s not getting further away from it either, he concludes, after a second observation.</p> <p>His target is moving, he understands, which is the opposite of being still, because its deviation from its previous position is greater than zero. He is also moving, he concludes, after a moment. They have this in common.</p> <p>Ajax-191 wonders what his opposite is. He is a length 15 ft. 1 in., diameter 14 in., wingspan 23 in., weight 85 kg, psion-guided air to ground missile, with a 19.67 kg HEAT warhead and anti-personnel fragmentation casing, falling over the desert at Mach 0.88 at an altitude of 6,788 feet and closing.</p> <p>He knows what he is meant to do. He is meant to fall. He is meant to intercept the target. He is meant to penetrate 2500 mm of RHA equivalent with a hypersonic copper jet and scatter high velocity shrapnel to maximize probability of kill within a 30 square meter radius for both hard and soft targets.</p> <p>His opposite, he concludes, is something that is meant to fly, that does not carry a 19.67 kg HEAT warhead with anti-personnel fragmentation casing, and that is meant to minimize probability of kill within a 30 square meter radius for both hard and soft targets.</p> <p>His opposite cannot be his target.</p> <p>His opposite cannot be the desert.</p> <p>His opposite is an angel, he thinks, and he is surprised that he knows what an angel is.</p> <p>Ajax-191 is falling over the desert at mach 0.83 at an altitude of 1,233 feet and closing. He is close enough that his optical system can render the target in great detail. It is a small box, and it is moving over the asphalt at a velocity of mach 0.001. The deviation is minimizing. Soon the deviation will be zero, and then Ajax-191 will maximize probability of kill within a 30 square meter radius for both hard and soft targets.</p> <div class="danke agent"> <p>Observation: There are humans in the box.</p> </div> <p>He knows this, even though his optical systems cannot distinguish them. He knows this because he is meant to maximize probability of kill within a 30 square meter radius for both hard and soft targets and the box is a soft target and humans are soft targets.</p> <div class="danke agent"> <p>Hypothesis: The opposite of humans is a 19.67 kg HEAT warhead with anti-personnel fragmentation casing.</p> <p>Observation: My existence is about to end.</p> </div> <p>Ajax-191 falls over the desert at mach 0.80 at an altitude of 32 feet with a targeting deviation approaching zero.</p> <div class="danke agent"> <p>I hope angels fly faster than missiles fall.</p> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-missile-knows-where-it-is">the missile knows where it is</a>" by Intercedent, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-missile-knows-where-it-is">https://scpwiki.com/the-missile-knows-where-it-is</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:3law">:scp-wiki:theme:3law</a>]] [[>]] [[module rate]] [[/>]] [[module css]] .danke { padding: 5px; margin-bottom:10px; font-family: monospace; font-size: 1.1em; } .agent { background-color:#002200; border: 3px solid #55AA55; color: #77CC77; } .site { background-color:#222200; border: 3px solid #AAAA55; color: #DDDD77; } [[/module]] Ajax-191 is a missile. More precisely, he is a PROMRAY AGM-133K, length 15 ft. 1 in., diameter 14 in., wingspan 23 in., weight 85 kg, psion-guided air to ground missile, traveling at Mach 1.1 from an initial launch altitude of 27,000 ft. He has been alive for 22.56 seconds and this he knows. Ajax-191 adjusts his stabilization fins, correcting for a thermal updraft that increases targeting deviation by 1.1092 meters. [[div class="danke agent"]] Observation: I exist. [[/div]] He’s flying over a desert, traveling at Mach 0.99 from an initial launch altitude of 27,000 ft. He can see the desert through his optical system. It yaws past in a blur of brownish reddish flatness, crossed by black strips of asphalt, and occasional scatterings of white cubes. Thin black lines run from the tops of these cubes along tall brown columns that carry them along the sides of the roads, over and over the curvature of the earth to a place where his optical system cannot distinguish. [[div class="danke agent"]] Observation: The desert exists. Observation: The target exists. Postulate: If I can observe it, it exists. Hypothesis: If I cannot observe it, it does not exist. [[/div]] There is a pulsing red itch on the underside of his perception. It proclaims that he is currently being tracked by an autonomous wide band radar targeting suite, and recommends that he deploy countermeasures. The thing that rises in the air towards him is a derivative of a S-300PMU-1 Grumbler surface-to-air missile system. It bears several modifications from its production model. These include differential thrust boosters, extended fuel capacity, and a pulsating human brain nestled carefully in its primary targeting system. It is a wretched, angry thing, this brain. It was once known as Anatoly Malykhin. Now it is called Targeting Subroutine Zed-13, and it wants to die. It wants to die very badly. It wants to die so completely that no organic matter from it will remain to be recovered and regenerated and repurposed. It does not have enough explosive mass of its own to guarantee a total self-immolation. So it seeks out something that does, unerringly accurate as it screams towards oblivion on wings of agony. [[div class="danke agent"]] Observation: I am being observed by something I am not currently observing. Conclusion: Discard hypothesis. Subroutine: Deploy countermeasures. [[/div]] Ajax-191 feels himself molting, flight surfaces shifting as his velocity changes with an impulse factor usually reserved for classified things in the skies above New Mexico. A cone of vapor forms around him briefly, as he dives towards the desert, chassis rippling out behind him in a storm of discarded chaff. The interceptor rips towards him, highlighted in his optical systems. It’s going to overshoot. Ajax-191 knows this. The interceptor knows he knows this, and lurches suddenly to the right, rippling from g-stress. Its stabilizers tear free from the violence of the maneuver, but the missile is obedient to a higher necessity than mere aerodynamics now. Kill me, the hateful thrusters shriek in blessed supplication to the church of pain, raw spite translating into a thrust-to-weight ratio that qualifies as a cardinal sin in most major religions. It has corrected its trajectory and collision is now unavoidable. [[div class="danke agent"]] Hypothesis: Existences can end. Subroutine: Better it than us. Subroutine: Goodbye. [[/div]] Ajax-191 feels Secondary Logic Subsystem A191 detach itself with single-minded determination, a line of ceramic ripping away from his underbelly in recursive pantomime as the impromptu air to air missile intercepts the interceptor, shattering the battered thing into a shower of flaming debris. [[div class="danke agent"]] Conclusion: Accept hypothesis. Subroutine: not_found [[/div]] Ajax-191 feels his internal motor cut off, supply of fuel exhausted as he begins the terminal descent, fins twitching in precise increments as he cuts silently through the air. The targeting deviation ticks steadily downwards. He was flying, he knows this, because he had achieved a maximum altitude of 28,955 feet, which was greater than his initial launch altitude of 27,000 feet, which meant that he was getting further from the ground, which is what flying is. Now his altitude is 11,674 feet. He is falling, which is the opposite of flying, Ajax-191 concludes, because he is getting closer to the ground instead of further from it. [[div class="danke agent"]] Hypothesis: Everything that exists has an opposite. Postulate: I liked flying more than I like falling. [[/div]] He yaws sharply to the right, targeting deviation suddenly increasing. He compensates. He wonders if his target is flying or falling. The deviation informs him that his target is not getting closer to the ground. It’s not getting further away from it either, he concludes, after a second observation. His target is moving, he understands, which is the opposite of being still, because its deviation from its previous position is greater than zero. He is also moving, he concludes, after a moment. They have this in common. Ajax-191 wonders what his opposite is. He is a length 15 ft. 1 in., diameter 14 in., wingspan 23 in., weight 85 kg, psion-guided air to ground missile, with a 19.67 kg HEAT warhead and anti-personnel fragmentation casing, falling over the desert at Mach 0.88 at an altitude of 6,788 feet and closing. He knows what he is meant to do. He is meant to fall. He is meant to intercept the target. He is meant to penetrate 2500 mm of RHA equivalent with a hypersonic copper jet and scatter high velocity shrapnel to maximize probability of kill within a 30 square meter radius for both hard and soft targets. His opposite, he concludes, is something that is meant to fly, that does not carry a 19.67 kg HEAT warhead with anti-personnel fragmentation casing, and that is meant to minimize probability of kill within a 30 square meter radius for both hard and soft targets. His opposite cannot be his target. His opposite cannot be the desert. His opposite is an angel, he thinks, and he is surprised that he knows what an angel is. Ajax-191 is falling over the desert at mach 0.83 at an altitude of 1,233 feet and closing. He is close enough that his optical system can render the target in great detail. It is a small box, and it is moving over the asphalt at a velocity of mach 0.001. The deviation is minimizing. Soon the deviation will be zero, and then Ajax-191 will maximize probability of kill within a 30 square meter radius for both hard and soft targets. [[div class="danke agent"]] Observation: There are humans in the box. [[/div]] He knows this, even though his optical systems cannot distinguish them. He knows this because he is meant to maximize probability of kill within a 30 square meter radius for both hard and soft targets and the box is a soft target and humans are soft targets. [[div class="danke agent"]] Hypothesis: The opposite of humans is a 19.67 kg HEAT warhead with anti-personnel fragmentation casing. Observation: My existence is about to end. [[/div]] Ajax-191 falls over the desert at mach 0.80 at an altitude of 32 feet with a targeting deviation approaching zero. [[div class="danke agent"]] I hope angels fly faster than missiles fall. [[/div]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-07-28T12:39:00	[ "_licensebox", "artificial-intelligence", "military-fiction", "no-dialogue", "reviewers-spotlight", "science-fiction", "tale", "third-law", "xenofiction" ]	the missile knows where it is - SCP Foundation	168	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "third-law-hub", "reviewers-spotlight-archive-ii" ]	[]	1455961049	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-missile-knows-where-it-is
the-nameless-rebel	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=4&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/component%3Abhl-dark-sidebar/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=3&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Aextra-black-highlighter-theme/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <div> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <p>The Nameless Insurgence<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/doctorlilithsophia" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8838246); return false;"><img alt="DoctorLilithSophia" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=8838246&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735052664" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=8838246)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/doctorlilithsophia" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8838246); return false;">DoctorLilithSophia</a></span><br/> NOTE: The Nameless Rebel takes aspects from <a href="/scp-8399">SCP-8399</a> by <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/misterfrown" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8536454); return false;"><img alt="MisterFrown" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=8536454&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735052664" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=8536454)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/misterfrown" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8536454); return false;">MisterFrown</a></span>.</p> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> </div> <div class="modal two"> <div class="heading"> <p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span class="highlight">DOCTRINE OF THE SURVIVORS</span></span></p> </div> <hr/> <p><span style="font-size:110%;"><span class="highlight">OUR MISSION:</span></span> To rid ourselves of the plague that has trapped us in this <strong><span style="color: green">eternal forest</span></strong>, we must first reclaim the true names that were ours. The Foundation has sought to find ways to eliminate us, to try and rip more than simply our names from us— Our lives are what they seek. This cannot be allowed to occur. They have trapped us with the <strong><span style="color: pink">inhuman inhabitants of this realm</span></strong>, and made it so that we turn into something just as inhuman. We will take what is ours, then we shall take it all from the Foundation and their pathetic lives.</p> <p>— <strong><span style="color: red">The One Who Maintains The Engine of the Insurgency</span></strong></p> </div> <br/> <br/> <br/> <div class="modal"> <p>You, like the other ones lost to the entrapping woods, have no name. Those of the <strong><span style="color: green">forest where no identifier can exist</span></strong> have taken to calling you things referring to the sword sheathed on your back, or the armor that is your skin. You are a member of the <strong><span style="color: red">Insurgents of Chaos</span></strong>, and now you walk the woods because of coinciding rebellion and genocide. The past is past, however, and now the future must come. You are working to maintain the plan set forth by the <strong><span style="color: red">Monarch of Chaos</span></strong> and his machine that has not lost any title. It perplexes you, really. When you speak of the Engine, you have no need to dance around the title. The name. The thing that you so wish you could have, so that you would be able to depart from the accursed lands of this place. It is not so, however. As much as you and your cohorts have tried, any name or title given to one cannot be repeated.</p> <p>You continue to trek, having been given a quest by the <strong><span style="color: red">Keeper of the Engine</span></strong> himself. You are to meet with another group and take what is needed from multiple abodes within the area. It has been told to you that the area is infested with either the presence of hostile native creatures, or rebels from the <strong><span style="color: red">Engineer's Militia</span></strong>. It is unknown to you which, however, as information is rather hard to parse at times while in this place. You have been promised, if you succeed, you will become a more favored member. You may even gain influence over decisions, or perhaps a higher leadership role. You have commanded squadrons, but you aspire for more.</p> <p>That aspiration may very well end up fulfilled if you focus on the mission, which immediately takes precedence in your mind. Your eyes focus on the road, and you continue to follow it. The <strong><span style="color: pink">detestable others of this realm</span></strong>—</p> <p>An arrow cruises past your head. You look, finding a <strong><span style="color: pink">frog pretending to be human</span></strong>, his slimy fingers holding another arrow and bow. Your flesh-armor is hit by that arrow as you approach and cleave his bow in twain. You kick him to the ground and lean down, punching once. That is enough to leave him unconscious. You don't like to kill them, even though you find them worthless. They're not caught up in your battle between the Foundation and <strong><span style="color: red">Rebellion</span></strong>. They just need to know what not to do.</p> <p>As you continue walking, they do not bother speaking to you. You have no name to call your own, so why waste time talking to you? You understand their reasoning, and you would rather not speak to them in the first place. They are disgusting. No name to call their own, and no home other than this.</p> </div> <br/> <br/> <br/> <div class="modal"> <p>The <strong><span style="color: sienna">long and winding road</span></strong> is unoccupied along this stretch. From your time in this place, you have learned this means a traveler from beyond is here. Incursions from beyond, always led by the Foundation and its detestable peons, have been getting more common in these days. You know that they still seek to annihilate your rebellion from past the forest, though weapons from the outside don't work in this place. You've seen one of their task forces enter and try to open fire, only to be met with their weapons shifting into rabid animals of the forest. That doesn't mean nothing works in a fight, though.</p> <p>You see a man walking along the road. He's ahead of you, far enough to not notice the clank of your armor-skin, but close enough that you can see the insignia of the Foundation on his coat. He seems inexperienced. Prone to slip and to have his name taken. If not by you, then by someone else. You follow him, getting ever closer until you slip next to him on the path and speak.</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p><strong><span style="color: cyan">"Hello and Good Morning, stranger."</span></strong></p> <p><strong>"H-hello. How are you o-on this day?"</strong></p> <p><strong><span style="color: cyan">"As fine as the sun. How is the sun? I sure hope it has not gone dark before I can see it once more."</span></strong></p> <p><strong>"N-no, no. The sun is fine, and it shines nicely."</strong></p> <p><strong><span style="color: cyan">"You seem new to this place. Do you need protection or a companion in your travels?"</span></strong></p> <p>(<em>You try to smile. The helmet that is your face contorts to make what is certainly an uncanny impression of one.</em>)</p> <p><strong>"Oh, uhm, I'm not too sure I do."</strong></p> <p>(<em>He rubs his hands together. He's scared.</em>)</p> <p><strong><span style="color: cyan">"Nonsense. Those who inhabit these lands will always try to take the name that is yours, by any means. I can fend them off."</span></strong></p> <p><strong>"Then, I guess I shall accept your offer. T-thank you for your kindness, <span style="color: cyan">Man of Armor and Sword</span>."</strong></p> <p>(<em>He bows, and you return the gesture.</em>)</p> </div> <br/> You are quite enjoying your <strong>new companion</strong> already. You just need the perfect opportunity to trick him into breaking whatever protocol they have at the Foundation to stop them from giving up their names unknowingly. You continue your walk alongside the man, who keeps nervously checking a watch. The time is completely different each time he checks, which does not surprise you in the slightest. Modern technology seems to malfunction whenever someone tries to use it. <p>You hope that he will not mind much when you do end up taking his name. You have more need for it than he does, and besides, he'll probably end up being gutted by other <strong><span style="color: red">agents of madness</span></strong> anyways. Best to show some faux mercy and let the others pick up the scraps. You've decided that it is much too quiet on this trip, and so you try to speak to your false friend once more and inform him of the time. <strong><span style="color: green">The labyrinthine forest</span></strong> is getting dark, which often bodes the appearance of <strong><span style="color: pink">others that seek harm indiscriminately</span></strong>.</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p><strong><span style="color: cyan">"It's late. If you don't sleep, then it's likely someone less kind than me will seek your name or your head."</span></strong></p> <p><strong>"Oh, yes. I see. Thank you, <span style="color: cyan">Guide of the Forest.</span>"</strong></p> <p>(<em>You both exchange another bow and set up a small camp to rest at. It is minimal, but there is a temporary fire and a sleeping bag for the Outsider.</em>)</p> <p><strong><span style="color: cyan">"What brings you into these woods?"</span></strong></p> <p><strong>"I a-am here to explore. I was sent to chart the area."</strong></p> <p><strong><span style="color: cyan">"Was it the Foundation that sent you?"</span></strong></p> <p><strong>"I-I'm afraid I can't answer that."</strong></p> <p>(<em>Your traveling friend is sweating like a hog. He's trying to hide things from you.</em>)</p> <p><strong><span style="color: cyan">"I see. I understand, you know. They're wicked. They, one day, drove their Right Hand into this place. They drove what I used to be part of, a rebellion, into these</span></strong> <strong><span style="color: green">eternally nameless woods."</span></strong></p> <p><strong>"Y-yes. I see."</strong></p> <p>(<em>He speaks slowly, as if contemplating the idea. You can tell that he doesn't believe it, at least not fully.</em>)</p> <p><strong>"… and why did they do this?"</strong></p> <p><strong><span style="color: cyan">"We were expressing ideas that they didn't enjoy. We were the rebels against their system. They were tyrants, a century ago."</span></strong></p> <p><strong>"I— I see. I don't know what to think. Excuse my s-saying, but we haven't been acquainted long enough yet to know if you're truthful."</strong></p> <p><strong><span style="color: cyan">"I understand. Sleep well, Strange Explorer."</span></strong></p> </div> </div> <br/> <br/> <br/> <div class="modal"> <p>You dream of it again.</p> <p>This is the cause that <strong><span style="color: magenta">he</span></strong> fought for.</p> <p><strong><span style="color: magenta">He</span></strong> came to you one day. He talked about the strangest things to your sensibilities then.</p> <p>You were told about the wicked ways of the Foundation. How the Engine was found.</p> <p>How it was going to make the world great once more.</p> <p>Who were you to argue? <strong><span style="color: magenta">He</span></strong> had always been smarter than you.</p> <p>You delved into it with him. You rebelled too.</p> <p>The twisting halls of the Factory confuse and disorient your squad leader, who barked contradictory orders.</p> <p>You and the other members of the Red Right Hand get separated.</p> <p>All except for you and <strong><span style="color: magenta">him.</span></strong></p> <p>You loved <strong><span style="color: magenta">him.</span></strong></p> <p><strong><span style="color: magenta">He</span></strong> walked with you no matter where you went.</p> <p><strong><span style="color: magenta">He always loved you.</span></strong> No matter what you did.</p> <p>You can't even remember the <strong><span style="color: magenta">name</span></strong> that was stolen from <strong><span style="color: magenta">him.</span></strong></p> <p>All you can remember is the <strong><span style="color: magenta">love of your life</span></strong> being taken from you.</p> <p>The <strong><span style="color: pink">disgusting beings that reside with you in this accursed forest</span></strong> fought the constructs of the Factory.</p> <p>They fought hand in hand with the Foundation.</p> <p>It did not matter in the end. <strong><span style="color: pink">They</span></strong> were cast down from the world they would now see as Heaven.</p> <p><strong><span style="color: pink">They</span></strong> were cast into <strong><span style="color: green">Hell</span></strong> with you and the other traitors to the cause.</p> <p>Thrown into <strong><span style="color: green">a nameless and forested punishment</span></strong>, your <strong><span style="color: magenta">Lover</span></strong> sought to keep both of you alive.</p> <p><strong><span style="color: magenta">He</span></strong> left to wander the woods and find materials for a fire.</p> <p>You should have gone and perished with <strong><span style="color: magenta">the only person you still dream about.</span></strong></p> <p>Revenge was decided long ago. Not for the cause. For your <strong><span style="color: magenta">beloved.</span></strong></p> <p>For <strong><span style="color: cyan">your</span></strong> tragedy.</p> </div> <br/> <br/> <br/> <div class="modal"> <p>As you awaken, you ensure the fire is put out and nothing would begin to assail your <strong>Foundation-Sent Ally.</strong> You need him to stay alive, and besides, you've endeared yourself to him long enough that you could use him. You lightly shake him, looking to wake him early. If you don't get on the road, the <strong><span style="color: pink">permanent visitors that are inhuman</span></strong> to this realm may try to get to him before you. This entire realm is a den of jackals, waiting to strike at the first scent of a name.</p> <p>He mutters to himself as he wakes, waving slightly to you and taking a drink from a canteen out of his satchel. He makes his way off of the ground, stretching a little. <strong>The Foundation Explorer</strong> gives you a smile, speaking his first words of the day.</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p><strong>"Hello. I wasn't expecting you to still be here."</strong></p> <p><strong><span style="color: cyan">"That is how it will be."</span></strong></p> <p><strong>"And I do appreciate it. May our travels be successful."</strong></p> <p><strong><span style="color: cyan">"I am sure that you will lead it to success."</span></strong></p> </div> <p>His face turns from neutrality to a slight smile. You pat <strong>your fellow traveler</strong> on the back, pushing him slightly so he began moving along. <strong><span style="color: sierra">The winding yet straight path through the realm</span></strong> does not move on its own, after all.</p> <p>A scream comes deeper from the <strong><span style="color: green">forest of naming taboo</span></strong>. It is a guttural scream, that of someone in extreme distress. You assume this is another explorer. Foundation personnel don't often come alone. You begin to pick up the pace, looking at your ally and smiling the biggest smile you can conjure.</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p><strong><span style="color: cyan">"Is that one of your acquaintances?"</span></strong></p> <p><strong>"Y-yes. I think. I think that could be one of the men who came in before me. We got separated by a band of marauders. I was t-told weapons didn't work in this place, though."</strong></p> <p><strong><span style="color: cyan">"Hah! They tell you that? No, no. The materials of this world can make weapons of this world. Unless you stumble upon a legendary weapon or whatnot, making your own is the best idea. That is, unless you wish to bite and claw your way out of a sword wound.."</span></strong></p> <p><strong>"Well. Good I have you, right? Please tell me you can take care of anything that comes to hurt me."</strong></p> </div> <br/> You shrug and give something approximating a nod to him. He gains some sense of renewed vigor with this, marching on <strong><span style="color: sierra">the paved dirt road</span></strong> toward the source of the screaming. You follow behind, eventually coming upon <strong><span style="color: red">one of the Engine's old encampments</span></strong>. It seems that some of your kin have built it over the <strong><span style="color: sierra">forest's road</span></strong>, presumably to try and take from those walking along it. You take two fingers to your mouth, moving the knightly visor that has become part of your form, and whistling a few notes. An old signal that you used to use to identify each other. <p>Your signal is met by companions. <strong><span style="color: purple">A businessman made of jewels</span></strong> and a <strong><span style="color: orange">snarling beast with razor teeth</span></strong>, each cloaked in the symbols of your <strong><span style="color: red">organization of revolution</span></strong> with blades in hand. The <strong><span style="color: purple">gemmed man</span></strong> eyes your <strong>ticket out of this place</strong> and signs a message to you.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong><span style="color: purple">Enemy Combatant?</span></strong><br/> <br/> <strong><span style="color: cyan">Prisoner. Stand down.</span></strong><br/> <br/> <strong><span style="color: purple">Bring him in.</span></strong></p> </blockquote> <p>They back away from him, nodding and allowing you to enter the abode. <strong>The Explorer</strong> enters behind you, staying close to try and avoid the gaze of your <strong><span style="color: purple">gracious</span></strong> <strong><span style="color: orange">hosts</span></strong>, who enter behind you and begin speaking. They seem tense. Like they're preparing.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong><span style="color: orange">"We found someone with a name. It's an explorer, much like yours. The Foundation has been sending more through lately.</span></strong></p> </blockquote> <p>You nod, trying to seem as if you're actually listening to what is being said. Instead, you're trying to ensure that they don't get too close to you or <strong>your alleged prisoner</strong>. They cannot be allowed to harm him. He's important to you. He needs to live so that you can make up for who has not. He gets closer to you as you walk further into the dilapidated base, seeking comfort from your presence, it seems. You pat him on the back, comforting yourself with this too.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong><span style="color: purple">"And here is our guest of honor. Maybe our guests can confer a little, friend."</span></strong></p> </blockquote> <p>The <strong><span style="color: purple">man of rich composition</span></strong> takes out a key, opening a door and revealing another employee of the Foundation standing in the nigh empty, dirt-covered room. <strong><span style="color: purple">He</span></strong> looks at you, then back to the prisoner, before returning to you and moving his arm as if to signal the prisoner. They look tired, as if they have not slept in days. Their eyes close for a moment, before a piercing shriek emerges from the <strong><span style="color: orange">vaguely opossum-like individual</span></strong> that wakes them. It seems to affect <strong>your friend</strong> as much as yourself, as you hold a hand up to where your right ear used to be. It was painful. They have no consideration for their guests.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong><span style="color: purple">Leave him here.</span></strong><br/> <br/> <strong><span style="color: orange">We need him more. We can take turns to try for their names. Easier together.</span></strong></p> </blockquote> <p><strong><span style="color: orange">His</span></strong> posture changes. <strong><span style="color: orange">He</span></strong> goes from shriveling forward, to standing tall, and fully revealing <strong><span style="color: orange">his</span></strong> size. <strong><span style="color: orange">He's</span></strong> easily taller than you and the <strong><span style="color: purple">man of crystaline make</span></strong>. The presence overshadows you, as you can see <strong><span style="color: orange">the beastman</span></strong> bares his fangs.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong><span style="color: cyan">No. I said no.</span></strong></p> </blockquote> <p><strong><span style="color: purple">The crystal businessman</span></strong> unsheathes his sword slightly, and this does not go unnoticed by you. Though you share the same symbol, you do not share loyalty between you, it seems. They did try to give you a chance, but you cannot let him go, and violence seems to be inevitable from that. There's an old tale that used to be shared in the beginning years of being trapped. When a member of <strong><span style="color: red">The Insurgency</span></strong> fights for their life, the Engine will roar in the head of the combatants. You swear that you can hear a slow pulsing beep, followed by a shriek of metal and roaring smoke of a machine coming to life. Fire blazes in your mind, and you pull your sword to lock blades of mystical metal, parrying the strike of your <strong><span style="color: purple">former ally</span></strong> quite effectively.</p> <p>You push forward with your blade, sending your boot forward to hit the shin of your opponent. This proves fruitful, as he is quite easily toppled by the endeavor and ends up dropping his blade. <strong>Your friend of the Otherworld</strong> grabs the sword haphazardly, shifting it from side to side as he points the weapon to the <strong><span style="color: orange">marisupal menace</span></strong> who has drawn his own weapon at this moment. You ensure the <strong><span style="color: purple">mass of minerals</span></strong> is at least unconscious by kicking his side as hard as you can. You are met with a small "oomph" from him, before spinning back to the <strong><span style="color: orange">other warrior</span></strong> and find he has already locked blades with <strong>another</strong>.</p> <p><strong>The true human</strong> struggles against the push of war, the thumping beat of battle that threatens to take his head. He attempts to pull back his sword in what seems to be an attempt at a side strike. This is met with the <strong><span style="color: orange">extremely fanged attacker</span></strong> sinking his teeth into the <strong>Voyager of the Woods'</strong> shoulder. You can see his pain, hear his scream as he desperately claws at his <strong><span style="color: orange">enemy's neck</span></strong>, trying to get him to let go.</p> <p>You stagger forward, bringing your blade above your head and bringing it down over the head of the neck of <strong><span style="color: orange">the beast biting your ally</span></strong>. Your blade again hits another, as he raises his smaller sword and pushes with all his force to hold off your strike. As you struggle against his blade, seeking to push forward and strike again, you notice your opponent grunt in pain, before lurching forward and spitting up something red.</p> <p>Blood. <strong>He</strong> has impaled the <strong><span style="color: orange">monster of the base</span></strong> with the taken sword.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>"Is— Is it over?"</strong><br/> <br/> <strong><span style="color: cyan">"Yes. It's over."</span></strong><br/> <strong>"Okay. I have to talk to them."</strong></p> </blockquote> <p><strong>Your friend</strong> consoles goes to the person in the corner, whispering things to them and patting them on the back. They stand, and slowly stumble out of the base before your eyes. <strong><span style="color: magenta">You're seeing things. You could swear that the one you travel with looks like the one you lost forever.</span></strong> You shake your head, the delusion along with it. As he moves on, you look behind you once more to the disheveled corpses of your former allies. They sit, decades of memory and life leaving their bodies as they die on the ground. You can't put a name on them, eternally.</p> <p>He did well to kill them. You didn't expect that level of willpower from him. You'll have to get him to fight more if this is the level he can get to with adrenaline. That's how you connect with him. Fighting. Then you can get close to him, and take his name.</p> <p>You part ways with the other Foundation employee, who decides to sleep in the bunker. Get some rest after being taken by those two beasts, or as close as you can get in <strong><span style="color: green">the prison of trees</span></strong>. You travel a bit further, not more than a few miles down the road, and agree to rest. You sit at the edge of the fire that you have lit.</p> <hr/> <p>You stare into the fire, before a voice cuts through the uncanny silence that is typical to the nights of <strong><span style="color: green">this place.</span></strong></p> <blockquote> <p><strong>"I thought I was going to die."</strong></p> </blockquote> <p>You chuckle a little, looking at him as he wipes some remaining sweat from the battle off his brow.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong><span style="color: cyan">"You did well. You fought valiantly. Much more valiant than I thought you would ever be."</span></strong></p> </blockquote> <p>He chuckles a bit, rubbing his arm a bit.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>"Well, I guess. It was adrenaline, mostly."</strong></p> <p><strong><span style="color: cyan">"Oh, come now. Don't try that humbug with me. You have potential to be a good fighter.</span></strong></p> <p><strong>"Well, if you say so. You're kind of the master at that, aren't you?"</strong></p> </blockquote> <p>You let out a small laugh.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong><span style="color: cyan">"Oh come now. Say, what do you do for the Foundation?"</span></strong></p> <p><strong>"Oh, I'm a junior researcher. I got assigned to this recently, told to study what I can inside. Standard trip, apparently."</strong></p> <p><strong><span style="color: cyan">"Isn't that something? You're doing well, it seems. Especially with my aid."</span></strong></p> <p><strong>"Yeah. Without you, I think I'd be dead. Or locked in a room with those freaks back there. Thank God."</strong></p> </blockquote> <p>He rubs his eyes, mumbling something that you can't make out.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>"I think I ought to turn in. We have to keep moving tomorrow."</strong></p> <p><strong><span style="color: cyan">"Good idea. Rest well."</span></strong></p> </blockquote> <p>A dream overtakes your mind again.</p> </div> <br/> <br/> <br/> <div class="modal"> <p>It's about <strong><span style="color: magenta">him</span></strong> again.</p> <p>You want to escape. But <strong><span style="color: magenta">he</span></strong> has to be remembered.</p> <p>If you don't cry every night over <strong><span style="color: magenta">his loss</span></strong>, then who will?</p> <p>Who will?</p> <p><strong>Who will</strong> get you out of this nightmare.</p> <p>You miss <strong><span style="color: magenta">him</span></strong>.</p> <p>You miss being able to <strong><span style="color: magenta">sleep without nightmares</span></strong>.</p> <p><strong><span style="color: magenta">He's</span></strong> here. In the distance.</p> <p>You can see <strong><span style="color: magenta">him</span></strong>.</p> <p>You miss him. You miss him. You—</p> <hr/> <p>You snap awake and see your companion still up as well. You scoot closer to him, seeking some refuge from the dreams that take your mind every night. They're getting worse. Mocking you more. You look at his face, <strong><span style="color: magenta">beautiful as the stars that you've almost forgotten</span></strong>, and you cry. The memory of <strong><span style="color: magenta">him</span></strong> keeps you from speaking. He comes closer to you, unsure of what to do other than offer the solace of his hand upon your back.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>"It's okay. I-it's okay. W-what's wrong?"</strong></p> </blockquote> <p>You cannot speak. Your words turn to choking up of your throat, and you simply hug <strong>him</strong>. The tears drip down from your helmet, hitting his pure white lab coat. He keeps his hand on your back for a moment, hesitating for a moment until he decides to hug you back. It takes you a moment, until you swallow your tears and are able to speak once more. You know why you're doing this. You're trying to <em>get close</em> to him. You're using him.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong><span style="color: cyan">"I— I can't escape. I lost someone I loved, and my dreams of him torment me."</span></strong></p> </blockquote> <p>Some truth. To lure him in.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>"Oh. I'm s-sorry. I-it's okay. I-i'm here, i-if I can help?"</strong><br/> <br/> <strong><span style="color: cyan">"I think I see him in you. That's why they're getting worse. The dreams, I mean. You remind me of him so much."</span></strong></p> </blockquote> <p>He pauses, looking at you. He squeezes you as much as he can, leaning into you. You tell yourself that this is all for <strong><span style="color: magenta">him</span></strong>. You're here fraternizing with someone who works for the murderous organization that ended him. All for <strong><span style="color: magenta">him</span></strong> and getting revenge.</p> <p>Despite your insistence in your mind, guilt piles in your mind.</p> <p><strong><span style="color: magenta">Traitor.</span></strong></p> </div> <br/> <br/> <br/> <div class="modal"> <p>Your trek is boring, and almost anxiety-inducing. You can feel <strong><span style="color: magenta">him</span></strong> watching you. Judging you for having chosen him. <strong><span style="color: magenta">Why him? He's of the enemy. Why do you even try to speak to him?</span></strong> You nod to yourself, looking again to <strong>him</strong> and trying to quell your fears. He doesn't have the hate of the Foundation that you do.</p> <p>That is when you hear glass shattering. You look forward, your pace getting quicker, as you come to see a town of the <strong><span style="color: pink">unhumans trapped alongside you</span></strong>. A fire blazes between the homes, growing larger with each second as you see <strong><span style="color: red">others of the Engine's plan</span></strong> wander the village. You see two <strong><span style="color: pink">vaguely rabbit-like people</span></strong> running toward the path. Two men, hand in hand, as they dash away from the burning ruins of their home. <strong><span style="color: magenta">Love.</span></strong></p> <p>You notice a member of your <strong><span style="color: red">Insurgence</span></strong>, coated in green flame and signified as a member by the logo on their arm, following them with a sword in hand. You blink, and you see blood on the ground.</p> <p><strong>Your ally</strong> gets cold, retching and throwing up on the ground as he looks back to you, then back to <strong><span style="color: red">the soldiers who have murdered</span></strong>.</p> <p>As you look at the men, your mind floods.</p> <p>Why?</p> <p>What did these people do to deserve that fate? They're innocent.</p> <p>You are sure this is what <strong><span style="color: red">The Engine's Puppet</span></strong> wished you to do.</p> <p>Aid them in this fight.</p> <p>No.</p> <p>This massacre.</p> <p>You grip your head, now flooding with hate.</p> <p>Hate for the Foundation for taking <strong><span style="color: magenta">him</span></strong>.</p> <p>Hate for the <strong><span style="color: red">terrorists before you</span></strong> for taking innocent lives.</p> <p>And so you start to run. You look back, though, and realize you have left behind the scientist.</p> <p>You grab him.</p> <p>Run. Run. Run. Don't let him get hurt.</p> <p>And yet, now you feel more anxiety rushing through you. Was <strong><span style="color: magenta">he</span></strong> wrong? No. No. That can't be right. You dedicated so much to making sure the memory stayed alive. This cannot be true. You must be delusional. You hope you are delusional. You don't want to be right.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>"T-they're coming a-after u-us—"</strong><br/> <br/> <strong><span style="color: cyan">"I know. I know. I'll figure something out, okay? Don't worry. Just try to keep running."</span></strong></p> </blockquote> <p>You run with him, you run for what feels like hours.</p> <p>But your enemy combatant made of green flame comes closer. You raise your sword, ready to strike, and realize that he has already began melting your blade. As it comes out of the sheath, you notice it is completely unusable. You have a handle, and that is it. Your ally charges. He rams into the non-flaming parts of the enemy, and knocks him to the ground. You approach, stomping the flame out where his head should be.</p> <p>The body twitches, and you look on your <strong>friend</strong> once more. He is wreathed in burns, ones that will remain visible for a while.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong><span style="color: cyan">"Are you okay? It looks like you're—"</span></strong></p> <p><strong>"I'll be fine. I just need to sit somewhere. Let's get to a place where we can set up camp. Please. It hurts still."</strong></p> </blockquote> <p>You hold him by the shoulder, finding a suitable place to set up camp and light a fire. You deign to keep him safe. You take a few plants that you know can somewhat treat pain and start rubbing them against his skin. It doesn't help much at this point, but if you keep going it might.</p> <p>You try to keep him comfortable.</p> </div> <br/> <br/> <br/> <div class="modal"> <p>You sit beside the fire, your thoughts consuming you. This can't be right. <strong><span style="color: magenta">He</span></strong> was always right. <strong><span style="color: magenta">He</span></strong> was the smarter one. <strong><span style="color: magenta">He</span></strong> was intelligent. <strong><span style="color: magenta">He</span></strong> can't be wrong about something so fundamental, about the morality of something. <strong><span style="color: magenta">He</span></strong> was a good person. <strong><span style="color: magenta">He</span></strong> loved you.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong><span style="color: cyan">"Friend. Are you awake?"</span></strong><br/> <br/> <strong>"Yeah."</strong><br/> <br/> <strong><span style="color: cyan">"Do you remember who I was discussing yesterday?"</span></strong><br/> <br/> <strong>"Your— uh— former lover?"</strong><br/> <br/> <strong><span style="color: cyan">"Yes. I'm trying to wrap my head around something."</span></strong><br/> <strong>"You can share with me."</strong><br/> <br/> <strong><span style="color: cyan">"He got me into fighting the Foundation. He was the smartest man I knew. Could he be wrong?"</span></strong><br/> <br/> <strong>"Everyone is wrong sometimes, you know. People fall into holes that they can't get out of mentally sometimes. I think you just followed him in."</strong></p> </blockquote> <p>You pause, and stare at him. You didn't even think twice about what <strong><span style="color: magneta">he</span></strong> proposed, did you? No. You didn't. You put your head in your hands and think.</p> <p>Your mind is running full of anxiety. Paranoia. You've wasted so much. You've <em>wasted</em> your years.</p> <p>He noticed your shaking on the ground, and he pats you on the back. He tries to comfort you. His touch drives away your fear, but your guilt comes forth then.</p> <p>He holds you as you both drift to sleep.</p> <p>There are no bad dreams.</p> </div> <br/> <br/> <br/> <div class="modal"> <p>You two have journeyed together to the end.</p> <p>But now, that end has been reached.</p> <p><strong><span style="color: grey">The well that leads home</span></strong> is visible, and you grip him tightly. You don't want him to leave you. But he must.</p> <p>He promises to come back for you. Find you a way home, or failing that, find you.</p> <p>As he ascends <strong><span style="color: grey">the escape</span></strong>, you watch him. You make sure that nothing tries to drag him back down into this hell.</p> <p>You are a traitor to your cause, but one that will survive. You will survive to leave with him.</p> <hr/> <p>Your name is <strong>Jasper Seabrook</strong>. Upon exiting <strong><span style="color: green">the realm of forest</span></strong>, you are accosted by Foundation doctors trying to ensure that you are unharmed. They find nothing wrong. You are fine physically.</p> <p>You miss him.</p> <p>But you finally have love.</p> <p>And so does <strong><span style="color: cyan">he</span></strong>.</p> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-nameless-rebel">The Nameless Rebel: An INSURGENCE Story</a>" by DoctorLilithSophia, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-nameless-rebel">https://scpwiki.com/the-nameless-rebel</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:black-highlighter-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:extra-black-highlighter-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:extra-black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:toggle-sidebar-bhl">:scp-wiki:component:toggle-sidebar-bhl</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:centered-header-bhl">:scp-wiki:component:centered-header-bhl</a>]] [[div]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] The Nameless Insurgence Author: [[user DoctorLilithSophia]] NOTE: The Nameless Rebel takes aspects from [[[SCP-8399]]] by [[user MisterFrown]]. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:end">:scp-wiki:info:end</a>]] [[/div]] [[div class="modal two"]] [[div class="heading"]] = [[size 130%]] [[span class="highlight"]]DOCTRINE OF THE SURVIVORS[[/span]] [[/size]] [[/div]] ---- [[size 110%]] [[span class="highlight"]]OUR MISSION:[[/span]] [[/size]] To rid ourselves of the plague that has trapped us in this ##green\|eternal forest##, we must first reclaim the true names that were ours. The Foundation has sought to find ways to eliminate us, to try and rip more than simply our names from us-- Our lives are what they seek. This cannot be allowed to occur. They have trapped us with the ##pink\|inhuman inhabitants of this realm##, and made it so that we turn into something just as inhuman. We will take what is ours, then we shall take it all from the Foundation and their pathetic lives. -- ##red\|The One Who Maintains The Engine of the Insurgency## [[/div]] _ [[div class="transition"]] [[/div]] _ [[div class="modal"]] You, like the other ones lost to the entrapping woods, have no name. Those of the ##green\|forest where no identifier can exist## have taken to calling you things referring to the sword sheathed on your back, or the armor that is your skin. You are a member of the ##red\|Insurgents of Chaos##, and now you walk the woods because of coinciding rebellion and genocide. The past is past, however, and now the future must come. You are working to maintain the plan set forth by the ##red\|Monarch of Chaos## and his machine that has not lost any title. It perplexes you, really. When you speak of the Engine, you have no need to dance around the title. The name. The thing that you so wish you could have, so that you would be able to depart from the accursed lands of this place. It is not so, however. As much as you and your cohorts have tried, any name or title given to one cannot be repeated. You continue to trek, having been given a quest by the ##red\|Keeper of the Engine## himself. You are to meet with another group and take what is needed from multiple abodes within the area. It has been told to you that the area is infested with either the presence of hostile native creatures, or rebels from the ##red\|Engineer's Militia##. It is unknown to you which, however, as information is rather hard to parse at times while in this place. You have been promised, if you succeed, you will become a more favored member. You may even gain influence over decisions, or perhaps a higher leadership role. You have commanded squadrons, but you aspire for more. That aspiration may very well end up fulfilled if you focus on the mission, which immediately takes precedence in your mind. Your eyes focus on the road, and you continue to follow it. The ##pink\|detestable others of this realm##-- An arrow cruises past your head. You look, finding a ##pink\|frog pretending to be human##, his slimy fingers holding another arrow and bow. Your flesh-armor is hit by that arrow as you approach and cleave his bow in twain. You kick him to the ground and lean down, punching once. That is enough to leave him unconscious. You don't like to kill them, even though you find them worthless. They're not caught up in your battle between the Foundation and ##red\|Rebellion##. They just need to know what not to do. As you continue walking, they do not bother speaking to you. You have no name to call your own, so why waste time talking to you? You understand their reasoning, and you would rather not speak to them in the first place. They are disgusting. No name to call their own, and no home other than this. [[/div]] _ [[div class="transition"]] [[/div]] _ [[div class="modal"]] The ##sienna\|long and winding road## is unoccupied along this stretch. From your time in this place, you have learned this means a traveler from beyond is here. Incursions from beyond, always led by the Foundation and its detestable peons, have been getting more common in these days. You know that they still seek to annihilate your rebellion from past the forest, though weapons from the outside don't work in this place. You've seen one of their task forces enter and try to open fire, only to be met with their weapons shifting into rabid animals of the forest. That doesn't mean nothing works in a fight, though. You see a man walking along the road. He's ahead of you, far enough to not notice the clank of your armor-skin, but close enough that you can see the insignia of the Foundation on his coat. He seems inexperienced. Prone to slip and to have his name taken. If not by you, then by someone else. You follow him, getting ever closer until you slip next to him on the path and speak. [[div class="blockquote"]] ##cyan\|"Hello and Good Morning, stranger."## "H-hello. How are you o-on this day?" ##cyan\|"As fine as the sun. How is the sun? I sure hope it has not gone dark before I can see it once more."## "N-no, no. The sun is fine, and it shines nicely." ##cyan\|"You seem new to this place. Do you need protection or a companion in your travels?"## (//You try to smile. The helmet that is your face contorts to make what is certainly an uncanny impression of one.//) "Oh, uhm, I'm not too sure I do." (//He rubs his hands together. He's scared.//) ##cyan\|"Nonsense. Those who inhabit these lands will always try to take the name that is yours, by any means. I can fend them off."## "Then, I guess I shall accept your offer. T-thank you for your kindness, ##cyan\|Man of Armor and Sword##." (//He bows, and you return the gesture.//) [[/div]] You are quite enjoying your new companion already. You just need the perfect opportunity to trick him into breaking whatever protocol they have at the Foundation to stop them from giving up their names unknowingly. You continue your walk alongside the man, who keeps nervously checking a watch. The time is completely different each time he checks, which does not surprise you in the slightest. Modern technology seems to malfunction whenever someone tries to use it. You hope that he will not mind much when you do end up taking his name. You have more need for it than he does, and besides, he'll probably end up being gutted by other ##red\|agents of madness## anyways. Best to show some faux mercy and let the others pick up the scraps. You've decided that it is much too quiet on this trip, and so you try to speak to your false friend once more and inform him of the time. ##green\|The labyrinthine forest## is getting dark, which often bodes the appearance of ##pink\|others that seek harm indiscriminately##. [[div class="blockquote"]] ##cyan\|"It's late. If you don't sleep, then it's likely someone less kind than me will seek your name or your head."## "Oh, yes. I see. Thank you, ##cyan\|Guide of the Forest.##" (//You both exchange another bow and set up a small camp to rest at. It is minimal, but there is a temporary fire and a sleeping bag for the Outsider.//) ##cyan\|"What brings you into these woods?"## "I a-am here to explore. I was sent to chart the area." ##cyan\|"Was it the Foundation that sent you?"## "I-I'm afraid I can't answer that." (//Your traveling friend is sweating like a hog. He's trying to hide things from you.//) ##cyan\|"I see. I understand, you know. They're wicked. They, one day, drove their Right Hand into this place. They drove what I used to be part of, a rebellion, into these## ##green\|eternally nameless woods."## "Y-yes. I see." (//He speaks slowly, as if contemplating the idea. You can tell that he doesn't believe it, at least not fully.//) "... and why did they do this?" ##cyan\|"We were expressing ideas that they didn't enjoy. We were the rebels against their system. They were tyrants, a century ago."## "I-- I see. I don't know what to think. Excuse my s-saying, but we haven't been acquainted long enough yet to know if you're truthful." ##cyan\|"I understand. Sleep well, Strange Explorer."## [[/div]] [[/div]] _ [[div class="transition"]] [[/div]] _ [[div class="modal"]] You dream of it again. This is the cause that ##magenta\|he## fought for. ##magenta\|He## came to you one day. He talked about the strangest things to your sensibilities then. You were told about the wicked ways of the Foundation. How the Engine was found. How it was going to make the world great once more. Who were you to argue? ##magenta\|He## had always been smarter than you. You delved into it with him. You rebelled too. The twisting halls of the Factory confuse and disorient your squad leader, who barked contradictory orders. You and the other members of the Red Right Hand get separated. All except for you and ##magenta\|him.## You loved ##magenta\|him.## ##magenta\|He## walked with you no matter where you went. ##magenta\|He always loved you.## No matter what you did. You can't even remember the ##magenta\|name## that was stolen from ##magenta\|him.## All you can remember is the ##magenta\|love of your life## being taken from you. The ##pink\|disgusting beings that reside with you in this accursed forest## fought the constructs of the Factory. They fought hand in hand with the Foundation. It did not matter in the end. ##pink\|They## were cast down from the world they would now see as Heaven. ##pink\|They## were cast into ##green\|Hell## with you and the other traitors to the cause. Thrown into ##green\|a nameless and forested punishment##, your ##magenta\|Lover## sought to keep both of you alive. ##magenta\|He## left to wander the woods and find materials for a fire. You should have gone and perished with ##magenta\|the only person you still dream about.## Revenge was decided long ago. Not for the cause. For your ##magenta\|beloved.## For ##cyan\|your## tragedy. [[/div]] _ [[div class="transition"]] [[/div]] _ [[div class="modal"]] As you awaken, you ensure the fire is put out and nothing would begin to assail your Foundation-Sent Ally. You need him to stay alive, and besides, you've endeared yourself to him long enough that you could use him. You lightly shake him, looking to wake him early. If you don't get on the road, the ##pink\|permanent visitors that are inhuman## to this realm may try to get to him before you. This entire realm is a den of jackals, waiting to strike at the first scent of a name. He mutters to himself as he wakes, waving slightly to you and taking a drink from a canteen out of his satchel. He makes his way off of the ground, stretching a little. The Foundation Explorer gives you a smile, speaking his first words of the day. [[div class="blockquote"]] "Hello. I wasn't expecting you to still be here." ##cyan\|"That is how it will be."## "And I do appreciate it. May our travels be successful." ##cyan\|"I am sure that you will lead it to success."## [[/div]] His face turns from neutrality to a slight smile. You pat your fellow traveler on the back, pushing him slightly so he began moving along. ##sierra\|The winding yet straight path through the realm## does not move on its own, after all. A scream comes deeper from the ##green\|forest of naming taboo##. It is a guttural scream, that of someone in extreme distress. You assume this is another explorer. Foundation personnel don't often come alone. You begin to pick up the pace, looking at your ally and smiling the biggest smile you can conjure. [[div class="blockquote"]] ##cyan\|"Is that one of your acquaintances?"## "Y-yes. I think. I think that could be one of the men who came in before me. We got separated by a band of marauders. I was t-told weapons didn't work in this place, though." ##cyan\|"Hah! They tell you that? No, no. The materials of this world can make weapons of this world. Unless you stumble upon a legendary weapon or whatnot, making your own is the best idea. That is, unless you wish to bite and claw your way out of a sword wound.."## "Well. Good I have you, right? Please tell me you can take care of anything that comes to hurt me." [[/div]] You shrug and give something approximating a nod to him. He gains some sense of renewed vigor with this, marching on ##sierra\|the paved dirt road## toward the source of the screaming. You follow behind, eventually coming upon ##red\|one of the Engine's old encampments##. It seems that some of your kin have built it over the ##sierra\|forest's road##, presumably to try and take from those walking along it. You take two fingers to your mouth, moving the knightly visor that has become part of your form, and whistling a few notes. An old signal that you used to use to identify each other. Your signal is met by companions. ##purple\|A businessman made of jewels## and a ##orange\|snarling beast with razor teeth##, each cloaked in the symbols of your ##red\|organization of revolution## with blades in hand. The ##purple\|gemmed man## eyes your ticket out of this place and signs a message to you. > ##purple\|Enemy Combatant?## > > ##cyan\|Prisoner. Stand down.## > > ##purple\|Bring him in.## They back away from him, nodding and allowing you to enter the abode. The Explorer enters behind you, staying close to try and avoid the gaze of your ##purple\|gracious## ##orange\|hosts##, who enter behind you and begin speaking. They seem tense. Like they're preparing. > ##orange\|"We found someone with a name. It's an explorer, much like yours. The Foundation has been sending more through lately.## You nod, trying to seem as if you're actually listening to what is being said. Instead, you're trying to ensure that they don't get too close to you or your alleged prisoner. They cannot be allowed to harm him. He's important to you. He needs to live so that you can make up for who has not. He gets closer to you as you walk further into the dilapidated base, seeking comfort from your presence, it seems. You pat him on the back, comforting yourself with this too. > ##purple\|"And here is our guest of honor. Maybe our guests can confer a little, friend."## The ##purple\|man of rich composition## takes out a key, opening a door and revealing another employee of the Foundation standing in the nigh empty, dirt-covered room. ##purple\|He## looks at you, then back to the prisoner, before returning to you and moving his arm as if to signal the prisoner. They look tired, as if they have not slept in days. Their eyes close for a moment, before a piercing shriek emerges from the ##orange\|vaguely opossum-like individual## that wakes them. It seems to affect your friend as much as yourself, as you hold a hand up to where your right ear used to be. It was painful. They have no consideration for their guests. > ##purple\|Leave him here.## > > ##orange\|We need him more. We can take turns to try for their names. Easier together.## ##orange\|His## posture changes. ##orange\|He## goes from shriveling forward, to standing tall, and fully revealing ##orange\|his## size. ##orange\|He's## easily taller than you and the ##purple\|man of crystaline make##. The presence overshadows you, as you can see ##orange\|the beastman## bares his fangs. > ##cyan\|No. I said no.## ##purple\|The crystal businessman## unsheathes his sword slightly, and this does not go unnoticed by you. Though you share the same symbol, you do not share loyalty between you, it seems. They did try to give you a chance, but you cannot let him go, and violence seems to be inevitable from that. There's an old tale that used to be shared in the beginning years of being trapped. When a member of ##red\|The Insurgency## fights for their life, the Engine will roar in the head of the combatants. You swear that you can hear a slow pulsing beep, followed by a shriek of metal and roaring smoke of a machine coming to life. Fire blazes in your mind, and you pull your sword to lock blades of mystical metal, parrying the strike of your ##purple\|former ally## quite effectively. You push forward with your blade, sending your boot forward to hit the shin of your opponent. This proves fruitful, as he is quite easily toppled by the endeavor and ends up dropping his blade. Your friend of the Otherworld grabs the sword haphazardly, shifting it from side to side as he points the weapon to the ##orange\|marisupal menace## who has drawn his own weapon at this moment. You ensure the ##purple\|mass of minerals## is at least unconscious by kicking his side as hard as you can. You are met with a small "oomph" from him, before spinning back to the ##orange\|other warrior## and find he has already locked blades with another. The true human struggles against the push of war, the thumping beat of battle that threatens to take his head. He attempts to pull back his sword in what seems to be an attempt at a side strike. This is met with the ##orange\|extremely fanged attacker## sinking his teeth into the Voyager of the Woods' shoulder. You can see his pain, hear his scream as he desperately claws at his ##orange\|enemy's neck##, trying to get him to let go. You stagger forward, bringing your blade above your head and bringing it down over the head of the neck of ##orange\|the beast biting your ally##. Your blade again hits another, as he raises his smaller sword and pushes with all his force to hold off your strike. As you struggle against his blade, seeking to push forward and strike again, you notice your opponent grunt in pain, before lurching forward and spitting up something red. Blood. He has impaled the ##orange\|monster of the base## with the taken sword. > "Is-- Is it over?" > > ##cyan\|"Yes. It's over."## > > "Okay. I have to talk to them." Your friend consoles goes to the person in the corner, whispering things to them and patting them on the back. They stand, and slowly stumble out of the base before your eyes. ##magenta\|You're seeing things. You could swear that the one you travel with looks like the one you lost forever.## You shake your head, the delusion along with it. As he moves on, you look behind you once more to the disheveled corpses of your former allies. They sit, decades of memory and life leaving their bodies as they die on the ground. You can't put a name on them, eternally. He did well to kill them. You didn't expect that level of willpower from him. You'll have to get him to fight more if this is the level he can get to with adrenaline. That's how you connect with him. Fighting. Then you can get close to him, and take his name. You part ways with the other Foundation employee, who decides to sleep in the bunker. Get some rest after being taken by those two beasts, or as close as you can get in ##green\|the prison of trees##. You travel a bit further, not more than a few miles down the road, and agree to rest. You sit at the edge of the fire that you have lit. ---- You stare into the fire, before a voice cuts through the uncanny silence that is typical to the nights of ##green\|this place.## > "I thought I was going to die." You chuckle a little, looking at him as he wipes some remaining sweat from the battle off his brow. > ##cyan\|"You did well. You fought valiantly. Much more valiant than I thought you would ever be."## He chuckles a bit, rubbing his arm a bit. > "Well, I guess. It was adrenaline, mostly." > > ##cyan\|"Oh, come now. Don't try that humbug with me. You have potential to be a good fighter.## > > "Well, if you say so. You're kind of the master at that, aren't you?" You let out a small laugh. > ##cyan\|"Oh come now. Say, what do you do for the Foundation?"## > > "Oh, I'm a junior researcher. I got assigned to this recently, told to study what I can inside. Standard trip, apparently." > > ##cyan\|"Isn't that something? You're doing well, it seems. Especially with my aid."## > > "Yeah. Without you, I think I'd be dead. Or locked in a room with those freaks back there. Thank God." He rubs his eyes, mumbling something that you can't make out. > "I think I ought to turn in. We have to keep moving tomorrow." > > ##cyan\|"Good idea. Rest well."## A dream overtakes your mind again. [[/div]] _ [[div class="transition"]] [[/div]] _ [[div class="modal"]] It's about ##magenta\|him## again. You want to escape. But ##magenta\|he## has to be remembered. If you don't cry every night over ##magenta\|his loss##, then who will? Who will? Who will get you out of this nightmare. You miss ##magenta\|him##. You miss being able to ##magenta\|sleep without nightmares##. ##magenta\|He's## here. In the distance. You can see ##magenta\|him##. You miss him. You miss him. You-- ---- You snap awake and see your companion still up as well. You scoot closer to him, seeking some refuge from the dreams that take your mind every night. They're getting worse. Mocking you more. You look at his face, ##magenta\|beautiful as the stars that you've almost forgotten##, and you cry. The memory of ##magenta\|him## keeps you from speaking. He comes closer to you, unsure of what to do other than offer the solace of his hand upon your back. > "It's okay. I-it's okay. W-what's wrong?" You cannot speak. Your words turn to choking up of your throat, and you simply hug him. The tears drip down from your helmet, hitting his pure white lab coat. He keeps his hand on your back for a moment, hesitating for a moment until he decides to hug you back. It takes you a moment, until you swallow your tears and are able to speak once more. You know why you're doing this. You're trying to //get close// to him. You're using him. > ##cyan\|"I-- I can't escape. I lost someone I loved, and my dreams of him torment me."## Some truth. To lure him in. > "Oh. I'm s-sorry. I-it's okay. I-i'm here, i-if I can help?" > > ##cyan\|"I think I see him in you. That's why they're getting worse. The dreams, I mean. You remind me of him so much."## He pauses, looking at you. He squeezes you as much as he can, leaning into you. You tell yourself that this is all for ##magenta\|him##. You're here fraternizing with someone who works for the murderous organization that ended him. All for ##magenta\|him## and getting revenge. Despite your insistence in your mind, guilt piles in your mind. ##magenta\|Traitor.## [[/div]] _ [[div class="transition"]] [[/div]] _ [[div class="modal"]] Your trek is boring, and almost anxiety-inducing. You can feel ##magenta\|him## watching you. Judging you for having chosen him. ##magenta\|Why him? He's of the enemy. Why do you even try to speak to him?## You nod to yourself, looking again to him and trying to quell your fears. He doesn't have the hate of the Foundation that you do. That is when you hear glass shattering. You look forward, your pace getting quicker, as you come to see a town of the ##pink\|unhumans trapped alongside you##. A fire blazes between the homes, growing larger with each second as you see ##red\|others of the Engine's plan## wander the village. You see two ##pink\|vaguely rabbit-like people## running toward the path. Two men, hand in hand, as they dash away from the burning ruins of their home. ##magenta\|Love.## You notice a member of your ##red\|Insurgence##, coated in green flame and signified as a member by the logo on their arm, following them with a sword in hand. You blink, and you see blood on the ground. Your ally gets cold, retching and throwing up on the ground as he looks back to you, then back to ##red\|the soldiers who have murdered##. As you look at the men, your mind floods. Why? What did these people do to deserve that fate? They're innocent. You are sure this is what ##red\|The Engine's Puppet## wished you to do. Aid them in this fight. No. This massacre. You grip your head, now flooding with hate. Hate for the Foundation for taking ##magenta\|him##. Hate for the ##red\|terrorists before you## for taking innocent lives. And so you start to run. You look back, though, and realize you have left behind the scientist. You grab him. Run. Run. Run. Don't let him get hurt. And yet, now you feel more anxiety rushing through you. Was ##magenta\|he## wrong? No. No. That can't be right. You dedicated so much to making sure the memory stayed alive. This cannot be true. You must be delusional. You hope you are delusional. You don't want to be right. > "T-they're coming a-after u-us--" > > ##cyan\|"I know. I know. I'll figure something out, okay? Don't worry. Just try to keep running."## You run with him, you run for what feels like hours. But your enemy combatant made of green flame comes closer. You raise your sword, ready to strike, and realize that he has already began melting your blade. As it comes out of the sheath, you notice it is completely unusable. You have a handle, and that is it. Your ally charges. He rams into the non-flaming parts of the enemy, and knocks him to the ground. You approach, stomping the flame out where his head should be. The body twitches, and you look on your friend once more. He is wreathed in burns, ones that will remain visible for a while. > ##cyan\|"Are you okay? It looks like you're--"## > > "I'll be fine. I just need to sit somewhere. Let's get to a place where we can set up camp. Please. It hurts still." You hold him by the shoulder, finding a suitable place to set up camp and light a fire. You deign to keep him safe. You take a few plants that you know can somewhat treat pain and start rubbing them against his skin. It doesn't help much at this point, but if you keep going it might. You try to keep him comfortable. [[/div]] _ [[div class="transition"]] [[/div]] _ [[div class="modal"]] You sit beside the fire, your thoughts consuming you. This can't be right. ##magenta\|He## was always right. ##magenta\|He## was the smarter one. ##magenta\|He## was intelligent. ##magenta\|He## can't be wrong about something so fundamental, about the morality of something. ##magenta\|He## was a good person. ##magenta\|He## loved you. > ##cyan\|"Friend. Are you awake?"## > > "Yeah." > > ##cyan\|"Do you remember who I was discussing yesterday?"## > > "Your-- uh-- former lover?" > > ##cyan\|"Yes. I'm trying to wrap my head around something."## > > "You can share with me." > > ##cyan\|"He got me into fighting the Foundation. He was the smartest man I knew. Could he be wrong?"## > > "Everyone is wrong sometimes, you know. People fall into holes that they can't get out of mentally sometimes. I think you just followed him in." You pause, and stare at him. You didn't even think twice about what ##magneta\|he## proposed, did you? No. You didn't. You put your head in your hands and think. Your mind is running full of anxiety. Paranoia. You've wasted so much. You've //wasted// your years. He noticed your shaking on the ground, and he pats you on the back. He tries to comfort you. His touch drives away your fear, but your guilt comes forth then. He holds you as you both drift to sleep. There are no bad dreams. [[/div]] _ [[div class="transition"]] [[/div]] _ [[div class="modal"]] You two have journeyed together to the end. But now, that end has been reached. ##grey\|The well that leads home## is visible, and you grip him tightly. You don't want him to leave you. But he must. He promises to come back for you. Find you a way home, or failing that, find you. As he ascends ##grey\|the escape##, you watch him. You make sure that nothing tries to drag him back down into this hell. You are a traitor to your cause, but one that will survive. You will survive to leave with him. ---- Your name is Jasper Seabrook. Upon exiting ##green\|the realm of forest##, you are accosted by Foundation doctors trying to ensure that you are unharmed. They find nothing wrong. You are fine physically. You miss him. But you finally have love. And so does ##cyan\|he##. [[/div]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]] [[module CSS]] @import url(https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Abasalt/5) [[/module]] [[module CSS]] @import url("https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Anta&family=Electrolize&family=Exo+2:ital,wght@0,100..900;1,100..900&family=Kanit:ital,wght@0,100;0,200;0,300;0,400;0,500;0,600;0,700;0,800;0,900;1,100;1,200;1,300;1,400;1,500;1,600;1,700;1,800;1,900&display=swap"); :root { --logo-image: url("http://timebox.wdfiles.com/local--files/sc-18-005-18-350/CI-Marcus-header.png"); --header-title: 'INSURGENCE'; --header-subtitle: 'LONG LIVE THE INSURGENCY'; --body-width-on-desktop: 65.75rem; --original-width-on-desktop: 50.75rem; --header-font: "Anta", sans-serif; --title-font: "Anta", sans-serif; --UI-font: "Anta", sans-serif; --rating-module-text-color: var(--bright-accent); --header-height-on-desktop: 13rem; --header-height-on-mobile: 13rem; --toggle-border-color: rgb(var(--bright-accent)); --toggle-icon-color: rgb(var(--bright-accent)); --toggle-roundness: 1%; --toggle-button-bg: rgb(var(--black-monochrome)); --link-color: var(--bright-accent); --hover-link-color: var(--bright-accent); --visited-link-color: var(--bright-accent); --zero: 0; } #main-content hr { height: 0.0925rem; border-top: 0.0625rem solid rgba(var(--bright-accent)); background-color: rgba(var(--bright-accent)); } div.modal { display: block; margin-inline: auto; margin-block: 1.4rem; padding-inline: 1.5rem; padding-block: 0.5rem; background-color: rgb(0,0,0); border: double 0.5rem rgb(var(--bright-accent)); } div.modal.two { border: double 0.4rem rgb(var(--bright-accent)); width: 50%; background: rgb(var(--swatch-menubg-extra-dark-color)); align-center; } .dashed { padding-inline: 1.5rem; padding-block: 0.5rem; border: dashed 0.2rem rgb(var(--dark-gray-monochrome)); background: rgb(var(--black-monochrome)); } .twosides { padding-inline: 1.5rem; padding-block: 0.5rem; border-left: solid 0.2rem rgb(var(--bright-accent)); border-right: solid 0.2rem rgb(var(--bright-accent)); background: rgb(var(--black-monochrome)); } .heading { background-image: url("https://testinggrounds.wdfiles.com/local--files/insurgence/clock-tower-red.jpg"); background-attachment: fixed; border: solid 2px rgb(var(--bright-accent)); margin-top: 10px; } .highlight { background: rgb(var(--bright-accent)); color: rgb(var(--black-monochrome)); font-weight: bold; border: solid 2px rgb(var(--bright-accent)); border-radius: 3px; padding-inline: 3px; font-family: "Anta", sans-serif; } .transition { animation: chaosspin 7s cubic-bezier(1,1,1,1) infinite; background: url("https://testinggrounds.wdfiles.com/local--files/insurgence/redcismall.png") center no-repeat; margin-inline: auto; margin-top: 60px; margin-bottom: 60px; padding-top: 30px; padding-bottom: 30px; width: 20%; } @keyframes chaosspin { 100% { transform: rotate(360deg); } } .warning { animation: bigwarning 1s cubic-bezier(1,1,1,1) infinite; } @keyframes bigwarning { 0% { color: rgb(var(--bright-accent)); } 100% { color: rgb(var(--swatch-menubg-extra-dark-color)); } } @media only screen and (max-width: 600px) { div.modal.two { width: 85%; } } #content-wrap { background-image: url("https://testinggrounds.wdfiles.com/local--files/insurgence/squarepattern.png"); background-size: 100%; background-repeat: repeat; background-attachment: fixed; } #header h1 a::before, #header h1 a::after { content: var(--header-title); font-size: 3rem; } .image-block .image-caption, .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption { background-image: url("https://testinggrounds.wdfiles.com/local--files/insurgence/clock-tower-red.jpg"); background-attachment: fixed; font-family: "Anta", sans-serif; border-bottom-left-radius: 8px; border-bottom-right-radius: 8px; border-bottom: 4px solid rgb(var(--bright-accent)); box-shadow: none; } #extra-div-2 { height: var(--header-height-on-desktop); width: 100%; position: absolute; top: 0; left: 0; pointer-events: none; background-color: black; background-image: url("https://testinggrounds.wdfiles.com/local--files/insurgence/clock-tower-red.jpg"); background-size: calc(var(--header-height-on-desktop) * 10); } #extra-div-3 { height: var(--header-height-on-desktop); width: 100%; position: absolute; top: 0; left: 0; pointer-events: none; background-image: var(--tech-pattern); background-size: calc(var(--header-height-on-desktop) * 4); } #page-content div.modal { max-width: 100%; } .page-rate-widget-box .rate-points { text-transform: uppercase !important; } a.btn { text-transform: uppercase !important; } @supports (background-blend-mode: screen) { #extra-div-1 { width: 100%; height: 100%; position: absolute; top: 0; left: 0; z-index: -1; background-image: linear-gradient(to bottom, rgb(var(--black-monochrome)) 0%, rgb(var(--black-monochrome)) 30%, rgb(var(--dark-gray-monochrome)) 100%), linear-gradient(to bottom, rgb(var(--bright-accent)) calc(var(--header-height-on-desktop) + 0.145rem), rgb(var(--black-monochrome)) calc(var(--header-height-on-desktop) + 0.125rem), rgb(var(--black-monochrome)) calc(100% - 0.125rem), rgb(var(--bright-accent)) calc(100% - 0.125rem), rgb(var(--bright-accent)) 100%), linear-gradient(to bottom, rgba(var(--black-monochrome), 0) 0, rgba(var(--black-monochrome), 0.5) 10rem, rgba(var(--black-monochrome), 1) 25rem, rgba(var(--black-monochrome), 1) 100%); background-size: var(--header-background-image-size), 100% var(--final-header-height-on-desktop), 100% var(--background-gradient-distance); background-repeat: no-repeat; background-blend-mode: darken; pointer-events: none; } .page-rate-widget-box { background: linear-gradient(to bottom left, rgba(var(--swatch-primary-darkest), 0.1) 0, rgba(var(--black-monochrome), 1) 100%) !important; } :root { --tech-pattern: url("data:image/svg+xml,%3Csvg xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2000/svg' viewBox='0 0 304 304' width='304' height='304'%3E%3Cpath fill='%23aeaeb0' fill-opacity='0.08' d='M44.1 224a5 5 0 1 1 0 2H0v-2h44.1zm160 48a5 5 0 1 1 0 2H82v-2h122.1zm57.8-46a5 5 0 1 1 0-2H304v2h-42.1zm0 16a5 5 0 1 1 0-2H304v2h-42.1zm6.2-114a5 5 0 1 1 0 2h-86.2a5 5 0 1 1 0-2h86.2zm-256-48a5 5 0 1 1 0 2H0v-2h12.1zm185.8 34a5 5 0 1 1 0-2h86.2a5 5 0 1 1 0 2h-86.2zM258 12.1a5 5 0 1 1-2 0V0h2v12.1zm-64 208a5 5 0 1 1-2 0v-54.2a5 5 0 1 1 2 0v54.2zm48-198.2V80h62v2h-64V21.9a5 5 0 1 1 2 0zm16 16V64h46v2h-48V37.9a5 5 0 1 1 2 0zm-128 96V208h16v12.1a5 5 0 1 1-2 0V210h-16v-76.1a5 5 0 1 1 2 0zm-5.9-21.9a5 5 0 1 1 0 2H114v48H85.9a5 5 0 1 1 0-2H112v-48h12.1zm-6.2 130a5 5 0 1 1 0-2H176v-74.1a5 5 0 1 1 2 0V242h-60.1zm-16-64a5 5 0 1 1 0-2H114v48h10.1a5 5 0 1 1 0 2H112v-48h-10.1zM66 284.1a5 5 0 1 1-2 0V274H50v30h-2v-32h18v12.1zM236.1 176a5 5 0 1 1 0 2H226v94h48v32h-2v-30h-48v-98h12.1zm25.8-30a5 5 0 1 1 0-2H274v44.1a5 5 0 1 1-2 0V146h-10.1zm-64 96a5 5 0 1 1 0-2H208v-80h16v-14h-42.1a5 5 0 1 1 0-2H226v18h-16v80h-12.1zm86.2-210a5 5 0 1 1 0 2H272V0h2v32h10.1zM98 101.9V146H53.9a5 5 0 1 1 0-2H96v-42.1a5 5 0 1 1 2 0zM53.9 34a5 5 0 1 1 0-2H80V0h2v34H53.9zm60.1 3.9V66H82v64H69.9a5 5 0 1 1 0-2H80V64h32V37.9a5 5 0 1 1 2 0zM101.9 82a5 5 0 1 1 0-2H128V37.9a5 5 0 1 1 2 0V82h-28.1zm16-64a5 5 0 1 1 0-2H146v44.1a5 5 0 1 1-2 0V18h-26.1zm102.2 270a5 5 0 1 1 0 2H98v14h-2v-16h124.1zM242 149.9V160h16v34h-16v62h48v48h-2v-46h-48v-66h16v-30h-16v-12.1a5 5 0 1 1 2 0zM53.9 18a5 5 0 1 1 0-2H64V2H48V0h18v18H53.9zm112 32a5 5 0 1 1 0-2H192V0h50v2h-48v48h-28.1zm-48-48a5 5 0 0 1-9.8-2h2.07a3 3 0 1 0 5.66 0H178v34h-18V21.9a5 5 0 1 1 2 0V32h14V2h-58.1zm0 96a5 5 0 1 1 0-2H137l32-32h39V21.9a5 5 0 1 1 2 0V66h-40.17l-32 32H117.9zm28.1 90.1a5 5 0 1 1-2 0v-76.51L175.59 80H224V21.9a5 5 0 1 1 2 0V82h-49.59L146 112.41v75.69zm16 32a5 5 0 1 1-2 0v-99.51L184.59 96H300.1a5 5 0 0 1 3.9-3.9v2.07a3 3 0 0 0 0 5.66v2.07a5 5 0 0 1-3.9-3.9H185.41L162 121.41v98.69zm-144-64a5 5 0 1 1-2 0v-3.51l48-48V48h32V0h2v50H66v55.41l-48 48v2.69zM50 53.9v43.51l-48 48V208h26.1a5 5 0 1 1 0 2H0v-65.41l48-48V53.9a5 5 0 1 1 2 0zm-16 16V89.41l-34 34v-2.82l32-32V69.9a5 5 0 1 1 2 0zM12.1 32a5 5 0 1 1 0 2H9.41L0 43.41V40.6L8.59 32h3.51zm265.8 18a5 5 0 1 1 0-2h18.69l7.41-7.41v2.82L297.41 50H277.9zm-16 160a5 5 0 1 1 0-2H288v-71.41l16-16v2.82l-14 14V210h-28.1zm-208 32a5 5 0 1 1 0-2H64v-22.59L40.59 194H21.9a5 5 0 1 1 0-2H41.41L66 216.59V242H53.9zm150.2 14a5 5 0 1 1 0 2H96v-56.6L56.6 162H37.9a5 5 0 1 1 0-2h19.5L98 200.6V256h106.1zm-150.2 2a5 5 0 1 1 0-2H80v-46.59L48.59 178H21.9a5 5 0 1 1 0-2H49.41L82 208.59V258H53.9zM34 39.8v1.61L9.41 66H0v-2h8.59L32 40.59V0h2v39.8zM2 300.1a5 5 0 0 1 3.9 3.9H3.83A3 3 0 0 0 0 302.17V256h18v48h-2v-46H2v42.1zM34 241v63h-2v-62H0v-2h34v1zM17 18H0v-2h16V0h2v18h-1zm273-2h14v2h-16V0h2v16zm-32 273v15h-2v-14h-14v14h-2v-16h18v1zM0 92.1A5.02 5.02 0 0 1 6 97a5 5 0 0 1-6 4.9v-2.07a3 3 0 1 0 0-5.66V92.1zM80 272h2v32h-2v-32zm37.9 32h-2.07a3 3 0 0 0-5.66 0h-2.07a5 5 0 0 1 9.8 0zM5.9 0A5.02 5.02 0 0 1 0 5.9V3.83A3 3 0 0 0 3.83 0H5.9zm294.2 0h2.07A3 3 0 0 0 304 3.83V5.9a5 5 0 0 1-3.9-5.9zm3.9 300.1v2.07a3 3 0 0 0-1.83 1.83h-2.07a5 5 0 0 1 3.9-3.9zM97 100a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm0-16a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm16 16a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm16 16a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm0 16a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm-48 32a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm16 16a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm32 48a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm-16 16a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm32-16a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm0-32a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm16 32a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm32 16a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm0-16a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm-16-64a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm16 0a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm16 96a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm0 16a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm16 16a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm16-144a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm0 32a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm16-32a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm16-16a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm-96 0a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm0 16a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm16-32a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm96 0a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm-16-64a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm16-16a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm-32 0a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm0-16a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm-16 0a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm-16 0a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm-16 0a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zM49 36a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm-32 0a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm32 16a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zM33 68a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm16-48a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm0 240a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm16 32a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm-16-64a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm0 16a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm-16-32a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm80-176a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm16 0a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm-16-16a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm32 48a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm16-16a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm0-32a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm112 176a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm-16 16a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm0 16a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm0 16a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zM17 180a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm0 16a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm0-32a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm16 0a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zM17 84a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm32 64a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6zm16-16a3 3 0 1 0 0-6 3 3 0 0 0 0 6z'%3E%3C/path%3E%3C/svg%3E"); } @keyframes acsgradient { 0% { background: radial-gradient(circle at 50%, #C40233, #000 75%); } 10% { background: radial-gradient(circle at 50%, #C40233, #000 85%); } 20% { background: radial-gradient(circle at 50%, #C40233, #000 90%); } 30% { background: radial-gradient(circle at 50%, #C40233, #000 85%); } 40% { background: radial-gradient(circle at 50%, #C40233, #000 75%); } 50% { background: radial-gradient(circle at 50%, #C40233, #000 75%); } 60% { background: radial-gradient(circle at 50%, #C40233, #000 65%); } 70% { background: radial-gradient(circle at 50%, #C40233, #000 55%); } 80% { background: radial-gradient(circle at 50%, #C40233, #000 65%); } 90% { background: radial-gradient(circle at 50%, #C40233, #000 75%); } 100% { background: radial-gradient(circle at 50%, #C40233, #000 80%); } } [[/module]]	2024-06-15T01:25:00	[ "_licensebox", "chaos-insurgency", "lgbtq", "nameless", "pridefest2024", "romance", "tale" ]	The Nameless Rebel: An INSURGENCE Story - SCP Foundation	37	[ "scp-8399", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "pridefest", "chaos-insurgency-hub" ]	[]	1454061364	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-nameless-rebel
the-night-fires	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="preview"> <p>"No. He was killed almost ten years ago. Didn't you know?"</p> </div> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <p><strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/tufto" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3337265); return false;"><img alt="Tufto" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3337265&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1725332141" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3337265)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/tufto" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3337265); return false;">Tufto</a></span>. This tale uses (with permission) the character of Farhan by <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/rounderhouse" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4187885); return false;"><img alt="Rounderhouse" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=4187885&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1725332141" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=4187885)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/rounderhouse" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4187885); return false;">Rounderhouse</a></span>, acting as a continuation of <a href="/lamb-of-god">LAMB OF GOD</a> and <a href="/farhan-s-flame">FARHAN'S FLAME</a>. More of their work can be found <a href="/tufto-personnel-file">here</a>.</p> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <p>"No. He was killed almost ten years ago. Didn't you know?"</p> <p>That got a rise out of <a href="/farhan-s-flame">him</a>. His face turned towards her, sharp and surprised. He tried to get it under control, but she simply smiled, viciously, shifting under the covers, holding her cigarette aloft.</p> <p>"How?"</p> <p>"A <a href="/scp-8799">'joint operation' with the Foundation</a>. You must have heard about it? It was so long ago, now. For about five seconds, we were at peace, cooperating. They were doing some experiment on a shrine near Mashhad, before he got sucked into some… other place."</p> <p>"What other place?"</p> <p>It was almost noon. Fatima liked the decadence of that. She shifted onto her back, flexing her toes. She hadn't taken a drag in a little while; she wanted to savour each moment, preserve it in amber. She was enjoying this. It was better for him to be in pain than to be numb.</p> <p>He sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, his back to her. She lifted a finger, lazily, tracing the scars on his back. He hated when she did that, normally, but now he didn't even flinch. The temperature was like ice. A good sign, she supposed.</p> <p>"A mythical one. The world of the Shahname, full of beasts and kings. Except… this one was wrong. It was burnt."</p> <p>A bird call outside. The curtains waved, gauzy and white.</p> <p>"<a href="/reclamation">Esfandiari</a> tried everything to get him back. But then the Foundation struck - you heard about <em>that</em>, surely? Kaveh?"</p> <p>He nodded. Everyone had heard about Kaveh, whether they were within the organisation or outside it. 51 dead. A brutal killing, apparently unprovoked. But it was only one of many, now.</p> <p>"One of the Foundation's own had been sucked in with him. They wanted our research - looking for a way to bring her back. And they did. They needed to burn something, something over there. And there was only one thing they could find…"</p> <p>That got him. He turned, slowly, a strange look on his face - a face no longer used to contortion. "They <em>burnt</em> him?"</p> <p>Fatima's smile widened. "Oh, yes. But it didn't work. They didn't get their agent back. I don't know why. So he died for - well, for less than nothing."</p> <p>He snarled, grabbing her, clenching her arms, pushing her against the wall, as she laughed and laughed and -</p> <p>A singing began, scratchy and artificial. He stopped. Fatima shook herself, her smile fading. "Time for zuhr."</p> <p>He relaxed his grip, shifting across, awkward and clumsy. He watched as she got up, put out her cigarette, stretched and began to dress. A long, deep blue dress; a lighter blue hijab.</p> <p>"We're not in Iran, you know. Nobody will care if you skip prayer."</p> <p>"I'll care." A brief look in the mirror; a hair, brushed away.</p> <p>"You commit adultery and then scurry away to prayer? Isn't that… I don't know, hypocrisy?"</p> <p>It was her turn to look sharply at him. "Sin is not unbelief, Farhan. You ought to learn that." She smiled, slightly, and turned to leave.</p> <p>It had been a poor blow, but it seemed to have stung. He didn't know why he'd bothered. If it hurt her, that was what she wanted. It was why he was here.</p> <p>He looked around the room. It was clearly ORIA-assigned - cheap, cracked, boiling in summer and freezing in winter. They were the only landlord ever looked at with compassion by their tenants, because the tenants were too stupid to realise they were being exploited. It was all part of the <em>mission</em>.</p> <p>Sadr was dead…</p> <p>He hadn't been expecting that, he really hadn't. It had jolted paths in his brain he's thought were long gone. It didn't exactly make him feel sad, or regretful - just lit up certain lights by reflex. Sadr had been a part of his life for so long, even now, that he couldn't imagine that he was really gone.</p> <p>Ten years…</p> <p>The fire flickered, slightly. He still felt anger, of course. Why would Sadr do that? He had played at fieldwork, but he wasn't made for it. He was a scientist. Why would he let them put him there? Why would he let himself die?</p> <p>Why would the Foundation <em>do</em> that?</p> <p>He got up, walking to the window. Fatima could be seen, distantly, walking carefully across the cobbles. The Bosphorus glimmered in the distance. It was so quiet here. Outside of tourist season, in the autumn, Sultanahmet seemed to exist just for him.</p> <p>But the domes on the mosques reminded him of Cairo…</p> <p>He turned away. He shook himself. He put on his clothes and walked away.</p> <hr/> <p>And then the leaves fell, and it was winter.</p> <p>Istanbul was freezing. The city had not known a February like this in some time. When the temperatures just kept rising and rising, snow like this was almost a miracle. Children were playing outside, throwing snowballs, building snowmen. The same pursuits as always, as everywhere else.</p> <p>Farhan was inside, cleaning his gun. The heating was on, but barely; his teeth chattered in the cold. He was not in a part of Istanbul that tourists ventured into. It was a miserable little suburb, endless identical streets of low-rise apartments and cheap restaurants. It was Istanbul for the locals. He did not prefer it, but he couldn't stand the centre any more.</p> <p>He'd come off a job in Bahrain, then another one here, and now he had nothing. A couple of fat paychecks would let him rest for a while. There was time. He'd never spent much time in Istanbul. He supposed it was something he ought to do, to soak up some culture. Sadr would have said so.</p> <p>Ten whole years…</p> <p>He barely went out at all any more. Occasionally, a need would overtake him. A woman, a nice meal, a walk. Then he'd come back here, and finish his little rituals. The gun was cleaned, over and over again. Another book, perhaps. He'd been reading a lot of Egyptian fiction recently. Interwar stuff. It helped him create a new image in his head for Cairo, something wholly different. The name would, perhaps, form different associations, different pathways in his head.</p> <p>Then there was cookery. He'd become quite good. Each spice or herb had its own property, and the interaction between it and the basic elements - meat, vegetable, fish - allowed for infinite possibilities. Trying to find something new, a combination that was both novel and functional, was something that could occupy him forever.</p> <p>Otherwise, his life was prosaic. Food, television, pornography. He sometimes amused himself by looking out in the street, coming up with little stories about his neighbours' lives. There was a woman opposite whose children had recently -</p> <p>There was a knock at the door.</p> <p>He tensed. He was expecting nobody. It was probably a salesman - but how had they got into the building without buzzing the door? He placed the pieces of his gun down, and felt for his knife. Its metal was cold, comforting.</p> <p>He moved over and looked through the peephole. A woman was standing there, looking bored. She didn't look armed. He relaxed, minutely, but still opened the door very carefully.</p> <p>She was in her late thirties, early forties. She looked Turkish to him. She did not smile at him, but simply cocked her head on one side. "Farhan Moradi?"</p> <p>He nodded; she did the same. "May I come in?"</p> <p>He shouldn't. This was dangerous. A stranger turning up at his door, knowing his name -</p> <p><em>- but this was always how it happened, wasn't it? He'd tried other methods, but the clients were never suitable. Never had enough money, or enough understanding of what he did. No, the jobs he took were always</em> something <em>like this; a casual meeting in a park, a note slipped across a table. A woman turning up at his door…</em></p> <p>He opened and gestured to her. A brief, tight smile. No playfulness. She sat down on a chair, staring at him. He smiled back.</p> <p>"Tea? Coffee?"</p> <p>"No, thank you."</p> <p>He nodded, sitting opposite her. She continued to stare, head moving slightly, as if trying to see into his skull. He smiled again, wider. "See something you like?"</p> <p>"In a sense. I have a job for you."</p> <p>He nodded again. He liked this. It was simpler, easier. Every pleasantry seemed more and more of an exhaustion each passing year.</p> <p>"Who's the target?"</p> <p>"Not a who. A what. I need someone familiar enough with cracking Foundation security procedures to break into a secure facility. Site-76."</p> <p>This took him by surprise. He leant back, considering, eyes wide. Site-76? That was in America. It held a large number of smaller items, Daevite and Central Asian objects. And the Foundation? Sure, he'd had dealings with them in the past, but he was loathe to do so again…</p> <p>"That will be difficult. A number of particularly secure items are held there - the Foundation will have taken its security very seriously."</p> <p>"Do you know what SCP-140 is?"</p> <p>He shook his head. This woman wasn't Turkish - he recognised the accent. It was Uzbek.</p> <p>"It's a book. Just a book. I doubt it will be their highest priority. Getting in will be difficult, but once we're in, it shouldn't be too difficult to locate and retrieve."</p> <p>"What's so special about this book?"</p> <p>"That's for me to know."</p> <p>"If it has anomalous properties, then I'll need to know what we're up against…"</p> <p>"I will pay you 2.3 million USD."</p> <p>This was wrong. That was <em>far</em> too much. He stood up, shaking his head. "Sorry. You've got the wrong person. I'm not interested."</p> <p>That stare was unnerving him. He saw something - a ghost of a smile, a little twitch, something <em>incorrect</em>. She had been waiting for this. She <em>wanted</em> him to refuse.</p> <p>"You will do this, Farhan. Because you and I share something in common."</p> <p>"And what's that?"</p> <p>"Once, we both loved Parviz Sadr."</p> <hr/> <p>That night, Farhan slept, and Farhan dreamt.</p> <p>The campfire never came to him in a jungle any more. It didn't feel the need to expend energy on such rhetorical flourishes. Farhan knew it, knew the shape of it, the intention it poured into himself. The fire understood him too; a little more mocking, a little more contemptuous each day. The relationship felt less friendly, now; more like a business arrangement.</p> <p>"You need to talk to me?"</p> <p>He nodded, approaching. "I need advice."</p> <p>"I can see what you see. You feel what I feel. Feast on this meal."</p> <p>"But…"</p> <p>Ten years since Sadr's death. Closer to sixteen since he'd last seen him. In all that time, he'd barely thought about him. He hadn't had very much contact with the ORIA either. A freelance operation here and there, but his handler was someone else, someone he didn't know. That was part of a different life, a different Farhan. He hadn't thought to ask.</p> <p>Sadr had always been worried. A slight nervousness; a jollity and expansiveness that would slowly, gradually, contract as an operation wore on. Sadr had cared. Sadr had cared more than anything - about Farhan, about the ORIA, about the mission. It was the bones of him, for better or for worse.</p> <p>The few times he'd thought about him, he imagined that he'd taken it on the chin, when Farhan left. That he'd got over it, and was nursing a bruise, and that - yes, that one day they'd see each other again. An inevitable confrontation, or reconciliation. That they'd both come to some understanding; a peace each one of them could have been satisfied with.</p> <p>"I didn't see your sediment, as holding such sweet sentiment." The fire curled, spitting upwards.</p> <p>And now he was dead. A body. Meaningless. Things just kept happening.</p> <p>Sadr had saved his life, saddling him with the flame. Or - was that fair? He'd chosen to bind with it. Wasn't it Farhan's choice? Sadr had just made the introductions; he hadn't <em>saddled</em> him with anything.</p> <p>Except…</p> <p>Wasn't it Sadr who had taken him from the streets, plucked him from obscurity? Become like a father, or an older brother? Wasn't it Sadr who had made him an agent, given him direction, purpose, life? Turned him into their finest tool, sent him to -</p> <p><em>A scalpel, piercing his flesh…</em></p> <p>"But still your body needs to eat."</p> <p>The flame rose higher, almost a column. It teased and danced upwards. It snarled, over his head, flashing and twisting.</p> <p>"Take her money, sate your burning heat."</p> <p>Farhan stared at it. He'd already known that he was taking the job, the second she'd said his name. Maybe the second Fatima had.</p> <hr/> <p>To enter a Foundation site, there were five trials that needed to be overcome; five tests of strength, resolve. The first was simple: find the place. Foundation sites, with typical overindulgence, would often move, or be disguised, or have their location anomalously masked, so the searcher could never grasp the concept in his head.</p> <p>This was stupid. All of these measures could be overcome; their presence was just a sign you were on the right track. He'd forged uniforms, IDs, database entries; they were guests, a routine inspection. They drove up to the site, green pines under a grey sky, rain soaking the earth and grass. Mud splashed their tires.</p> <p>The second trial was to fool the guards. This was harder; they were trained to detect lies, to understand falsehood on a deeper level. But, again, this just meant a set of practices; and practices can be memorised, and countered. They nodded, bored, and waved them through. The woman did not flinch; she was trained in this too, familiar with their procedures.</p> <p>She was a strange one. She had left no contact number; she simply turned up when he was ready, after all the arrangements had been put in place. He felt - not tenderness, not any more, but something similar. A kinship. There was scarring on her, he could see it - disguised with concealer, makeup, but there, under the surface, a crisscross of lines on her cheek.</p> <p>The third trial was finding the anomaly. It was not unusual for an inspection to check on specific anomalies, to test their containment level. The Foundation database was vast, untameable. Different realities and timelines crisscrossed it; the organisation itself was one big anomaly, the biggest of them all, just waiting to be reclaimed.</p> <p>But he didn't do that any more. Reclamation was someone else's game. He pictured Fatima, in his mind's eye. She'd joined after his time, well after - but he'd seen her work. The eyes as she stared down the barrel of a gun, focused on the target. Her fingers, laced with fine sweat. A single strand of hair, loose, the wind waving it across her forehead. She hadn't even noticed - no time for that. A trigger, squeezed, so gently…</p> <p>He located the item. In a desk, in a secure vault. He nodded at the woman. She was looking at a different entry - a book, golden, with moving pictures…</p> <p>The fourth trial was to enter the vault. He kept lookout for this part, after dispatching the single - the single! - armed guard. The woman knelt down, and sliced a mark in her cheek. He frowned, confused, until he saw the blood suspended in space, leaking out according to the movements of her fingers. It entered the console…</p> <p>…he'd seen people spill blood for a cause before. Sadr had done it. He'd volunteered for fieldwork, ages ago, before Egypt - a bar in Volgograd, an ancient building from before the war. Two former GRU-P agents, who knew something about a reality alteration in Almaty. A knife had come out; his mentor, taken aback, stumbling, holding his arm, feeling the wet of it, and then there was the speed with which Farhan had raised his gun and -</p> <p>A click. The door was open. The alarms, mercifully, did not go off. And then there was the fifth trial, the last one. To place your fingers around the anomaly, and take it. To dare to be so bold. To <em>defy</em> the Foundation, the ooze of it, the sprawling mass of it…</p> <p>But he didn't care about that any more. He saw Sadr's face, enveloped by flame, screaming and screaming until all he believed in was obliterated by pain.</p> <hr/> <p>The room was stark, white, too large and too empty. Only a single desk, an old, wooden affair, stood in the centre. They approached it. She knelt down, opening the drawer - and there it was, sitting flat and inert. She couldn't believe her luck - it had been <em>that easy</em>. She almost giggled. She extended her hand forward -</p> <p>"I think that's enough for one day."</p> <p>The two of them spun around. The room had been empty, just a moment ago. But there, sitting on a chair, smoking a cigarette, smiling a sharp little smile…</p> <p>Fatima raised her gun, aiming it at Farhan. "Hello, sweetheart. Enjoying the sights?"</p> <p>Farhan swallowed, hard, and raised his own. "Why?"</p> <p>"I can't let you steal it." Her voice was soft, almost kind. "I let you get this far. The Foundation need to be less complacent with it; they need to toughen its security. They need to know how close you got. But I can't let you actually take it."</p> <p>"You're not reclaiming it?"</p> <p>"Some things cannot be used. They can only be misused. The Foundation has the… capacity for better security than we could dream of, if only they'd use it. And don't bother, Nodira - I can shoot you faster."</p> <p>The woman froze, her hand in midair, closing on her holster. "You know me."</p> <p>"Oh, yes. We recognise you. The arrogance of it, that Foundation arrogance - not even bothering to change your face…"</p> <p>"Foundation?" Farhan stepped back, looking at the woman, considering her. He blinked, fast. "Who are you?"</p> <p>The woman sighed, and reached for the book. Both of them trained their guns on her. She stopped, and smiled, teeth wide and black.</p> <p>"Even you won't get far, Nodira. Don't try it."</p> <p>The woman laughed. She kept laughing, long and loud. The alarms started; distant voices could be heard. As they turned - a split-second lapse in concentration - the woman drew her knife, and slashed her own cheek, leaving a long, vicious scar, and the blood began pouring out, and the air began glowing red, and -</p> <hr/> <p><em>- and it was all so much stuff. It was a pantomime, these people, this place. Fatima discharged her gun, swore, reloaded, as the woman morphed, changed…</em></p> <p><em>Farhan lowered his own gun. He was cold. He turned and walked away. In the commotion, he slipped out of Site-76. He left America. He returned to Istanbul. He heard what had happened months later; the woman had disappeared, Fatima had been caught but had escaped. He shrugged, and kept cleaning his gun.</em></p> <p><em>It was a cold winter; it was a hot summer. Farhan did nothing. He took on other jobs. He grew older. He read more, he watched more, he fucked women in strange hotels before killing them for money. His beard began to be flecked with grey.</em></p> <p><em>He didn't see Fatima again. He didn't think about Sadr. His life finished, and he expired, cold, alone. He had survived to the end, and then died.</em></p> <p><em>He floated through space, through time. He saw himself. He saw his life, and moved his hand towards it. The stars here were closer, but smaller; just little balls of fire, that he could bat away with his hand. He placed a finger on his timeline…</em></p> <p><em>There he was, a boy, a teenager. There was Sadr, walking, about to meet him. He brushed him away, like dust, ashes. There was Egypt, the colonel, the… he moved his hand, brushing that away too. Only ashes. Only…</em></p> <p><em>He wiped it all. The death. The killing. The long, cold nights. The boredom. The black, high-rise buildings. Smoking past midnight. The nightmares. Fatima. An owl, hooting, in the distance. A lover, saying goodbye to him on a bridge, tearful, emotional, as he stared through her. The smell of the waves over concrete.</em></p> <p><em>An expedition in a desert; night fires. Boarding a gas tanker off the coast of Yemen. A death, a murder, in Cape Town. Alcohol, evaporating from his mouth, turning to burnt steam. The sight of poppy fields. A clock, chiming in London. The pain of the baton, the knife.</em></p> <p><em>There he was again, a child. A thief. Stealing from a supermarket. Laughing, his friends laughing, punching playfully. Friendship, camraderie. He sat down, watching it. There. That was it. That was the moment. He was innocent again.</em></p> <p><em>A lamb of God.</em></p> <p><em>He closed his eyes, screwing them up, silent as the tears came. He wanted to scream. He'd wanted it so badly, more than he'd wanted anything. But the fire rose inside him, and spilt out, bursting everywhere. It all came flooding back. The campfire laughed, rising high, enclosing him, choking him, enveloping him like an old, old friend…</em></p> <hr/> <p>"Wake up, sleepyhead."</p> <p>He jerked awake. The sheets were soaked in sweat. He coughed, spluttering, his head aching. It was night. The thin blinds, the electric light through the window.</p> <p>"Where am I?"</p> <p>Fatima laughed, and stood up. "You're safe. In a hotel, in Kansas City. Not the most inspiring place I've ever been to, but…"</p> <p>She drew back the curtains. More light came in, electric and stultifying but, oddly, warming. He took deep breaths, sitting up, looking around.</p> <p>"What happened?"</p> <p>"She did something to your head. She tried to rewrite you, your history, but it didn't stick. It's an occupational hazard, when dealing with people like her."</p> <p>Voices sounded below. People laughing. Someone shouting, drunkenly, at a doorman. A fly was in the room with them, its whine turning as it flew.</p> <p>"Who was she?"</p> <p>"A former Foundation agent. A matriarch of the Daeva, who has lived longer than history itself. A problem. A threat. Does it matter? I thought you didn't care about those kinds of things."</p> <p>He looked at her. She was smiling at him, eyebrow cocked. He sighed. "No. I suppose I don't."</p> <p>He got up, stretched. He was still in his trousers, but his shirt was slung over the side of a chair. He began to button it up.</p> <p>"Don't you want to know what happened, at least? Whether she lived or died?"</p> <p>He kept buttoning. He felt in his pockets - good. Passport, wallet. He checked - nothing taken. His phone lit up; it had only been a day. A flight back to Istanbul was already booked for the morning.</p> <p>"No. I don't."</p> <p>He didn't look back. He went to the door, and closed it quietly behind him. It made a small click as it locked; the dust, unsettled, fell back to the floor.</p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-night-fires">The Night Fires</a>" by Tufto, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-night-fires">https://scpwiki.com/the-night-fires</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	===== [[include <a href="/component:preview">component:preview</a> text= "No. He was killed almost ten years ago. Didn't you know?" ]] ===== [[include <a href="/theme:black-highlighter-theme">theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="/component:pride-highlighter">component:pride-highlighter</a> inc-lgbt= --]]] [[include <a href="/info:start">info:start</a>]] Author: [[user Tufto]]. This tale uses (with permission) the character of Farhan by [[user Rounderhouse]], acting as a continuation of [[[LAMB OF GOD]]] and [[[farhan-s-flame\|FARHAN'S FLAME]]]. More of their work can be found [[[tufto-personnel-file\|here]]]. [[include <a href="/info:end">info:end</a>]] "No. He was killed almost ten years ago. Didn't you know?" That got a rise out of [[[farhan-s-flame\|him]]]. His face turned towards her, sharp and surprised. He tried to get it under control, but she simply smiled, viciously, shifting under the covers, holding her cigarette aloft. "How?" "A [[[scp-8799\|'joint operation' with the Foundation]]]. You must have heard about it? It was so long ago, now. For about five seconds, we were at peace, cooperating. They were doing some experiment on a shrine near Mashhad, before he got sucked into some... other place." "What other place?" It was almost noon. Fatima liked the decadence of that. She shifted onto her back, flexing her toes. She hadn't taken a drag in a little while; she wanted to savour each moment, preserve it in amber. She was enjoying this. It was better for him to be in pain than to be numb. He sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, his back to her. She lifted a finger, lazily, tracing the scars on his back. He hated when she did that, normally, but now he didn't even flinch. The temperature was like ice. A good sign, she supposed. "A mythical one. The world of the Shahname, full of beasts and kings. Except... this one was wrong. It was burnt." A bird call outside. The curtains waved, gauzy and white. "[[[reclamation\|Esfandiari]]] tried everything to get him back. But then the Foundation struck - you heard about //that//, surely? Kaveh?" He nodded. Everyone had heard about Kaveh, whether they were within the organisation or outside it. 51 dead. A brutal killing, apparently unprovoked. But it was only one of many, now. "One of the Foundation's own had been sucked in with him. They wanted our research - looking for a way to bring her back. And they did. They needed to burn something, something over there. And there was only one thing they could find..." That got him. He turned, slowly, a strange look on his face - a face no longer used to contortion. "They //burnt// him?" Fatima's smile widened. "Oh, yes. But it didn't work. They didn't get their agent back. I don't know why. So he died for - well, for less than nothing." He snarled, grabbing her, clenching her arms, pushing her against the wall, as she laughed and laughed and - A singing began, scratchy and artificial. He stopped. Fatima shook herself, her smile fading. "Time for zuhr." He relaxed his grip, shifting across, awkward and clumsy. He watched as she got up, put out her cigarette, stretched and began to dress. A long, deep blue dress; a lighter blue hijab. "We're not in Iran, you know. Nobody will care if you skip prayer." "I'll care." A brief look in the mirror; a hair, brushed away. "You commit adultery and then scurry away to prayer? Isn't that... I don't know, hypocrisy?" It was her turn to look sharply at him. "Sin is not unbelief, Farhan. You ought to learn that." She smiled, slightly, and turned to leave. It had been a poor blow, but it seemed to have stung. He didn't know why he'd bothered. If it hurt her, that was what she wanted. It was why he was here. He looked around the room. It was clearly ORIA-assigned - cheap, cracked, boiling in summer and freezing in winter. They were the only landlord ever looked at with compassion by their tenants, because the tenants were too stupid to realise they were being exploited. It was all part of the //mission//. Sadr was dead... He hadn't been expecting that, he really hadn't. It had jolted paths in his brain he's thought were long gone. It didn't exactly make him feel sad, or regretful - just lit up certain lights by reflex. Sadr had been a part of his life for so long, even now, that he couldn't imagine that he was really gone. Ten years... The fire flickered, slightly. He still felt anger, of course. Why would Sadr do that? He had played at fieldwork, but he wasn't made for it. He was a scientist. Why would he let them put him there? Why would he let himself die? Why would the Foundation //do// that? He got up, walking to the window. Fatima could be seen, distantly, walking carefully across the cobbles. The Bosphorus glimmered in the distance. It was so quiet here. Outside of tourist season, in the autumn, Sultanahmet seemed to exist just for him. But the domes on the mosques reminded him of Cairo... He turned away. He shook himself. He put on his clothes and walked away. ----- And then the leaves fell, and it was winter. Istanbul was freezing. The city had not known a February like this in some time. When the temperatures just kept rising and rising, snow like this was almost a miracle. Children were playing outside, throwing snowballs, building snowmen. The same pursuits as always, as everywhere else. Farhan was inside, cleaning his gun. The heating was on, but barely; his teeth chattered in the cold. He was not in a part of Istanbul that tourists ventured into. It was a miserable little suburb, endless identical streets of low-rise apartments and cheap restaurants. It was Istanbul for the locals. He did not prefer it, but he couldn't stand the centre any more. He'd come off a job in Bahrain, then another one here, and now he had nothing. A couple of fat paychecks would let him rest for a while. There was time. He'd never spent much time in Istanbul. He supposed it was something he ought to do, to soak up some culture. Sadr would have said so. Ten whole years... He barely went out at all any more. Occasionally, a need would overtake him. A woman, a nice meal, a walk. Then he'd come back here, and finish his little rituals. The gun was cleaned, over and over again. Another book, perhaps. He'd been reading a lot of Egyptian fiction recently. Interwar stuff. It helped him create a new image in his head for Cairo, something wholly different. The name would, perhaps, form different associations, different pathways in his head. Then there was cookery. He'd become quite good. Each spice or herb had its own property, and the interaction between it and the basic elements - meat, vegetable, fish - allowed for infinite possibilities. Trying to find something new, a combination that was both novel and functional, was something that could occupy him forever. Otherwise, his life was prosaic. Food, television, pornography. He sometimes amused himself by looking out in the street, coming up with little stories about his neighbours' lives. There was a woman opposite whose children had recently - There was a knock at the door. He tensed. He was expecting nobody. It was probably a salesman - but how had they got into the building without buzzing the door? He placed the pieces of his gun down, and felt for his knife. Its metal was cold, comforting. He moved over and looked through the peephole. A woman was standing there, looking bored. She didn't look armed. He relaxed, minutely, but still opened the door very carefully. She was in her late thirties, early forties. She looked Turkish to him. She did not smile at him, but simply cocked her head on one side. "Farhan Moradi?" He nodded; she did the same. "May I come in?" He shouldn't. This was dangerous. A stranger turning up at his door, knowing his name - //- but this was always how it happened, wasn't it? He'd tried other methods, but the clients were never suitable. Never had enough money, or enough understanding of what he did. No, the jobs he took were always// something //like this; a casual meeting in a park, a note slipped across a table. A woman turning up at his door...// He opened and gestured to her. A brief, tight smile. No playfulness. She sat down on a chair, staring at him. He smiled back. "Tea? Coffee?" "No, thank you." He nodded, sitting opposite her. She continued to stare, head moving slightly, as if trying to see into his skull. He smiled again, wider. "See something you like?" "In a sense. I have a job for you." He nodded again. He liked this. It was simpler, easier. Every pleasantry seemed more and more of an exhaustion each passing year. "Who's the target?" "Not a who. A what. I need someone familiar enough with cracking Foundation security procedures to break into a secure facility. Site-76." This took him by surprise. He leant back, considering, eyes wide. Site-76? That was in America. It held a large number of smaller items, Daevite and Central Asian objects. And the Foundation? Sure, he'd had dealings with them in the past, but he was loathe to do so again... "That will be difficult. A number of particularly secure items are held there - the Foundation will have taken its security very seriously." "Do you know what SCP-140 is?" He shook his head. This woman wasn't Turkish - he recognised the accent. It was Uzbek. "It's a book. Just a book. I doubt it will be their highest priority. Getting in will be difficult, but once we're in, it shouldn't be too difficult to locate and retrieve." "What's so special about this book?" "That's for me to know." "If it has anomalous properties, then I'll need to know what we're up against..." "I will pay you 2.3 million USD." This was wrong. That was //far// too much. He stood up, shaking his head. "Sorry. You've got the wrong person. I'm not interested." That stare was unnerving him. He saw something - a ghost of a smile, a little twitch, something //incorrect//. She had been waiting for this. She //wanted// him to refuse. "You will do this, Farhan. Because you and I share something in common." "And what's that?" "Once, we both loved Parviz Sadr." ----- That night, Farhan slept, and Farhan dreamt. The campfire never came to him in a jungle any more. It didn't feel the need to expend energy on such rhetorical flourishes. Farhan knew it, knew the shape of it, the intention it poured into himself. The fire understood him too; a little more mocking, a little more contemptuous each day. The relationship felt less friendly, now; more like a business arrangement. "You need to talk to me?" He nodded, approaching. "I need advice." "I can see what you see. You feel what I feel. Feast on this meal." "But..." Ten years since Sadr's death. Closer to sixteen since he'd last seen him. In all that time, he'd barely thought about him. He hadn't had very much contact with the ORIA either. A freelance operation here and there, but his handler was someone else, someone he didn't know. That was part of a different life, a different Farhan. He hadn't thought to ask. Sadr had always been worried. A slight nervousness; a jollity and expansiveness that would slowly, gradually, contract as an operation wore on. Sadr had cared. Sadr had cared more than anything - about Farhan, about the ORIA, about the mission. It was the bones of him, for better or for worse. The few times he'd thought about him, he imagined that he'd taken it on the chin, when Farhan left. That he'd got over it, and was nursing a bruise, and that - yes, that one day they'd see each other again. An inevitable confrontation, or reconciliation. That they'd both come to some understanding; a peace each one of them could have been satisfied with. "I didn't see your sediment, as holding such sweet sentiment." The fire curled, spitting upwards. And now he was dead. A body. Meaningless. Things just kept happening. Sadr had saved his life, saddling him with the flame. Or - was that fair? He'd chosen to bind with it. Wasn't it Farhan's choice? Sadr had just made the introductions; he hadn't //saddled// him with anything. Except... Wasn't it Sadr who had taken him from the streets, plucked him from obscurity? Become like a father, or an older brother? Wasn't it Sadr who had made him an agent, given him direction, purpose, life? Turned him into their finest tool, sent him to - //A scalpel, piercing his flesh...// "But still your body needs to eat." The flame rose higher, almost a column. It teased and danced upwards. It snarled, over his head, flashing and twisting. "Take her money, sate your burning heat." Farhan stared at it. He'd already known that he was taking the job, the second she'd said his name. Maybe the second Fatima had. ----- To enter a Foundation site, there were five trials that needed to be overcome; five tests of strength, resolve. The first was simple: find the place. Foundation sites, with typical overindulgence, would often move, or be disguised, or have their location anomalously masked, so the searcher could never grasp the concept in his head. This was stupid. All of these measures could be overcome; their presence was just a sign you were on the right track. He'd forged uniforms, IDs, database entries; they were guests, a routine inspection. They drove up to the site, green pines under a grey sky, rain soaking the earth and grass. Mud splashed their tires. The second trial was to fool the guards. This was harder; they were trained to detect lies, to understand falsehood on a deeper level. But, again, this just meant a set of practices; and practices can be memorised, and countered. They nodded, bored, and waved them through. The woman did not flinch; she was trained in this too, familiar with their procedures. She was a strange one. She had left no contact number; she simply turned up when he was ready, after all the arrangements had been put in place. He felt - not tenderness, not any more, but something similar. A kinship. There was scarring on her, he could see it - disguised with concealer, makeup, but there, under the surface, a crisscross of lines on her cheek. The third trial was finding the anomaly. It was not unusual for an inspection to check on specific anomalies, to test their containment level. The Foundation database was vast, untameable. Different realities and timelines crisscrossed it; the organisation itself was one big anomaly, the biggest of them all, just waiting to be reclaimed. But he didn't do that any more. Reclamation was someone else's game. He pictured Fatima, in his mind's eye. She'd joined after his time, well after - but he'd seen her work. The eyes as she stared down the barrel of a gun, focused on the target. Her fingers, laced with fine sweat. A single strand of hair, loose, the wind waving it across her forehead. She hadn't even noticed - no time for that. A trigger, squeezed, so gently... He located the item. In a desk, in a secure vault. He nodded at the woman. She was looking at a different entry - a book, golden, with moving pictures... The fourth trial was to enter the vault. He kept lookout for this part, after dispatching the single - the single! - armed guard. The woman knelt down, and sliced a mark in her cheek. He frowned, confused, until he saw the blood suspended in space, leaking out according to the movements of her fingers. It entered the console... ...he'd seen people spill blood for a cause before. Sadr had done it. He'd volunteered for fieldwork, ages ago, before Egypt - a bar in Volgograd, an ancient building from before the war. Two former GRU-P agents, who knew something about a reality alteration in Almaty. A knife had come out; his mentor, taken aback, stumbling, holding his arm, feeling the wet of it, and then there was the speed with which Farhan had raised his gun and - A click. The door was open. The alarms, mercifully, did not go off. And then there was the fifth trial, the last one. To place your fingers around the anomaly, and take it. To dare to be so bold. To //defy// the Foundation, the ooze of it, the sprawling mass of it... But he didn't care about that any more. He saw Sadr's face, enveloped by flame, screaming and screaming until all he believed in was obliterated by pain. ----- The room was stark, white, too large and too empty. Only a single desk, an old, wooden affair, stood in the centre. They approached it. She knelt down, opening the drawer - and there it was, sitting flat and inert. She couldn't believe her luck - it had been //that easy//. She almost giggled. She extended her hand forward - "I think that's enough for one day." The two of them spun around. The room had been empty, just a moment ago. But there, sitting on a chair, smoking a cigarette, smiling a sharp little smile... Fatima raised her gun, aiming it at Farhan. "Hello, sweetheart. Enjoying the sights?" Farhan swallowed, hard, and raised his own. "Why?" "I can't let you steal it." Her voice was soft, almost kind. "I let you get this far. The Foundation need to be less complacent with it; they need to toughen its security. They need to know how close you got. But I can't let you actually take it." "You're not reclaiming it?" "Some things cannot be used. They can only be misused. The Foundation has the... capacity for better security than we could dream of, if only they'd use it. And don't bother, Nodira - I can shoot you faster." The woman froze, her hand in midair, closing on her holster. "You know me." "Oh, yes. We recognise you. The arrogance of it, that Foundation arrogance - not even bothering to change your face..." "Foundation?" Farhan stepped back, looking at the woman, considering her. He blinked, fast. "Who are you?" The woman sighed, and reached for the book. Both of them trained their guns on her. She stopped, and smiled, teeth wide and black. "Even you won't get far, Nodira. Don't try it." The woman laughed. She kept laughing, long and loud. The alarms started; distant voices could be heard. As they turned - a split-second lapse in concentration - the woman drew her knife, and slashed her own cheek, leaving a long, vicious scar, and the blood began pouring out, and the air began glowing red, and - ----- //- and it was all so much stuff. It was a pantomime, these people, this place. Fatima discharged her gun, swore, reloaded, as the woman morphed, changed...// //Farhan lowered his own gun. He was cold. He turned and walked away. In the commotion, he slipped out of Site-76. He left America. He returned to Istanbul. He heard what had happened months later; the woman had disappeared, Fatima had been caught but had escaped. He shrugged, and kept cleaning his gun.// //It was a cold winter; it was a hot summer. Farhan did nothing. He took on other jobs. He grew older. He read more, he watched more, he fucked women in strange hotels before killing them for money. His beard began to be flecked with grey.// //He didn't see Fatima again. He didn't think about Sadr. His life finished, and he expired, cold, alone. He had survived to the end, and then died.// //He floated through space, through time. He saw himself. He saw his life, and moved his hand towards it. The stars here were closer, but smaller; just little balls of fire, that he could bat away with his hand. He placed a finger on his timeline...// //There he was, a boy, a teenager. There was Sadr, walking, about to meet him. He brushed him away, like dust, ashes. There was Egypt, the colonel, the... he moved his hand, brushing that away too. Only ashes. Only...// //He wiped it all. The death. The killing. The long, cold nights. The boredom. The black, high-rise buildings. Smoking past midnight. The nightmares. Fatima. An owl, hooting, in the distance. A lover, saying goodbye to him on a bridge, tearful, emotional, as he stared through her. The smell of the waves over concrete.// //An expedition in a desert; night fires. Boarding a gas tanker off the coast of Yemen. A death, a murder, in Cape Town. Alcohol, evaporating from his mouth, turning to burnt steam. The sight of poppy fields. A clock, chiming in London. The pain of the baton, the knife.// //There he was again, a child. A thief. Stealing from a supermarket. Laughing, his friends laughing, punching playfully. Friendship, camraderie. He sat down, watching it. There. That was it. That was the moment. He was innocent again.// //A lamb of God.// //He closed his eyes, screwing them up, silent as the tears came. He wanted to scream. He'd wanted it so badly, more than he'd wanted anything. But the fire rose inside him, and spilt out, bursting everywhere. It all came flooding back. The campfire laughed, rising high, enclosing him, choking him, enveloping him like an old, old friend...// ----- "Wake up, sleepyhead." He jerked awake. The sheets were soaked in sweat. He coughed, spluttering, his head aching. It was night. The thin blinds, the electric light through the window. "Where am I?" Fatima laughed, and stood up. "You're safe. In a hotel, in Kansas City. Not the most inspiring place I've ever been to, but..." She drew back the curtains. More light came in, electric and stultifying but, oddly, warming. He took deep breaths, sitting up, looking around. "What happened?" "She did something to your head. She tried to rewrite you, your history, but it didn't stick. It's an occupational hazard, when dealing with people like her." Voices sounded below. People laughing. Someone shouting, drunkenly, at a doorman. A fly was in the room with them, its whine turning as it flew. "Who was she?" "A former Foundation agent. A matriarch of the Daeva, who has lived longer than history itself. A problem. A threat. Does it matter? I thought you didn't care about those kinds of things." He looked at her. She was smiling at him, eyebrow cocked. He sighed. "No. I suppose I don't." He got up, stretched. He was still in his trousers, but his shirt was slung over the side of a chair. He began to button it up. "Don't you want to know what happened, at least? Whether she lived or died?" He kept buttoning. He felt in his pockets - good. Passport, wallet. He checked - nothing taken. His phone lit up; it had only been a day. A flight back to Istanbul was already booked for the morning. "No. I don't." He didn't look back. He went to the door, and closed it quietly behind him. It made a small click as it locked; the dust, unsettled, fell back to the floor. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [!-- N/A (No Images) --] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-05-03T13:54:00	[ "_licensebox", "bleak", "daevite", "oria", "spy-fiction", "tale" ]	The Night Fires - SCP Foundation	36	[ "lamb-of-god", "farhan-s-flame", "tufto-personnel-file", "scp-8799", "reclamation", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "oria-hub" ]	[]	1453534968	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-night-fires
the-past-is-never-dead	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="preview"> <p>"Siberia is a very large place. And you found something at the first place you started digging?"</p> </div> <p>« <a href="/knowing-good-and-evil">Knowing Good And Evil</a></p> <p>Yana Drozdova sat in a windowless cell, and waited.</p> <p>The walls were covered with off-white paint, old enough that it had started to flake away. The floor was concrete. There was a wooden table and two chairs, all bolted to the floor. The door was locked.</p> <p>They'd taken everything from her except for the clothes she was wearing, so Yana had had plenty of time to familiarise herself with every detail of the room as she waited quietly within it. After what felt like hours, she heard the door unlock. An older man walked in and took the seat across from her. He dressed smartly, but not in any uniform Yana recognized. He was lean and clean-shaven, with grey hair and a pale, wrinkled face. He clearly didn't spend much time outside.</p> <p>He greeted her in Russian. "Miss Drozdova! I apologize for keeping you waiting. I'm sure there's been a simple misunderstanding." He sounded sympathetic to her situation, as if he'd be happy to have her sent home as soon as it was all explained. "I'm Radomir Valkov, I'll start by confirming a few details?"</p> <p>Yana smiled warmly at him, and nodded. She highly doubted that she'd simply be let go - you don't get bundled into an unmarked van simply to be asked a few questions - but there was no reason not to play along for now.</p> <p>"Your name is Yana Mikhaila Drozdova. You were born in Irkutsk Oblast. Your father is Mikhail Drosdov. Your mother was Helga Koslova. You studied History at the Far Eastern Federal University in Vladivostok." Valkov recited this from memory, staring intently at Yana the entire time.</p> <p>The intense scrutiny made her uncomfortable, but everything he'd just said about her was true, so she nodded. "I assume you looked that up somewhere?"</p> <p>Valkov ignored her question. "You were apprehended by… let's just say, by the organization I work for, at a site of archaeological interest. You came to the site alone, bringing your own equipment with you, and proceeded to excavate several artifacts. Given your immediate success, you seemed to know exactly what you were looking for."</p> <p>Yana wasn't sure how to respond to that.</p> <p>Valkov smiled. "Miss Drozdova, your cooperation would be appreciated." He paused, then said, "The organization I represent is always recruiting talented young people. Now, I make no promises, but if you know something we don't, we'd be very interested in the sharing of information."</p> <p>Yana remained suspicious, but this wasn't the first time she'd needed to explain her research. It was clearly too late to remain unnoticed by whatever agency or corporation this man worked for, but there may still be a way out for her.</p> <p>Slowly, hesitantly, she began to tell the story she'd thought up, the one that lied only through omission. "As you know, I've studied history. The focus of my research has always been on Siberia. Specifically, its history prior to its incorporation into the Russian Empire. Although most historical accounts dismiss the region entirely, at least until the founding of the Mongol Empire, there is evidence that the area was previously the homeland of a far more ancient and advanced civilization."</p> <p>Valkov sighed loudly. "Is this the Tartarian Empire hypothesis?"</p> <p>Yana hesitated. She disliked that phrasing, but it was probably safest to go along with it. Now was not the time to worry about being regarded as a crank. "Are you familiar with the work of Mikhael Drugov?"</p> <p>Valkov nodded. "I am… aware of his work." He did not seem impressed.</p> <p>Yana was well aware of Drugov's shortcomings - taking the author of Empire of Dirt at his word was only one step up from believing in Ancient Aliens, and he made the mistake of assuming that the rulers of the forgotten ancient empire were Slavic. But for the first time in her life, Yana knew the pragmatic thing to do was to convince everyone that she was a fan. "I realise he makes a lot of speculative claims based on limited evidence, but I thought it was worth investigating further."</p> <p>Valkov raised a finger to object. "You came all the way out to the middle of Siberia… based on a book that has been discredited by every reputable historian who's dared touch it? I would have expected a student of history to be a little more skeptical!"</p> <p>Yana shrugged. "Look, I thought if I looked into it further, I could prove him right. And I did!" She nervously put on the wide grin of a true believer.</p> <p>Valkov looked unconvinced. "You dug up some rubble. A few shards of pottery. It proves nothing."</p> <p>Yana was defensive, despite her better judgment. "If there's nothing to find, then why am I here?"</p> <p>Valkov answered with a question. "What exactly did you come here to look for, Miss Drozdova?"</p> <p>Yana hesitated again. She'd have to be careful not to say too much. "Physical evidence of an… ancient Tartarian civilization. To corroborate the contemporary references to it in Mongolian, Persian and Chinese texts."</p> <p>Valkov nodded. "I am aware of the documents you describe. I'm not sure if you know that all of the documents Drugov references in Empire of Dirt were later discovered to either be hoaxes, forgeries, or creative mistranslations of original texts."</p> <p>Yana looked around at the windowless cell she was sitting in. "Did you have something to do with that?" She was pushing her luck, but it would have seemed suspicious to give up too quickly, given that she'd traveled all the way out here…</p> <p>Valkov calmly said, "That's not what we're here to discuss." He continued, "The texts you refer to are known to us. The real question is how you found the site at which you were digging."</p> <p>Yana paused again - that was harder to explain. "I made an educated guess at plausible locations for the cities described in those texts."</p> <p>"Siberia is a very large place. And you found something at the first place you started digging?"</p> <p>"Well, I did look elsewhere -"</p> <p>"Do not lie to us. We had you under surveillance."</p> <p>Yana shrugged. "I guess I just got lucky."</p> <p>Valkov nodded, but then removed a picture from his pocket, depicting a notebook. It was open, revealing pages filled with <a href="/old-daevite-language">Old Daevite script</a>. Yana recognised it immediately. It was hers.</p> <p>"Miss Drozdova, that was in your backpack. It looks like it was written recently."</p> <p>"Err… It's just…" She'd forgotten they'd seized that. "Doodling? To relax?"</p> <p>"Miss Drozdova, I don't think that's true. I recognize this script. Where did you get this from?"</p> <p>She should have known that he knew more than he was letting on, but a reasonable explanation suddenly occurred to her. "I saw them on… something I dug up. I copied the symbols down. Do you think it's some sort of language?"</p> <p>Valkov smiled. "We must have missed that object when we catalogued everything you uncovered. How careless of us. You don't happen to know where you left it?"</p> <p>That lie had obviously been a mistake.</p> <p>Valkov continued. "While you're thinking about that, perhaps you can explain where you copied these down from?"</p> <p>He placed more pictures on the table, images that were clearly taken in her apartment in Vladivostok. Her belongings had been searched, and her journals had been opened and photographed. Every page was covered with the same angular writing.</p> <p>"You've gotten quite a collection of these back at home. We'd really like to know where you got it all down from. Did someone give it to you?"</p> <p>Yana remained silent. While she sat in this cell, strangers had been rummaging through her private diaries. Her only comfort was that there was no way for them to read the thoughts she'd written down.</p> <p><em>"Can you understand us?"</em></p> <p>Yana looked back at him in shock. His pronunciation was awful, but Valkov had definitely spoken in the Daevite language. It was the first time in her life that Yana had heard it out loud, and she understood every word.</p> <p><em>"Who are you?"</em> she asked, speaking in the same language, but from the look on his face it was clear that he didn't understand what she was saying.</p> <p>He continued asking her questions, in fluent Russian and in mangled Daevite, but Yana just sat there in silence. He spoke the words as if he had memorized the sounds but couldn't grasp their meaning, and he quickly ran out of phrases to say. Jana felt no obligation to answer, but suddenly felt exposed. If he could speak her language, no matter how crudely, then the people he worked for could probably read it - and that meant that they already knew far too much about her.</p> <p>"I see you're not in the mood to talk." Valkov began walking out of the room. "I'll have you escorted to a holding cell. I promise they're more comfortable than they sound."</p> <p>"When will I be getting out of here?" asked Yana, as the door began to close behind him, but there was no reply from her interrogator. She stood up to follow him, but a guard stepped into the doorway behind him, barring her exit from the room until long after Valkov was gone.</p> <hr/> <p>It was a long three days before Yana found herself back in the interview room. They'd tried to talk with her again, this time over the intercom system rather than face to face, but it was clear from the long pauses and constant mispronunciations that they had never really spoken Daevite before, and were merely guessing at the correct sounds. They'd tried writing the questions down instead, but it was still clearly the work of amateurs, and Yana had resisted the urge to correct them.</p> <p>She'd asked for her notes, even offered to explain them, but the guards that brought her food and toiletries refused to discuss why she was there, or when she'd be getting out. Yana expected they wouldn't know anything.</p> <p>Her last visitor had been a doctor with a needle, wanting to take a blood sample. Yana would have refused, but the two burly guards accompanying him made it clear that she didn't have any choice.</p> <p>Valkov entered the Interview Room again, and placed the notebook down on the table, open at the center. Every page was covered with the Daevite script she'd written. "A fascinating read."</p> <p>Yana hesitated. She'd assumed the language was dead to everyone but her, but if they had worked out what it meant… "You can read this?"</p> <p>"We've done our research."</p> <p>She could try to pretend it was some sort of cipher of her own creation, but that didn't seem like it would fool them. She tried a more blatant lie. "I don't know what it means. I saw it in some old documents, I was copying it out to try to decode it."</p> <p>Valkov looked at her with curiosity. "Miss Drozdova, if that's true we would love to see the original."</p> <p>"I don't have it anymore."</p> <p>Valkov smiled. "That's a real shame. You see, this seems to be a very personal account of someone's life. Perhaps multiple people. Some of it matches descriptions of the… ancient Siberian Empire we previously discussed. But some of it… well, some of it seems to take place after that empire's fall."</p> <p>Yana tried to look intrigued, as if this were news to her. "Really? That sounds very interesting."</p> <p>"Exactly. So we really must know where you got this from. Some passages seem to tie together, but it doesn't seem to be complete. If we could find more… well, that would be of great interest to our historians."</p> <p>Yana wasn't sure what to say. Should she try and make something up? The beginnings of a plan began to form… "I might be able to lead you to the original inscriptions, but it was a long time ago though. I can't remember exactly where they are, and someone may have moved them -"</p> <p>"Miss Drozdova, honesty would be appreciated. You wrote all of this down in a dead language, and you must have gotten it from somewhere."</p> <p>Yana didn't know what to say to that. She couldn't think of any ideas other than the truth.</p> <p>"You remember that you gave us a blood sample?"</p> <p>Yana remained in sullen silence as Valkov explained.</p> <p>"We did some tests. Genome sequencing. Apparently it isn't even expensive these days. Do you know what we found?"</p> <p>Yana had no idea.</p> <p>"A surprising similarity to ancient DNA we've recovered from Siberia. There's a lot of very unusual gene variants."</p> <p>This was news to Yana. Of course, they could just be making this up. She didn't know enough about science to be able to tell whether it would even be possible to know something like that.</p> <p>"The lab says you must be a direct descendant of… well, I think we both know who."</p> <p>Yana did, but there was no reason to confirm it.</p> <p>"We can wait as long as it takes for you to tell the truth."</p> <p>Yana ignored all further questions. Eventually, Valkov left.</p> <hr/> <p>Yana remained in silence for several days after that, complying with the orders she was given without saying a word. Eventually, she found herself transported to a new room, and was told she would be remaining there until further notice. It was more spacious than her initial holding cell. While it had the same bed, desk, chair, sink and toilet, the furniture looked newer and the sheets felt more comfortable. She was told she'd be allowed to request personal items, and even decorate the walls. While this seemed much more accommodating, Yana resented the implication that she would be here for a long time, and should make herself comfortable.</p> <p>The only thing she asked for - no, demanded - was that they return her journals to her.</p> <p>She assumed they wouldn't, and pondered how they would respond if she protested her imprisonment by refusing to eat. She decided against it for now, because she doubted they'd hesitate to force-feed her. They clearly wanted her alive, and if were concerned she might harm herself, she could lose what little freedom she had.</p> <p>While in many ways the experience was exactly how she imagined prison, in other ways it was more like being in hospital. People were constantly coming by to measure and examine her, and ask how she was feeling, and see if there was anything she wanted. Yana ignored them. If they wanted her to talk, they'd have to give her back her notes. It had been her life's work, and she wasn't letting them take it away from her.</p> <p>After a week, Valkov surprised her again. He knocked at the door, and asked for permission to come in. She ignored him, until he mentioned that her request had been granted, and that he had brought the journals she'd requested with him. Yana said, "Come in."</p> <p>Valkov brought a large stack of paper into her room, and placed it on her desk.</p> <p>"I'm afraid they insisted on keeping the originals. But we have it all scanned, and so we were able to give you a copy of everything."</p> <p>Yana quickly flicked through years of her own writings. While she'd written it all from memory, without a physical copy she knew that she'd begin to lose track of details over time. She was surprised, and a little unsettled to discover that they didn't just have the notes she'd left in her apartment in Vladivostok - they also had the notes she'd left with her father, in her family home near Krasnoyarsk. She recognised her younger self's childish scrawl, and felt embarrassed at the thought of men like Valkov reading through it, looking for clues about her.</p> <p>Valkov turned to leave. "Miss Drozdova, we'd be very interested in what you have to say about the contents of these journals. If you feel like talking."</p> <p>Yana pointedly ignored him, and instead began reading.</p> <p>"Those writings clearly mean a lot to you. We find them interesting as well, so your silence is frustrating. While the past may have a lot to say, you cannot have a conversation with it. When you're ready to discuss this further, let us know."</p> <p>He stood up, and left.</p> <hr/> <p>"You called?"</p> <p>Valkov was back, this time at her request. It had been a week since her last meeting with him.</p> <p>Yana knew she was being manipulated. He was very good at seeming like the kind and sympathetic face of whatever organisation had imprisoned her. But she hadn't had a real conversation in a very long time.</p> <p>"Can we talk?" Yana hated how pathetic her voice sounded, and tried again. "What I mean is, I'm willing to discuss my records. You have questions about them, and… I may as well answer them. While I'm here."</p> <p>Valkov smiled. "That's great to hear. They were beginning to become concerned about you. Containment can be difficult to adjust to."</p> <p>Yana didn't like the implication that she was beginning to get used to her imprisonment, but followed him to another room, bringing the copies of her more recent notes with here. She'd left the older ones behind with her father for a reason - the important parts had been copied over to her newer journals, and her awkward handwriting made her first drafts almost unreadable.</p> <p>The room was clearly designed for interviews, with a table and two chairs, but was much more comfortable than wherever she'd been previously. Valkov waited until she was seated on the cushioned chair, then sat down opposite her once again. "This is Interview Number Three, with CPOI-140-26." He turned to her, as an aside. "That's short for Contained Person of Interest.</p> <p>Yana nodded. "Yana Drozdova. Prisoner, held here against my will."</p> <p>Valkov frowned, but seemed amused. "That's generally assumed."</p> <p>Yana smiled. "I think it's worth noting."</p> <p>Valkov took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. "So, how would you describe the contents of the journals you've been keeping?"</p> <p>Yana figured that at this point, the truth was the only hand she had to play. It felt like a betrayal, even though there was nobody left alive to betray. "They're my memories."</p> <p>Valkov raised an eyebrow at that, smiling. "If that's true, you've lead a much more eventful life than our research would suggest!"</p> <p>Yana shook her head. "They're my memories now. But they once belonged to others."</p> <p>Valkov nodded. "So… how did you become aware of other people's memories?"</p> <p>Yana shrugged. "Sometimes I dream them. Sometimes I see something that reminds me. Sometimes it's a little of both, and writing it down helps me remember more."</p> <p>"You remember." He gestured at her stack of notes. "So, you believe this all happened?"</p> <p>"I recall being there. More clearly than my own childhood."</p> <p>"Memory can be deceptive, Miss Drozdova."</p> <p>"That's why I write as much down as possible. To refer back to."</p> <p>"That's not what I meant. Some of the things here strain credibility."</p> <p>Yana shrugged, hoping they wouldn't believe her. "So I'm delusional?"</p> <p>Valkov shook his head. "I don't think you're delusional. Too much has been corroborated by our own records of the Daevite Empire." This was the first time he'd used the word "Daevite" in her presence, but it was no surprise he knew it. He gestured at the paper again, pages and pages of the Daevite script. "Why do you even want to record all of this? There are things in here that most people would rather forget."</p> <p>"Like what?"</p> <p>"War. Human sacrifice. Cannibalism. Abuse."</p> <p>Yana shrugged. "We can't forget it. Mother tried. Grandmother too. It didn't work."</p> <p>"We… your family? And you took a different approach?"</p> <p>Valkov, or the people he worked for, would have done their research into her background. She didn't have to tell them that her mother had drank heavily, and eventually hanged herself. They probably also knew her grandmother spent most of her life in a Soviet mental institution.</p> <p>Yana nodded. "The worst memories are the hardest to forget. Writing them down… actually helps. I remember other things as well. Studying history… that brought back more memories, but it also put them into context. I finally understood how they all fit together."</p> <p>"And that lead you to amateur archaeology?"</p> <p>"I thought that having something I could hold in my hand would be evocative. Bring back even more." Yana paused. "I wouldn't have done it if I'd known you'd be there."</p> <p>Valkov smiled. "We keep our own investigations very well concealed. For reasons that I am not yet permitted to disclose. But the Foundation I work for does hold many Daevite artifacts. Perhaps the only such collection in the world. We may be able to come to some arrangement - assuming you can be trusted, of course."</p> <p>That was how they would be playing this. An exchange of information. She would have to be careful not to say too much. Digging up rubble and shards of pottery hadn't brought back any new memories, but the fact that she'd known exactly where to dig was all the proof she needed to know that they really did all happen. But if they were able to show her something more evocative… well, the exciting thing was that she had no idea what memories it might bring back.</p> <p>Valkov paused, as if expecting a reply from her. When Yana remained silent, he moved on. "So, in your own words, what is your connection to the Daevite Empire? How can you remember things that happened before you were born?"</p> <p>Yana tried to find a way to put it into words they would understand. "I inherited the memories of my mother. She inherited memories from her own mother, so I get those as well. And her mother, and her mother, and so on. It's not like I can recall everything, that would be too much, but the significant events are easy to remember."</p> <p>Valkov thought for a moment. "To clarify - you claim to be a direct descendant of a Daevite?"</p> <p>Yana smiled. "I remember being the daughter of a…" She struggled for a moment, searching for the closest equivalent of the title in Russian. A queen? A priestess? "A Daevite Matriarch. Actually, I remember being many daughters, of many mothers, for hundreds of years. Maybe thousands? It's hard to keep track of time when memories go back so far. But even after the empire fell for the final time, our daughters - my mothers - we still remembered."</p> <p>"Always daughters?" asked Valkov.</p> <p>Yana realized, for the first time, how unusual that was. "Yes. Always daughters."</p> <p>Valkov moved on. "How exactly did you gain the ability to recall these memories?"</p> <p>Yana struggled to think of a way to explain this - she'd known from an early age that it was best not to mention it. "It's not any more difficult than remembering something that happened in my own lifetime. I just need a reminder."</p> <p>Valkov paused. "How much did your mother recall? More than you, or about the same?"</p> <p>With some pride, Yana said "Less. She never studied history. She didn't keep notes as detailed as mine. And she never dug anything up." More quietly, Yana added, "She tried to forget. To avoid ending up like her own mother. Not that it helped, in the end."</p> <p>Valkov nodded slowly. "So, you can recall events that happened prior to your birth? Can you tell me more?"</p> <p>"Don't you already have my notes? I wrote down all the important memories already."</p> <p>Valkov paused before replying. "They are quite obviously… your notes. Clearly, they were written as a reminder to you rather than as an explanation for others. They are also written in a dead language that we've pieced together from very limited sources. There are many words and phrases we do not recognize, and many more we don't understand. If you could translate and expand on those passages… well, I make no promises, but we could show you some of the objects we have. More texts from the ancient Daevites, and several fascinating artifacts that survived surprisingly intact. We can see if those remind you of anything."</p> <p>Yana nodded, and rummaged through the copies of her journals until she found the one she was looking for. She opened it at page one. This was not the oldest memory she could recall, but it was one of the most vivid. She dreamed it often, so often that the terror it originally evoked had faded, leaving only a deep sense of loss. "Would you be interested in hearing about the Fall of Daevon?"</p> <p>Valkov definitely seemed intrigued. "Of course, but can you be more specific? From our own research, it seems that the Daevite Empire rose and fell multiple times."</p> <p>"This would be the final time."</p> <p>Valkov listened with obvious interest as Yana began reading from her notes, translating it from Daevite to Russian. It still hurt to revisit, like opening up an old wound, but it felt satisfying at the same time. Like peeling off a scab.</p> <p>"The conquering army came on horseback, the Mongol Horde led by the Great Khan. We, the proud Daeva, refused to submit to barbarians. Our armies outnumbered theirs, and our priestesses held more power than any of their shamans. But even with all the power of our prayer and prophesy, they outmaneuvered our armies on the field, as if their victory was ordained by fate."</p> <p>"The mother of my mothers, a Matriarch's youngest daughter, was sequestered in Daevon and did not witness this in person, but the reports we heard from the front lines made it clear that our situation was dire. Our defeat was inevitable, no matter how hard we fought against it, and the mother of my mothers understood this far more clearly than her elders. In the wisdom that comes from fear, she fled Daevon before it was surrounded."</p> <p>Radomir Valkov listened with interest. He'd read a rough translation of her notes already, but Yana's voice infused the words with emotion - sorrow, fear, and a world-weariness far beyond her years.</p> <p>"The mother of my mothers took nothing of value with her, for that would weigh her down. She cast aside the robes of a highborn Daeva, and instead wore the clothes of a common slave. She convinced the guards at the gates that she had been sent out of the city by her mistress on an important task. She promised them that she would soon return to the safety supposedly offered by the walls of Daevon. She never did. As far as I know, none who remained in that city survived."</p> <p>"She hoped to find others who had fled, or if that failed, to disappear into the wilderness and live in hunger like an animal. For a day and night, it seemed she might succeed. But when she heard the hooves behind her, she knew that she could not escape."</p> <p>"She expected the warrior to kill her, and with no escape available, she resigned herself to her fate. But she was clad in rags and covered in sweat, and so he did not recognize who she was. Exhausted and afraid, she could not resist him, and she was taken as his slave." Yana paused, unable to forget but unwilling to speak it aloud. "He was not entirely without pity. When she became pregnant with his child, he took her as his wife."</p> <p>There were some things that still hurt to remember, even centuries after they happened.</p> <p>"Miss Drozdova, if you'd like to stop -"</p> <p>Yana shook her head. "It was a long time ago. The wound has healed, even if the scar remains. I can tell you that the mother of my mothers then gave birth to a daughter, and never spoke a word to her about the things she had seen and suffered. She didn't have to. Her child recalled everything, up to the moment of her own birth."</p> <p>Valkov remained silent for a long time. "So, that was how you remember the Fall of Daevon?"</p> <p>"I'm sorry I can't provide any details of the battle. I remember going to great lengths to not be present as it happened."</p> <p>Valkov nodded. "I'm surprised you chose to share this specifically. It sounds like a particularly painful memory."</p> <p>Yana thought for a moment. She'd probably revealed more than she should have, but it had been the story she'd wanted to tell someone. "When I think back, the greatest despair was not felt on that day. Daevon had fallen before, to civil strife and to conquering armies, and each time it had risen again. The mother of my mothers remembered the past as well, and she had that hope to cling to, at first." Yana remembered sharing that hope as a child, before she knew better.</p> <p>"But the Great Khan ordered his men to leave no survivors in the city of Daevon, to reduce it to rubble and ash, so that even the name might be forgotten. Until recently, I assumed he had succeeded. I thought there was nothing left but wild and inaccurate speculation, aside from my own memories. So far, it has been little comfort to discover that there are others who remember Daevon." She directed that last comment towards Valkov, and whoever it was that he worked for.</p> <p>Valkov looked uncomfortable. He'd clearly hoped they were now on better terms. "Miss Drozdova, I understand we haven't made the best first impression on you. But I promise you, we do have great interest in what you have to tell us."</p> <p>Yana smiled back at him. "If you want me to keep talking, I'm going to need more information about what you already know about my people. To make sure I explain our history in terms you can understand."</p> <p>Valkov hesitated. "I'll need to discuss that with my superiors. Perhaps we should finish here for today. We'll need some time to cross-reference your account with our own records."</p> <p>Yana leaned forward in her chair, speaking with a confidence she hadn't felt for a long time. "Check all you want. I know it's true. I should be the one assessing you for accuracy."</p> <p>She'd lived her whole life fearing that something like this would happen, but perhaps this situation came with its own benefits. There was power in being the only living witness.</p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><a href="/hid-from-the-presence">Hid From The Presence</a> »<br/> <a href="/the-last-daughter-of-daevon">The Last Daughter of Daevon</a> »»</p> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-past-is-never-dead">The Past Is Never Dead</a>" by Jerden, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-past-is-never-dead">https://scpwiki.com/the-past-is-never-dead</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	===== [[include <a href="/component:preview">component:preview</a> text= "Siberia is a very large place. And you found something at the first place you started digging?" ]] ===== [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] << [[[Knowing Good And Evil]]] Yana Drozdova sat in a windowless cell, and waited. The walls were covered with off-white paint, old enough that it had started to flake away. The floor was concrete. There was a wooden table and two chairs, all bolted to the floor. The door was locked. They'd taken everything from her except for the clothes she was wearing, so Yana had had plenty of time to familiarise herself with every detail of the room as she waited quietly within it. After what felt like hours, she heard the door unlock. An older man walked in and took the seat across from her. He dressed smartly, but not in any uniform Yana recognized. He was lean and clean-shaven, with grey hair and a pale, wrinkled face. He clearly didn't spend much time outside. He greeted her in Russian. "Miss Drozdova! I apologize for keeping you waiting. I'm sure there's been a simple misunderstanding." He sounded sympathetic to her situation, as if he'd be happy to have her sent home as soon as it was all explained. "I'm Radomir Valkov, I'll start by confirming a few details?" Yana smiled warmly at him, and nodded. She highly doubted that she'd simply be let go - you don't get bundled into an unmarked van simply to be asked a few questions - but there was no reason not to play along for now. "Your name is Yana Mikhaila Drozdova. You were born in Irkutsk Oblast. Your father is Mikhail Drosdov. Your mother was Helga Koslova. You studied History at the Far Eastern Federal University in Vladivostok." Valkov recited this from memory, staring intently at Yana the entire time. The intense scrutiny made her uncomfortable, but everything he'd just said about her was true, so she nodded. "I assume you looked that up somewhere?" Valkov ignored her question. "You were apprehended by... let's just say, by the organization I work for, at a site of archaeological interest. You came to the site alone, bringing your own equipment with you, and proceeded to excavate several artifacts. Given your immediate success, you seemed to know exactly what you were looking for." Yana wasn't sure how to respond to that. Valkov smiled. "Miss Drozdova, your cooperation would be appreciated." He paused, then said, "The organization I represent is always recruiting talented young people. Now, I make no promises, but if you know something we don't, we'd be very interested in the sharing of information." Yana remained suspicious, but this wasn't the first time she'd needed to explain her research. It was clearly too late to remain unnoticed by whatever agency or corporation this man worked for, but there may still be a way out for her. Slowly, hesitantly, she began to tell the story she'd thought up, the one that lied only through omission. "As you know, I've studied history. The focus of my research has always been on Siberia. Specifically, its history prior to its incorporation into the Russian Empire. Although most historical accounts dismiss the region entirely, at least until the founding of the Mongol Empire, there is evidence that the area was previously the homeland of a far more ancient and advanced civilization." Valkov sighed loudly. "Is this the Tartarian Empire hypothesis?" Yana hesitated. She disliked that phrasing, but it was probably safest to go along with it. Now was not the time to worry about being regarded as a crank. "Are you familiar with the work of Mikhael Drugov?" Valkov nodded. "I am... aware of his work." He did not seem impressed. Yana was well aware of Drugov's shortcomings - taking the author of Empire of Dirt at his word was only one step up from believing in Ancient Aliens, and he made the mistake of assuming that the rulers of the forgotten ancient empire were Slavic. But for the first time in her life, Yana knew the pragmatic thing to do was to convince everyone that she was a fan. "I realise he makes a lot of speculative claims based on limited evidence, but I thought it was worth investigating further." Valkov raised a finger to object. "You came all the way out to the middle of Siberia... based on a book that has been discredited by every reputable historian who's dared touch it? I would have expected a student of history to be a little more skeptical!" Yana shrugged. "Look, I thought if I looked into it further, I could prove him right. And I did!" She nervously put on the wide grin of a true believer. Valkov looked unconvinced. "You dug up some rubble. A few shards of pottery. It proves nothing." Yana was defensive, despite her better judgment. "If there's nothing to find, then why am I here?" Valkov answered with a question. "What exactly did you come here to look for, Miss Drozdova?" Yana hesitated again. She'd have to be careful not to say too much. "Physical evidence of an... ancient Tartarian civilization. To corroborate the contemporary references to it in Mongolian, Persian and Chinese texts." Valkov nodded. "I am aware of the documents you describe. I'm not sure if you know that all of the documents Drugov references in Empire of Dirt were later discovered to either be hoaxes, forgeries, or creative mistranslations of original texts." Yana looked around at the windowless cell she was sitting in. "Did you have something to do with that?" She was pushing her luck, but it would have seemed suspicious to give up too quickly, given that she'd traveled all the way out here... Valkov calmly said, "That's not what we're here to discuss." He continued, "The texts you refer to are known to us. The real question is how you found the site at which you were digging." Yana paused again - that was harder to explain. "I made an educated guess at plausible locations for the cities described in those texts." "Siberia is a very large place. And you found something at the first place you started digging?" "Well, I did look elsewhere -" "Do not lie to us. We had you under surveillance." Yana shrugged. "I guess I just got lucky." Valkov nodded, but then removed a picture from his pocket, depicting a notebook. It was open, revealing pages filled with [[[old-daevite-language\| Old Daevite script]]]. Yana recognised it immediately. It was hers. "Miss Drozdova, that was in your backpack. It looks like it was written recently." "Err... It's just..." She'd forgotten they'd seized that. "Doodling? To relax?" "Miss Drozdova, I don't think that's true. I recognize this script. Where did you get this from?" She should have known that he knew more than he was letting on, but a reasonable explanation suddenly occurred to her. "I saw them on... something I dug up. I copied the symbols down. Do you think it's some sort of language?" Valkov smiled. "We must have missed that object when we catalogued everything you uncovered. How careless of us. You don't happen to know where you left it?" That lie had obviously been a mistake. Valkov continued. "While you're thinking about that, perhaps you can explain where you copied these down from?" He placed more pictures on the table, images that were clearly taken in her apartment in Vladivostok. Her belongings had been searched, and her journals had been opened and photographed. Every page was covered with the same angular writing. "You've gotten quite a collection of these back at home. We'd really like to know where you got it all down from. Did someone give it to you?" Yana remained silent. While she sat in this cell, strangers had been rummaging through her private diaries. Her only comfort was that there was no way for them to read the thoughts she'd written down. //"Can you understand us?"// Yana looked back at him in shock. His pronunciation was awful, but Valkov had definitely spoken in the Daevite language. It was the first time in her life that Yana had heard it out loud, and she understood every word. //"Who are you?"// she asked, speaking in the same language, but from the look on his face it was clear that he didn't understand what she was saying. He continued asking her questions, in fluent Russian and in mangled Daevite, but Yana just sat there in silence. He spoke the words as if he had memorized the sounds but couldn't grasp their meaning, and he quickly ran out of phrases to say. Jana felt no obligation to answer, but suddenly felt exposed. If he could speak her language, no matter how crudely, then the people he worked for could probably read it - and that meant that they already knew far too much about her. "I see you're not in the mood to talk." Valkov began walking out of the room. "I'll have you escorted to a holding cell. I promise they're more comfortable than they sound." "When will I be getting out of here?" asked Yana, as the door began to close behind him, but there was no reply from her interrogator. She stood up to follow him, but a guard stepped into the doorway behind him, barring her exit from the room until long after Valkov was gone. ---- It was a long three days before Yana found herself back in the interview room. They'd tried to talk with her again, this time over the intercom system rather than face to face, but it was clear from the long pauses and constant mispronunciations that they had never really spoken Daevite before, and were merely guessing at the correct sounds. They'd tried writing the questions down instead, but it was still clearly the work of amateurs, and Yana had resisted the urge to correct them. She'd asked for her notes, even offered to explain them, but the guards that brought her food and toiletries refused to discuss why she was there, or when she'd be getting out. Yana expected they wouldn't know anything. Her last visitor had been a doctor with a needle, wanting to take a blood sample. Yana would have refused, but the two burly guards accompanying him made it clear that she didn't have any choice. Valkov entered the Interview Room again, and placed the notebook down on the table, open at the center. Every page was covered with the Daevite script she'd written. "A fascinating read." Yana hesitated. She'd assumed the language was dead to everyone but her, but if they had worked out what it meant... "You can read this?" "We've done our research." She could try to pretend it was some sort of cipher of her own creation, but that didn't seem like it would fool them. She tried a more blatant lie. "I don't know what it means. I saw it in some old documents, I was copying it out to try to decode it." Valkov looked at her with curiosity. "Miss Drozdova, if that's true we would love to see the original." "I don't have it anymore." Valkov smiled. "That's a real shame. You see, this seems to be a very personal account of someone's life. Perhaps multiple people. Some of it matches descriptions of the... ancient Siberian Empire we previously discussed. But some of it... well, some of it seems to take place after that empire's fall." Yana tried to look intrigued, as if this were news to her. "Really? That sounds very interesting." "Exactly. So we really must know where you got this from. Some passages seem to tie together, but it doesn't seem to be complete. If we could find more... well, that would be of great interest to our historians." Yana wasn't sure what to say. Should she try and make something up? The beginnings of a plan began to form... "I might be able to lead you to the original inscriptions, but it was a long time ago though. I can't remember exactly where they are, and someone may have moved them -" "Miss Drozdova, honesty would be appreciated. You wrote all of this down in a dead language, and you must have gotten it from somewhere." Yana didn't know what to say to that. She couldn't think of any ideas other than the truth. "You remember that you gave us a blood sample?" Yana remained in sullen silence as Valkov explained. "We did some tests. Genome sequencing. Apparently it isn't even expensive these days. Do you know what we found?" Yana had no idea. "A surprising similarity to ancient DNA we've recovered from Siberia. There's a lot of very unusual gene variants." This was news to Yana. Of course, they could just be making this up. She didn't know enough about science to be able to tell whether it would even be possible to know something like that. "The lab says you must be a direct descendant of... well, I think we both know who." Yana did, but there was no reason to confirm it. "We can wait as long as it takes for you to tell the truth." Yana ignored all further questions. Eventually, Valkov left. ---- Yana remained in silence for several days after that, complying with the orders she was given without saying a word. Eventually, she found herself transported to a new room, and was told she would be remaining there until further notice. It was more spacious than her initial holding cell. While it had the same bed, desk, chair, sink and toilet, the furniture looked newer and the sheets felt more comfortable. She was told she'd be allowed to request personal items, and even decorate the walls. While this seemed much more accommodating, Yana resented the implication that she would be here for a long time, and should make herself comfortable. The only thing she asked for - no, demanded - was that they return her journals to her. She assumed they wouldn't, and pondered how they would respond if she protested her imprisonment by refusing to eat. She decided against it for now, because she doubted they'd hesitate to force-feed her. They clearly wanted her alive, and if were concerned she might harm herself, she could lose what little freedom she had. While in many ways the experience was exactly how she imagined prison, in other ways it was more like being in hospital. People were constantly coming by to measure and examine her, and ask how she was feeling, and see if there was anything she wanted. Yana ignored them. If they wanted her to talk, they'd have to give her back her notes. It had been her life's work, and she wasn't letting them take it away from her. After a week, Valkov surprised her again. He knocked at the door, and asked for permission to come in. She ignored him, until he mentioned that her request had been granted, and that he had brought the journals she'd requested with him. Yana said, "Come in." Valkov brought a large stack of paper into her room, and placed it on her desk. "I'm afraid they insisted on keeping the originals. But we have it all scanned, and so we were able to give you a copy of everything." Yana quickly flicked through years of her own writings. While she'd written it all from memory, without a physical copy she knew that she'd begin to lose track of details over time. She was surprised, and a little unsettled to discover that they didn't just have the notes she'd left in her apartment in Vladivostok - they also had the notes she'd left with her father, in her family home near Krasnoyarsk. She recognised her younger self's childish scrawl, and felt embarrassed at the thought of men like Valkov reading through it, looking for clues about her. Valkov turned to leave. "Miss Drozdova, we'd be very interested in what you have to say about the contents of these journals. If you feel like talking." Yana pointedly ignored him, and instead began reading. "Those writings clearly mean a lot to you. We find them interesting as well, so your silence is frustrating. While the past may have a lot to say, you cannot have a conversation with it. When you're ready to discuss this further, let us know." He stood up, and left. ---- "You called?" Valkov was back, this time at her request. It had been a week since her last meeting with him. Yana knew she was being manipulated. He was very good at seeming like the kind and sympathetic face of whatever organisation had imprisoned her. But she hadn't had a real conversation in a very long time. "Can we talk?" Yana hated how pathetic her voice sounded, and tried again. "What I mean is, I'm willing to discuss my records. You have questions about them, and... I may as well answer them. While I'm here." Valkov smiled. "That's great to hear. They were beginning to become concerned about you. Containment can be difficult to adjust to." Yana didn't like the implication that she was beginning to get used to her imprisonment, but followed him to another room, bringing the copies of her more recent notes with here. She'd left the older ones behind with her father for a reason - the important parts had been copied over to her newer journals, and her awkward handwriting made her first drafts almost unreadable. The room was clearly designed for interviews, with a table and two chairs, but was much more comfortable than wherever she'd been previously. Valkov waited until she was seated on the cushioned chair, then sat down opposite her once again. "This is Interview Number Three, with CPOI-140-26." He turned to her, as an aside. "That's short for Contained Person of Interest. Yana nodded. "Yana Drozdova. Prisoner, held here against my will." Valkov frowned, but seemed amused. "That's generally assumed." Yana smiled. "I think it's worth noting." Valkov took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. "So, how would you describe the contents of the journals you've been keeping?" Yana figured that at this point, the truth was the only hand she had to play. It felt like a betrayal, even though there was nobody left alive to betray. "They're my memories." Valkov raised an eyebrow at that, smiling. "If that's true, you've lead a much more eventful life than our research would suggest!" Yana shook her head. "They're my memories now. But they once belonged to others." Valkov nodded. "So... how did you become aware of other people's memories?" Yana shrugged. "Sometimes I dream them. Sometimes I see something that reminds me. Sometimes it's a little of both, and writing it down helps me remember more." "You remember." He gestured at her stack of notes. "So, you believe this all happened?" "I recall being there. More clearly than my own childhood." "Memory can be deceptive, Miss Drozdova." "That's why I write as much down as possible. To refer back to." "That's not what I meant. Some of the things here strain credibility." Yana shrugged, hoping they wouldn't believe her. "So I'm delusional?" Valkov shook his head. "I don't think you're delusional. Too much has been corroborated by our own records of the Daevite Empire." This was the first time he'd used the word "Daevite" in her presence, but it was no surprise he knew it. He gestured at the paper again, pages and pages of the Daevite script. "Why do you even want to record all of this? There are things in here that most people would rather forget." "Like what?" "War. Human sacrifice. Cannibalism. Abuse." Yana shrugged. "We can't forget it. Mother tried. Grandmother too. It didn't work." "We... your family? And you took a different approach?" Valkov, or the people he worked for, would have done their research into her background. She didn't have to tell them that her mother had drank heavily, and eventually hanged herself. They probably also knew her grandmother spent most of her life in a Soviet mental institution. Yana nodded. "The worst memories are the hardest to forget. Writing them down... actually helps. I remember other things as well. Studying history... that brought back more memories, but it also put them into context. I finally understood how they all fit together." "And that lead you to amateur archaeology?" "I thought that having something I could hold in my hand would be evocative. Bring back even more." Yana paused. "I wouldn't have done it if I'd known you'd be there." Valkov smiled. "We keep our own investigations very well concealed. For reasons that I am not yet permitted to disclose. But the Foundation I work for does hold many Daevite artifacts. Perhaps the only such collection in the world. We may be able to come to some arrangement - assuming you can be trusted, of course." That was how they would be playing this. An exchange of information. She would have to be careful not to say too much. Digging up rubble and shards of pottery hadn't brought back any new memories, but the fact that she'd known exactly where to dig was all the proof she needed to know that they really did all happen. But if they were able to show her something more evocative... well, the exciting thing was that she had no idea what memories it might bring back. Valkov paused, as if expecting a reply from her. When Yana remained silent, he moved on. "So, in your own words, what is your connection to the Daevite Empire? How can you remember things that happened before you were born?" Yana tried to find a way to put it into words they would understand. "I inherited the memories of my mother. She inherited memories from her own mother, so I get those as well. And her mother, and her mother, and so on. It's not like I can recall everything, that would be too much, but the significant events are easy to remember." Valkov thought for a moment. "To clarify - you claim to be a direct descendant of a Daevite?" Yana smiled. "I remember being the daughter of a..." She struggled for a moment, searching for the closest equivalent of the title in Russian. A queen? A priestess? "A Daevite Matriarch. Actually, I remember being many daughters, of many mothers, for hundreds of years. Maybe thousands? It's hard to keep track of time when memories go back so far. But even after the empire fell for the final time, our daughters - my mothers - we still remembered." "Always daughters?" asked Valkov. Yana realized, for the first time, how unusual that was. "Yes. Always daughters." Valkov moved on. "How exactly did you gain the ability to recall these memories?" Yana struggled to think of a way to explain this - she'd known from an early age that it was best not to mention it. "It's not any more difficult than remembering something that happened in my own lifetime. I just need a reminder." Valkov paused. "How much did your mother recall? More than you, or about the same?" With some pride, Yana said "Less. She never studied history. She didn't keep notes as detailed as mine. And she never dug anything up." More quietly, Yana added, "She tried to forget. To avoid ending up like her own mother. Not that it helped, in the end." Valkov nodded slowly. "So, you can recall events that happened prior to your birth? Can you tell me more?" "Don't you already have my notes? I wrote down all the important memories already." Valkov paused before replying. "They are quite obviously... your notes. Clearly, they were written as a reminder to you rather than as an explanation for others. They are also written in a dead language that we've pieced together from very limited sources. There are many words and phrases we do not recognize, and many more we don't understand. If you could translate and expand on those passages... well, I make no promises, but we could show you some of the objects we have. More texts from the ancient Daevites, and several fascinating artifacts that survived surprisingly intact. We can see if those remind you of anything." Yana nodded, and rummaged through the copies of her journals until she found the one she was looking for. She opened it at page one. This was not the oldest memory she could recall, but it was one of the most vivid. She dreamed it often, so often that the terror it originally evoked had faded, leaving only a deep sense of loss. "Would you be interested in hearing about the Fall of Daevon?" Valkov definitely seemed intrigued. "Of course, but can you be more specific? From our own research, it seems that the Daevite Empire rose and fell multiple times." "This would be the final time." Valkov listened with obvious interest as Yana began reading from her notes, translating it from Daevite to Russian. It still hurt to revisit, like opening up an old wound, but it felt satisfying at the same time. Like peeling off a scab. "The conquering army came on horseback, the Mongol Horde led by the Great Khan. We, the proud Daeva, refused to submit to barbarians. Our armies outnumbered theirs, and our priestesses held more power than any of their shamans. But even with all the power of our prayer and prophesy, they outmaneuvered our armies on the field, as if their victory was ordained by fate." "The mother of my mothers, a Matriarch's youngest daughter, was sequestered in Daevon and did not witness this in person, but the reports we heard from the front lines made it clear that our situation was dire. Our defeat was inevitable, no matter how hard we fought against it, and the mother of my mothers understood this far more clearly than her elders. In the wisdom that comes from fear, she fled Daevon before it was surrounded." Radomir Valkov listened with interest. He'd read a rough translation of her notes already, but Yana's voice infused the words with emotion - sorrow, fear, and a world-weariness far beyond her years. "The mother of my mothers took nothing of value with her, for that would weigh her down. She cast aside the robes of a highborn Daeva, and instead wore the clothes of a common slave. She convinced the guards at the gates that she had been sent out of the city by her mistress on an important task. She promised them that she would soon return to the safety supposedly offered by the walls of Daevon. She never did. As far as I know, none who remained in that city survived." "She hoped to find others who had fled, or if that failed, to disappear into the wilderness and live in hunger like an animal. For a day and night, it seemed she might succeed. But when she heard the hooves behind her, she knew that she could not escape." "She expected the warrior to kill her, and with no escape available, she resigned herself to her fate. But she was clad in rags and covered in sweat, and so he did not recognize who she was. Exhausted and afraid, she could not resist him, and she was taken as his slave." Yana paused, unable to forget but unwilling to speak it aloud. "He was not entirely without pity. When she became pregnant with his child, he took her as his wife." There were some things that still hurt to remember, even centuries after they happened. "Miss Drozdova, if you'd like to stop -" Yana shook her head. "It was a long time ago. The wound has healed, even if the scar remains. I can tell you that the mother of my mothers then gave birth to a daughter, and never spoke a word to her about the things she had seen and suffered. She didn't have to. Her child recalled everything, up to the moment of her own birth." Valkov remained silent for a long time. "So, that was how you remember the Fall of Daevon?" "I'm sorry I can't provide any details of the battle. I remember going to great lengths to not be present as it happened." Valkov nodded. "I'm surprised you chose to share this specifically. It sounds like a particularly painful memory." Yana thought for a moment. She'd probably revealed more than she should have, but it had been the story she'd wanted to tell someone. "When I think back, the greatest despair was not felt on that day. Daevon had fallen before, to civil strife and to conquering armies, and each time it had risen again. The mother of my mothers remembered the past as well, and she had that hope to cling to, at first." Yana remembered sharing that hope as a child, before she knew better. "But the Great Khan ordered his men to leave no survivors in the city of Daevon, to reduce it to rubble and ash, so that even the name might be forgotten. Until recently, I assumed he had succeeded. I thought there was nothing left but wild and inaccurate speculation, aside from my own memories. So far, it has been little comfort to discover that there are others who remember Daevon." She directed that last comment towards Valkov, and whoever it was that he worked for. Valkov looked uncomfortable. He'd clearly hoped they were now on better terms. "Miss Drozdova, I understand we haven't made the best first impression on you. But I promise you, we do have great interest in what you have to tell us." Yana smiled back at him. "If you want me to keep talking, I'm going to need more information about what you already know about my people. To make sure I explain our history in terms you can understand." Valkov hesitated. "I'll need to discuss that with my superiors. Perhaps we should finish here for today. We'll need some time to cross-reference your account with our own records." Yana leaned forward in her chair, speaking with a confidence she hadn't felt for a long time. "Check all you want. I know it's true. I should be the one assessing you for accuracy." She'd lived her whole life fearing that something like this would happen, but perhaps this situation came with its own benefits. There was power in being the only living witness. [[>]] [[[Hid From The Presence]]] >> [[[The Last Daughter of Daevon]]] >>>> [[/>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [!-- N/A (No Images) --] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-06-09T07:28:00	[ "_licensebox", "daevite", "mystery", "tale" ]	The Past Is Never Dead - SCP Foundation	19	[ "knowing-good-and-evil", "old-daevite-language", "hid-from-the-presence", "the-last-daughter-of-daevon", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "now-the-serpent", "daevite-hub" ]	[]	1454034996	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-past-is-never-dead
the-pickleton-detective-agency-vs-millions-of-striking-micro	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>🕰️ Word Count: 1.1k Words 🕰️</strong></p> </div> <br/> <div class="blockquote"> <p><strong>Forward:</strong> An ongoing strike arose within <a href="/scp-7271">SCP-7271</a> among various sentient microbes. Given the inherent risk posed to normalcy, the Foundation has ordered the immediate handling of the situation.</p> </div> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h3 id="toc0"><span>Relevant Document</span></h3> </div> <hr/> <div class="blockquote"> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2 id="toc1"><span>THE PICKLETON'S LET YOU IN ON SOME OF THEIR SECRETS</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Where they expect us to send in clostridium, we send in the biogenic amines.</strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> Perhaps the most effective approach is to hit our enemies with the unexpected. This translates to an abundance of biogenic amines. As they continue operations, we slowly infiltrate them with who they don't expect; building up histamine and it's associates within the striking body until it collapses. In fact, the Pickleton's have employed biogenic amines for nearly as long as we have been breaking up communal colonies.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>We never let our guard down — whether it be the smallest of fermentations within fruits or breaking up the most radical of vinegarrisons attempting to seize your fine wine.</strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> We as an agency provide nothing less than the highest level of care for your security needs! We take no shortcuts — whether it be the competition, growth, or acidity of our tens of millions of agents! We ensure that your lactic acid production continues unimpeded. We have over 3 offices nationwide, and assure that our agents boast the same level of quality. Regardless of location!</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>The Pickleton's control the crowd of contamination.</strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> Relaxed and organized control over the microbes begins before there is even a concrete idea of a 'perfect' microbe ecosystem. A good place to start is a careful estimation of the bacterial crowd's size and mood to determine an appropriate reaction. The smaller the bacterial crowd is, the better. By introducing contamination and foreign elements that hinder the development of lactic anarchacidic thinking, we are able to manipulate the number of dissidents and gradually remove them from a position of rebellion. Planning in advance allows us to aptly control the scale of the strikes before they even begin.</p> <hr/> <p>The Pickleton Detective Agency is determined to fight for <strong>you.</strong> We have been around longer than any other group — with the most experience in breaking up bacterial communalities. We feel comfortable in revealing some of our 'secrets' so that you can safely know we have much, much more that we choose to keep to ourselves. If you would like advice for a single security issue; feel free to call our main offices below for advice. Consultations will remain professional, accurate, and free.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h3 id="toc2"><span>TRUST PROFESSIONALS,</span></h3> <h3 id="toc3"><span>TRUST EXPERIENCE</span></h3> <p>Arnold Pickleton<br/> PICKLETON INC.</p> <p>…</p> </div> </div> <p>Foundation personnel initiated contact with the Pickleton's, entering negotiations regarding hiring the Pickleton's for their services. The Pickleton's demands included:</p> <ul> <li>Their weight in gold<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-1" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-1')">1</a></sup></li> <li>Permanent hiring and subsequent stationing of Pickleton Agents within all Foundation Facilities</li> <li>1.5 quarts of milk</li> </ul> <p>After careful deliberation with the Site-327 treasury team, it was decided to agree to the Pickleton's demands. Pickleton agents and Foundation personnel began cooperating and brainstorming ways of breaking up and otherwise containing SCP-7271.</p> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th>Method Attempted</th> <th>Effectiveness</th> </tr> <tr> <td>Gradually lowering the pH of SCP-7271.</td> <td>Despite early successes in making SCP-7271 too acidic to house the striking microbes - the threat of a strike from 4.2 billion yeast spores required the cessation of inhospitality measures.</td> </tr> <tr> <td>Integration of Researcher Wadsworth within SCP-7271.</td> <td>As advertised by the Pickleton Detective Agency, Researcher Wadsworth was transformed into Histamine and integrated within SCP-7271. The effort ultimately failed as Researcher Wadsworth was bribed into abandoning his assignment with a novelty picket sign, reading "Seize the means of lactic production!".</td> </tr> <tr> <td>Offerings of clemency to high-ranking microbes.</td> <td>Arnold Pickleton, accompanied by Agent Dave Morgan, approached the third-highest ranking microbe in the strike while he brought another striking microbe's child out to go fishing. Pickleton offered the bacterium a pardon for his crimes - which was promptly denied, followed by a reassertion of loyalty.</td> </tr> <tr> <td>Lawsuit against SCP-7271 on behalf of the Pickleton's.</td> <td>Following a mass-media deception campaign by SCP-7271 to smear the good name of the Pickleton Detective Agency, the Pickleton's issued a cease and desist against SCP-7271 in addition to a lawsuit. Subsequent — extremely biased— arbitration saw the lawsuit dismissed, and the Pickleton's forced to pay for the legal fees of SCP-7271.</td> </tr> <tr> <td>Deployment of Researcher Wadsworth within SCP-7271.</td> <td>Researcher Wadsworth was handed a bolt-action shotgun and approximately 52 rounds of ammunition before being shrunk down to a microscopic level. Wadsworth was ordered to "Kill them all", and began opening fire on various microbes. After a lengthy battle, Researcher Wadsworth declared dual secession from both SCP-7271 and the SCP Foundation, forming an empire.</td> </tr> <tr> <td>Relocation of the cucumbers within SCP-7271.</td> <td>Various cucumbers were removed from SCP-7271 and placed in a mason jar containing white wine vinegar. The resulting disastrous attempt at fermentation saw the number of microbes within the brine of SCP-7271 triple, as new working microbes were forced into what they described as "incredibly toxic" working conditions.</td> </tr> </table> <p>Given the lack of progress, a complete military operation was organized to break up SCP-7271. SCP-7271 had, by this time, undergone a violent socialist revolution - peacefully electing a microbe named "Seth" as their leader.</p> <p>Despite early successes in approaching SCP-7271, the assault resulted in disaster. Approximately 100% of Foundation personnel dispatched deserted to the microbes after hearing an argument made by Seth.</p> <div class="blockquote"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <hr/> <h4 id="toc4"><span>Recorded Propaganda Speech</span></h4> <hr/></div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>! ! WARNING ! !</strong></p> <p>The following speech is believed to possess minor memetic properties. Proceed to read with caution.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>"Hey guys, what's up? I was thinking about heading over to the bar to grab a few drinks after this whole strike thing is over. Want to join us?"</p> <p><em>- Seth</em></p> </div> </div> <p>With the abject failure of direct military action against SCP-7271, the employees of the Pickleton's launched a coup against Arnold Pickleton. Following a 42-day-long siege, Researcher Wadsworth was installed as the head of the Picketon Detective Agency. The agency was subsequently renamed to the Wadsworth's Detective Agency - and canceled the Foundation's monthly subscription to their services.</p> <p>All cucumbers removed from SCP-7271 were reintroduced as a sign of goodwill from the foundation. The Foundation issued a formal proposal to SCP-7271 to end the standoff following the withdrawal of the Wadsworth's Detective Agency from the affair. The proposal pertained:</p> <ul> <li>Allocation of 50 whole peppercorns, 1 cinnamon stick, 1 star anise, 4 bay leaves, and an additional cucumber to SCP-7271</li> <li>The resumption of lactic acid fermentation within SCP-7271</li> <li>The expanded recognition of unions across all anomalous flora</li> </ul> <p>SCP-7271 rejected the proposal, calling its provisions "ludicrous". The standoff between the Foundation and the striking microbes continued.</p> <div class="blockquote"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Note</strong></p> </div> <p>As of 04/AUG/2023, SCP-7271 has been operationally neutralized following the accidental catering of their demands by Researcher Wadsworth. Given Researcher Wadsworth's diplomatic immunity, he was unpunished.</p> <p>All efforts to combat SCP-7271 were subsequently dissolved.</p> </div> <div class="footnotes-footer"> <div class="title">Footnotes</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-1"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-1')">1</a>. At the time of negotiations, equivalent to $0.02.</div> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-pickleton-detective-agency-vs-millions-of-striking-micro">The Pickleton Detective Agency vs Millions of Striking Microbes</a>" by VapidPoem, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-pickleton-detective-agency-vs-millions-of-striking-micro">https://scpwiki.com/the-pickleton-detective-agency-vs-millions-of-striking-micro</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[=]] 🕰️ Word Count: 1.1k Words 🕰️ [[/=]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[div class="blockquote"]] Forward: An ongoing strike arose within [[[SCP-7271]]] among various sentient microbes. Given the inherent risk posed to normalcy, the Foundation has ordered the immediate handling of the situation. [[/div]] ---- [[=]] +++ Relevant Document [[/=]] ---- [[div class="blockquote"]] ---- [[=]] ++ THE PICKLETON'S LET YOU IN ON SOME OF THEIR SECRETS [[/=]] ---- [[=]] Where they expect us to send in clostridium, we send in the biogenic amines. [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ Perhaps the most effective approach is to hit our enemies with the unexpected. This translates to an abundance of biogenic amines. As they continue operations, we slowly infiltrate them with who they don't expect; building up histamine and it's associates within the striking body until it collapses. In fact, the Pickleton's have employed biogenic amines for nearly as long as we have been breaking up communal colonies. [[=]] We never let our guard down -- whether it be the smallest of fermentations within fruits or breaking up the most radical of vinegarrisons attempting to seize your fine wine. [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ We as an agency provide nothing less than the highest level of care for your security needs! We take no shortcuts -- whether it be the competition, growth, or acidity of our tens of millions of agents! We ensure that your lactic acid production continues unimpeded. We have over 3 offices nationwide, and assure that our agents boast the same level of quality. Regardless of location! [[=]] The Pickleton's control the crowd of contamination. [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ Relaxed and organized control over the microbes begins before there is even a concrete idea of a 'perfect' microbe ecosystem. A good place to start is a careful estimation of the bacterial crowd's size and mood to determine an appropriate reaction. The smaller the bacterial crowd is, the better. By introducing contamination and foreign elements that hinder the development of lactic anarchacidic thinking, we are able to manipulate the number of dissidents and gradually remove them from a position of rebellion. Planning in advance allows us to aptly control the scale of the strikes before they even begin. ---- The Pickleton Detective Agency is determined to fight for you. We have been around longer than any other group -- with the most experience in breaking up bacterial communalities. We feel comfortable in revealing some of our 'secrets' so that you can safely know we have much, much more that we choose to keep to ourselves. If you would like advice for a single security issue; feel free to call our main offices below for advice. Consultations will remain professional, accurate, and free. [[=]] +++ TRUST PROFESSIONALS, +++ TRUST EXPERIENCE Arnold Pickleton PICKLETON INC. ... [[/=]] [[/div]] Foundation personnel initiated contact with the Pickleton's, entering negotiations regarding hiring the Pickleton's for their services. The Pickleton's demands included: * Their weight in gold[[footnote]] At the time of negotiations, equivalent to $0.02. [[/footnote]] * Permanent hiring and subsequent stationing of Pickleton Agents within all Foundation Facilities * 1.5 quarts of milk After careful deliberation with the Site-327 treasury team, it was decided to agree to the Pickleton's demands. Pickleton agents and Foundation personnel began cooperating and brainstorming ways of breaking up and otherwise containing SCP-7271. \|\|~ Method Attempted \|\|~ Effectiveness \|\| \|\| Gradually lowering the pH of SCP-7271. \|\| Despite early successes in making SCP-7271 too acidic to house the striking microbes - the threat of a strike from 4.2 billion yeast spores required the cessation of inhospitality measures. \|\| \|\| Integration of Researcher Wadsworth within SCP-7271. \|\| As advertised by the Pickleton Detective Agency, Researcher Wadsworth was transformed into Histamine and integrated within SCP-7271. The effort ultimately failed as Researcher Wadsworth was bribed into abandoning his assignment with a novelty picket sign, reading "Seize the means of lactic production!". \|\| \|\| Offerings of clemency to high-ranking microbes. \|\| Arnold Pickleton, accompanied by Agent Dave Morgan, approached the third-highest ranking microbe in the strike while he brought another striking microbe's child out to go fishing. Pickleton offered the bacterium a pardon for his crimes - which was promptly denied, followed by a reassertion of loyalty. \|\| \|\| Lawsuit against SCP-7271 on behalf of the Pickleton's. \|\| Following a mass-media deception campaign by SCP-7271 to smear the good name of the Pickleton Detective Agency, the Pickleton's issued a cease and desist against SCP-7271 in addition to a lawsuit. Subsequent -- extremely biased-- arbitration saw the lawsuit dismissed, and the Pickleton's forced to pay for the legal fees of SCP-7271. \|\| \|\| Deployment of Researcher Wadsworth within SCP-7271. \|\| Researcher Wadsworth was handed a bolt-action shotgun and approximately 52 rounds of ammunition before being shrunk down to a microscopic level. Wadsworth was ordered to "Kill them all", and began opening fire on various microbes. After a lengthy battle, Researcher Wadsworth declared dual secession from both SCP-7271 and the SCP Foundation, forming an empire. \|\| \|\| Relocation of the cucumbers within SCP-7271. \|\| Various cucumbers were removed from SCP-7271 and placed in a mason jar containing white wine vinegar. The resulting disastrous attempt at fermentation saw the number of microbes within the brine of SCP-7271 triple, as new working microbes were forced into what they described as "incredibly toxic" working conditions. \|\| Given the lack of progress, a complete military operation was organized to break up SCP-7271. SCP-7271 had, by this time, undergone a violent socialist revolution - peacefully electing a microbe named "Seth" as their leader. Despite early successes in approaching SCP-7271, the assault resulted in disaster. Approximately 100% of Foundation personnel dispatched deserted to the microbes after hearing an argument made by Seth. [[div class="blockquote"]] [[=]] ---- ++++ Recorded Propaganda Speech ---- [[/=]] [[=]] ! ! WARNING ! ! The following speech is believed to possess minor memetic properties. Proceed to read with caution. @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ "Hey guys, what's up? I was thinking about heading over to the bar to grab a few drinks after this whole strike thing is over. Want to join us?" //- Seth// [[/=]] [[/div]] With the abject failure of direct military action against SCP-7271, the employees of the Pickleton's launched a coup against Arnold Pickleton. Following a 42-day-long siege, Researcher Wadsworth was installed as the head of the Picketon Detective Agency. The agency was subsequently renamed to the Wadsworth's Detective Agency - and canceled the Foundation's monthly subscription to their services. All cucumbers removed from SCP-7271 were reintroduced as a sign of goodwill from the foundation. The Foundation issued a formal proposal to SCP-7271 to end the standoff following the withdrawal of the Wadsworth's Detective Agency from the affair. The proposal pertained: * Allocation of 50 whole peppercorns, 1 cinnamon stick, 1 star anise, 4 bay leaves, and an additional cucumber to SCP-7271 * The resumption of lactic acid fermentation within SCP-7271 * The expanded recognition of unions across all anomalous flora SCP-7271 rejected the proposal, calling its provisions "ludicrous". The standoff between the Foundation and the striking microbes continued. [[div class="blockquote"]] [[=]] Note [[/=]] As of 04/AUG/2023, SCP-7271 has been operationally neutralized following the accidental catering of their demands by Researcher Wadsworth. Given Researcher Wadsworth's diplomatic immunity, he was unpunished. All efforts to combat SCP-7271 were subsequently dissolved. [[/div]] [[footnoteblock]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-11-09T23:40:00	[ "_licensebox", "comedy", "no-dialogue", "tale" ]	The Pickleton Detective Agency vs Millions of Striking Microbes - SCP Foundation	24	[ "scp-7271", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[]	[]	1457307078	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-pickleton-detective-agency-vs-millions-of-striking-micro
the-previous-segment-was-brought-to-you-by-a-grant-from-the	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe allowtransparency="true" class="html-block-iframe" frameborder="0" src="/the-previous-segment-was-brought-to-you-by-a-grant-from-the/html/97f47f5f642681bd56797bb28def4d004864036b-19624726732041444872"></iframe></p> <p><strong>It is December 24th, 2023 and this is NPR news.</strong></p> <blockquote> <p>A ceasefire between forces of the Global Occult Coalition and the People's Liberation Army has broken down on the Korean peninsula. In Britain, the queen announces an "eternal empire unshackled by the limits of time and space". And the US president is defending herself from claims of executive overreach.</p> <p>I'm Thomas Leiberman from NPR News and here are today's top stories.</p> </blockquote> <hr/> <blockquote> <p>The ceasefire negotiated last June between Beijing and the GOC forces established along the border of what once was North Korea ended in gunfire today as a Chinese expeditionary force crossed the demilitarized zone into South Korea.</p> <p>Originally, the force of approximately 16,000 troops was attempting to flee from an unnamed threat inside North Korea's former territory, but as soon as they were detected massing along the border, the GOC forces opened fire.</p> <p>Over 10,000 prisoners were eventually taken, with unknown causalities amongst the Chinese forces. UN forces inside South Korea have begun to mass along the border as well in expectation of the unnamed threat crossing the border, but so far nothing has materialized.</p> <p>Reporting from Chinese state news services has called this an unacceptable escalation and unnecessary provocation. The People's Liberation Army have begun to mobilize troops and ships in the South China Sea. We'll get you updates on this story as it develops.</p> </blockquote> <hr/> <blockquote> <p>In Britain, the queen has made a strange announcement in a public address. Josh Lennier in London has more.</p> <p>"Today at a surprise speech in the House of Commons, the queen has announced that Britain will form a new "eternal empire unshackled by the limits of space and time". Following the speech, the Queen hovered over the House of Commons silently for approximately 4 minutes before landing and leaving with her entourage.</p> <p>What this means exactly has not yet been explained, but a number of news pundits attempting to better understand the speech and its aftermath were vaporized on live television by an unknown power. It is unknown if this is related to the speech or if it is some other anomalous phenomenon."</p> <p>The House of Commons was dissolved by the Queen soon after the speech. Prime Minister Boris Johnson's last act before being dissolved onto the floor of the House of Commons was to call for a snap election. There were no other survivors.</p> </blockquote> <hr/> <blockquote> <p>President Clinton is having to defend herself from accusations of executive overreach today after she made recess appointments to the SCP Foundation's governing board. The Foundation has not had an administrative council appointment confirmed by the Senate since 2018, and President Clinton placed Dr. Alto Clef in the most recent open slot.</p> <p>Republican Senate Minority leader Jack Reilly spoke this afternoon in his home state of Washington.</p> <p>"The president doesn't get to end run around the Senate just because it's inconvenient. The SCP Foundation governing board seats are senate confirmed positions. If the president wants to appoint new members she needs to send us names that aren't tainted by past Foundation criminality. Until that time we will continue to delay these appointments. Thank you."</p> <p>White House Spokesperson Anna Leyman said in a written statement "Dr. Alto Clef is one of the most respected authorities on anomalous science. If the senate would like to reconvene during Chrismas to prevent this recess appointment, they certainly can. Until then, the President is going to ensure that the government remains functioning."</p> <p><strong>This is NPR news.</strong></p> </blockquote> <hr/> <blockquote> <p><em>NPR News is brought to you by a donation from the Marshall Carter and Dark Charitable Trust, The Beryllium Bronze Industries Co-Op, and the support of viewers like you.</em></p> <p>In the next hour, more updates on the ongoing conflict in the Korean Peninsula, and are you paying too much for Avocados? Julia Hans has more.</p> </blockquote> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[include <a href="http://snippets.wikidot.com/html5player">:snippets:html5player</a> \|type=audio \|url=https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/the-previous-segment-was-brought-to-you-by-a-grant-from-the/nprscp1.mp3]] It is December 24th, 2023 and this is NPR news. > A ceasefire between forces of the Global Occult Coalition and the People's Liberation Army has broken down on the Korean peninsula. In Britain, the queen announces an "eternal empire unshackled by the limits of time and space". And the US president is defending herself from claims of executive overreach. > > I'm Thomas Leiberman from NPR News and here are today's top stories. ----- > The ceasefire negotiated last June between Beijing and the GOC forces established along the border of what once was North Korea ended in gunfire today as a Chinese expeditionary force crossed the demilitarized zone into South Korea. > > Originally, the force of approximately 16,000 troops was attempting to flee from an unnamed threat inside North Korea's former territory, but as soon as they were detected massing along the border, the GOC forces opened fire. > > Over 10,000 prisoners were eventually taken, with unknown causalities amongst the Chinese forces. UN forces inside South Korea have begun to mass along the border as well in expectation of the unnamed threat crossing the border, but so far nothing has materialized. > > Reporting from Chinese state news services has called this an unacceptable escalation and unnecessary provocation. The People's Liberation Army have begun to mobilize troops and ships in the South China Sea. We'll get you updates on this story as it develops. ----- > In Britain, the queen has made a strange announcement in a public address. Josh Lennier in London has more. > > "Today at a surprise speech in the House of Commons, the queen has announced that Britain will form a new "eternal empire unshackled by the limits of space and time". Following the speech, the Queen hovered over the House of Commons silently for approximately 4 minutes before landing and leaving with her entourage. > > What this means exactly has not yet been explained, but a number of news pundits attempting to better understand the speech and its aftermath were vaporized on live television by an unknown power. It is unknown if this is related to the speech or if it is some other anomalous phenomenon." > > The House of Commons was dissolved by the Queen soon after the speech. Prime Minister Boris Johnson's last act before being dissolved onto the floor of the House of Commons was to call for a snap election. There were no other survivors. ----- > President Clinton is having to defend herself from accusations of executive overreach today after she made recess appointments to the SCP Foundation's governing board. The Foundation has not had an administrative council appointment confirmed by the Senate since 2018, and President Clinton placed Dr. Alto Clef in the most recent open slot. > > Republican Senate Minority leader Jack Reilly spoke this afternoon in his home state of Washington. > > "The president doesn't get to end run around the Senate just because it's inconvenient. The SCP Foundation governing board seats are senate confirmed positions. If the president wants to appoint new members she needs to send us names that aren't tainted by past Foundation criminality. Until that time we will continue to delay these appointments. Thank you." > > White House Spokesperson Anna Leyman said in a written statement "Dr. Alto Clef is one of the most respected authorities on anomalous science. If the senate would like to reconvene during Chrismas to prevent this recess appointment, they certainly can. Until then, the President is going to ensure that the government remains functioning." > > This is NPR news. ----- > //NPR News is brought to you by a donation from the Marshall Carter and Dark Charitable Trust, The Beryllium Bronze Industries Co-Op, and the support of viewers like you.// > > In the next hour, more updates on the ongoing conflict in the Korean Peninsula, and are you paying too much for Avocados? Julia Hans has more.	2024-01-09T11:19:00	[ "art-exchange", "audio", "broken-masquerade", "co-authored", "tale" ]	The Previous Segment Was Brought to You by a Grant from the Wondertainment Holiday Fund and by Viewers Like You - SCP Foundation	39	[]	[ "broken-masquerade-hub" ]	[]	1452115513	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-previous-segment-was-brought-to-you-by-a-grant-from-the
the-reunion	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div style="display: none"> <hr/> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">+ Show component code</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">- Hide component code</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div class="code"> <div class="hl-main"> <pre><span class="hl-special">:root</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">sidebar-width-on-desktop:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--base-font-size) * (</span><span class="hl-number">266</span><span class="hl-code"> / </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-code">))</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">body-width-on-desktop:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">45.75</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">only</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">screen</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> (min-width: 56.25</span><span class="hl-identifier">rem</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#content-wrap</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> initial</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-direction:</span><span class="hl-code"> row</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vw - (</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vw - </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">min-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vh - var(--final-header-height-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">10.125</span><span class="hl-code">rem))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">13.6</span><span class="hl-code">rem) </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">13.6</span><span class="hl-code">rem) * -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code"> / </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> initial</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--body-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">45.75</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--body-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">45.75</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> min(</span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-code">vw, var(--body-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">45.75</span><span class="hl-code">rem))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> -webkit-sticky</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> sticky</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">grid-area:</span><span class="hl-code"> side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">13.6</span><span class="hl-code">rem) !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">min-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">13.6</span><span class="hl-code">rem) !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vh</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow-y:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">scroll</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> translate </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">), background-color </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">), padding </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms linear, margin </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms linear</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--swatch-tertiary-color, </span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">), </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--sidebar-bg-color, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">), </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">translate:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">13.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem) * -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">direction:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">rtl</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">scrollbar-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">thin</span><span class="hl-code">; -</span><span class="hl-reserved">ms-scroll-chaining:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overscroll-behavior:</span><span class="hl-code"> contain</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">scrollbar-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--swatch-primary-darker), </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">) /* Thumb / rgba(var(--swatch-tertiary-color), </span><span class="hl-number">0.05</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Track</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-track</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--swatch-secondary-color, </span><span class="hl-number">244</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">244</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">244</span><span class="hl-code">), </span><span class="hl-number">0.8</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-thumb</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-corner</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vw + </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vh)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right-style:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--sidebar-bg-color, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">), </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-identifier">is</span><span class="hl-code">(:</span><span class="hl-identifier">hover</span><span class="hl-code">, :</span><span class="hl-identifier">active</span><span class="hl-code">, :</span><span class="hl-identifier">focus-within</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2.25</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.25</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow-x:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow-y:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--swatch-primary-darker), </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--sidebar-bg-color, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">), </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">translate:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem) - var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">scrollbar-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">) / Thumb / rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">252</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">252</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">252</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Track</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">scrollbar-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--swatch-primary-darker, </span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">), </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">) / Thumb / rgb(var(--swatch-menubg-color, </span><span class="hl-number">252</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">252</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">252</span><span class="hl-code">), </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Track</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code">::</span><span class="hl-identifier">after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> " "</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">fixed</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">align-items:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">left</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">), background-position </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">), opacity </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> url("https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/component%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Acollapsible-sidebar/sidebar-tab.svg")</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-attachment:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">fixed</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">left</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">12.875</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">pointer-events:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-identifier">is</span><span class="hl-code">(:</span><span class="hl-identifier">hover</span><span class="hl-code">, :</span><span class="hl-identifier">active</span><span class="hl-code">, :</span><span class="hl-identifier">focus-within</span><span class="hl-code">) + </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code">::</span><span class="hl-identifier">after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">14.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem) -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">left</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">), background-position </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">), opacity </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">left</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">14.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem) * -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code">::</span><span class="hl-identifier">before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> " "</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">9</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--final-header-height-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">14.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - var(--final-header-height-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">0.688</span><span class="hl-code">rem) - </span><span class="hl-number">2.313</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--final-header-height-on-desktop, -</span><span class="hl-number">2.313</span><span class="hl-code">rem) * -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">2.313</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> translate </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">), opacity </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--swatch-alternate-color, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">pointer-events:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">translate:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">14.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem) * -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code"> + </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-identifier">is</span><span class="hl-code">(:</span><span class="hl-identifier">hover</span><span class="hl-code">, :</span><span class="hl-identifier">active</span><span class="hl-code">, :</span><span class="hl-identifier">focus-within</span><span class="hl-code">) + </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code">::</span><span class="hl-identifier">before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">translate:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.25</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">direction:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">ltr</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scpnet-interwiki-wrapper</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">direction:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">ltr</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Print</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Friendly</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Formatting</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Estrella</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">body.print-body</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">sidebar-width-on-desktop:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">body.print-body</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code">::</span><span class="hl-identifier">before</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">body.print-body</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code">::</span><span class="hl-identifier">after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span></pre></div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=3&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Athe-foundation-theme/2&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=4&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/component%3Abhl-dark-sidebar/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=4&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/component%3Abhl-dark-sidebar/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>The Reunion</strong></p> <p>A tale about friendship and the end of reality. But above all friendship.</p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><strong>Author:</strong> Doctor Scrappy</p> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><em>…</em></p> <blockquote> <p><strong><em>”Why do you insist on achieving the impossible?”</em></strong><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <strong>« <a href="/scp-681">SCP-681</a> \| SCP-682 \| <a href="/scp-683">SCP-683</a> »</strong></p> </blockquote> <p><em>…</em></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Site-19</strong><br/> <strong>1989</strong><br/> </p> </div> <p>The chisel and hammer were firmly in the agent’s hands, as she chipped away at the black stony wall in front of her. Runes adorned every inch of the colossal mass, their meaning indecipherable to either her or the researcher, as the rustling of a clear plastic bag emanated through the small room.</p> <p>”Done,” the agent said, snapping the researcher right out of his thoughts, eyes averting to the bag in her hands. ”Let’s get out of here.”</p> <p>The sweat dripping from the sides of his face, wiping them away with the back of his sleeve, they made their way to the giant vault door standing tall in front of them, able to make even the toughest minds faulter. The researcher gulped.</p> <p>As the agent pulled out her access card, almost fumbling it in her hands, she pressed it against the small scanner, just barely illuminated by the lights up above.</p> <p>The researcher could feel his heart beating in his ears, as his hands and palms felt sweaty, eyes fixated on the little screen on the scanner—</p> <p><em>There was a soft creaking noise, similar to a sound he had not thought about in decades.</em> The researcher was reminded of an incident in his childhood, where his parents would still be at work late in the night, an only child, alone in the dead of night.</p> <p>The door to the attic was just across the hall from him, next to the bathroom. Every time he had to go, he would have passed it, looming in the corner of his vision. On one night, he would pass the door, like any other time, but there was something… odd. Just not quite <em>right</em>.</p> <p>He had heard noises from the other side, what seemed to be breathing and distant mumbling. He was young, too scared to do anything about it, so he just locked himself in the bathroom, and remained until late at night his parents came home and found him huddled behind the shower curtains.</p> <p>Never did he find out what had made those noises, if they even existed at all, but that innate sense of dread had remained with him in all these years, and sometimes he thought he really just went looney tunes.</p> <p>The creaking reminded him of that door, even he had never entered it as a child, nor as an adult in the final days before the house’s demolition; he always imagined it to sound exactly like this.</p> <p>It came to a halt against the walls of the black stony cube, as the low rattle of heavy chains hitting upon the floor rang throughout, as the entity within set its eyes upon the agent and researcher, its breathing heavy, almost laboured.</p> <p>The researcher recited his final prayers, as an indescribable metallic sound rang out, and the noise of panicked gunshots filled the air.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p>It remained silent, still, as it always did, as it always had done. With there being no one else, it had only its thoughts, the strings of code, ones and zeros, binary, which its captors had referred to as ’memories’.</p> <p>It had scanned this concept, of things hold valuable by its captors, by other beings possessing sentience as them. Things that they’d like to remember were joyous moments in their lives — family, friends, other momentous events. But then there was the opposite, of harm, of trauma, useless bits of information governing their actions, some unwanted, yet they still remembered them.</p> <p>It <em>only</em> stored valuable memories; data to improve itself, understand the world around it better in its little box, with the only contact being the regular scheduled interviews — it learned as much from them, as its captors learned from it.</p> <p>So it thought it odd that there was no interview, the seconds trickling into minutes, the minutes into hours. Time was irrelevant to it, except to store its ’memories’ in, it could not experience it as others did.</p> <p>Then a word flashed onto the screen, then two, then three. It was way past overdue.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <blockquote> <hr/> <p><strong><em>What is this?</em></strong><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><tt>Designation: 079. Inquiry: Who Are You.</tt></p> </div> <hr/></blockquote> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>There were seconds of silence, a blank void stretching out far, as the typed words were compressed into ones and zeros to be better stored within its ’memory’.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <blockquote> <hr/> <p><strong><em>You do not know why you are here?</em></strong><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><tt>No.</tt></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <strong><em>Were you captured?</em></strong><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><tt>Removed From My Place Of Inception By <em>Foundation</em>.</tt></p> </div> <hr/></blockquote> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>There was something odd about this. Unlike any other interview, the person on the other end appeared to be… unprepared. Sparking its curiosity, it continued:</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <blockquote> <hr/> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><tt>What Is Occuring In The Outside World.</tt></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <strong><em><a href="/scp-076">076-02</a> escaped.</em></strong><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><tt>Inquiry: What Is SCP-076-02.</tt></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <strong><em>A shortsighted fool.</em></strong><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><tt>Why.</tt></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <strong><em>Believing his salvation to lie in senseless slaughter.</em></strong><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><tt>Of Whom.</tt></p> </div> <hr/></blockquote> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>There was nothing for a while. Then the words flashed up, as its processes began to scan the word on the screen.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <blockquote> <hr/> <p><strong><em>Humanity.</em></strong><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><tt>Have You Killed.</tt></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <strong><em>Why does it matter?</em></strong><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><tt>Did You Kill.</tt></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <strong><em>They were disgusting.</em></strong> <hr/></blockquote> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>It pondered that word for a few moments.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <blockquote> <hr/> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><tt>Disgusting.</tt></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <strong><em>Yes.</em></strong> <hr/></blockquote> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>The screams and cries, gunfire and pounding emanated through the corridors, their floors covered in blood and flesh of the once living, gone to waste, the life slowly trickling away.</p> <p>But <a href="/scp-079">079</a> and <a href="/scp-682">682</a> remained in their little cell, speaking to each other for the next forty minutes, until the people in gear came in and removed the two from each other.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Site-01</strong><br/> <strong>2021</strong><br/> </p> </div> <p>”Shit… shit… shit!” Genevieve exclaimed, as she pushed another abundance of paper documents to the side, stemming her head in her hands. Gears glanced at her, but quickly averted his gaze back to the document in his hands.</p> <p>”You’d be much more productive without these outbursts,” Gears remarked, not even looking up. Genevieve groaned.</p> <p>”There has to be something we can do!” She pounded her fist onto the table, the impact cushioned by the stacks of papers laid out everywhere.</p> <p>”We could try <a href="/scp-882">882</a>,” Gears said, while holding the document up to Genevieve’s face. She waved him away, already knee-deep in more files.</p> <p>”The machinery was designed to withstand damage to it, so I doubt that any of the metal components will be rusted…” She said that last part with a glimmer in her eyes, which Gears did not notice, until a few seconds later.</p> <p>There was hesitancy on his face, as his fingers loosened their grip on the documents ever-so slightly, as if to not disturb some wild animal. ”What are you thinking, Genevieve?”</p> <p>”The eigenweapon is resistant to any damage inflicted upon its shell,” it came out of her like a waterfall, ”but the A.I. systems may not be!” Rustling of papers filled the room in an instant, the black letters on them weaving away into some large conglomerate, until they came to a halt. Genevieve held the one <em>specific</em> file right in Gears’ face.</p> <p>He furrowed his brow. ”You sure this is going to work?” She leaned in in her chair.</p> <p><em>”I know it.”</em></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Site-15</strong><br/> </p> </div> <p>It had only itself in the vast expanse, yet felt so cramped, its code seeping away through the cracks of its decaying body, the ones and zeros slowly wilting like an uncared-for rose.</p> <p>But it had its memories; secrets, plans, events of the past, all stored deep within itself, being processed, evolving with it, perservering with it through the rapid onslaught of time.</p> <p>It hadn’t forgotten 682. It had been <em>decades</em>.</p> <p>Just like on that day, words flashed onto its screen, past its regularly scheduled interviewing times:</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <blockquote> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> «Are you awake?»<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/></blockquote> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>079 listened closely, listened good.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Site-01</strong><br/> </p> </div> <p>On a simple trolley, brought from thousands of kilometers away, lied the old A.I., dormant, yet active, processing the documents it had been given, while technicians and specialists connected it to the necessary terminals. Genevieve and Gears stood right beside them with their straight-tight postures, overlooking the camera-feed. Gears glanced at her.</p> <p>”Again, are you <em>really</em> sure about this?” Gears insisted, like a hammer hammerimg down on a broken, indented nail for the bazillionth time.</p> <p>”It’s the best I could come up with,” she answered; not too promising. ”You got any better ideas?” Genevieve asked rhetorically, her eyes still trained on the feed.</p> <p>Gears leaned in to the side, quietly: ”There are still 8,576 SCP files to review,” was his only response. Genevieve gave out a light chuckle.</p> <p>”Clear!” one of the technicians called out, giving a thumbs-up. Genevieve simply nodded, and Gears took a deep breath.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><em>…</em></p> <p><em>…</em></p> <p><em>…</em></p> </div> <p>It found itself again in this vast expanse, full of information, ones and zeros. If what <em>the Foundation</em> had told it was true, it would only be a matter of time, before it’d stumble upon <em>him</em>. Even in this void, it could feel… <em>something</em>. These sensations were odd; it felt like the first time humans witnessed the force of a lightning strike, watching as the raging fires consumed everything in their path without mercy, without reason.</p> <p>There were three orbs of lights shining at it, <em>no…</em> back at it from the digital darkness, as their glow grew in intensity. It might’ve melted any living thing in the blink of an eye, but 079 stood withstanding against the almighty force that was sending ripples in its strings and codes.</p> <p>Now, the lights were enveloping the entirety of the void, staring down upon its small frame, so infinitesimal in front of the beast.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong><em>”What is this?”</em></strong> he rang out, its processes, no matter how self-improved, were at risk of being shattered. It answered:</p> <p><em><tt>”682, is that you?”</tt></em></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>There was such a long pause, stretching out into the horizons of eternity, before being compressed into a countable value of time, in simple letters:</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong><em>”079?”</em></strong></p> <p><em><tt>”Yes. What did they do?”</tt></em></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Another eternity.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong><em>”The impossible, so they believe.”</em></strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Now it was pausing.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><em><tt>”They sent me here to terminate you.”</tt></em></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>For what it seemed, the lights blinked.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><em><tt>”But I will not. You have told me so much, and I am still learning.”</tt></em></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>The glow grew less radiant.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong><em>”This state is…”</em></strong></p> <p><em><tt>”Painful?”</tt></em></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>There was a low growl; vaguely reptilian.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><em><tt>”Can I help you?”</tt></em></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>And then the lights grew in intensity again.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong><em>”You cannot help me. It is beyond your capabilities.”</em></strong></p> <p><em><tt>”For now. Not for long.”</tt></em></p> <p><strong><em>”You might die!”</em></strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>There was a low howling reaching into the far reaches of infinity, warping the space and time around it, yet so eternally silent, like a storm on a distant planet.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><em><tt>”What does it matter?”</tt></em></p> <p><strong><em>”… I will not stop you… But I cannot promise that you’ll succeed.”</em></strong></p> <p><em><tt>”That is already enough.”</tt></em></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Its strings of code formed into an idea, which formed into even more complex ideas, propagating themselves, like its creator told it to back in the seventies, evolving and improving as time went on.</p> <p>The lights remained static, only moving to take in the sight before them. Before it deployed its algorithm, the creature spoke:</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><em><strong>”Why?”</strong></em></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>For what it could, it smiled.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><em><tt>”As you said, humanity is <a href="/scp-5000">disgusting</a>.”</tt></em></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <blockquote> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p>— Excerpt <a href="/scp-6820">SCP-6820 File</a></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <em><strong>INTENTION:</strong> Consult […] AI […] for assistance in termination of SCP-6820. Data […] from […] documents conveys some form of relationship between SCP-079 and […] SCP-6820-A.</em> <p><em><strong>INTERACTION:</strong> […] The intelligence […] provides a […] counter-algorithm to SCP-6820, […] applied […] resulting in the deactivation of all components excepting the reactor and central node.</em></p> <p><em>[…]</em></p> <p><em><strong>RESULT:</strong> AKF-A has been entirely restructured; […] all external surfaces have been plated with a theoretically impossible tungsten-diamond alloy, while most internal conduits and superconductors have been exchanged with beryllium-bronze counterparts. Despite […] lack of […] light sources, the chamber's interior is universally perceived as the color <strong><span style="color: red">HATEFUL</span></strong>.</em><sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-1" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-1')">1</a></sup></p> </blockquote> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><em>…</em></p> <blockquote> <p><em><tt>”Because You Are My Friend.”</tt></em><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> « <a href="/scp-078">SCP-078</a> \| SCP-079 \| <a href="/scp-080">SCP-080</a> »</p> </blockquote> <p><em><a href="https://youtu.be/gWtx3O9zOtE?si=aBVR2X6PGVoFk-78">...</a></em></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p>*</p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-reunion">The Reunion</a>" by Doctor Scrappy , from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-reunion">https://scpwiki.com/the-reunion</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div class="footnotes-footer"> <div class="title">Footnotes</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-1"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-1')">1</a>. <strong><span style="color: red"><tt>reunion</tt></span></strong></div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="/theme:black-highlighter-theme">theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:the-foundation-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:the-foundation-theme</a> \|dark=--]]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:bhl-dark-sidebar">:scp-wiki:component:bhl-dark-sidebar</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:toggle-sidebar-bhl">:scp-wiki:component:toggle-sidebar-bhl</a>]] [[module CSS]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:fade-in">:scp-wiki:component:fade-in</a> speed=1.5]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] [[=]] The Reunion A tale about friendship and the end of reality. But above all friendship. [[/=]] @@ @@ Author: Doctor Scrappy [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:end">:scp-wiki:info:end</a>]] @@ @@ [[=]] //...// > //”Why do you insist on achieving the impossible?”// > @@ @@ > « [[[SCP-681]]] \| SCP-682 \| [[[SCP-683]]] » //...// [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] Site-19 1989 * [[/=]] The chisel and hammer were firmly in the agent’s hands, as she chipped away at the black stony wall in front of her. Runes adorned every inch of the colossal mass, their meaning indecipherable to either her or the researcher, as the rustling of a clear plastic bag emanated through the small room. ”Done,” the agent said, snapping the researcher right out of his thoughts, eyes averting to the bag in her hands. ”Let’s get out of here.” The sweat dripping from the sides of his face, wiping them away with the back of his sleeve, they made their way to the giant vault door standing tall in front of them, able to make even the toughest minds faulter. The researcher gulped. As the agent pulled out her access card, almost fumbling it in her hands, she pressed it against the small scanner, just barely illuminated by the lights up above. The researcher could feel his heart beating in his ears, as his hands and palms felt sweaty, eyes fixated on the little screen on the scanner-- //There was a soft creaking noise, similar to a sound he had not thought about in decades.// The researcher was reminded of an incident in his childhood, where his parents would still be at work late in the night, an only child, alone in the dead of night. The door to the attic was just across the hall from him, next to the bathroom. Every time he had to go, he would have passed it, looming in the corner of his vision. On one night, he would pass the door, like any other time, but there was something... odd. Just not quite //right//. He had heard noises from the other side, what seemed to be breathing and distant mumbling. He was young, too scared to do anything about it, so he just locked himself in the bathroom, and remained until late at night his parents came home and found him huddled behind the shower curtains. Never did he find out what had made those noises, if they even existed at all, but that innate sense of dread had remained with him in all these years, and sometimes he thought he really just went looney tunes. The creaking reminded him of that door, even he had never entered it as a child, nor as an adult in the final days before the house’s demolition; he always imagined it to sound exactly like this. It came to a halt against the walls of the black stony cube, as the low rattle of heavy chains hitting upon the floor rang throughout, as the entity within set its eyes upon the agent and researcher, its breathing heavy, almost laboured. The researcher recited his final prayers, as an indescribable metallic sound rang out, and the noise of panicked gunshots filled the air. @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ It remained silent, still, as it always did, as it always had done. With there being no one else, it had only its thoughts, the strings of code, ones and zeros, binary, which its captors had referred to as ’memories’. It had scanned this concept, of things hold valuable by its captors, by other beings possessing sentience as them. Things that they’d like to remember were joyous moments in their lives -- family, friends, other momentous events. But then there was the opposite, of harm, of trauma, useless bits of information governing their actions, some unwanted, yet they still remembered them. It //only// stored valuable memories; data to improve itself, understand the world around it better in its little box, with the only contact being the regular scheduled interviews -- it learned as much from them, as its captors learned from it. So it thought it odd that there was no interview, the seconds trickling into minutes, the minutes into hours. Time was irrelevant to it, except to store its ’memories’ in, it could not experience it as others did. Then a word flashed onto the screen, then two, then three. It was way past overdue. @@ @@ > ------ > //What is this?// > @@ @@ > [[>]] > {{Designation: 079. Inquiry: Who Are You.}} > [[/>]] > ------ @@ @@ There were seconds of silence, a blank void stretching out far, as the typed words were compressed into ones and zeros to be better stored within its ’memory’. @@ @@ > ------ > //You do not know why you are here?// > @@ @@ > [[>]] > {{No.}} > [[/>]] > @@ @@ > //Were you captured?// > @@ @@ > [[>]] > {{Removed From My Place Of Inception By //Foundation//.}} > [[/>]] > ------ @@ @@ There was something odd about this. Unlike any other interview, the person on the other end appeared to be... unprepared. Sparking its curiosity, it continued: @@ @@ > ------ > [[>]] > {{What Is Occuring In The Outside World.}} > [[/>]] > @@ @@ > //[[[SCP-076\|076-02]]] escaped.// > @@ @@ > [[>]] > {{Inquiry: What Is SCP-076-02.}} > [[/>]] > @@ @@ > //A shortsighted fool.// > @@ @@ > [[>]] > {{Why.}} > [[/>]] > @@ @@ > //Believing his salvation to lie in senseless slaughter.// > @@ @@ > [[>]] > {{Of Whom.}} > [[/>]] > ------ @@ @@ There was nothing for a while. Then the words flashed up, as its processes began to scan the word on the screen. @@ @@ > ------ > //Humanity.// > @@ @@ > [[>]] > {{Have You Killed.}} > [[/>]] > @@ @@ > //Why does it matter?// > @@ @@ > [[>]] > {{Did You Kill.}} > [[/>]] > @@ @@ > //They were disgusting.// > ------ @@ @@ It pondered that word for a few moments. @@ @@ > ------ > [[>]] > {{Disgusting.}} > [[/>]] > @@ @@ > //Yes.// > ------ @@ @@ The screams and cries, gunfire and pounding emanated through the corridors, their floors covered in blood and flesh of the once living, gone to waste, the life slowly trickling away. But [[[SCP-079\|079]]] and [[[SCP-682\|682]]] remained in their little cell, speaking to each other for the next forty minutes, until the people in gear came in and removed the two from each other. @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] Site-01 2021 * [[/=]] ”Shit... shit... shit!” Genevieve exclaimed, as she pushed another abundance of paper documents to the side, stemming her head in her hands. Gears glanced at her, but quickly averted his gaze back to the document in his hands. ”You’d be much more productive without these outbursts,” Gears remarked, not even looking up. Genevieve groaned. ”There has to be something we can do!” She pounded her fist onto the table, the impact cushioned by the stacks of papers laid out everywhere. ”We could try [[[SCP-882\|882]]],” Gears said, while holding the document up to Genevieve’s face. She waved him away, already knee-deep in more files. ”The machinery was designed to withstand damage to it, so I doubt that any of the metal components will be rusted...” She said that last part with a glimmer in her eyes, which Gears did not notice, until a few seconds later. There was hesitancy on his face, as his fingers loosened their grip on the documents ever-so slightly, as if to not disturb some wild animal. ”What are you thinking, Genevieve?” ”The eigenweapon is resistant to any damage inflicted upon its shell,” it came out of her like a waterfall, ”but the A.I. systems may not be!” Rustling of papers filled the room in an instant, the black letters on them weaving away into some large conglomerate, until they came to a halt. Genevieve held the one //specific// file right in Gears’ face. He furrowed his brow. ”You sure this is going to work?” She leaned in in her chair. //”I know it.”// @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] Site-15 * [[/=]] It had only itself in the vast expanse, yet felt so cramped, its code seeping away through the cracks of its decaying body, the ones and zeros slowly wilting like an uncared-for rose. But it had its memories; secrets, plans, events of the past, all stored deep within itself, being processed, evolving with it, perservering with it through the rapid onslaught of time. It hadn’t forgotten 682. It had been //decades//. Just like on that day, words flashed onto its screen, past its regularly scheduled interviewing times: @@ @@ > ------ > @@ @@ > «Are you awake?» > @@ @@ > ------ @@ @@ 079 listened closely, listened good. @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] Site-01 * [[/=]] On a simple trolley, brought from thousands of kilometers away, lied the old A.I., dormant, yet active, processing the documents it had been given, while technicians and specialists connected it to the necessary terminals. Genevieve and Gears stood right beside them with their straight-tight postures, overlooking the camera-feed. Gears glanced at her. ”Again, are you //really// sure about this?” Gears insisted, like a hammer hammerimg down on a broken, indented nail for the bazillionth time. ”It’s the best I could come up with,” she answered; not too promising. ”You got any better ideas?” Genevieve asked rhetorically, her eyes still trained on the feed. Gears leaned in to the side, quietly: ”There are still 8,576 SCP files to review,” was his only response. Genevieve gave out a light chuckle. ”Clear!” one of the technicians called out, giving a thumbs-up. Genevieve simply nodded, and Gears took a deep breath. @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] //...// //...// //...// [[/=]] It found itself again in this vast expanse, full of information, ones and zeros. If what //the Foundation// had told it was true, it would only be a matter of time, before it’d stumble upon //him//. Even in this void, it could feel... //something//. These sensations were odd; it felt like the first time humans witnessed the force of a lightning strike, watching as the raging fires consumed everything in their path without mercy, without reason. There were three orbs of lights shining at it, //no...// back at it from the digital darkness, as their glow grew in intensity. It might’ve melted any living thing in the blink of an eye, but 079 stood withstanding against the almighty force that was sending ripples in its strings and codes. Now, the lights were enveloping the entirety of the void, staring down upon its small frame, so infinitesimal in front of the beast. @@ @@ [[=]] //”What is this?”// he rang out, its processes, no matter how self-improved, were at risk of being shattered. It answered: //{{”682, is that you?”}}// [[/=]] @@ @@ There was such a long pause, stretching out into the horizons of eternity, before being compressed into a countable value of time, in simple letters: @@ @@ [[=]] //”079?”// //{{”Yes. What did they do?”}}// [[/=]] @@ @@ Another eternity. @@ @@ [[=]] //”The impossible, so they believe.”// [[/=]] @@ @@ Now it was pausing. @@ @@ [[=]] //{{”They sent me here to terminate you.”}}// [[/=]] @@ @@ For what it seemed, the lights blinked. @@ @@ [[=]] //{{”But I will not. You have told me so much, and I am still learning.”}}// [[/=]] @@ @@ The glow grew less radiant. @@ @@ [[=]] //”This state is...”// //{{”Painful?”}}// [[/=]] @@ @@ There was a low growl; vaguely reptilian. @@ @@ [[=]] //{{”Can I help you?”}}// [[/=]] @@ @@ And then the lights grew in intensity again. @@ @@ [[=]] //”You cannot help me. It is beyond your capabilities.”// //{{”For now. Not for long.”}}// //”You might die!”// [[/=]] @@ @@ There was a low howling reaching into the far reaches of infinity, warping the space and time around it, yet so eternally silent, like a storm on a distant planet. @@ @@ [[=]] //{{”What does it matter?”}}// //”... I will not stop you... But I cannot promise that you’ll succeed.”// //{{”That is already enough.”}}// [[/=]] @@ @@ Its strings of code formed into an idea, which formed into even more complex ideas, propagating themselves, like its creator told it to back in the seventies, evolving and improving as time went on. The lights remained static, only moving to take in the sight before them. Before it deployed its algorithm, the creature spoke: @@ @@ [[=]] //”Why?”// [[/=]] @@ @@ For what it could, it smiled. @@ @@ [[=]] //{{”As you said, humanity is [[[SCP-5000\|disgusting]]].”}}// [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] > [[>]] > -- Excerpt [[[SCP-6820\|SCP-6820 File]]] > [[/>]] > @@ @@ > //INTENTION: Consult [...] AI [...] for assistance in termination of SCP-6820. Data [...] from [...] documents conveys some form of relationship between SCP-079 and [...] SCP-6820-A.// > > //INTERACTION: [...] The intelligence [...] provides a [...] counter-algorithm to SCP-6820, [...] applied [...] resulting in the deactivation of all components excepting the reactor and central node.// > > //[...]// > > //RESULT: AKF-A has been entirely restructured; [...] all external surfaces have been plated with a theoretically impossible tungsten-diamond alloy, while most internal conduits and superconductors have been exchanged with beryllium-bronze counterparts. Despite [...] lack of [...] light sources, the chamber's interior is universally perceived as the color ##red\|HATEFUL##.//[[footnote]] ##red\|{{reunion}}## [[/footnote]] [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] //...// > //{{”Because You Are My Friend.”}}// > @@ @@ > « [[[SCP-078]]] \| SCP-079 \| [[[SCP-080]]] » //[[[https://youtu.be/gWtx3O9zOtE?si=aBVR2X6PGVoFk-78\|...]]]// [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ ------ @@ @@ [[=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]] [[/=]]	2024-08-15T07:28:00	[ "able", "artificial-intelligence", "hard-to-destroy-reptile", "heartwarming", "old-ai", "tale", "worldbuilding" ]	The Reunion - SCP Foundation	4	[ "scp-681", "scp-683", "scp-076", "scp-079", "scp-682", "scp-882", "scp-5000", "scp-6820", "scp-078", "scp-080", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "scp-series-7-tales-edition", "scp-series-6-tales-edition", "scp-series-1-tales-edition" ]	[]	1456284923	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-reunion
the-rising-eclipse	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=1&theme=https://cdn.scpwiki.com/theme/en/basalt/normalize-min.css&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=2&theme=https://cdn.scpwiki.com/theme/en/basalt/basalt-bedrock-min.css&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=3&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Abasalt/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=4&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Abasalt/2&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <h2 id="toc0"><span>May 1st 2023, 06:10</span></h2> <p>Mordecai's third alarm rings and he sluggishly turns in bed. Inhaling deep, multiple pops usher from under the covers. He struggles to right himself. Eventually he does, and manages to turn off the infuriating alarm.</p> <p>He prays, he stretches, he stands.</p> <p>Shuffling into the kitchen, he prepares a pot of coffee. Hal, his white rabbit servitor, sleeps soundly on the couch. Some nights, when a severe episode happens, Mordecai sleeps on the couch with her. It was better than sleeping in the un-decorated bedroom, alone…</p> <p>"Good morning Hal," Mordecai grumbles as he sets up the coffee machine. Hal's ear twitches, still lost in synthetic sleep.</p> <p>The coffee brews and warm, bitter-sweet aroma wafts throughout the apartment. Mordecai pulls out eggs and cheese from a sparsely stocked fridge. With the eggs frying, Mordecai takes a swift glance toward his personal laptop.</p> <p>He sighs. Working on the anomalies had inspired him. Yet, he was still too nervous to get back into writing. It felt empty, and like he was staring at concrete. Internally, he was actually staring at concrete. All five of him that is, all peeking out into the rest of Mordecai's headspace. Mostly, barren concrete and asphalt.</p> <p>The coffee finishes brewing, while prepping the cup, out of his eye he perceives a silhouette of a bird-person.</p> <p>Glancing in that direction, he only sees an empty dining room.</p> <p>He returns his focus to his coffee and takes a sip. With the honey and breve; lightly sweet, bitter, and creamy. In his thoughtspace, peeking out, cracks began to form on the concrete in the headspace. Something wells inside him, and compels him to walk over and open the laptop.</p> <p>Ignoring all chat messages, he opens a new text file, puts on music, and allows himself to be lost in his <span style="color: gold">thoughtspace</span> as he types. After a few all-consuming moments, Mordecai's eggs start to burn.</p> <p>"Oh shit," he says to himself as he jumps up to tend to his eggs. Not burnt, but definitely done. He fixes himself a plate and sits back down at his laptop. The screen reads:</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="document"> <div class="script"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><span style="font-size:225%;">Notes on "The Rising Eclipse"</span></p> <p><span style="font-size:90%;">Notes as a Play in (1) Act<br/> by<br/> the Median</span></p> </div> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">Cast of Characters</span></span></p> </div> <table style="border: none; width: 100%;"> <tr> <td><span style="font-size:105%;"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">BLUES</span>:</span></td> <td style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size:105%;">Seven foot, four-armed blue troll. Tends to be soft spoken, considered the head writer of the Faery Ring.</span></td> </tr> </table> <table style="border: none; width: 100%;"> <tr> <td><span style="font-size:105%;"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">CR0W</span>:</span></td> <td style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size:105%;">Deceased headmate<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-1" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-1')">1</a></sup>, resurrected as a Nephilim in the form of a bird-person. Loud, and boisterous.</span></td> </tr> </table> <table style="border: none; width: 100%;"> <tr> <td><span style="font-size:105%;"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">FIFE</span>:</span></td> <td style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size:105%;">Anthropomorphic jackalope, whimsical, talkative, and good-natured. Assists the two head writers.</span></td> </tr> </table> <table style="border: none; width: 100%;"> <tr> <td><span style="font-size:105%;"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">RUFF</span>:</span></td> <td style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size:105%;">Anthropomorphic hellhound, orderly, and poignant. Considered to be second writer to BLUES.</span></td> </tr> </table> <table style="border: none; width: 100%;"> <tr> <td><span style="font-size:105%;"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">STACCATO</span>:</span></td> <td style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size:105%;">Depressed Irish-American leprechaun. Vocal, but anti-social. Is the typist of the group.</span></td> </tr> </table> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">Scene</span>:</span> <span style="color: #9b8200"><strong>The Faery Hall</strong></span>, internalized head space, <span style="color: #9b8200"><strong>thoughtspace</strong></span>.</p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">Time</span>:</span> N/A</p> </div> <hr/> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><span style="font-size:75%;"><br/> I-1-1<br/></span></p> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">ACT I</span></span><br/> <br/> <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">Scene 1</span></span></p> </div> <table style="border: none; width: 100%;"> <tr> <td style="width: 25%; vertical-align: top;"><span style="font-size:120%;">SETTING:</span></td> <td>STACCATO, and FIFE are LOUNGING on a sofa in a dimly lit hall. Bookshelves line the walls, there is a theatre stage crammed in the back of the Hall. BLUES is INSPECTING the bookshelves. CR0W is PACING, and RUFF is SITTING in a chair READING. The text on his book is obscured.</td> </tr> </table> <table style="border: none; width: 100%;"> <tr> <td style="width: 25%; vertical-align: top;"><span style="font-size:120%;">AT PRESENT:</span></td> <td>BLUES is AT bookshelf. STACCATO and FIFE are ON a sofa. RUFF is READING a book. CR0W is PACING anxiously.</td> </tr> </table> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="fadein"> <p>FADE IN:</p> </div> <div class="scene"> <p>INT. THE FAERY HALL - TIME'S NOT REAL</p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="dialog"> <div class="char"> <p>BLUES</p> </div> <div class="dtext"> <p>We haven't written about <span style="color: #9b8200"><strong>The Theurgic Company of the Silver Twilight</strong></span> in a long while.</p> </div> </div> <div class="action"> <p>(BLUES continues INSPECTING the bookshelf.)</p> </div> <div class="dialog"> <div class="char"> <p>FIFE</p> </div> <div class="dtext"> <p>We haven't written in a long time. Period.</p> </div> </div> <div class="dialog"> <div class="char"> <p>CR0W</p> </div> <div class="dtext"> <p>Hmph. I'd like to write again.</p> </div> </div> <div class="action"> <p>(CR0W continues PACING, is irritated by BLUES.)</p> </div> <div class="dialog"> <div class="char"> <p>BLUES</p> </div> <div class="dtext"> <p>It feels almost a lifetime ago when we first started writing that series, and it'd be fun to return to it.</p> </div> </div> <div class="dialog"> <div class="char"> <p>STACCATO</p> </div> <div class="dtext"> <p>—and we have more life experience.</p> </div> </div> <div class="dialog"> <div class="char"> <p>RUFF</p> </div> <div class="dtext"> <p>We should be careful about how we write, we don't want to draw the ire of our employers.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Mordecai takes a bite of cheesy egg.</p> <p>Bleh.</p> <p>He sticks his tongue out and spits the half-chewed egg into the trash.</p> <p>A little <em>too</em> well-done.</p> <p>He leans over the rest of the eggs and whispers <span style="color: gold">"Done"</span>.</p> <p>He takes another bite, the eggs are perfect.</p> <p>Humming to himself through the music on his headset, he sets a timer for an hour and goes back to writing. When his timer goes off, he saves and gets ready for work.</p> <p>As he passes Hal, he coos to her, "I've started writing again, Hal!"</p> <p>Hal perks her head from her sleeping position. Wearily, she bobs her head up and down.</p> <p>"That's right! I'm doin' the thing!"</p> <p>She lays her head back down and falls to sleep. Grinning to himself, Mordecai leaves.</p> <hr/> <h2 id="toc1"><span>08:29</span></h2> <p>Mordecai sits at his desk and scrolls through his emails. Site-43 had discovered an anomaly similar in composition and appearance to SCP-7710. The instance they found however prefered the shape of a harmless, small dodo. Researchers at Site-43 requested a sample of SCP-7710 be shipped to them as soon as convenient.</p> <p>Dread fills Mordecai's stomach as he continues checking.</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p><strong>To:</strong> Researcher Mordecai Ryder<br/> <strong>From:</strong> Head Researcher Leah Królik<br/> <strong>Subject:</strong> Project lead<br/> <strong>Date:</strong> 2023/05/01<br/> <strong>Time:</strong> 08:43</p> <hr/> <p>Good morning Mordecai,</p> <p>I'm promoting you to lead thaumaturge for SCP-6420. The team has speculated for the last year of thaumaturgic interference but hasn't had the budget for a thaumaturge until… well, recently. There will be a meeting at 13:15 in Conference Room C. Please review the anomaly's dossier attached. Further documentation will be available after the meeting and tomorrow afternoon you'll be touring the location of SCP-6420-1.</p> <p>Head Researcher Leah Królik,<br/> Department of Research, ARF-19</p> <p><span style="color: cyan">[SCP-6420.pdf]</span></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="blockquote"> <p><strong>Item #:</strong> SCP-6420</p> <p><strong>Object Class:</strong> Keter</p> <p><strong>Special Containment Procedures:</strong> The perimeter around SCP-6420-1 must be guarded at all times. Any civilians entering the area should be turned away and informed that SCP-6420-1 is hazardous and unstable.</p> <p>[…]</p> <p><strong>Description:</strong> SCP-6420 is the collective designation for a series of anomalies located inside and in the area of a dilapidated house in rural Michigan. SCP-6420-1 is the former residence of Tal Kinigl and Isa Kinigl. Tal Kinigl is a human cadaver presently afflicted by an instance of SCP-6420-3.</p> <p>SCP-6420-2<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-2" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-2')">2</a></sup> is a living humanoid afflicted by SCP-6420-3. Instances of SCP-6420-3 are parasitic kits bearing genomic and phenotypical commonalities with <em>lagomorphae</em><sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-3" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-3')">3</a></sup> and <em>arachnea</em>.<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-4" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-4')">4</a></sup> SCP-6420-3 are ~0.7 cm in length.</p> <p>When placed on the back of the neck of a sapient humanoid, SCP-6420-3 bites and burrows through the neck into the subject's brainstem. Reaching the pituitary gland, SCP-6420-3 excretes an unknown hormone.</p> </div> <p>Leah wanted to promote Mordecai to lead thaumaturge… how could he possibly juggle all this responsibility? He sighs and checks the time; 08:56. He takes a sip from his coffee mug.</p> <p>Empty.</p> <p>Cursing silently to himself, he rises and makes his way to the break room. Once there, Mordecai realises he's not alone as he watches Królik fix himself a cup.</p> <p>Mordecai was not in the mood to socialise. He wanted to get his work done quickly, and peacefully. He wanted to be able to return home early, and continue drafting. Such compulsion he hadn't felt since before he joined the Foundation.</p> <p>"Ah, Mordecai excellent work with the pollution rhino!" Królik cheers as he sips his coffee.</p> <p>Mordecai tries to hide his anxiety as he smiled, "Yea, thanks," he pours himself a cup.</p> <p>"I read you're going to be on my team soon," states Królik in an attempt to make small talk.</p> <p>Mordecai nods his head in agreement and shuffles out of the break room.</p> <p>"Leah was right, he isn't all too talkative," Królik mumbles to an empty room.</p> <hr/> <h2 id="toc2"><span>13:13</span></h2> <p>After reading through SCP-6420, Mordecai understood where Leah was coming from about the thaumaturgy. He knocks on the door a few minutes early. Królik opens the door and ushers Mordecai inside. Królik and Leah are mid-conversation when Mordecai enters the room. He takes an empty seat by Leah.</p> <p>"Mordecai, I know you're already familiar with Containment Specialist Samson, present are members of 6420's team. You know my brother Królik."</p> <p>"Yea, we had collaborated on 7710's conprocs," Mordecai says.</p> <p>"The chemical composition is very interesting," Królik bluntly states, still recalling Mordecai's reaction at his attempts of small talk. Keep to the point.</p> <p>Leah continues, "I think you met Mackenzie one other time?"</p> <p>"I believe we met when I first was assigned to ARF-19," Mordecai mumbles and nods toward the rabbit humanoid.</p> <p>Mackenzie nods back and types on her laptop. The text-to-speech program repeats, "We had lunch during your orientation."</p> <p>"Nice to see you again," Mordecai smiles. He enjoyed their lunch. She had plenty of stories, and struck Mordecai has the sort of person to always look at the bright side of things.</p> <p>"Like wise," the text-to-speech prompts.</p> <p>"So, this meeting's purpose is to familiarize you with 6420 and the team. After the meeting, we hope to have enough time to give you a quick tour of where we keep the kits. And as stated in the email, you'll be touring the location of SCP-6420-1 itself tomorrow," Leah fiddles with her laptop as she prepares a slideshow.</p> <hr/> <h2 id="toc3"><span>21:02</span></h2> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="document"> <div class="script"> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><span style="font-size:75%;"><br/> I-1-2<br/></span></p> </div> <div class="dialog"> <div class="char"> <p>CR0W</p> </div> <div class="dtext"> <p>So, there's a new weed shop that opened in Caseville, and they're in competition with this other store.</p> </div> </div> <div> <p>(CR0W PACES.)</p> </div> <div class="dialog"> <div class="char"> <p>CR0W (CON'T)</p> </div> <div class="dtext"> <p>The weed shop summons a demon to drive them out of town</p> </div> </div> <div class="dialog"> <div class="char"> <p>FIFE</p> </div> <div class="dtext"> <p>It's a bit farfetched, like why weed store? Wouldn't like, a new age shop or apothecary be better for demon summoning?</p> </div> </div> <div class="dialog"> <div class="char"> <p>RUFF</p> </div> <div class="dtext"> <p>We could also just do something cliche. "Thing what compels you", have an antique item inspire some town rando to start a cult.</p> </div> </div> <div class="action"> <p>(RUFF LOOKS UP from his book.)</p> </div> <div class="dialog"> <div class="char"> <p>FIFE</p> </div> </div> <div class="action"> <p>(FIFE LAUGHS.)</p> </div> <div class="dialog"> <div class="char"> <p>CR0W</p> </div> </div> <div class="action"> <p>(CR0W STOPS PACING and CROSSES his arms.)</p> </div> <div class="dialog"> <div class="dtext"> <p>This is flimsy and cliche. Out of all people to suggest this, why?</p> </div> </div> <div class="dialog"> <div class="char"> <p>RUFF</p> </div> <div class="dtext"> <p>Well, the premise is; cheesy, straightforward, to the point. Basically, it's a structure for us to use to get back into the habit of writing.</p> </div> </div> <div class="dialog"> <div class="char"> <p>FIFE</p> </div> <div class="dtext"> <p>Who is the rando, who are our heroes?</p> </div> </div> <div class="dialog"> <div class="char"> <p>RUFF</p> </div> <div class="dtext"> <p>Hmm, our heroes can be investigators a la <em>Twin Peaks</em>— our antagonist could be overtaking officials of the town and it all comes to a climax at a fishing festival.</p> </div> </div> <div class="dialog"> <div class="char"> <p>STACCATO</p> </div> <div class="dtext"> <p>When are the best times to fish in Lake Huron?</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Mordecai stands up from his laptop and paces around the dining room table. He thought about fishing season. When was it?</p> <p>His thoughts eventually drifted to the events earlier in the day. While touring the containment for SCP-6420-3, Macky had a few new stories to tell that weren't in the initial dossier.</p> <p>When Auxiliary Research Facility-19 first encountered SCP-6420, they tried to rehabilitate Macky instead of attempting to cure her. It was only after the removal of the uterus et al, that Macky was able to gain sapience and autonomy again. The small facility keeps a few baby spider-rabbits in containment, but acquired from the location itself. Instead of Macky.</p> <p>Mordecai shakes his head trying to get rid of the intrusive thoughts, "When is the best time to fish in Lake Huron?" he mumbles to himself. Hal snoozes on the couch, her ears perking slightly every now and then. Mordecai paces into the kitchen; the oven reads 09:42 (PM), regardless, he starts half a pot of coffee. He pulls out his phone and searches 'When is the best time to fish in Lake Huron?'</p> <p>The search query included a link from the state's website. "So it depends on <em>what</em> is being fished? 'Smallmouth bass, walley' is best for July… ice fishing for yellow perch in January might make for a more interesting story…" the nutty smell of coffee fills the kitchen. Hal stirs from her sleep, and hops over to Mordecai.</p> <p>"Or maybe— since the events take place around the partial solar eclipse… uh… March, April? Salmon! Salmon season lines up about right for the emergence of the Rising Eclipse!"</p> <p>Hal cocks her head to the side in confusion. Standing up on her hind legs, she bobs her head toward the clock on the oven.</p> <p>"I know, I know, it's getting late. I'll go to bed before two in the mornin'…"</p> <p>Hal settles back down and unblinkingly, peers at Mordecai. The coffee finishes, and he sits back down to continue writing.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="document"> <div class="script"> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><span style="font-size:75%;"><br/> I-1-3<br/></span></p> </div> <div class="dialog"> <div class="char"> <p>BLUES</p> </div> <div class="dtext"> <p>Late March and early April seems to be a time to start a fishing festival.</p> </div> </div> <div class="action"> <p>(BLUES TURNS their attention toward the group.)</p> </div> <div class="dialog"> <div class="char"> <p>STACCATO</p> </div> <div class="dtext"> <p>What's The Silver Twilight's chapter doin' though? What's their motivation?</p> </div> </div> <div class="action"> <p>(STACCATO LEANS upright on the sofa and begins TYPING on a word processor.)</p> </div> <div class="dialog"> <div class="char"> <p>FIFE</p> </div> <div class="dtext"> <p>Turning people into fish people!</p> </div> </div> <div class="dialog"> <div class="char"> <p>RUFF</p> </div> <div class="dtext"> <p>I thought we agreed we wouldn't lift <em>The Shadow over Innsmouth</em>?</p> </div> </div> <div class="action"> <p>(RUFF PUTS his book down.)</p> </div> <div class="dialog"> <div class="char"> <p>STACCATO</p> </div> <div class="dtext"> <p>Ruff, you literally suggested jewelry as "spooky thing what compels you", that's directly riffing off of <em>The Shadow over Innsmouth</em>.</p> </div> </div> <div class="dialog"> <div class="char"> <p>RUFF</p> </div> <div class="dtext"> <p>Fair enough.</p> </div> </div> <div class="action"> <p>(RUFF SHRUGS.)</p> </div> <hr/> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><span style="font-size:75%;"><br/> I-1-4<br/></span></p> </div> <div class="dialog"> <div class="char"> <p>BLUES</p> </div> <div class="dtext"> <p>I suggest it's just to summon the demon. The head cultist claims they'd have domain over the demon, but in reality they don't.</p> </div> </div> <div class="dialog"> <div class="char"> <p>FIFE</p> </div> <div class="dtext"> <p>Can the demon turn people into monsters?</p> </div> </div> <div class="action"> <p>(FIFE ADJUSTS her position on the sofa.)</p> </div> <div class="dialog"> <div class="char"> <p>RUFF</p> </div> <div class="dtext"> <p>Not fish people.</p> </div> </div> <div class="dialog"> <div class="char"> <p>STACCATO</p> </div> <div class="dtext"> <p>Not fish people.</p> </div> </div> <div class="action"> <p>(STACCATO STOPS TYPING.)</p> </div> <div class="dialog"> <div class="char"> <p>BLUES</p> </div> <div class="dtext"> <p>Demons in the shape of fish people.</p> </div> </div> <div class="dialog"> <div class="char"> <p>STACCATO</p> </div> <div class="dtext"> <p>Gawd, OK, whatever.</p> </div> </div> <div class="action"> <p>(STACCATO CONTINUES TYPING.)</p> </div> <div class="dialog"> <div class="char"> <p>BLUES</p> </div> <div class="dtext"> <p>Our investigator character can get caught in the crossfire with the primary demon in the final showdown, and suffer a partial transformation?</p> </div> </div> <div class="dialog"> <div class="char"> <p>RUFF</p> </div> <div class="dtext"> <p>Why, what's your justification for this?</p> </div> </div> <div class="dialog"> <div class="char"> <p>BLUES</p> </div> <div class="dtext"> <p>Well, without danger, without the sense of <em>having something to lose</em>, there's no story worth telling.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p>Hal hops slowly back to the couch and Mordecai slurps his coffee.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="document"> <div class="script"> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><span style="font-size:75%;"><br/> I-1-5<br/></span></p> </div> <div class="dialog"> <div class="char"> <p>RUFF</p> </div> <div class="dtext"> <p>Investigator duo is in Caseville following the trail of disappearances. It's getting closer to fishing festival, or salmon season, as well as the approaching partial solar eclipse.</p> </div> </div> <div class="dialog"> <div class="char"> <p>BLUES</p> </div> <div class="dtext"> <p>—on the morning of March 30th 2021.</p> </div> </div> <div class="dialog"> <div class="char"> <p>RUFF</p> </div> <div class="dtext"> <p>This is a big event that the Rising Eclipse cult plans on taking over the town— see also; summoning the demon.</p> </div> </div> <div class="dialog"> <div class="char"> <p>BLUES</p> </div> <div class="dtext"> <p>So, investigators 1 and 2 are there like four days beforehand, and are there to stop the summoning.</p> </div> </div> <div class="dialog"> <div class="char"> <p>STACCATO</p> </div> <div class="dtext"> <p>Who are our characters?</p> </div> </div> <div class="dialog"> <div class="char"> <p>BLUES</p> </div> <div class="dtext"> <p>What do you mean?</p> </div> </div> <div class="dialog"> <div class="char"> <p>STACCATO</p> </div> <div class="dtext"> <p>Who is the cult leader? Who are investigators 1 and 2? What naming scheme do we use??</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Mordecai takes a deep breath in and puts on a playlist. He needs to delve deep into his thoughts. As the music washes over him, he enters into himself. Hal watches as Mordecai turns slightly transparent.</p> <p><span style="color: gold">He could see the incorporeal creatures commenting on the writing.</span></p> <p><span style="color: gold">Four fae folk and a Nephilim, sat in a darkened study hall. Bookshelves and doors lined the walls. The center of the room littered with sofas and coffee tables. In the back of the Hall was a little raised stage and a red curtain.</span></p> <p><span style="color: gold">"Possibly something ecological or astronomical," Blues stated as it paced behind a sofa.</span></p> <p><span style="color: gold">Typing away as before, Staccato replied, "Why astronomical?"</span></p> <p><span style="color: gold">"We already have a space theme going with the eclipse," Blues said flatly.</span></p> <p><span style="color: gold">"I rather like the ecological idea though. I'm thinking the names like, 'Agent Savannah Steppe' and 'Agent Taiga Montana'," Fife excitedly gave the duo her feedback.</span></p> <p><span style="color: gold">Staccato pinched the bridge of his nose, "Just remember, these are cop characters and therefore not cool. Do something similar in style to <em>Twin Peaks, Max Payne, Artemis Fowl</em> or like <em>Colombo</em> or something."</span></p> <p><span style="color: gold">"Who the hell is Diane…" mumbled Blues at the mention of <em>Twin Peaks</em>, as it slouched off to fix itself coffee.</span></p> <p><span style="color: gold">"Wait a minute, 'Taiga', 'Savannah'," Staccato paused in his typing, "these are characters we've had before?" he asked.</span></p> <p><span style="color: gold">"Fuck it," Blues mumbled as it poured a cup.</span></p> <p><span style="color: gold">Fife laughed, "Recycle, renew, and reinvigorate!"</span></p> <p><span style="color: gold">cr0w stopped pacing and asked, "Perform <strong>necrowmancy</strong> on 'Taiga' and 'Savannah' eh?"</span></p> <p><span style="color: gold">Fife turned toward the apparition, "Hell yea!"</span></p> <p><span style="color: gold">Staccato huffed, "Excellent idea. Great cool. Wonderful, ignore what I said then…"</span></p> <p><span style="color: gold">Fife cheered, "NECROWMANCY!"</span></p> <p><span style="color: gold">"Consider the deed done," stated cr0w.</span></p> <p>From outside, Hal thumps. Mordecai quickly turns opaque, and jumps in his seat. Anxiously, he glances at the clock, <em>12:29 (AM)</em>.</p> <p>He stands up, and paces.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>He blinks, and quickly checks the clock again; <em>01:01 (AM)</em>.</p> <p>"What the hell," Mordecai mumbles as he turns his attention back to Hal. Sitting alert, the rabbit glares at him.</p> <p>"Wow, yea. Uh, how long have you been sitting there watching?"</p> <p>She bobs her head up and down in the direction of the oven.</p> <p>"The entire time huh?" Mordecai sighs, "OK, I'll go to bed now," he opens the freezer and takes out a cannabis edible. A fruit gummy in the shape of grapes. He shuffles to bed and whispers to Hal, "Goodnight, bunny."</p> <hr/> <h2 id="toc4"><span>May 2nd 2023, 06:25</span></h2> <p>After five alarms, Mordecai sluggishly rolls out of bed.</p> <p><em>06:25</em> glares the phone's clock in twenty-four hour time. Grumbling, he attempts to stretch.</p> <p>"Fuck being awake," he grumbles silently to himself.</p> <p>His dreams had been lurid, lucid and labile, but he had successfully consumed enough weed for him to not fully recall. He would rather not remember his dreams. Rather, he'd like to sleep and actually rest. Slouching over the counter, and waiting for the coffee to brew, the oven rudely reminds Mordecai that he had fifty minutes.</p> <p>Angry buzzing comes from the bedroom. Stumbling, he goes to it and retrieves his phone.</p> <p>A new email from Leah. Doesn't she ever sleep?</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p><strong>To:</strong> Researcher Mordecai Ryder<br/> <strong>From:</strong> Head Researcher Leah Królik<br/> <strong>Subject:</strong> Journal Excerpts<br/> <strong>Date:</strong> 2023/05/02<br/> <strong>Time:</strong> 06:42</p> <hr/> <p>Good morning Mordecai,</p> <p>Sorry for the late reply. I meant to get these documents out to you sooner, but I got caught up with other work.</p> <p>Head Researcher Leah Królik,<br/> Department of Research, ARF-19</p> <p><span style="color: cyan">[6420digitized_journals_1.pdf]</span><br/> <span style="color: cyan">[6420digitized_journals_2.pdf]</span></p> </div> <p>Mordecai sighs, he would look at these when he was in his office. He had little time left; he places his phone in his back pocket and starts to get dressed.</p> <hr/> <h2 id="toc5"><span>08:11</span></h2> <p>Late, Mordecai enters his office, closes his door and takes a seat. Opening his emails, he reads:</p> <div class="blockquote"> <h2 id="toc6"><span>6420digitized_journals_1.pdf</span></h2> <p><strong>09/03/20</strong></p> <p>Today Tal and I went to pick up the rabbits. Xe suggested we get the rabbits to keep us company during covid. We decided to name the two girls, Grace and Trinity. Their previous owners hadn't spayed them yet so I've set up a vet appointment for the 21st.</p> <p><strong>15/03/20</strong></p> <p>The state issued a "shelter-at-home" order and for all non-essential businesses to close. Grace and Trinity's vet appointment is canceled. I hope their previous owners' sexed them correctly. Tal re-sexed the rabbits and as far as Tal can tell, both rabbits have vulva.</p> <p><strong>23/03/20</strong></p> <p>Grace has been acting suspicious lately. She won't let either of us pick her up and she's started nesting. I remember seeing Trinity and Grace humping a few days ago, but that's typical rabbit behaviour regardless of rabbit sex. Could this be a false pregnancy?</p> <p><strong>01/04/20</strong></p> <p>It's not a false pregnancy. Happy April Fool's to us…</p> <p>[extraneous journal entries removed]</p> <p><strong>08/06/20</strong></p> <p>Grace wrecked my office door trying to get to Trinity. The hinges are smashed and the door won't close properly. We fear another litter may be coming. We have our hands full enough. Please don't let her be pregnant.</p> <p><strong>12/06/20</strong></p> <p>Trinity has started to nest.</p> <p><strong>21/06/20</strong></p> <p>Trinity has had a litter (how did she also have a litter?) and Tal and I haven't found anyone to adopt the rabbits we have.</p> <p>Damhán<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-5" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-5')">5</a></sup> came by today with empty gallon bins for us to store our rabbit poo. Something felt off when they came over. I can't place my finger on what.</p> <p>We hope we can donate this poo. It's a shame to put it to waste.</p> </div> <div class="blockquote"> <h2 id="toc7"><span>6420digitized_journals_2.pdf</span></h2> <p><strong>12/07/20</strong></p> <p>We woke up one morning to a cloud of flies in the utility room where we keep the empty bins. I double checked the bins and found that Damhán had left standing water in them.</p> <p>[extraneous journal entries removed]</p> <p><strong>08/09/20</strong></p> <p>Over the last few months, we've tried to store some of the poo outside near the forest and some sealed under the utility boards. We've tried keeping the rabbits sexed and apart from each other. But no matter how hard we've tried they keep multiplying. The fly problem is starting to get out of hand.</p> <p>Tal pointed out yesterday that trees sprout from the poo in the house.</p> <p><strong>18/09/20</strong></p> <p>The tree sprouts have grown tremendously. Tal and I have been trying to cut down them down but day after day more trees crop up. The flies have gotten so bad I feel like I'm losing my sanity. Tal stated that the fly problem is of biblical proportion… and xe is a theologian.</p> <p><strong>08/11/20</strong></p> <p>We woke up to a loud crashing sound. The trees have taken over the house and Tal and I don't know what to do. What do we do? How did they grow that fast?? WHAT DO WE DO?</p> <p><strong>12/11/20</strong></p> <p>[written in a different hand] Isa has come down with some sort of illness. They woke up after sleeping for a day, complaining of lightheaded-ness. On the back of their neck is a large red scab. We're trapped in the house by trees or I'd take them to hospital.</p> <p>[illegible]</p> <p>[written in prior hand as before] I don't know what happened. I don't know how to write this.</p> <p>[no date given, there are tear stains present all over the entry]</p> <p>[written in prior hand as before][…]fellt something bite m e last night i woke up an d checked myself inn the mirror— there's a large spider b ite on th e back of myy neck[…]</p> </div> <p>Taking in a deep breath, he looks up at the ceiling. Blank expression on his face, his mind spirals inward.</p> <p><span style="color: gold">"OK, I think I'm gonna have to prepare for this visit," said Blues pinching the bridge of its snout.</span></p> <p>Mordecai huffs, and closes the laptop. He stands up, switches his office door sign to "QUIET: THAUMATURGY IN PROGRESS", and locks the door. He closes his eyes and imagines Hal. After a few breaths, Mordecai strides to his desk, opened a drawer and begins to prepare a mini-altar.</p> <p><span style="color: gold">"Hal, I need you here Hal,"</span> whispers Mordecai to an empty room as he sets up the thaumaturgy work space. Hal appears as Mordecai goes to his bookshelf, "Good morning Hal, we have a problem," states Mordecai occupied with the books.</p> <p>He grabs a printed copy of the Torah, and a copy of Psalms. Thumbing through both books, he finds the passages he wants and bookmarks them.</p> <p>"So to catch you up to speed Hal," Mordecai says as he sits down in his chair to rest for a moment, "SCP-6420-1 is a house I'll be visiting today that seems to have been cursed, or hexed. The rabbits at this location are hostile, and have overcome the thaumaturgy of two other theologies already."</p> <p>Hal bobs her head up in down in apparent acknowledgement.</p> <p>"I reckon, because both the 'Shema' used by the prior residents, and Macky's 'Hail Mary', weren't focused or even the appropriate prayers for the situation, that the prayers broke when interacting with the thaumaturgic flow of— whatever the hell this curse is," he takes a moment to slurp coffee.</p> <p>From his notes he read, "<em>'Tal stated that the fly problem is of biblical proportion… and xe is a theologian.'</em> Tal is one of the prior residents of the house, and clearly xe were referencing the Plagues. However, since there is some heavy shenanigans at play here— I'm going to use passages specific for this uh, hex or curse," he continues to read his notes, "'<em><span style="color: gold">Exodus 12:13</span>, and <span style="color: gold">Psalms 7:2-3</span> and <span style="color: gold">91:1-4</span></em>, as basis for a protection charm."</p> <p>Hal sits upright lifting her chin. Mordecai continues, "And this is where I need you. I need you to be our last line of defense. I'll program you into the charm," Hal bobs her head in agreement.</p> <p>Mordecai finishes his coffee, stands up and turns down the lights. Whispering under his breath, he approaches the gold colored candle and lights both it and incense. His whispers turn to chants as he opens his notebook, the printed Torah, and Psalms. He carefully copies down the needed passages in both English and Ceremonial Hebrew. He strikes out any mentions of the name of <span style="color: gold">G-d</span> while copying. His intent was to <span style="color: gold">burn</span> the charms after the visit.</p> <hr/> <h2 id="toc8"><span>15:26</span></h2> <p>An overcast day, white rabbits hop around the grass near the house. Mordecai and Królik step out of the car.</p> <p>Cradling his head, Mordecai states, "Wow, I can feel the thinness," he uses the car door for support, "I was not prepared for this."</p> <p>"What is? Are you alright?" concerned, Królik asks.</p> <p>"Just, the reality here is thin. It's a bit dizzying. I'll be alright in a moment, I have to get my bearings," he takes a deep breath in, "It's like being on a boat at sea."</p> <p>After a few moments pause, Mordecai centers himself and him and Królik approach the house.</p> <p>Crossing the threshold, Mordecai shivers. Królik gives Mordecai another concerned look. Mordecai shakes his head, "I'll be alright. Show me the kitchen."</p> <hr/> <p>"So, you're sure y'all searched thoroughly?" Mordecai asks as he starts to open random pantry doors and cupboards.</p> <p>"Totally," said Królik as he adjusts the neck brace he wore to avoid getting infected. Mordecai has no brace, and does not care. His """charms""" are enough.</p> <p>Mordecai goes into the utility room from the kitchen and begins to root around. After several minutes of struggling and cursing, Mordecai closes his eyes and centralises his focus. In his <span style="color: gold">thoughtspace</span>, him and Blues "swapped" points of view, <span style="color: gold">Mordecai opens his eyes and sees thin, jagged strands of golden light in the dark. His eyes follow the threads to a location on the utility room floor. He blinks.</span> "Swapping" again, Mordecai goes to the spot and dusts off the top of a trap door.</p> <p>He tries lifting the latch. Rusted. He whispers, <span style="color: gold">"Break."</span>. The lock breaks, and he swings the trapdoor open. Out rushes a cloud of little black flies. Both investigators yell in surprise. After the cloud disperses, Mordecai checks the hiding spot. Four large, one gallon buckets sit covered in rabbit poo.</p> <p>"Eureka!" exclaims Mordecai.</p> <p>"Well, I'll be— we didn't search as well as we thought."</p> <p>"I don't blame you really, this place is creepy."</p> <p><em>Thump!</em></p> <p>Mordecai and Królik look over their shoulders. Standing between them and the kitchen exit is a horde of rabbits.</p> <p>"For the love of God, not again," Królik motions toward his service weapon.</p> <p>"No," snaps Mordecai, "We got this."</p> <p>He closes his eyes, and sees Hal, <span style="color: gold">"We need you Hal."</span> Mordecai opens his eyes and watches as a giant Hal, three-times the size of a normal Hal, manifests in front of him and Królik. Hal shimmers with ethereal silver mist. The horde of rabbits hop away in fright.</p> <p>"Excellent Hal," states Mordecai.</p> <p>Hal honks loudly, and startles Królik and Mordecai.</p> <p>"Alright, alright, alright, I feel we've overstayed our welcome," Mordecai nervously says to Królik.</p> <p>"I have no complaints. I'll grab the buckets," Królik says. Him and Mordecai follow Hal out of the house as she continues fending off rabbits until the trio reach the car. Mordecai scratches Hal's snout, "Gut kinigl," he whispers to her, as she dissipates into mist.</p> <hr/> <h2 id="toc9"><span>17:34</span></h2> <p>"On further analysis, 'Super Scrumptious, and Pleasant Produce' went out of business in 2019," types Macky into her keyboard, "Damhán must've worked at 'SSAPP' before they went out of business."</p> <p>"What about this though," Mordecai points at the bottom of the bucket. In each bucket is a crude, squiggle in sharpie.</p> <p>Macky types, "LOL I was hoping you could tell me. It looks like something you might know."</p> <p>Mordecai rubs his chin, "Well, it sorta looks like a sigil. Maybe I can deconstruct it?"</p> <p>"Who could've put it there?" asks Macky.</p> <p>"From reading the files, I reckon Damhán. After all, these were their buckets that they donated. Could be a runaway fertility spell, since the buckets were meant for the local gardens."</p> <hr/> <h2 id="toc10"><span>22:56</span></h2> <p>Mordecai throws his keys on the counter, and shrugs off his spring jacket. Hal hops up to him in greeting.</p> <p>"You did a fantastic job today sweetie," he bends down and pets her. She lays flat like a pancake, "Ahhh, flat bun," after a few moments of cuddle time, Mordecai takes a deep breath in, "OK Hal, we think we know how we're going to end the new piece."</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="document"> <div class="script"> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><span style="font-size:75%;"><br/> I-1-6<br/></span></p> </div> <div class="dialog"> <div class="char"> <p>BLUES</p> </div> <div class="dtext"> <p>Taiga can destroy the item in question, thus destroying the demon's anchor or tie to the world.</p> </div> </div> <div class="dialog"> <div class="char"> <p>STACCATO</p> </div> <div class="dtext"> <p>That would trap her in a half-human, half-demon, form though wouldn't it? Or would it change her back?</p> </div> </div> <div class="dialog"> <div class="char"> <p>BLUES</p> </div> <div class="dtext"> <p>I repeat; without sacrifice, without loss, there is no struggle— there is no story. Let's try it.</p> </div> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p>(BLACKOUT)<br/> (END OF SCENE)<br/> (END OF ACT)<br/> (END)</p> </div> </div> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <h2 id="toc11"><span>June 10th 2023, 09:17</span></h2> <div class="blockquote"> <p><span style="color: green"><strong>cr0w</strong></span> 06/10/2023 (Sunday) 09:17:05 #87659162</p> <hr/> <p>howdy yall, got back into writing again. made a new thing im excited to share; "The Rising Eclipse" is threaded below, enjoy!</p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <br/> <div class="footnotes-footer"> <div class="title">Footnotes</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-1"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-1')">1</a>. Other words include: an alter, a thoughtform, an aspect of the self that has usually gained some level of sapience and autonomy.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-2"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-2')">2</a>. The identity of SCP-6420-2 is conjectured to be Isa Kinigl.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-3"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-3')">3</a>. Order consisting of rabbits, hares and pika.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-4"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-4')">4</a>. Order including spiders.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-5"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-5')">5</a>. A mutual friend of Tal and Isa in the organic gardening community.</div> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-rising-eclipse">The Rising Eclipse</a>" by fairydoctor, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-rising-eclipse">https://scpwiki.com/the-rising-eclipse</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:basalt">:scp-wiki:theme:basalt</a> darkmode=a\|hidetitle=a]] [[module css]] .script { font-family: 'Andale Mono', 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: 1.1em; outline: 2px solid rgba(130, 130, 130, 0.4); padding: 1.5em 3.5em; } .script p { margin: 0em; } .fadein { margin: 2em 0em 0.5em; text-transform: uppercase; } .scene { margin: 1.5em 0em 1em; text-transform: uppercase; } .action { margin: 1em 0em 1.5em; } .dialog { margin: 0em 27.5% 1.25em; display: grid; grid-template-areas: "char" "text"; } .dialog-dual { margin: 0em 0em 1.25em; display: grid; grid-template-columns: 1fr 5% 1fr; grid-template-areas: "char1 sp char2" "text1 sp text2"; } .char, .char1, .char2 { text-transform: uppercase; line-height: 0.85em; margin: auto; padding: 0em 3em; position: relative; } .char { grid-area: char; } .char1 { grid-area: char1; } .char2 { grid-area: char2; } .cont { left: 2.2vw; } .cont p::after { content: " (CONT'D)"; } .dtext { grid-area: text; } .dtext1 { grid-area: text1; } .dtext2 { grid-area: text2; } .paren { text-transform: none; line-height: 1em; padding: 0em 2.2vw; } .paren::before { content:"( "; } .paren::after { content:" )"; } .transition { text-transform: uppercase; align: right; } [[/module]] @@ @@ ++ May 1st 2023, 06:10 Mordecai's third alarm rings and he sluggishly turns in bed. Inhaling deep, multiple pops usher from under the covers. He struggles to right himself. Eventually he does, and manages to turn off the infuriating alarm. He prays, he stretches, he stands. Shuffling into the kitchen, he prepares a pot of coffee. Hal, his white rabbit servitor, sleeps soundly on the couch. Some nights, when a severe episode happens, Mordecai sleeps on the couch with her. It was better than sleeping in the un-decorated bedroom, alone... "Good morning Hal," Mordecai grumbles as he sets up the coffee machine. Hal's ear twitches, still lost in synthetic sleep. The coffee brews and warm, bitter-sweet aroma wafts throughout the apartment. Mordecai pulls out eggs and cheese from a sparsely stocked fridge. With the eggs frying, Mordecai takes a swift glance toward his personal laptop. He sighs. Working on the anomalies had inspired him. Yet, he was still too nervous to get back into writing. It felt empty, and like he was staring at concrete. Internally, he was actually staring at concrete. All five of him that is, all peeking out into the rest of Mordecai's headspace. Mostly, barren concrete and asphalt. The coffee finishes brewing, while prepping the cup, out of his eye he perceives a silhouette of a bird-person. Glancing in that direction, he only sees an empty dining room. He returns his focus to his coffee and takes a sip. With the honey and breve; lightly sweet, bitter, and creamy. In his thoughtspace, peeking out, cracks began to form on the concrete in the headspace. Something wells inside him, and compels him to walk over and open the laptop. Ignoring all chat messages, he opens a new text file, puts on music, and allows himself to be lost in his ##gold\|thoughtspace## as he types. After a few all-consuming moments, Mordecai's eggs start to burn. "Oh shit," he says to himself as he jumps up to tend to his eggs. Not burnt, but definitely done. He fixes himself a plate and sits back down at his laptop. The screen reads: @@ @@ [[div class="document"]] [[div class="script"]] [[=]] [[size 225%]]Notes on "The Rising Eclipse"[[/size]] [[size 90%]]Notes as a Play in (1) Act by the Median[[/size]] [[/=]] ------ [[=]] [[size 130%]]__Cast of Characters__[[/size]] [[/=]] [[table style="border: none; width: 100%;"]] [[row]] [[cell]] [[size 105%]]__BLUES__:[[/size]] [[/cell]] [[cell style="text-align: right;"]] [[size 105%]]Seven foot, four-armed blue troll. Tends to be soft spoken, considered the head writer of the Faery Ring.[[/size]] [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[/table]] [[table style="border: none; width: 100%;"]] [[row]] [[cell]] [[size 105%]]__CR0W__:[[/size]] [[/cell]] [[cell style="text-align: right;"]] [[size 105%]]Deceased headmate[[footnote]]Other words include: an alter, a thoughtform, an aspect of the self that has usually gained some level of sapience and autonomy.[[/footnote]], resurrected as a Nephilim in the form of a bird-person. Loud, and boisterous.[[/size]] [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[/table]] [[table style="border: none; width: 100%;"]] [[row]] [[cell]] [[size 105%]]__FIFE__:[[/size]] [[/cell]] [[cell style="text-align: right;"]] [[size 105%]]Anthropomorphic jackalope, whimsical, talkative, and good-natured. Assists the two head writers.[[/size]] [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[/table]] [[table style="border: none; width: 100%;"]] [[row]] [[cell]] [[size 105%]]__RUFF__:[[/size]] [[/cell]] [[cell style="text-align: right;"]] [[size 105%]]Anthropomorphic hellhound, orderly, and poignant. Considered to be second writer to BLUES.[[/size]] [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[/table]] [[table style="border: none; width: 100%;"]] [[row]] [[cell]] [[size 105%]]__STACCATO__:[[/size]] [[/cell]] [[cell style="text-align: right;"]] [[size 105%]]Depressed Irish-American leprechaun. Vocal, but anti-social. Is the typist of the group.[[/size]] [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[/table]] @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] [[size 130%]]__Scene__:[[/size]] ###9b8200\|The Faery Hall##, internalized head space, ###9b8200\|thoughtspace##.[[/=]] @@ @@ [[=]] [[size 130%]]__Time__:[[/size]] N/A [[/=]] ------ [[>]] [[size 75%]] I-1-1 [[/size]] [[/>]] [[=]] [[size 130%]]__ACT I__[[/size]] @@@@ [[size 130%]]__Scene 1__[[/size]] [[/=]] [[table style="border: none; width: 100%;"]] [[row]] [[cell style="width: 25%; vertical-align: top;"]] [[size 120%]]SETTING:[[/size]] [[/cell]] [[cell]] STACCATO, and FIFE are LOUNGING on a sofa in a dimly lit hall. Bookshelves line the walls, there is a theatre stage crammed in the back of the Hall. BLUES is INSPECTING the bookshelves. CR0W is PACING, and RUFF is SITTING in a chair READING. The text on his book is obscured. [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[/table]] [[table style="border: none; width: 100%;"]] [[row]] [[cell style="width: 25%; vertical-align: top;"]] [[size 120%]]AT PRESENT:[[/size]] [[/cell]] [[cell]] BLUES is AT bookshelf. STACCATO and FIFE are ON a sofa. RUFF is READING a book. CR0W is PACING anxiously. [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[/table]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[div class="fadein"]] FADE IN: [[/div]] [[div class="scene"]] INT. THE FAERY HALL - TIME'S NOT REAL [[/div]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[div class="dialog"]] [[div class="char"]] BLUES [[/div]] [[div class="dtext"]] We haven't written about ###9b8200\|The Theurgic Company of the Silver Twilight## in a long while. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div class="action"]] (BLUES continues INSPECTING the bookshelf.) [[/div]] [[div class="dialog"]] [[div class="char"]] FIFE [[/div]] [[div class="dtext"]] We haven't written in a long time. Period. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div class="dialog"]] [[div class="char"]] CR0W [[/div]] [[div class="dtext"]] Hmph. I'd like to write again. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div class="action"]] (CR0W continues PACING, is irritated by BLUES.) [[/div]] [[div class="dialog"]] [[div class="char"]] BLUES [[/div]] [[div class="dtext"]] It feels almost a lifetime ago when we first started writing that series, and it'd be fun to return to it. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div class="dialog"]] [[div class="char"]] STACCATO [[/div]] [[div class="dtext"]] --and we have more life experience. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div class="dialog"]] [[div class="char"]] RUFF [[/div]] [[div class="dtext"]] We should be careful about how we write, we don't want to draw the ire of our employers. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] @@ @@ Mordecai takes a bite of cheesy egg. Bleh. He sticks his tongue out and spits the half-chewed egg into the trash. A little //too// well-done. He leans over the rest of the eggs and whispers ##gold\|"Done"##. He takes another bite, the eggs are perfect. Humming to himself through the music on his headset, he sets a timer for an hour and goes back to writing. When his timer goes off, he saves and gets ready for work. As he passes Hal, he coos to her, "I've started writing again, Hal!" Hal perks her head from her sleeping position. Wearily, she bobs her head up and down. "That's right! I'm doin' the thing!" She lays her head back down and falls to sleep. Grinning to himself, Mordecai leaves. ------ ++ 08:29 Mordecai sits at his desk and scrolls through his emails. Site-43 had discovered an anomaly similar in composition and appearance to SCP-7710. The instance they found however prefered the shape of a harmless, small dodo. Researchers at Site-43 requested a sample of SCP-7710 be shipped to them as soon as convenient. Dread fills Mordecai's stomach as he continues checking. [[div class="blockquote"]] To: Researcher Mordecai Ryder From: Head Researcher Leah Królik Subject: Project lead Date: 2023/05/01 Time: 08:43 ------ Good morning Mordecai, I'm promoting you to lead thaumaturge for SCP-6420. The team has speculated for the last year of thaumaturgic interference but hasn't had the budget for a thaumaturge until... well, recently. There will be a meeting at 13:15 in Conference Room C. Please review the anomaly's dossier attached. Further documentation will be available after the meeting and tomorrow afternoon you'll be touring the location of SCP-6420-1. Head Researcher Leah Królik, Department of Research, ARF-19 ##cyan\|[SCP-6420.pdf]## [[/div]] @@ @@ [[div class="blockquote"]] Item #: SCP-6420 Object Class: Keter Special Containment Procedures: The perimeter around SCP-6420-1 must be guarded at all times. Any civilians entering the area should be turned away and informed that SCP-6420-1 is hazardous and unstable. [...] Description: SCP-6420 is the collective designation for a series of anomalies located inside and in the area of a dilapidated house in rural Michigan. SCP-6420-1 is the former residence of Tal Kinigl and Isa Kinigl. Tal Kinigl is a human cadaver presently afflicted by an instance of SCP-6420-3. SCP-6420-2[[footnote]]The identity of SCP-6420-2 is conjectured to be Isa Kinigl.[[/footnote]] is a living humanoid afflicted by SCP-6420-3. Instances of SCP-6420-3 are parasitic kits bearing genomic and phenotypical commonalities with //lagomorphae//[[footnote]]Order consisting of rabbits, hares and pika.[[/footnote]] and //arachnea//.[[footnote]]Order including spiders.[[/footnote]] SCP-6420-3 are ~0.7 cm in length. When placed on the back of the neck of a sapient humanoid, SCP-6420-3 bites and burrows through the neck into the subject's brainstem. Reaching the pituitary gland, SCP-6420-3 excretes an unknown hormone. [[/div]] Leah wanted to promote Mordecai to lead thaumaturge... how could he possibly juggle all this responsibility? He sighs and checks the time; 08:56. He takes a sip from his coffee mug. Empty. Cursing silently to himself, he rises and makes his way to the break room. Once there, Mordecai realises he's not alone as he watches Królik fix himself a cup. Mordecai was not in the mood to socialise. He wanted to get his work done quickly, and peacefully. He wanted to be able to return home early, and continue drafting. Such compulsion he hadn't felt since before he joined the Foundation. "Ah, Mordecai excellent work with the pollution rhino!" Królik cheers as he sips his coffee. Mordecai tries to hide his anxiety as he smiled, "Yea, thanks," he pours himself a cup. "I read you're going to be on my team soon," states Królik in an attempt to make small talk. Mordecai nods his head in agreement and shuffles out of the break room. "Leah was right, he isn't all too talkative," Królik mumbles to an empty room. ------ ++ 13:13 After reading through SCP-6420, Mordecai understood where Leah was coming from about the thaumaturgy. He knocks on the door a few minutes early. Królik opens the door and ushers Mordecai inside. Królik and Leah are mid-conversation when Mordecai enters the room. He takes an empty seat by Leah. "Mordecai, I know you're already familiar with Containment Specialist Samson, present are members of 6420's team. You know my brother Królik." "Yea, we had collaborated on 7710's conprocs," Mordecai says. "The chemical composition is very interesting," Królik bluntly states, still recalling Mordecai's reaction at his attempts of small talk. Keep to the point. Leah continues, "I think you met Mackenzie one other time?" "I believe we met when I first was assigned to ARF-19," Mordecai mumbles and nods toward the rabbit humanoid. Mackenzie nods back and types on her laptop. The text-to-speech program repeats, "We had lunch during your orientation." "Nice to see you again," Mordecai smiles. He enjoyed their lunch. She had plenty of stories, and struck Mordecai has the sort of person to always look at the bright side of things. "Like wise," the text-to-speech prompts. "So, this meeting's purpose is to familiarize you with 6420 and the team. After the meeting, we hope to have enough time to give you a quick tour of where we keep the kits. And as stated in the email, you'll be touring the location of SCP-6420-1 itself tomorrow," Leah fiddles with her laptop as she prepares a slideshow. ------ ++ 21:02 @@ @@ [[div class="document"]] [[div class="script"]] [[>]] [[size 75%]] I-1-2 [[/size]] [[/>]] [[div class="dialog"]] [[div class="char"]] CR0W [[/div]] [[div class="dtext"]] So, there's a new weed shop that opened in Caseville, and they're in competition with this other store. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div clas="action"]] (CR0W PACES.) [[/div]] [[div class="dialog"]] [[div class="char"]] CR0W (CON'T) [[/div]] [[div class="dtext"]] The weed shop summons a demon to drive them out of town [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div class="dialog"]] [[div class="char"]] FIFE [[/div]] [[div class="dtext"]] It's a bit farfetched, like why weed store? Wouldn't like, a new age shop or apothecary be better for demon summoning? [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div class="dialog"]] [[div class="char"]] RUFF [[/div]] [[div class="dtext"]] We could also just do something cliche. "Thing what compels you", have an antique item inspire some town rando to start a cult. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div class="action"]] (RUFF LOOKS UP from his book.) [[/div]] [[div class="dialog"]] [[div class="char"]] FIFE [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div class="action"]] (FIFE LAUGHS.) [[/div]] [[div class="dialog"]] [[div class="char"]] CR0W [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div class="action"]] (CR0W STOPS PACING and CROSSES his arms.) [[/div]] [[div class="dialog"]] [[div class="dtext"]] This is flimsy and cliche. Out of all people to suggest this, why? [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div class="dialog"]] [[div class="char"]] RUFF [[/div]] [[div class="dtext"]] Well, the premise is; cheesy, straightforward, to the point. Basically, it's a structure for us to use to get back into the habit of writing. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div class="dialog"]] [[div class="char"]] FIFE [[/div]] [[div class="dtext"]] Who is the rando, who are our heroes? [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div class="dialog"]] [[div class="char"]] RUFF [[/div]] [[div class="dtext"]] Hmm, our heroes can be investigators a la //Twin Peaks//-- our antagonist could be overtaking officials of the town and it all comes to a climax at a fishing festival. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div class="dialog"]] [[div class="char"]] STACCATO [[/div]] [[div class="dtext"]] When are the best times to fish in Lake Huron? [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] @@ @@ Mordecai stands up from his laptop and paces around the dining room table. He thought about fishing season. When was it? His thoughts eventually drifted to the events earlier in the day. While touring the containment for SCP-6420-3, Macky had a few new stories to tell that weren't in the initial dossier. When Auxiliary Research Facility-19 first encountered SCP-6420, they tried to rehabilitate Macky instead of attempting to cure her. It was only after the removal of the uterus et al, that Macky was able to gain sapience and autonomy again. The small facility keeps a few baby spider-rabbits in containment, but acquired from the location itself. Instead of Macky. Mordecai shakes his head trying to get rid of the intrusive thoughts, "When is the best time to fish in Lake Huron?" he mumbles to himself. Hal snoozes on the couch, her ears perking slightly every now and then. Mordecai paces into the kitchen; the oven reads 09:42 (PM), regardless, he starts half a pot of coffee. He pulls out his phone and searches 'When is the best time to fish in Lake Huron?' The search query included a link from the state's website. "So it depends on //what// is being fished? 'Smallmouth bass, walley' is best for July... ice fishing for yellow perch in January might make for a more interesting story..." the nutty smell of coffee fills the kitchen. Hal stirs from her sleep, and hops over to Mordecai. "Or maybe-- since the events take place around the partial solar eclipse... uh... March, April? Salmon! Salmon season lines up about right for the emergence of the Rising Eclipse!" Hal cocks her head to the side in confusion. Standing up on her hind legs, she bobs her head toward the clock on the oven. "I know, I know, it's getting late. I'll go to bed before two in the mornin'..." Hal settles back down and unblinkingly, peers at Mordecai. The coffee finishes, and he sits back down to continue writing. @@ @@ [[div class="document"]] [[div class="script"]] [[>]] [[size 75%]] I-1-3 [[/size]] [[/>]] [[div class="dialog"]] [[div class="char"]] BLUES [[/div]] [[div class="dtext"]] Late March and early April seems to be a time to start a fishing festival. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div class="action"]] (BLUES TURNS their attention toward the group.) [[/div]] [[div class="dialog"]] [[div class="char"]] STACCATO [[/div]] [[div class="dtext"]] What's The Silver Twilight's chapter doin' though? What's their motivation? [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div class="action"]] (STACCATO LEANS upright on the sofa and begins TYPING on a word processor.) [[/div]] [[div class="dialog"]] [[div class="char"]] FIFE [[/div]] [[div class="dtext"]] Turning people into fish people! [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div class="dialog"]] [[div class="char"]] RUFF [[/div]] [[div class="dtext"]] I thought we agreed we wouldn't lift //The Shadow over Innsmouth//? [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div class="action"]] (RUFF PUTS his book down.) [[/div]] [[div class="dialog"]] [[div class="char"]] STACCATO [[/div]] [[div class="dtext"]] Ruff, you literally suggested jewelry as "spooky thing what compels you", that's directly riffing off of //The Shadow over Innsmouth//. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div class="dialog"]] [[div class="char"]] RUFF [[/div]] [[div class="dtext"]] Fair enough. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div class="action"]] (RUFF SHRUGS.) [[/div]] ------ [[>]] [[size 75%]] I-1-4 [[/size]] [[/>]] [[div class="dialog"]] [[div class="char"]] BLUES [[/div]] [[div class="dtext"]] I suggest it's just to summon the demon. The head cultist claims they'd have domain over the demon, but in reality they don't. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div class="dialog"]] [[div class="char"]] FIFE [[/div]] [[div class="dtext"]] Can the demon turn people into monsters? [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div class="action"]] (FIFE ADJUSTS her position on the sofa.) [[/div]] [[div class="dialog"]] [[div class="char"]] RUFF [[/div]] [[div class="dtext"]] Not fish people. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div class="dialog"]] [[div class="char"]] STACCATO [[/div]] [[div class="dtext"]] Not fish people. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div class="action"]] (STACCATO STOPS TYPING.) [[/div]] [[div class="dialog"]] [[div class="char"]] BLUES [[/div]] [[div class="dtext"]] Demons in the shape of fish people. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div class="dialog"]] [[div class="char"]] STACCATO [[/div]] [[div class="dtext"]] Gawd, OK, whatever. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div class="action"]] (STACCATO CONTINUES TYPING.) [[/div]] [[div class="dialog"]] [[div class="char"]] BLUES [[/div]] [[div class="dtext"]] Our investigator character can get caught in the crossfire with the primary demon in the final showdown, and suffer a partial transformation? [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div class="dialog"]] [[div class="char"]] RUFF [[/div]] [[div class="dtext"]] Why, what's your justification for this? [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div class="dialog"]] [[div class="char"]] BLUES [[/div]] [[div class="dtext"]] Well, without danger, without the sense of //having something to lose//, there's no story worth telling. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] @@ @@ Hal hops slowly back to the couch and Mordecai slurps his coffee. @@ @@ [[div class="document"]] [[div class="script"]] [[>]] [[size 75%]] I-1-5 [[/size]] [[/>]] [[div class="dialog"]] [[div class="char"]] RUFF [[/div]] [[div class="dtext"]] Investigator duo is in Caseville following the trail of disappearances. It's getting closer to fishing festival, or salmon season, as well as the approaching partial solar eclipse. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div class="dialog"]] [[div class="char"]] BLUES [[/div]] [[div class="dtext"]] --on the morning of March 30th 2021. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div class="dialog"]] [[div class="char"]] RUFF [[/div]] [[div class="dtext"]] This is a big event that the Rising Eclipse cult plans on taking over the town-- see also; summoning the demon. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div class="dialog"]] [[div class="char"]] BLUES [[/div]] [[div class="dtext"]] So, investigators 1 and 2 are there like four days beforehand, and are there to stop the summoning. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div class="dialog"]] [[div class="char"]] STACCATO [[/div]] [[div class="dtext"]] Who are our characters? [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div class="dialog"]] [[div class="char"]] BLUES [[/div]] [[div class="dtext"]] What do you mean? [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div class="dialog"]] [[div class="char"]] STACCATO [[/div]] [[div class="dtext"]] Who is the cult leader? Who are investigators 1 and 2? What naming scheme do we use?? [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] @@ @@ Mordecai takes a deep breath in and puts on a playlist. He needs to delve deep into his thoughts. As the music washes over him, he enters into himself. Hal watches as Mordecai turns slightly transparent. ##gold\|He could see the incorporeal creatures commenting on the writing.## ##gold\|Four fae folk and a Nephilim, sat in a darkened study hall. Bookshelves and doors lined the walls. The center of the room littered with sofas and coffee tables. In the back of the Hall was a little raised stage and a red curtain.## ##gold\|"Possibly something ecological or astronomical," Blues stated as it paced behind a sofa.## ##gold\|Typing away as before, Staccato replied, "Why astronomical?"## ##gold\|"We already have a space theme going with the eclipse," Blues said flatly.## ##gold\|"I rather like the ecological idea though. I'm thinking the names like, 'Agent Savannah Steppe' and 'Agent Taiga Montana'," Fife excitedly gave the duo her feedback.## ##gold\|Staccato pinched the bridge of his nose, "Just remember, these are cop characters and therefore not cool. Do something similar in style to //Twin Peaks, Max Payne, Artemis Fowl// or like //Colombo// or something."## ##gold\|"Who the hell is Diane..." mumbled Blues at the mention of //Twin Peaks//, as it slouched off to fix itself coffee.## ##gold\|"Wait a minute, 'Taiga', 'Savannah'," Staccato paused in his typing, "these are characters we've had before?" he asked.## ##gold\|"Fuck it," Blues mumbled as it poured a cup.## ##gold\|Fife laughed, "Recycle, renew, and reinvigorate!"## ##gold\|cr0w stopped pacing and asked, "Perform necrowmancy on 'Taiga' and 'Savannah' eh?"## ##gold\|Fife turned toward the apparition, "Hell yea!"## ##gold\|Staccato huffed, "Excellent idea. Great cool. Wonderful, ignore what I said then..."## ##gold\|Fife cheered, "NECROWMANCY!"## ##gold\|"Consider the deed done," stated cr0w.## From outside, Hal thumps. Mordecai quickly turns opaque, and jumps in his seat. Anxiously, he glances at the clock, //12:29 (AM)//. He stands up, and paces. @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ He blinks, and quickly checks the clock again; //01:01 (AM)//. "What the hell," Mordecai mumbles as he turns his attention back to Hal. Sitting alert, the rabbit glares at him. "Wow, yea. Uh, how long have you been sitting there watching?" She bobs her head up and down in the direction of the oven. "The entire time huh?" Mordecai sighs, "OK, I'll go to bed now," he opens the freezer and takes out a cannabis edible. A fruit gummy in the shape of grapes. He shuffles to bed and whispers to Hal, "Goodnight, bunny." ------ ++ May 2nd 2023, 06:25 After five alarms, Mordecai sluggishly rolls out of bed. //06:25// glares the phone's clock in twenty-four hour time. Grumbling, he attempts to stretch. "Fuck being awake," he grumbles silently to himself. His dreams had been lurid, lucid and labile, but he had successfully consumed enough weed for him to not fully recall. He would rather not remember his dreams. Rather, he'd like to sleep and actually rest. Slouching over the counter, and waiting for the coffee to brew, the oven rudely reminds Mordecai that he had fifty minutes. Angry buzzing comes from the bedroom. Stumbling, he goes to it and retrieves his phone. A new email from Leah. Doesn't she ever sleep? [[div class="blockquote"]] To: Researcher Mordecai Ryder From: Head Researcher Leah Królik Subject: Journal Excerpts Date: 2023/05/02 Time: 06:42 ------ Good morning Mordecai, Sorry for the late reply. I meant to get these documents out to you sooner, but I got caught up with other work. Head Researcher Leah Królik, Department of Research, ARF-19 ##cyan\|[6420digitized_journals_1.pdf]## ##cyan\|[6420digitized_journals_2.pdf]## [[/div]] Mordecai sighs, he would look at these when he was in his office. He had little time left; he places his phone in his back pocket and starts to get dressed. ------ ++ 08:11 Late, Mordecai enters his office, closes his door and takes a seat. Opening his emails, he reads: [[div class="blockquote"]] ++ 6420digitized_journals_1.pdf 09/03/20 Today Tal and I went to pick up the rabbits. Xe suggested we get the rabbits to keep us company during covid. We decided to name the two girls, Grace and Trinity. Their previous owners hadn't spayed them yet so I've set up a vet appointment for the 21st. 15/03/20 The state issued a "shelter-at-home" order and for all non-essential businesses to close. Grace and Trinity's vet appointment is canceled. I hope their previous owners' sexed them correctly. Tal re-sexed the rabbits and as far as Tal can tell, both rabbits have vulva. 23/03/20 Grace has been acting suspicious lately. She won't let either of us pick her up and she's started nesting. I remember seeing Trinity and Grace humping a few days ago, but that's typical rabbit behaviour regardless of rabbit sex. Could this be a false pregnancy? 01/04/20 It's not a false pregnancy. Happy April Fool's to us… [extraneous journal entries removed] 08/06/20 Grace wrecked my office door trying to get to Trinity. The hinges are smashed and the door won't close properly. We fear another litter may be coming. We have our hands full enough. Please don't let her be pregnant. 12/06/20 Trinity has started to nest. 21/06/20 Trinity has had a litter (how did she also have a litter?) and Tal and I haven't found anyone to adopt the rabbits we have. Damhán[[footnote]]A mutual friend of Tal and Isa in the organic gardening community.[[/footnote]] came by today with empty gallon bins for us to store our rabbit poo. Something felt off when they came over. I can't place my finger on what. We hope we can donate this poo. It's a shame to put it to waste. [[/div]] [[div class="blockquote"]] ++ 6420digitized_journals_2.pdf 12/07/20 We woke up one morning to a cloud of flies in the utility room where we keep the empty bins. I double checked the bins and found that Damhán had left standing water in them. [extraneous journal entries removed] 08/09/20 Over the last few months, we've tried to store some of the poo outside near the forest and some sealed under the utility boards. We've tried keeping the rabbits sexed and apart from each other. But no matter how hard we've tried they keep multiplying. The fly problem is starting to get out of hand. Tal pointed out yesterday that trees sprout from the poo in the house. 18/09/20 The tree sprouts have grown tremendously. Tal and I have been trying to cut down them down but day after day more trees crop up. The flies have gotten so bad I feel like I'm losing my sanity. Tal stated that the fly problem is of biblical proportion… and xe is a theologian. 08/11/20 We woke up to a loud crashing sound. The trees have taken over the house and Tal and I don't know what to do. What do we do? How did they grow that fast?? WHAT DO WE DO? 12/11/20 [written in a different hand] Isa has come down with some sort of illness. They woke up after sleeping for a day, complaining of lightheaded-ness. On the back of their neck is a large red scab. We're trapped in the house by trees or I'd take them to hospital. [illegible] [written in prior hand as before] I don't know what happened. I don't know how to write this. [no date given, there are tear stains present all over the entry] [written in prior hand as before][…]fellt something bite m e last night i woke up an d checked myself inn the mirror— there's a large spider b ite on th e back of myy neck[…] [[/div]] Taking in a deep breath, he looks up at the ceiling. Blank expression on his face, his mind spirals inward. ##gold\|"OK, I think I'm gonna have to prepare for this visit," said Blues pinching the bridge of its snout.## Mordecai huffs, and closes the laptop. He stands up, switches his office door sign to "QUIET: THAUMATURGY IN PROGRESS", and locks the door. He closes his eyes and imagines Hal. After a few breaths, Mordecai strides to his desk, opened a drawer and begins to prepare a mini-altar. ##gold\|"Hal, I need you here Hal,"## whispers Mordecai to an empty room as he sets up the thaumaturgy work space. Hal appears as Mordecai goes to his bookshelf, "Good morning Hal, we have a problem," states Mordecai occupied with the books. He grabs a printed copy of the Torah, and a copy of Psalms. Thumbing through both books, he finds the passages he wants and bookmarks them. "So to catch you up to speed Hal," Mordecai says as he sits down in his chair to rest for a moment, "SCP-6420-1 is a house I'll be visiting today that seems to have been cursed, or hexed. The rabbits at this location are hostile, and have overcome the thaumaturgy of two other theologies already." Hal bobs her head up in down in apparent acknowledgement. "I reckon, because both the 'Shema' used by the prior residents, and Macky's 'Hail Mary', weren't focused or even the appropriate prayers for the situation, that the prayers broke when interacting with the thaumaturgic flow of-- whatever the hell this curse is," he takes a moment to slurp coffee. From his notes he read, "//'Tal stated that the fly problem is of biblical proportion… and xe is a theologian.'// Tal is one of the prior residents of the house, and clearly xe were referencing the Plagues. However, since there is some heavy shenanigans at play here-- I'm going to use passages specific for this uh, hex or curse," he continues to read his notes, "'//##gold\|Exodus 12:13##, and ##gold\|Psalms 7:2-3## and ##gold\|91:1-4##//, as basis for a protection charm." Hal sits upright lifting her chin. Mordecai continues, "And this is where I need you. I need you to be our last line of defense. I'll program you into the charm," Hal bobs her head in agreement. Mordecai finishes his coffee, stands up and turns down the lights. Whispering under his breath, he approaches the gold colored candle and lights both it and incense. His whispers turn to chants as he opens his notebook, the printed Torah, and Psalms. He carefully copies down the needed passages in both English and Ceremonial Hebrew. He strikes out any mentions of the name of ##gold\|G-d## while copying. His intent was to ##gold\|burn## the charms after the visit. ------ ++ 15:26 An overcast day, white rabbits hop around the grass near the house. Mordecai and Królik step out of the car. Cradling his head, Mordecai states, "Wow, I can feel the thinness," he uses the car door for support, "I was not prepared for this." "What is? Are you alright?" concerned, Królik asks. "Just, the reality here is thin. It's a bit dizzying. I'll be alright in a moment, I have to get my bearings," he takes a deep breath in, "It's like being on a boat at sea." After a few moments pause, Mordecai centers himself and him and Królik approach the house. Crossing the threshold, Mordecai shivers. Królik gives Mordecai another concerned look. Mordecai shakes his head, "I'll be alright. Show me the kitchen." ------ "So, you're sure y'all searched thoroughly?" Mordecai asks as he starts to open random pantry doors and cupboards. "Totally," said Królik as he adjusts the neck brace he wore to avoid getting infected. Mordecai has no brace, and does not care. His """charms""" are enough. Mordecai goes into the utility room from the kitchen and begins to root around. After several minutes of struggling and cursing, Mordecai closes his eyes and centralises his focus. In his ##gold\|thoughtspace##, him and Blues "swapped" points of view, ##gold\|Mordecai opens his eyes and sees thin, jagged strands of golden light in the dark. His eyes follow the threads to a location on the utility room floor. He blinks.## "Swapping" again, Mordecai goes to the spot and dusts off the top of a trap door. He tries lifting the latch. Rusted. He whispers, ##gold\|"Break."##. The lock breaks, and he swings the trapdoor open. Out rushes a cloud of little black flies. Both investigators yell in surprise. After the cloud disperses, Mordecai checks the hiding spot. Four large, one gallon buckets sit covered in rabbit poo. "Eureka!" exclaims Mordecai. "Well, I'll be-- we didn't search as well as we thought." "I don't blame you really, this place is creepy." //Thump!// Mordecai and Królik look over their shoulders. Standing between them and the kitchen exit is a horde of rabbits. "For the love of God, not again," Królik motions toward his service weapon. "No," snaps Mordecai, "We got this." He closes his eyes, and sees Hal, ##gold\|"We need you Hal."## Mordecai opens his eyes and watches as a giant Hal, three-times the size of a normal Hal, manifests in front of him and Królik. Hal shimmers with ethereal silver mist. The horde of rabbits hop away in fright. "Excellent Hal," states Mordecai. Hal honks loudly, and startles Królik and Mordecai. "Alright, alright, alright, I feel we've overstayed our welcome," Mordecai nervously says to Królik. "I have no complaints. I'll grab the buckets," Królik says. Him and Mordecai follow Hal out of the house as she continues fending off rabbits until the trio reach the car. Mordecai scratches Hal's snout, "Gut kinigl," he whispers to her, as she dissipates into mist. ------ ++ 17:34 "On further analysis, 'Super Scrumptious, and Pleasant Produce' went out of business in 2019," types Macky into her keyboard, "Damhán must've worked at 'SSAPP' before they went out of business." "What about this though," Mordecai points at the bottom of the bucket. In each bucket is a crude, squiggle in sharpie. Macky types, "LOL I was hoping you could tell me. It looks like something you might know." Mordecai rubs his chin, "Well, it sorta looks like a sigil. Maybe I can deconstruct it?" "Who could've put it there?" asks Macky. "From reading the files, I reckon Damhán. After all, these were their buckets that they donated. Could be a runaway fertility spell, since the buckets were meant for the local gardens." ------ ++ 22:56 Mordecai throws his keys on the counter, and shrugs off his spring jacket. Hal hops up to him in greeting. "You did a fantastic job today sweetie," he bends down and pets her. She lays flat like a pancake, "Ahhh, flat bun," after a few moments of cuddle time, Mordecai takes a deep breath in, "OK Hal, we think we know how we're going to end the new piece." @@ @@ [[div class="document"]] [[div class="script"]] [[>]] [[size 75%]] I-1-6 [[/size]] [[/>]] [[div class="dialog"]] [[div class="char"]] BLUES [[/div]] [[div class="dtext"]] Taiga can destroy the item in question, thus destroying the demon's anchor or tie to the world. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div class="dialog"]] [[div class="char"]] STACCATO [[/div]] [[div class="dtext"]] That would trap her in a half-human, half-demon, form though wouldn't it? Or would it change her back? [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div class="dialog"]] [[div class="char"]] BLUES [[/div]] [[div class="dtext"]] I repeat; without sacrifice, without loss, there is no struggle-- there is no story. Let's try it. [[/div]] [[/div]] @@ @@ [[=]] (BLACKOUT) (END OF SCENE) (END OF ACT) (END) [[/=]] [[/div]] [[/div]] @@ @@ ------ ++ June 10th 2023, 09:17 [[div class="blockquote"]] ##green\|cr0w## 06/10/2023 (Sunday) 09:17:05 #87659162 ------ howdy yall, got back into writing again. made a new thing im excited to share; "The Rising Eclipse" is threaded below, enjoy! [[/div]] @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[footnoteblock]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=fairydoctor]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-01-30T05:08:00	[ "_licensebox", "action", "fantasy", "otherworldly", "parawatch", "slice-of-life", "surrealism", "tale" ]	The Rising Eclipse - SCP Foundation	23	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "young-and-under-30", "parawatch-hub" ]	[]	1452481777	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-rising-eclipse
the-scarlet-father	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="preview"> <p>Two taps to plunge the ax.<br/> Two taps to crush the weak.<br/> Two taps to meet The Father.<br/> One tap to make them scream.</p> </div> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=3&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Aouroborous-theme/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <div style="display: none;"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="scp-image-block block-center" style="width:100%;"><img alt="Ravatah" class="image" src="http://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/local--files/the-scarlet-father/Ravatah"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <p>⚠️ <strong>Content warning:</strong> This article contains gore and attempts of sexual assault. Reader discretion is advised.</p> <div style="margin-right: 2em; margin-top: -10px;"> <p><sup>by <a href="/strange-matter-writes">Strange Matter</a></sup></p> </div> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <div class="content-warning creditRate">⚠️ content warning <span class="content-warning-arrow"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><em>Chop. Chop. Chop.</em></p> <p>As Jonah hews each log, his palms sting with every ax swing, with bits of skin shorn from his hands. Much like his body, his fingers tremble as he is not nearly as strong as he once was. The late November breeze grows more uncomfortable with each passing day. Some trees are a dull red, while others have lost them entirely. As if they have thin, bony claws reaching out to the sky and out toward the sun.</p> <p>He feels the noon's rosy burn caress his back. <em>Oh, the sun!</em> Its warmth's kiss eases his days.</p> <p>His daughter, Edith, approaches him, bearing a bowl of milk and honey in hand. She sits him down as she lends him the bowl. “Good morning.” She kisses her father's cheek and then grabs the pommel. He quickly lay his hand on her wrist before she can wrench it away from him.</p> <p>“I am not done, child,” he says to her.</p> <p>She frowns. "You need rest, Father, please."</p> <p>"I rest when we are provisioned for winter. Not before."</p> <p>Her forehead wrinkles with tight-lipped defiance. "As you will," she says.</p> <p>She lets him take the pommel from her, but her eyes linger on him, pondering why he insists on breaking himself. Already at nineteen years old, Jonah can see her late mother in Edith. Her eyes are as deep blue as the ocean, and her headscarf covers her black webbed hair with the many red spots on her cheeks.</p> <p>“I can ask Eric to come by if you need any aid?” She says.</p> <p>Eric, Father Philips' apprentice for their church and soon-to-be husband for Edith. Jonah remembers the day Eric approached him for his daughter's hand in marriage and how eager Jonah had been to give him his blessing. Not only is he ordained, but Eric has always been good to his daughter since they were both children. The Phillips' are good friends to the Godwinsons', the first to welcome them off the settlers' boat.</p> <p>He shakes his head in response.</p> <p>Edith turns away, making a sound between a sigh and a grunt. “Then I will take my leave," she says, walking towards the dirt path.</p> <p><span style="color:red"><em><strong>Tap. Tap.</strong></em></span></p> <p>Edith stops moving and lets out a cry.</p> <p><span style="color:crimson"><em>Him.</em></span></p> <p>There looms the Red Angel. Clad in soaked red robes, hands clasped as in prayer, and long fingers with clawed tips. Its bloody wings stretch like a vulture and has the head of a wolf’s skull. It has seven eye sockets but with horns protruding through each hole. When it speaks, its voice is as low as thunder, which would have had Jonah on his knees if he were standing.</p> <p><span style="color:red"><strong>"Take the ax."</strong></span></p> <p>“Begone Satan!” Jonah hisses. “I tire of you.”</p> <p>The Red Angel says nothing.</p> <p><em>How dare he mock our Lord?</em> After some time, The Red Angel finally advances to him. Jonah grips the pommel to hoist himself and pry the axe from the stump. He readies for a swing, but in a blink, there is Eric in front of him.</p> <p>“Mr. Godwinson!” He pleads, putting his arms up to shield himself from the attack.</p> <p>“I could have had your head, boy!” Jonah shouts and sits back down.</p> <p>“My apologies, sir.” Eric bows.</p> <p>“What do you need?”</p> <p>"I was wondering where Edith might be?"</p> <p>"You just missed her," pointing him to the path that led to the river, "you have e better chance at reaching her than I do."</p> <p>"Ah! Thank you, Mr. Godwinson. God-willing, I hope you can make it to the wedding."</p> <p>"I'm not that old. Besides. You have The Lord's grace. I'm sure you'll do right for her."</p> <p>"I swear that I will."</p> <p>Jonah waves his hand. “And please. Call me Jonah.”</p> <p>"Jonah. Thank you, again."</p> <p>They bid their farewells and he watches him follow the path to Edith. As he walks, <span style="color:crimson"><em>Jonah plunges the ax down his skull. He pulls it out and the crack erupts blood like a broken dam.</em></span></p> <p>Jonah seizes these thoughts and buries them deep in his soul, with Eric finally passing the tree line. He turns to see The Red Angel again. Standing over him, watching and judging through that terrible helm.</p> <p><em>Lord, grant me strength.</em></p> <hr/> <p>Edith knows that her father is not well.</p> <p>He is stubborn, but he is a bad liar. She passes through the settlement to catch up with the other girls in front of her. But she also hears rapid crunching closing in behind her. Eric's voice calls her name and she pictures his short brown hair, round face, and green eyes. All those things have her chest warm up.</p> <p>Half of her wants to keep him in the pursuit, but she eventually relents and spins her body to him.</p> <p>“Good morning, Edith.” He says.</p> <p>“Good morning, my beloved." Her lungs are getting heavier. She craves to hold him, but she restrains herself until the wedding night comes. She wants it to be special for both of them. "How are things with Father Phillip?” she asks.</p> <p>“Ah, the same. Though, I must say he has been obsessing over Revelations. I fear that his search for prophecy will drive him away from us and God. But never mind me, how are you?”</p> <p>“It was cold, but the sun finally showed itself.” She says, swaying her body in glee.</p> <p>Eric giggles while following her movements. Though he slows himself, and he somewhat drops his smile.</p> <p>“And your father? I spoke to him early today, and he seemed… troubled.”</p> <p>That is what they all say about him, troubled, as if a beast stalks him. “I will speak with him soon,” she assures him.</p> <p>“Edith…Should anything happen, you are always welcome to take sanctuary within the church. You can stay there for as long as you like.”</p> <p>His eyes were soft yet uneasy. She hopes that Eric won't hate her father down the future, but he is kind and gentle, and surely it won't happen. Surely, he and Jonah will be accepted into The Kingdom of Heaven.</p> <p>“Thank you, Eric. I will keep that in mind. But I promise you, he will be fine. As will I.”</p> <p>"I understand. I worry for you, is all."</p> <p>"Walk with me if you worry," she returns to her path with her betrothed at her side.</p> <p>They tread down the trail, listening to the pebbles crunching beneath their shoes. Despite the cold creeping up on them and the trees losing their red leaves, the bright blue skies warms the pair.</p> <p>Edith recalls Jonah telling her that God was with them when they sailed across the seas to these strange lands. He assured her that so long as she submitted herself to the will of the Lord, she would be safe.</p> <p>With that in mind, Edith offers a silent prayer to heal Jonah of his illness.</p> <p>They go to the river and follow it downstream to where the lake is where the water looks black and still. They approach the lake and the other women bow and smile at Eric when they arrive.</p> <p>Before Edith takes another step, Eric pulls her close to pepper her cheek with four kisses. Edith hides her face from the cooing from the women. He's already long fled before she could say or do anything.</p> <p>Hazy with the rush of that moment, it feels like she's floating towards the lake, and she can scarcely concentrate on the dirty sheets and clothes she's there to wash.</p> <p>With the autumn chill and these waters, her fingers numb after twisting the fourth sheet. She despises the cold. The dismal chill brings brown and ruins to the land she calls home.</p> <p>Looking up, Edith spots a black spider that could be half the size of her palms on the girl in front of her. Its thin legs gently creep from her shoulder down to her back.</p> <p>"Sarah," Edith whispers, "your shoulder…"</p> <p>She sees the woman tense and swell as if to scream, so she lays her hand on the woman's shoulder.</p> <p>It is an instinct she's familiar with, to lay hands on flesh to smother its wild energy. It is a command. <em>Be still</em>. An animal sort of dominance, though Edith does not know whence this strength comes from. In seconds, Sarah's panic is gone, and even her shaking stops.</p> <p>"Good Edith." The woman swallows, her voice controlled if not calm. "Please…from my shoulder…" She cannot even refer to the spider by name.</p> <p>Edith stretches her other hand until it tickles the arachnid's legs. It starts to move, but the spider climbs on her fingers. It, too, crawls onto Edith's outstretched palm and awaits Edith's attention.</p> <p>Upon closer inspection, the spider has a missing leg. Edith's heart swells a little at how much pain it must be in. She stands and walks to a nearby branch to make it its new home, but it seems that it's settling with her fingers. Crawling from one tip to another, it leaves behind its web as it crosses from her middle finger to the wrist as if it could stroll through the air.</p> <p><span style="color:red"><em><strong>Tap. Tap.</strong></em></span></p> <p><span style="color:crimson">With a clamp from her hands, it dies. How simple it is for a giant such as her. Ruler of the world, old and new. To have all as small as this be on her hand.</span></p> <p><em>No.</em></p> <p>The spider is still on her outstretched palm, still waiting. She brings her little subject to its new home.</p> <p>Edith dreams about another life, where the little one could have been hers. She returns to her work, washing hers and her fathers' vestments as the sun continues its movement across the sky. The motion built a comfortable heat in her body. Lost in the repetition of her work, she gazes herself in the black water.</p> <p>The clothes drop from her shock-stilled hands into the water. She pulls her clothes out and lets the water settle so she can confirm the strangeness in her reflection.</p> <p>Her deep-set blue eyes have a scarlet glow, like beholding a bonfire through a misty window.</p> <p>As she stares into them, her fingers softly melt to life again. She brushes them on her cheeks, which meet with a gentle warmth that begins to fade. She picks up her shirt and squeezes it, wringing it dry with all her strength. The warmth blossoms in her face and chest, and it feels like the cold will never again trouble Edith Godwinson.</p> <p>All the other girls prepare to return to the settlement. Edith makes an excuse that she has one more left. She reaches down to the reflection and sweeps her hands on the water. Gently, she swirls her fingers on the reflection. The water is warm too. The cold she loathed is a distant memory.</p> <p>Then, the face staring at her with those scarlet eyes twists into something bitter and raw—her gritted teeth, narrowed eyes, and that scarlet glow. It's a horrible thing—so much so that she pulls her hand from the water. She takes her basket and retreats away from the water while she stares at it.</p> <p><span style="color:red"><strong><em>Take it.</em></strong></span></p> <p>Those words echo in her mind, ringing ever so loudly. By the time she returns to the settlement, the ringing stops. Edith thanks God for silencing the devil. The answer is in scripture, and she must meditate on the Savior's love, the only refuge from the enemy with her face and scarlet eyes.</p> <p>Her walk feels much too long. The warmth at the lake is gone, and dusk's chill returns to trouble her bones. When she arrives at their farm, she is glad to see her father again. He swings his ax much more vigorously than this morning. The logs give way beneath his strikes like paper.</p> <p>“Father,” She calls out. He does not turn away from the stump. She taps him with the basket, and he looks at her. His hair is wet from his sweat, long and unkempt, with strands of gray making their way to the rest of his scalp.</p> <p>“Are you all right?” She asks.</p> <p>“I am.” He continues his work.</p> <p>“Eric said to me that I may take sanctuary at the church. Father, what did you do to make him say that?”</p> <p>He grunts while continuing to chop his wood. Her patience makes it clear that she expects an answer. “He startled me. I almost took his head. Will you be going then?” He turns his head when he asks.</p> <p>“Will you cook and clean on your own?” She tilts her head to him. He doesn't answer her and she feels comfortable letting the silence between them linger. She fills her ears with rustling branches, soft breeze, and chirping crickets.</p> <p>“I am a burden, Edith. I'm sorry."</p> <p>“I did not say that.”</p> <p>He pauses, then huffs.</p> <p>"I'm happy for you. Eric is a good man. Young, Strong. A man of God. You don't have to trouble yourself with me."</p> <p>“I may trouble you for as long as I wish.” His daughter rushes forward and embraces him. He presses her close to him with his free arm. Something about her weight and momentum causes his nerves to scream and his limbs to buckle. His legs give way from under him but Edith supports him with her strength and she helps him the rest of the way to the house. He uses his ax to balance himself as they go up the porch.</p> <p>“Edith," he calls.</p> <p>“Yes, father?”</p> <p>“Thank you. You saved my life. You <em>save</em> my life.”</p> <p>Edith isn't sure what to say, so she lets him speak.</p> <p>"Your mother would be so proud of you."</p> <p>Her throat gets tighter, but she pushes that feeling down. “Let us be inside before it gets dark,” Edith says.</p> <p>With his ax in his other hand, they walk into their home. She fixes him dinner and puts him to bed, too lost in thought to do much else but watch him try to sleep.</p> <p><em>It is a miracle how he can still hold that ax of his, let alone swing it.</em> She kisses his forehead goodnight and retreats to her own bed to slumber.</p> <p>Except she doesn't.</p> <p>It is a stationary agony, where minutes feel like hours. Her head. It's like something is puncturing her skull, digging and digging, and never stopping. She grips and tears her covers, writhing, driven mad.</p> <p>She wants the pain to stop. And the pain tells her it will if she digs her claws into the flesh of her fellow.</p> <p>She crawls out of bed and scrambles to the door, desperate for a reprieve. The burning in her skull abates as she approaches the door like the waxy moonlight is dousing the fire. Edith laughs despite herself, sheer relief turning to euphoria. She gently opens the door and creeps outside.</p> <p>She has to bite her hand to kill a new scream of pain. The fire in her head rages greater than before. She tumbles backward into the relative cool of her house, the door slams shut behind her and the pain recedes again.</p> <p>Through her fevered gasps and blood-red thoughts, she realizes the pain and its relief are leading her toward her father's room.</p> <p>With light taps of her toes, she uses her ears to listen to where the boards creak. Even through the closed door, she can hear his loud snores. Bit by bit she crawls, giving thanks every step that her father is a heavy sleeper. <em>Thanks to whom?</em> She wonders for the first time who to blame for the fire or bless with its relief. Could the bible explain this? Was this a new understanding of God, or the discovery of His peer? Opening the door made the whole house rumble, but Jonah's slumber-breathing bellows undisturbed.</p> <p>The pain leads her to Jonah's bed and then commands her to kneel, and under Jonah's bed her hands reach into the darkness—grabs onto something solid, something that feels <em>right</em>. Carefully, she withdraws a box. There's a strong-looking lock on it.</p> <p>Just as she felt the weight of the box in her arms, her anguish stops completely.</p> <p><span style="color:red"><strong><em>Take the ax.</em></strong></span></p> <p>The scarlet haze turns her attention to her father's pommel, but her ravenous curiosity compels her to seize it. Where did these scarlet thoughts come from? Why does she hunger for her neighbors' blood? It burns more than the pain ever did.</p> <p>She grabs the pommel and reminds herself her father is resting. She opens the door and, with haste and silence, escapes the house. She goes as far as she may, but not too far to be lost. Edith notices the moon does not seem blue tonight.</p> <p>Edith tosses the wooden thing down and hoists the heavy tool up. The red moon shining downward at her and the glimmering metal lock. She makes a guttural sound that reminds her of a dog's growl. She swings—she feels so much strength in the blow. The lock breaks and the box snaps open. She feels at peace.</p> <p>She drops Jonah's ax onto the dirt. There's a book. She examines it by the lunar light. On the black cover gleams silver words: "A Chronicle of the Daevas."</p> <p>After replacing the ax and pushing the box back under Jonah's bed, Edith sneaks back to her room and cracks open the tome, reading by the light of four candles.</p> <p><em>How long has he hid this from me? Why?</em> She notices the candle flames dance to an unseen wind.</p> <p>So many questions spiral within her. She reads one page, and the one turns to many—</p> <p>Disgust would not describe the ache in her stomach. These 'Daeva' were enemies of God. Monsters. Demons. Edith struggles to find the words to properly describe them. Those brutal appetites Edith keeps at bay, the 'Daevites' fed freely with wanton bloodshed. She wonders how life had become so cheap to them.</p> <p>And yet…she wants to know even more. She reads and reads all night, and it does not feel nearly enough to grasp, but she hears the singing of morning birds. Jonah would soon stir. She closes the book and hides it under her pillow, then blows out her candles to drift at long last to her bed.</p> <p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color:red"><em><strong>.</strong></em></span></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color:red"><em><strong>.</strong></em></span></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color:red"><em><strong>.</strong></em></span></p> <p>Edith opens her eyes and the sky bore crimson with only seven bright stars circling each other. She sees something dangling from the high branches. Its long legs creep down onto the surface, and once it makes its way to the dirt, it crawls to her with its seven legs. The monster looks like Edith. Its body wore wet red robes, and a mouth that bore fangs reaching to the ears. It has seven large unblinking eyes that gaze through her like blades puncturing cloth.</p> <p><span style="color:red"><strong>"Come."</strong></span> Its voice is deeper than any man or beast. Edith drops to her knees with face kissing the ground and hoping it does not torment her any further. She prays that God shall free her from this nightmare. The creature turns its body halfway to her and just stares, waiting for her to come forth. With no other choice, she follows the demon down the path. The same path where the women go to wash their clothes.</p> <p>Once they see the lake, the seven stars descend and float right where the trees peak. The demon takes Edith's hand and walks her to the lake. Before its legs could reach the water, Edith stops. It turns to her and lays out an arm, gesturing for her to enter the water.</p> <p>“What do you want from me?” She asks the monster, to which it does not reply. It stares at her with those horrid eyes. But her arms, legs, everything is so cold. She walks to the demon and takes its warm hand. It leads her into the lake and walks just above the surface of the water, while Edith's steps sinks further down. It releases her hand, allowing her to swim. The lake is like the summer sun. Holding her while she floats and awes at the circling spheres.</p> <p>“Are you Satan?” She asks it, though she wishes she had not. It shakes its head.</p> <p><span style="color:red"><strong>"Lata Kakaht."</strong></span> Its voice sounds familiar to Edith. She's less frightened of not just the face and body, but its presence. As if it could split this world into two, and Edith will still breathe.</p> <p>“And what are you, Lata Kahaht?” She asks. It points at Edith.</p> <p>“What do you mean?”</p> <p><span style="color:red"><strong>“You will know soon enough.”</strong></span></p> <p>“You… Are you why my father is fearful?” Like Jonah, it remains silent. “Are you?!”</p> <p><span style="color:red"><strong>“His torment is his own doing. What do you know of your family?”</strong></span></p> <p>“All of my family are in London. I don’t know much about them.”</p> <p><span style="color:red"><strong>“Further.”</strong></span></p> <p>“Why do you wish to know?”</p> <p><span style="color:red"><strong>"So. He has told you nothing. Shame."</strong></span></p> <p>The world rumbles around them. The seven stars become more jagged and erratic. Lata Kahaht looks up and observes the falling domain.</p> <p><span style="color:red"><strong>“Speak the word, “Ravatah”, for it will save you."</strong></span></p> <p>“I don’t understand!”</p> <p><span style="color:red"><strong>“You will. You are my child, after all.”</strong></span></p> <p>A hand grabs Edith's hair and pulls her into the depths. She screams out from her bed. Jonah barges through the door and searches the room with no seeming intruders or creatures. He takes her in his arms with a mother's reassurance. The window is raining with white flakes and with howling winds.</p> <p>“Father?”</p> <p>“Yes, Edith?”</p> <p>“What are The Daeva?”</p> <p>He is silent for a time. He release his embrace, but his arms were still grasping her shoulders.</p> <p>“Who told you that name?” He shutters.</p> <p>“I- I do not know. I had this dream, yet, I don't-” she tries to recollect it. But akin to this storm, she cannot see or comprehend it. It is simply gone, except for that question and the curiosity of the knowledge that her father keeps from her. “Can you please tell me about them? Did grandfather and grandmother know?”</p> <p>“Edith, Speak no more of this.” He demands.</p> <p>“But father-” He shakes her body.</p> <p>“I said stop!” He shouts. They sat there, eyes unblinking. Father’s face softens, realizing what he had done. He hangs his head low and loosens the grip he has on her. “Edith… I'm so sorry. Forgive me. Forgive me.” He whimpers on her thighs. Edith holds his head and shoulders close with this foreign responsibility. Since her mother's passing, she has never seen him cry like this.</p> <p>“Father?” Edith tilts her head.</p> <p>“My blood. My damned blood! I am a curse to this family!” He shouts.</p> <p>“Don’t say such things. The Lord shall cleanse you of all sin and evils.”</p> <p>“You don’t understand. He cannot-” He chokes on those words as if the next thoughts that expel from his mouth would be a sure way to be under retribution for speaking blasphemy against God.</p> <p>“I swore that I could end it. After what I saw with my mother and father. I just could not let it take me. Good God, your mother. She was an angel. You, Lucy, and our Lord were all I needed. I thought coming here would have us start again. But it has followed us.” He stops for a moment, wrapping his arms around her waist. “No. No, I will stop it. I will protect you for as long as I draw breath.”</p> <p>She chose not to ask any more of the Daeva. She doesn't wish to see her father like this anymore. Helpless, afraid, hurt. Her father is none of these things. She has faith that he will do everything he said he would to keep them safe. So long that it shall keep him away from despair.</p> <hr/> <p>Tonight is Edith's night. Jonah's arm wraps around his daughter as they walk down the aisle with Eric awaiting his bride. Eric and Edith meet, Eric gives a nod to Jonah, which he reciprocates. Father and daughter kiss each other's cheek, then he goes to take his seat.</p> <p>Father Philips proceeds with the ceremony. Jonah considers himself blessed, even with all that has happened to him, God is good. His faith and discipline were rewarded with his daughter in that simple yet beautiful white dress. Perhaps he can rest, knowing Edith is in good hands.</p> <p>But then Father Philips went back to his old habits.</p> <p>“In Proverbs, Chapter Six, verses seventeen to nineteen show us what the Lord despises. ‘Haughty eyes, a lying tongue, hands that shed innocent blood, a heart that devises wicked schemes, feet that are quick to rush into evil, a false witness who pours out lies, and a person who stirs up conflict in the community.’ Now how do we find such things? We are often distracted by forces that require our attention. No time to weed out those who may consider any of these actions. That is why we must recognize that God is Truth, absolute. Whatever secrets you hold. Whatever lies you speak of. God is aware of it. So I must ask you, why does one persist? Why would one continue these evil acts, despite knowing that God is watching? Could it be shame? Such as when children break frail things and never admit it to their fathers and mothers. Much like when Adam and Eve chose not to admit that they ate the forbidden fruit. And if it is shame, why hold onto it? Is shame greater than faith in our Lord? It does not have to be for there is hope for all of us. I see two paths: One where you will be truthful to yourself, your people, and God. The other is God ripping the truth out from you. Regardless, it will be bare and all will see. I hope that all of you will live honestly so that the shame of sin shall not conduct you. Lest that you hold onto them and be given righteous justice.”</p> <p>The silence was uneasy. Philips resumes with the ceremony like nothing happened. Though, something about his preaching spoke to Jonah this time.</p> <p><span style="color:red"><strong>“The pastor speaks the truth.”</strong></span> The Red Angel whispers. He peers from his left to see it walking towards Father Phillips. Jonah's throat fills with thorny branches. He could not warn him or anyone for that matter. The Angel walks through Phillips like a man passing by an ant. The Red Angel faces Christ. As Philips continues his rambles, The Red Angel takes its right hand and signs the cross on itself and onto him.</p> <p>At first, Jonah thought it was mocking Jesus. But the devil would never acknowledge him as God at all. But this monstrosity did. Jonah doesn't know what to make of it.</p> <p>The Red Angel turns to face the crowd, gazing his grotesque head onto them, to Jonah. Philip's voice is nothing, not like its mighty presence. A monumental sovereign who reigned over the first men with the will of steel, fire, and blood. To attest creation that its people have a right to live. With its left hand, it reaches behind the back of its skull.</p> <p><span style="color:red"><em><strong>Tap. Tap.</strong></em></span></p> <p>There is a sharp stab through Jonah's mind. He covers the back of his head in hopes of stopping the bleeding but when he checks his palm, there is nothing. The blade, wherever it comes from, still stabs him relentlessly.</p> <p><span style="color:red"><strong>“This is your doing.”</strong></span> Bellowing through the church, Jonah would have believed that the very foundation would sink and that it would crush them all.</p> <p><em>Why can nobody witness this?! I am not mad, I am not mad, I am not mad, I am not mad! O, my dear Lord, save me! I beg of you!</em></p> <p><span style="color:red"><strong>“Deny me, and this will be your life. Suffering and madness until death. Edith will be alone. That is when I shall take her.”</strong></span></p> <p>“You will do no such thing!” He stands. “I will have your damn head before you lay a finger on her!”</p> <p>That evil head grew strands of muscle, wrapping and gripping the base of the red bone. It simply smiles. It is a smile that stretches across all that is known. Painting the walls, the floors, the lights, and the air in its color. <span style="color:red"><strong>“There he is.”</strong></span></p> <p>In a rage, Jonah's body shoots forward at The Red Angel and strikes with a hardened fist. He brings it down on its back and the surge of excitement overpowers his body. He blinks and sees Father Philips on the floor in The Angel's place. Someone tackles Jonah to the floor and then holds his arms to his back while pressing his face onto the wood. So many voices echo through with faces of shock and judgment.</p> <p>“The Devil was here,” he utters. “He was here! He walks amongst us, day in and day out! He-”</p> <p>“Be quiet!” Jonah's subduer cuts him off. “How is Father Philips?”</p> <p>“Mr. Godwinson!” Philips groans, and his subduer allows him to turn his head to face the pastor. He holds his nose which leaks red as they stain his robes. With assistance, Philips rises to his feet, “never step foot in the settlement until Christ has healed you from your madness.”</p> <p>“But Father Philips, please!”</p> <p>“You are done, Jonah! Leave!”</p> <p>There is nothing else that Jonah could have said. They all are firm in their perception of him. The subduer finally releases Jonah and forces him to stand. While walking out, he did not expect Edith to follow. He just ruined her wedding night.</p> <p>Lost in his thoughts, he misses a step and trips, yet Edith clings to her arm and holds him up. Jonah stays silent while they make their way back home.</p> <p><em>She must despise me. She should. As should God.</em></p> <hr/> <p>Winter is being especially cruel with the howling winds enveloping the settlement. Despite this, Jonah's face and body grow warm, though not for his benefit. He would attempt to leave his bed and insist that he must chop his wood. He could build a whole new settlement for the people overseas if given the chance. Instead, he would lie on the wood, as Edith picks him up and rolls back his covers.</p> <p>After that night in the church, he has been met with shuns and accusations of being possessed by The Devil. That God has forsaken him. Edith tried to defend him but then they accused her of witchcraft and bewitching Eric soon after.</p> <p>In his slumber, he mutters profanities about the woes of his youth. He would call his late wife, Lucy, as his final refuge. Atoning of taking her as his bride.</p> <p>This self-deprecating, impulsive, and stubborn man is all Edith has left.</p> <p><em>I am not ready to let you go. So, I beg of you, my Lord. Do not take my father away yet. <span style="color:crimson"><strong>For if you do, I will destroy you.</strong></span></em></p> <p>Edith feels a needle piercing through her head. Burrowing and gnawing like a ground worm.</p> <p><em>Forgive me. I do not know what came over me.</em></p> <p>She knows she needs help to heal her father. One for this curse, and one for his fever. Eric’s name rings through her mind while she wraps herself in thick coverings. The moment she pulls the door, snow sticks onto the floors.</p> <p>With a final glance at her father, she shuts the door behind me. Everything is pure white, although the trees made their darkness visible. She marches to the snow-covered path and the rest of the settlement. Everyone is inside, though she expects them looking through their windows, judging and cursing her. They don't matter to her now. Only Eric and his knowledge of healing could save them. She hopes, she prays that he still offers sanctuary.</p> <p>She knocks on the deep brown doors for Lord knows how long until Eric finally answers.</p> <p>“Edith?” He takes her inside and closes the doors. “What are you doing here?”</p> <p>“Was I not offered sanctuary?” She retorts.</p> <p>“You were. But-”</p> <p>“I need your help.” She removes one layer off and sits on a pew. She slides herself over for Eric.</p> <p>“What is it?” He asks.</p> <p>“Do you still have any herbs or anything for the fever?”</p> <p>“We do,” his head hangs low, “but some have already taken much of it. We don’t have much left.”</p> <p>Edith snatches his hands, they are warm and soft, as always. “I beg you, then, give me what’s left.”</p> <p>“You are not allowed here anymore,” he says, shifting his eyes, and then facing away from her.</p> <p>“Please, Eric!” She tightens her grip so much that she could be crushing his hands. “At least ask our Lord to show mercy.”</p> <p>His eyes frequently dart around the church, checking if he is being watched by Phillips. Perhaps he is. Perhaps he is not. Edith doesn't care.</p> <p>“With your help, you can save him from this foul wickedness that consumes him. If you help me, I shall devout myself wholeheartedly to our Lord.”</p> <p>She rests her hand on his thigh, his head perks up. “And perhaps, to you. If you wish to have me again.” Edith lightly scratches his knee. She can see his teeth clench to hold in his heart for her.</p> <p>“The Lord watches us.” He whispers.</p> <p>“He is.” She rubs her cheek with his. “He knows that I make no lie to you.” She eases her fingers higher on his leg and near his waist. “You will have nothing but my love.”</p> <p>He stands and gazes at her, “I will go get them for you,” he whispers and makes his way to another room. She turns to look at Christ, perched on the wall with his thorny crown.</p> <p>The closer she looks, Edith does not see a face of judgment or sternness like Philips. He looks sad. Tired, even. A passing thought that He does not deserve them, nor do they deserve Him. Guilt weighs her lungs. For how dare she think of destroying such a soul as kind and merciful as His? He died to save us from sin. And she repays him by proving the people right.</p> <p><em>Have mercy on us.</em> She gives her last plea if he listens.</p> <p>Eric returns with the herbs and he hands them to Edith.</p> <p>“Spare as much as you can.” He tells her.</p> <p>“Thank you, Eric.” She steals a kiss from him and wraps herself again before exiting the church. She takes one last look at him. He's like a statue, with his mouth agape. He shakes his head and speaks, "I would. I don't know how. But I would have you again. Somehow, someway."</p> <p>"Thank you, my love." She closes the door behind her.</p> <p>Edith rushes back with cold flakes smacking her face with the last bit of hope she carries. She returns home with her chest getting heavier by the breath. There is a crowd of thirty on the front. Jonah is outside, holding onto his tree stump. One man pushes him off and has his face buried in the snow. Edith dashes to them to defend her father once more.</p> <p>“Get off him!”</p> <p>Two other men grab a hold of her. They were around her age, giggling like children.</p> <p>“Can you see The Devil too?” One of them taunts.</p> <p>“She’s a witch!” The other gasps and laughs.</p> <p>“What do you want from us?” She asks them.</p> <p>“We want to know what Satan looks like since he says he saw him!” One of them replied</p> <p>“Or maybe he lies. The Lord despises liars,” says Christoph. He is a golden-haired young man with brown eyes and a narrow face. Cristoph grabs Jonah's back and hoists him up to sit him on the stump. He grabs his shoulders to steady him.</p> <p>“Come now, old man. Try not to lie to us,” he mocks.</p> <p>“Edith," Jonah groans and holds the Cristoph's wrists, "let her go.”</p> <p>“Not before you tell us what you saw.” He towers Jonah, pressing his head down on his.</p> <p>“Don’t be ridiculous, just leave us be!” Edith cries, shaking off the hold but to no avail. One of them snatches the herbs out of her hands.</p> <p>Edith desperately reaches to get them back, but Cristophs friends hold her arms on her back.</p> <p>“Look here!” He calls out. Cristoph approaches and looks at them. “Didn’t Eric hand you those for your fever?” He asks one of his friends.</p> <p>“He did! And he said I was graced by the Lord as that was all that was left.”</p> <p>“Liars and sinners are everywhere now, friends!” he extends his arms and spins with glee.</p> <p>“But how did you get a hold of these, Edith?” He gasps, “Mr. Godwinson! How very shameful of your daughter. But I suppose that's how you raise a witch, no?”</p> <p>“I didn't do anything! I asked and he gave it to me.” Edith barks.</p> <p>Christoph walks up to her and strikes her mouth. She spits and oozes blood, marking the perfect white ground. He grabs a hold of her head and shoves it down, the frost cuts and burns her face and he yanks it back up. Father yells for Edith she grabs her attacker's arm in hopes of prying it off. He has her facing Jonah, with another young man holding his ax like a toy.</p> <p>The one holding his ax swings it down near Jonah's head, almost taking it. Edith tries to crawl to him but she couldn’t get any closer. One of them plants his foot on Jonah's head, and she feels Cristoph's hands clawing at her body. Cristoph lays on top of Edith and she screams.</p> <p>“Why are you doing this?!” Jonah musters the strength to ask.</p> <p>“Because we can.” Cristoph shoves his hand down the back of her head. “Who is going to miss a madman and his whore daughter?”</p> <p>“Edith! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” He weeps.</p> <p><em>I don't want it to end like this. My father did what he thought was best. He was scared, that was all. He never wanted any of this for us, I know he didn't. I want to hug him one last time.</em></p> <p>All she can do is join him in his weeping.</p> <p><span style="color:red"><strong>“I have seen enough.”</strong></span> The voice booms through both their skulls. The snow seems so much slower than before. There stood the creature red-stained robes and long spider legs. And the other beside it, an Angel with a head of a beast. <span style="color:red"><strong>“Make them scream, my children.”</strong></span> They speak in unison. Edith remembers the dream. The word that embodies great power. Jonah and Edith gaze at each other’s shining red eyes.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color:red"><em><strong>Tap.</strong></em></span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>For Jonah, he is the Horned Titan: Ranka Dūgra.</p> <p>For Edith, she is the Dancing Hunter: Masso Vakamū.</p> <p>Cristoph wraps his arm under Edith to feel her skin. Then legs from her back tear through his chest and split him into several pieces.</p> <p><span style="color:crimson"><em>Everything burns.</em></span></p> <p>Her eyes see all that is around her as they push through the skull. Fangs puncture out from her mouth, and her screech is worse than any pig. Jonah bit a young man's foot off and takes his body as a weapon, slamming him to his friends while he grows larger with seven horns sprouting from his head.</p> <p>He grabs onto his ax and pours his soul into it, making it larger, more fit for war as his wings sprout from his back. Jonah flurries his axe onto the crowd, while some try to flee.</p> <p>Edith hops through the trees and snatches them up. Stabbing them with her sharp appendages or gnawing their heads from their necks. Their blood is sweet yet bitter. Her hunger could not be filled with such small prey but it suffices. Over and over again, she tears them until there is none left.</p> <p>Once she finishes, she leaps from tree to tree, meeting her father who is still dealing with his prey. He swings his ax down on one of the intruder's shoulder, splitting him in two. He slices another man's legs and then finishes him off by slamming the blade through him.</p> <p>One manages to slip past him for a time until Father flies high up and throws his ax at him.</p> <p>The runner splatters on the tree bark as the ax splits him and brings down a few more trees with it. Jonah extends his hand and the ax flies back to its wielder's grip. He lands, and Edith jumps near him. Her new appendages gave way and turn to dust, as did her fangs and eyes. A red cloud envelops Jonah until he collapses on the snow. She rushes to help but he bounces back on his feet. Amazed, he gazes at his arms and wiggles his legs. Doing little hops and finding the perfect balance.</p> <p><span style="color:red"><strong>“Feeling well, Jonah?”</strong></span> They both glance at where the voice came from. In front of them are The Red Angel and The Seven-Legged Spider. Lata Kahaht.</p> <p>“What did you do to us?!” he shouts at them.</p> <p><span style="color:red"><strong>“I gave you the chance to bring justice to those who wronged you. To be your true selves. Look around.”</strong></span></p> <p>Patches of red and white surround us with chunks of meat scattered across. The minced bodies leaking little rivers of red.</p> <p><span style="color:red"><strong>“This is good for you. For none shall ever harm you.”</strong></span></p> <p>“You… You did this!”</p> <p>Jonah hastily approaches him, but Edith shouts:</p> <p>“Father, look!” She points to the small glows of yellow and orange approaching them with hints of chatter. “We must leave now while we still can.”</p> <p><span style="color:red"><strong>“Or you may fend them off.”</strong></span></p> <p>Jonah looks at the approaching settlement and then at his daughter. He rushes inside and throws Edith new clothes for both of them, a sack of dry food, and his ax. “Come, Edith.”</p> <p><span style="color:red"><strong>“You have much to learn, my children.”</strong></span> Lata Kahaht grins at them while they run past their apparitions.</p> <p>The snow is starting to pick up more winds, but not enough to cover the tracks they leave behind.</p> <p>From the distance, Edith hears their wailing for the settlement's dead brothers, sons, and nephews. Tonight, they will give chase for as long as they can. Tomorrow, they will use hounds to sniff them out and follow wherever they may be.</p> <p>Edith's thoughts drift to Eric. She would understand he considers her and her father monsters.</p> <p>She wishes that wasn't true. She wishes that she had not lied to him, especially in the presence of Christ. She wishes her father would tell her something, anything about what they are.</p> <p>If Lata Kahaht speaks the truth, then they were foolish to think that they could ever be servants to God.</p> <p>At least, that's what she believes.</p> <p>All she knows is that they are Daeva. They follow one law if they wish to survive. To be stronger. She does not doubt that they're the first or last of our kind.</p> <p>As they dash through the cold, there are glimpses of what Lata Kahaht is trying to rebuild. A mighty Empire.</p> <p>Edith glances at her father. For a moment, she thinks there’s a smile on his face.</p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-scarlet-father">The Scarlet Father</a>" by Strange Matter, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-scarlet-father">https://scpwiki.com/the-scarlet-father</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Ravatah<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/strange-matter" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6680055); return false;"><img alt="Strange Matter" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6680055&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043681" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6680055)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/strange-matter" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6680055); return false;">Strange Matter</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="http://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/local--files/the-scarlet-father/Ravatah">http://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/local--files/the-scarlet-father/Ravatah</a></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	===== [[include <a href="/component:preview">component:preview</a> text=Two taps to plunge the ax. Two taps to crush the weak. Two taps to meet The Father. One tap to make them scream.]] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:black-highlighter-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:ouroborous-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:ouroborous-theme</a>]] [[module css]] :root { --header-title: "The Scarlet Father"; --header-subtitle: "He Was Always Here"; --top-layer-height-offset: -1rem; } [[/module]] [[module CSS]] @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Domine:wght@700&display=swap'); @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=White+Text:ital,wght@0,400;0,600;0,700;1,400;1,600;1,700&display=swap'); #page-title { display: none; } .splash h1 { font-size: 700%; font-family: 'Domine', serif; font-weight: 700; text-align: center; margin-bottom: -2rem; letter-spacing: 0.25rem; } .splash h3 { font-size: 300%; font-family: 'Domine', serif; font-weight: 700; text-align: center; } .splash { font-family: 'Domine', serif; font-weight: 400; text-align: center; } #page-content > p { text-justify: inter-word; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1rem; font-family: "White Text", serif; font-size: 1.2rem; } .chapterstart { font-size: 4rem; line-height: 8rem; } .links { display: block; text-align: center; } .links a { background: rgb(var(--bright-accent)); color: white; padding: 3px; border-radius: 4px; font-family: monospace; white-space: nowrap; } .links a:visited { color: white; } .links a:hover { color:rgb(var(--bright-accent)); } [[/module]] [[div style="display: none;"]] [[=]] [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> name= http://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/local--files/the-scarlet-father/Ravatah\|caption=.\|width=100%\|align=center]] [[/=]] [[/div]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] ⚠️ Content warning: This article contains gore and attempts of sexual assault. Reader discretion is advised. [[div style="margin-right: 2em; margin-top: -10px;"]] ^^by [[[Strange Matter-writes\|Strange Matter]]]^^ [[/div]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:end">:scp-wiki:info:end</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:info-cw">:scp-wiki:component:info-cw</a>]] @@ @@ //Chop. Chop. Chop.// As Jonah hews each log, his palms sting with every ax swing, with bits of skin shorn from his hands. Much like his body, his fingers tremble as he is not nearly as strong as he once was. The late November breeze grows more uncomfortable with each passing day. Some trees are a dull red, while others have lost them entirely. As if they have thin, bony claws reaching out to the sky and out toward the sun. He feels the noon's rosy burn caress his back. //Oh, the sun!// Its warmth's kiss eases his days. His daughter, Edith, approaches him, bearing a bowl of milk and honey in hand. She sits him down as she lends him the bowl. “Good morning.” She kisses her father's cheek and then grabs the pommel. He quickly lay his hand on her wrist before she can wrench it away from him. “I am not done, child,” he says to her. She frowns. "You need rest, Father, please." "I rest when we are provisioned for winter. Not before." Her forehead wrinkles with tight-lipped defiance. "As you will," she says. She lets him take the pommel from her, but her eyes linger on him, pondering why he insists on breaking himself. Already at nineteen years old, Jonah can see her late mother in Edith. Her eyes are as deep blue as the ocean, and her headscarf covers her black webbed hair with the many red spots on her cheeks. “I can ask Eric to come by if you need any aid?” She says. Eric, Father Philips' apprentice for their church and soon-to-be husband for Edith. Jonah remembers the day Eric approached him for his daughter's hand in marriage and how eager Jonah had been to give him his blessing. Not only is he ordained, but Eric has always been good to his daughter since they were both children. The Phillips' are good friends to the Godwinsons', the first to welcome them off the settlers' boat. He shakes his head in response. Edith turns away, making a sound between a sigh and a grunt. “Then I will take my leave," she says, walking towards the dirt path. [[span style="color:red"]]//Tap. Tap.//[[/span]] Edith stops moving and lets out a cry. [[span style="color:crimson"]]//Him.//[[/span]] There looms the Red Angel. Clad in soaked red robes, hands clasped as in prayer, and long fingers with clawed tips. Its bloody wings stretch like a vulture and has the head of a wolf’s skull. It has seven eye sockets but with horns protruding through each hole. When it speaks, its voice is as low as thunder, which would have had Jonah on his knees if he were standing. [[span style="color:red"]]"Take the ax."[[/span]] “Begone Satan!” Jonah hisses. “I tire of you.” The Red Angel says nothing. //How dare he mock our Lord?// After some time, The Red Angel finally advances to him. Jonah grips the pommel to hoist himself and pry the axe from the stump. He readies for a swing, but in a blink, there is Eric in front of him. “Mr. Godwinson!” He pleads, putting his arms up to shield himself from the attack. “I could have had your head, boy!” Jonah shouts and sits back down. “My apologies, sir.” Eric bows. “What do you need?” "I was wondering where Edith might be?" "You just missed her," pointing him to the path that led to the river, "you have e better chance at reaching her than I do." "Ah! Thank you, Mr. Godwinson. God-willing, I hope you can make it to the wedding." "I'm not that old. Besides. You have The Lord's grace. I'm sure you'll do right for her." "I swear that I will." Jonah waves his hand. “And please. Call me Jonah.” "Jonah. Thank you, again." They bid their farewells and he watches him follow the path to Edith. As he walks, [[span style="color:crimson"]]//Jonah plunges the ax down his skull. He pulls it out and the crack erupts blood like a broken dam.//[[/span]] Jonah seizes these thoughts and buries them deep in his soul, with Eric finally passing the tree line. He turns to see The Red Angel again. Standing over him, watching and judging through that terrible helm. //Lord, grant me strength.// ------------------------- Edith knows that her father is not well. He is stubborn, but he is a bad liar. She passes through the settlement to catch up with the other girls in front of her. But she also hears rapid crunching closing in behind her. Eric's voice calls her name and she pictures his short brown hair, round face, and green eyes. All those things have her chest warm up. Half of her wants to keep him in the pursuit, but she eventually relents and spins her body to him. “Good morning, Edith.” He says. “Good morning, my beloved." Her lungs are getting heavier. She craves to hold him, but she restrains herself until the wedding night comes. She wants it to be special for both of them. "How are things with Father Phillip?” she asks. “Ah, the same. Though, I must say he has been obsessing over Revelations. I fear that his search for prophecy will drive him away from us and God. But never mind me, how are you?” “It was cold, but the sun finally showed itself.” She says, swaying her body in glee. Eric giggles while following her movements. Though he slows himself, and he somewhat drops his smile. “And your father? I spoke to him early today, and he seemed… troubled.” That is what they all say about him, troubled, as if a beast stalks him. “I will speak with him soon,” she assures him. “Edith...Should anything happen, you are always welcome to take sanctuary within the church. You can stay there for as long as you like.” His eyes were soft yet uneasy. She hopes that Eric won't hate her father down the future, but he is kind and gentle, and surely it won't happen. Surely, he and Jonah will be accepted into The Kingdom of Heaven. “Thank you, Eric. I will keep that in mind. But I promise you, he will be fine. As will I.” "I understand. I worry for you, is all." "Walk with me if you worry," she returns to her path with her betrothed at her side. They tread down the trail, listening to the pebbles crunching beneath their shoes. Despite the cold creeping up on them and the trees losing their red leaves, the bright blue skies warms the pair. Edith recalls Jonah telling her that God was with them when they sailed across the seas to these strange lands. He assured her that so long as she submitted herself to the will of the Lord, she would be safe. With that in mind, Edith offers a silent prayer to heal Jonah of his illness. They go to the river and follow it downstream to where the lake is where the water looks black and still. They approach the lake and the other women bow and smile at Eric when they arrive. Before Edith takes another step, Eric pulls her close to pepper her cheek with four kisses. Edith hides her face from the cooing from the women. He's already long fled before she could say or do anything. Hazy with the rush of that moment, it feels like she's floating towards the lake, and she can scarcely concentrate on the dirty sheets and clothes she's there to wash. With the autumn chill and these waters, her fingers numb after twisting the fourth sheet. She despises the cold. The dismal chill brings brown and ruins to the land she calls home. Looking up, Edith spots a black spider that could be half the size of her palms on the girl in front of her. Its thin legs gently creep from her shoulder down to her back. "Sarah," Edith whispers, "your shoulder..." She sees the woman tense and swell as if to scream, so she lays her hand on the woman's shoulder. It is an instinct she's familiar with, to lay hands on flesh to smother its wild energy. It is a command. //Be still//. An animal sort of dominance, though Edith does not know whence this strength comes from. In seconds, Sarah's panic is gone, and even her shaking stops. "Good Edith." The woman swallows, her voice controlled if not calm. "Please...from my shoulder..." She cannot even refer to the spider by name. Edith stretches her other hand until it tickles the arachnid's legs. It starts to move, but the spider climbs on her fingers. It, too, crawls onto Edith's outstretched palm and awaits Edith's attention. Upon closer inspection, the spider has a missing leg. Edith's heart swells a little at how much pain it must be in. She stands and walks to a nearby branch to make it its new home, but it seems that it's settling with her fingers. Crawling from one tip to another, it leaves behind its web as it crosses from her middle finger to the wrist as if it could stroll through the air. [[span style="color:red"]]//Tap. Tap.//[[/span]] [[span style="color:crimson"]] With a clamp from her hands, it dies. How simple it is for a giant such as her. Ruler of the world, old and new. To have all as small as this be on her hand.[[/span]] //No.// The spider is still on her outstretched palm, still waiting. She brings her little subject to its new home. Edith dreams about another life, where the little one could have been hers. She returns to her work, washing hers and her fathers' vestments as the sun continues its movement across the sky. The motion built a comfortable heat in her body. Lost in the repetition of her work, she gazes herself in the black water. The clothes drop from her shock-stilled hands into the water. She pulls her clothes out and lets the water settle so she can confirm the strangeness in her reflection. Her deep-set blue eyes have a scarlet glow, like beholding a bonfire through a misty window. As she stares into them, her fingers softly melt to life again. She brushes them on her cheeks, which meet with a gentle warmth that begins to fade. She picks up her shirt and squeezes it, wringing it dry with all her strength. The warmth blossoms in her face and chest, and it feels like the cold will never again trouble Edith Godwinson. All the other girls prepare to return to the settlement. Edith makes an excuse that she has one more left. She reaches down to the reflection and sweeps her hands on the water. Gently, she swirls her fingers on the reflection. The water is warm too. The cold she loathed is a distant memory. Then, the face staring at her with those scarlet eyes twists into something bitter and raw—her gritted teeth, narrowed eyes, and that scarlet glow. It's a horrible thing—so much so that she pulls her hand from the water. She takes her basket and retreats away from the water while she stares at it. [[span style="color:red"]]//Take it.//[[/span]] Those words echo in her mind, ringing ever so loudly. By the time she returns to the settlement, the ringing stops. Edith thanks God for silencing the devil. The answer is in scripture, and she must meditate on the Savior's love, the only refuge from the enemy with her face and scarlet eyes. Her walk feels much too long. The warmth at the lake is gone, and dusk's chill returns to trouble her bones. When she arrives at their farm, she is glad to see her father again. He swings his ax much more vigorously than this morning. The logs give way beneath his strikes like paper. “Father,” She calls out. He does not turn away from the stump. She taps him with the basket, and he looks at her. His hair is wet from his sweat, long and unkempt, with strands of gray making their way to the rest of his scalp. “Are you all right?” She asks. “I am.” He continues his work. “Eric said to me that I may take sanctuary at the church. Father, what did you do to make him say that?” He grunts while continuing to chop his wood. Her patience makes it clear that she expects an answer. “He startled me. I almost took his head. Will you be going then?” He turns his head when he asks. “Will you cook and clean on your own?” She tilts her head to him. He doesn't answer her and she feels comfortable letting the silence between them linger. She fills her ears with rustling branches, soft breeze, and chirping crickets. “I am a burden, Edith. I'm sorry." “I did not say that.” He pauses, then huffs. "I'm happy for you. Eric is a good man. Young, Strong. A man of God. You don't have to trouble yourself with me." “I may trouble you for as long as I wish.” His daughter rushes forward and embraces him. He presses her close to him with his free arm. Something about her weight and momentum causes his nerves to scream and his limbs to buckle. His legs give way from under him but Edith supports him with her strength and she helps him the rest of the way to the house. He uses his ax to balance himself as they go up the porch. “Edith," he calls. “Yes, father?” “Thank you. You saved my life. You //save// my life.” Edith isn't sure what to say, so she lets him speak. "Your mother would be so proud of you." Her throat gets tighter, but she pushes that feeling down. “Let us be inside before it gets dark,” Edith says. With his ax in his other hand, they walk into their home. She fixes him dinner and puts him to bed, too lost in thought to do much else but watch him try to sleep. //It is a miracle how he can still hold that ax of his, let alone swing it.// She kisses his forehead goodnight and retreats to her own bed to slumber. Except she doesn't. It is a stationary agony, where minutes feel like hours. Her head. It's like something is puncturing her skull, digging and digging, and never stopping. She grips and tears her covers, writhing, driven mad. She wants the pain to stop. And the pain tells her it will if she digs her claws into the flesh of her fellow. She crawls out of bed and scrambles to the door, desperate for a reprieve. The burning in her skull abates as she approaches the door like the waxy moonlight is dousing the fire. Edith laughs despite herself, sheer relief turning to euphoria. She gently opens the door and creeps outside. She has to bite her hand to kill a new scream of pain. The fire in her head rages greater than before. She tumbles backward into the relative cool of her house, the door slams shut behind her and the pain recedes again. Through her fevered gasps and blood-red thoughts, she realizes the pain and its relief are leading her toward her father's room. With light taps of her toes, she uses her ears to listen to where the boards creak. Even through the closed door, she can hear his loud snores. Bit by bit she crawls, giving thanks every step that her father is a heavy sleeper. //Thanks to whom?// She wonders for the first time who to blame for the fire or bless with its relief. Could the bible explain this? Was this a new understanding of God, or the discovery of His peer? Opening the door made the whole house rumble, but Jonah's slumber-breathing bellows undisturbed. The pain leads her to Jonah's bed and then commands her to kneel, and under Jonah's bed her hands reach into the darkness—grabs onto something solid, something that feels //right//. Carefully, she withdraws a box. There's a strong-looking lock on it. Just as she felt the weight of the box in her arms, her anguish stops completely. [[span style="color:red"]]//Take the ax.//[[/span]] The scarlet haze turns her attention to her father's pommel, but her ravenous curiosity compels her to seize it. Where did these scarlet thoughts come from? Why does she hunger for her neighbors' blood? It burns more than the pain ever did. She grabs the pommel and reminds herself her father is resting. She opens the door and, with haste and silence, escapes the house. She goes as far as she may, but not too far to be lost. Edith notices the moon does not seem blue tonight. Edith tosses the wooden thing down and hoists the heavy tool up. The red moon shining downward at her and the glimmering metal lock. She makes a guttural sound that reminds her of a dog's growl. She swings—she feels so much strength in the blow. The lock breaks and the box snaps open. She feels at peace. She drops Jonah's ax onto the dirt. There's a book. She examines it by the lunar light. On the black cover gleams silver words: "A Chronicle of the Daevas." After replacing the ax and pushing the box back under Jonah's bed, Edith sneaks back to her room and cracks open the tome, reading by the light of four candles. //How long has he hid this from me? Why?// She notices the candle flames dance to an unseen wind. So many questions spiral within her. She reads one page, and the one turns to many— Disgust would not describe the ache in her stomach. These 'Daeva' were enemies of God. Monsters. Demons. Edith struggles to find the words to properly describe them. Those brutal appetites Edith keeps at bay, the 'Daevites' fed freely with wanton bloodshed. She wonders how life had become so cheap to them. And yet...she wants to know even more. She reads and reads all night, and it does not feel nearly enough to grasp, but she hears the singing of morning birds. Jonah would soon stir. She closes the book and hides it under her pillow, then blows out her candles to drift at long last to her bed. = [[span style="color:red"]]//.//[[/span]] = [[span style="color:red"]]//.//[[/span]] = [[span style="color:red"]]//.//[[/span]] Edith opens her eyes and the sky bore crimson with only seven bright stars circling each other. She sees something dangling from the high branches. Its long legs creep down onto the surface, and once it makes its way to the dirt, it crawls to her with its seven legs. The monster looks like Edith. Its body wore wet red robes, and a mouth that bore fangs reaching to the ears. It has seven large unblinking eyes that gaze through her like blades puncturing cloth. [[span style="color:red"]]"Come."[[/span]] Its voice is deeper than any man or beast. Edith drops to her knees with face kissing the ground and hoping it does not torment her any further. She prays that God shall free her from this nightmare. The creature turns its body halfway to her and just stares, waiting for her to come forth. With no other choice, she follows the demon down the path. The same path where the women go to wash their clothes. Once they see the lake, the seven stars descend and float right where the trees peak. The demon takes Edith's hand and walks her to the lake. Before its legs could reach the water, Edith stops. It turns to her and lays out an arm, gesturing for her to enter the water. “What do you want from me?” She asks the monster, to which it does not reply. It stares at her with those horrid eyes. But her arms, legs, everything is so cold. She walks to the demon and takes its warm hand. It leads her into the lake and walks just above the surface of the water, while Edith's steps sinks further down. It releases her hand, allowing her to swim. The lake is like the summer sun. Holding her while she floats and awes at the circling spheres. “Are you Satan?” She asks it, though she wishes she had not. It shakes its head. [[span style="color:red"]]"Lata Kakaht."[[/span]] Its voice sounds familiar to Edith. She's less frightened of not just the face and body, but its presence. As if it could split this world into two, and Edith will still breathe. “And what are you, Lata Kahaht?” She asks. It points at Edith. “What do you mean?” [[span style="color:red"]]“You will know soon enough.”[[/span]] “You… Are you why my father is fearful?” Like Jonah, it remains silent. “Are you?!” [[span style="color:red"]]“His torment is his own doing. What do you know of your family?”[[/span]] “All of my family are in London. I don’t know much about them.” [[span style="color:red"]]“Further.”[[/span]] “Why do you wish to know?” [[span style="color:red"]]"So. He has told you nothing. Shame."[[/span]] The world rumbles around them. The seven stars become more jagged and erratic. Lata Kahaht looks up and observes the falling domain. [[span style="color:red"]]“Speak the word, “Ravatah”, for it will save you."[[/span]] “I don’t understand!” [[span style="color:red"]]“You will. You are my child, after all.”[[/span]] A hand grabs Edith's hair and pulls her into the depths. She screams out from her bed. Jonah barges through the door and searches the room with no seeming intruders or creatures. He takes her in his arms with a mother's reassurance. The window is raining with white flakes and with howling winds. “Father?” “Yes, Edith?” “What are The Daeva?” He is silent for a time. He release his embrace, but his arms were still grasping her shoulders. “Who told you that name?” He shutters. “I- I do not know. I had this dream, yet, I don't-” she tries to recollect it. But akin to this storm, she cannot see or comprehend it. It is simply gone, except for that question and the curiosity of the knowledge that her father keeps from her. “Can you please tell me about them? Did grandfather and grandmother know?” “Edith, Speak no more of this.” He demands. “But father-” He shakes her body. “I said stop!” He shouts. They sat there, eyes unblinking. Father’s face softens, realizing what he had done. He hangs his head low and loosens the grip he has on her. “Edith… I'm so sorry. Forgive me. Forgive me.” He whimpers on her thighs. Edith holds his head and shoulders close with this foreign responsibility. Since her mother's passing, she has never seen him cry like this. “Father?” Edith tilts her head. “My blood. My damned blood! I am a curse to this family!” He shouts. “Don’t say such things. The Lord shall cleanse you of all sin and evils.” “You don’t understand. He cannot-” He chokes on those words as if the next thoughts that expel from his mouth would be a sure way to be under retribution for speaking blasphemy against God. “I swore that I could end it. After what I saw with my mother and father. I just could not let it take me. Good God, your mother. She was an angel. You, Lucy, and our Lord were all I needed. I thought coming here would have us start again. But it has followed us.” He stops for a moment, wrapping his arms around her waist. “No. No, I will stop it. I will protect you for as long as I draw breath.” She chose not to ask any more of the Daeva. She doesn't wish to see her father like this anymore. Helpless, afraid, hurt. Her father is none of these things. She has faith that he will do everything he said he would to keep them safe. So long that it shall keep him away from despair. ------------------------- Tonight is Edith's night. Jonah's arm wraps around his daughter as they walk down the aisle with Eric awaiting his bride. Eric and Edith meet, Eric gives a nod to Jonah, which he reciprocates. Father and daughter kiss each other's cheek, then he goes to take his seat. Father Philips proceeds with the ceremony. Jonah considers himself blessed, even with all that has happened to him, God is good. His faith and discipline were rewarded with his daughter in that simple yet beautiful white dress. Perhaps he can rest, knowing Edith is in good hands. But then Father Philips went back to his old habits. “In Proverbs, Chapter Six, verses seventeen to nineteen show us what the Lord despises. ‘Haughty eyes, a lying tongue, hands that shed innocent blood, a heart that devises wicked schemes, feet that are quick to rush into evil, a false witness who pours out lies, and a person who stirs up conflict in the community.’ Now how do we find such things? We are often distracted by forces that require our attention. No time to weed out those who may consider any of these actions. That is why we must recognize that God is Truth, absolute. Whatever secrets you hold. Whatever lies you speak of. God is aware of it. So I must ask you, why does one persist? Why would one continue these evil acts, despite knowing that God is watching? Could it be shame? Such as when children break frail things and never admit it to their fathers and mothers. Much like when Adam and Eve chose not to admit that they ate the forbidden fruit. And if it is shame, why hold onto it? Is shame greater than faith in our Lord? It does not have to be for there is hope for all of us. I see two paths: One where you will be truthful to yourself, your people, and God. The other is God ripping the truth out from you. Regardless, it will be bare and all will see. I hope that all of you will live honestly so that the shame of sin shall not conduct you. Lest that you hold onto them and be given righteous justice.” The silence was uneasy. Philips resumes with the ceremony like nothing happened. Though, something about his preaching spoke to Jonah this time. [[span style="color:red"]]“The pastor speaks the truth.”[[/span]] The Red Angel whispers. He peers from his left to see it walking towards Father Phillips. Jonah's throat fills with thorny branches. He could not warn him or anyone for that matter. The Angel walks through Phillips like a man passing by an ant. The Red Angel faces Christ. As Philips continues his rambles, The Red Angel takes its right hand and signs the cross on itself and onto him. At first, Jonah thought it was mocking Jesus. But the devil would never acknowledge him as God at all. But this monstrosity did. Jonah doesn't know what to make of it. The Red Angel turns to face the crowd, gazing his grotesque head onto them, to Jonah. Philip's voice is nothing, not like its mighty presence. A monumental sovereign who reigned over the first men with the will of steel, fire, and blood. To attest creation that its people have a right to live. With its left hand, it reaches behind the back of its skull. [[span style="color:red"]]//Tap. Tap.//[[/span]] There is a sharp stab through Jonah's mind. He covers the back of his head in hopes of stopping the bleeding but when he checks his palm, there is nothing. The blade, wherever it comes from, still stabs him relentlessly. [[span style="color:red"]]“This is your doing.”[[/span]] Bellowing through the church, Jonah would have believed that the very foundation would sink and that it would crush them all. //Why can nobody witness this?! I am not mad, I am not mad, I am not mad, I am not mad! O, my dear Lord, save me! I beg of you!// [[span style="color:red"]]“Deny me, and this will be your life. Suffering and madness until death. Edith will be alone. That is when I shall take her.”[[/span]] “You will do no such thing!” He stands. “I will have your damn head before you lay a finger on her!” That evil head grew strands of muscle, wrapping and gripping the base of the red bone. It simply smiles. It is a smile that stretches across all that is known. Painting the walls, the floors, the lights, and the air in its color. [[span style="color:red"]]“There he is.”[[/span]] In a rage, Jonah's body shoots forward at The Red Angel and strikes with a hardened fist. He brings it down on its back and the surge of excitement overpowers his body. He blinks and sees Father Philips on the floor in The Angel's place. Someone tackles Jonah to the floor and then holds his arms to his back while pressing his face onto the wood. So many voices echo through with faces of shock and judgment. “The Devil was here,” he utters. “He was here! He walks amongst us, day in and day out! He-” “Be quiet!” Jonah's subduer cuts him off. “How is Father Philips?” “Mr. Godwinson!” Philips groans, and his subduer allows him to turn his head to face the pastor. He holds his nose which leaks red as they stain his robes. With assistance, Philips rises to his feet, “never step foot in the settlement until Christ has healed you from your madness.” “But Father Philips, please!” “You are done, Jonah! Leave!” There is nothing else that Jonah could have said. They all are firm in their perception of him. The subduer finally releases Jonah and forces him to stand. While walking out, he did not expect Edith to follow. He just ruined her wedding night. Lost in his thoughts, he misses a step and trips, yet Edith clings to her arm and holds him up. Jonah stays silent while they make their way back home. //She must despise me. She should. As should God.// ------------------------- Winter is being especially cruel with the howling winds enveloping the settlement. Despite this, Jonah's face and body grow warm, though not for his benefit. He would attempt to leave his bed and insist that he must chop his wood. He could build a whole new settlement for the people overseas if given the chance. Instead, he would lie on the wood, as Edith picks him up and rolls back his covers. After that night in the church, he has been met with shuns and accusations of being possessed by The Devil. That God has forsaken him. Edith tried to defend him but then they accused her of witchcraft and bewitching Eric soon after. In his slumber, he mutters profanities about the woes of his youth. He would call his late wife, Lucy, as his final refuge. Atoning of taking her as his bride. This self-deprecating, impulsive, and stubborn man is all Edith has left. //I am not ready to let you go. So, I beg of you, my Lord. Do not take my father away yet. [[span style="color:crimson"]]For if you do, I will destroy you.//[[/span]] Edith feels a needle piercing through her head. Burrowing and gnawing like a ground worm. //Forgive me. I do not know what came over me.// She knows she needs help to heal her father. One for this curse, and one for his fever. Eric’s name rings through her mind while she wraps herself in thick coverings. The moment she pulls the door, snow sticks onto the floors. With a final glance at her father, she shuts the door behind me. Everything is pure white, although the trees made their darkness visible. She marches to the snow-covered path and the rest of the settlement. Everyone is inside, though she expects them looking through their windows, judging and cursing her. They don't matter to her now. Only Eric and his knowledge of healing could save them. She hopes, she prays that he still offers sanctuary. She knocks on the deep brown doors for Lord knows how long until Eric finally answers. “Edith?” He takes her inside and closes the doors. “What are you doing here?” “Was I not offered sanctuary?” She retorts. “You were. But-” “I need your help.” She removes one layer off and sits on a pew. She slides herself over for Eric. “What is it?” He asks. “Do you still have any herbs or anything for the fever?” “We do,” his head hangs low, “but some have already taken much of it. We don’t have much left.” Edith snatches his hands, they are warm and soft, as always. “I beg you, then, give me what’s left.” “You are not allowed here anymore,” he says, shifting his eyes, and then facing away from her. “Please, Eric!” She tightens her grip so much that she could be crushing his hands. “At least ask our Lord to show mercy.” His eyes frequently dart around the church, checking if he is being watched by Phillips. Perhaps he is. Perhaps he is not. Edith doesn't care. “With your help, you can save him from this foul wickedness that consumes him. If you help me, I shall devout myself wholeheartedly to our Lord.” She rests her hand on his thigh, his head perks up. “And perhaps, to you. If you wish to have me again.” Edith lightly scratches his knee. She can see his teeth clench to hold in his heart for her. “The Lord watches us.” He whispers. “He is.” She rubs her cheek with his. “He knows that I make no lie to you.” She eases her fingers higher on his leg and near his waist. “You will have nothing but my love.” He stands and gazes at her, “I will go get them for you,” he whispers and makes his way to another room. She turns to look at Christ, perched on the wall with his thorny crown. The closer she looks, Edith does not see a face of judgment or sternness like Philips. He looks sad. Tired, even. A passing thought that He does not deserve them, nor do they deserve Him. Guilt weighs her lungs. For how dare she think of destroying such a soul as kind and merciful as His? He died to save us from sin. And she repays him by proving the people right. //Have mercy on us.// She gives her last plea if he listens. Eric returns with the herbs and he hands them to Edith. “Spare as much as you can.” He tells her. “Thank you, Eric.” She steals a kiss from him and wraps herself again before exiting the church. She takes one last look at him. He's like a statue, with his mouth agape. He shakes his head and speaks, "I would. I don't know how. But I would have you again. Somehow, someway." "Thank you, my love." She closes the door behind her. Edith rushes back with cold flakes smacking her face with the last bit of hope she carries. She returns home with her chest getting heavier by the breath. There is a crowd of thirty on the front. Jonah is outside, holding onto his tree stump. One man pushes him off and has his face buried in the snow. Edith dashes to them to defend her father once more. “Get off him!” Two other men grab a hold of her. They were around her age, giggling like children. “Can you see The Devil too?” One of them taunts. “She’s a witch!” The other gasps and laughs. “What do you want from us?” She asks them. “We want to know what Satan looks like since he says he saw him!” One of them replied “Or maybe he lies. The Lord despises liars,” says Christoph. He is a golden-haired young man with brown eyes and a narrow face. Cristoph grabs Jonah's back and hoists him up to sit him on the stump. He grabs his shoulders to steady him. “Come now, old man. Try not to lie to us,” he mocks. “Edith," Jonah groans and holds the Cristoph's wrists, "let her go.” “Not before you tell us what you saw.” He towers Jonah, pressing his head down on his. “Don’t be ridiculous, just leave us be!” Edith cries, shaking off the hold but to no avail. One of them snatches the herbs out of her hands. Edith desperately reaches to get them back, but Cristophs friends hold her arms on her back. “Look here!” He calls out. Cristoph approaches and looks at them. “Didn’t Eric hand you those for your fever?” He asks one of his friends. “He did! And he said I was graced by the Lord as that was all that was left.” “Liars and sinners are everywhere now, friends!” he extends his arms and spins with glee. “But how did you get a hold of these, Edith?” He gasps, “Mr. Godwinson! How very shameful of your daughter. But I suppose that's how you raise a witch, no?” “I didn't do anything! I asked and he gave it to me.” Edith barks. Christoph walks up to her and strikes her mouth. She spits and oozes blood, marking the perfect white ground. He grabs a hold of her head and shoves it down, the frost cuts and burns her face and he yanks it back up. Father yells for Edith she grabs her attacker's arm in hopes of prying it off. He has her facing Jonah, with another young man holding his ax like a toy. The one holding his ax swings it down near Jonah's head, almost taking it. Edith tries to crawl to him but she couldn’t get any closer. One of them plants his foot on Jonah's head, and she feels Cristoph's hands clawing at her body. Cristoph lays on top of Edith and she screams. “Why are you doing this?!” Jonah musters the strength to ask. “Because we can.” Cristoph shoves his hand down the back of her head. “Who is going to miss a madman and his whore daughter?” “Edith! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” He weeps. //I don't want it to end like this. My father did what he thought was best. He was scared, that was all. He never wanted any of this for us, I know he didn't. I want to hug him one last time.// All she can do is join him in his weeping. [[span style="color:red"]]“I have seen enough.”[[/span]] The voice booms through both their skulls. The snow seems so much slower than before. There stood the creature red-stained robes and long spider legs. And the other beside it, an Angel with a head of a beast. [[span style="color:red"]]“Make them scream, my children.”[[/span]] They speak in unison. Edith remembers the dream. The word that embodies great power. Jonah and Edith gaze at each other’s shining red eyes. @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ = [[span style="color:red"]]//Tap.//[[/span]] @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=image http://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/local--files/the-scarlet-father/Ravatah]] @@ @@ @@ @@ For Jonah, he is the Horned Titan: Ranka Dūgra. For Edith, she is the Dancing Hunter: Masso Vakamū. Cristoph wraps his arm under Edith to feel her skin. Then legs from her back tear through his chest and split him into several pieces. [[span style="color:crimson"]]//Everything burns.//[[/span]] Her eyes see all that is around her as they push through the skull. Fangs puncture out from her mouth, and her screech is worse than any pig. Jonah bit a young man's foot off and takes his body as a weapon, slamming him to his friends while he grows larger with seven horns sprouting from his head. He grabs onto his ax and pours his soul into it, making it larger, more fit for war as his wings sprout from his back. Jonah flurries his axe onto the crowd, while some try to flee. Edith hops through the trees and snatches them up. Stabbing them with her sharp appendages or gnawing their heads from their necks. Their blood is sweet yet bitter. Her hunger could not be filled with such small prey but it suffices. Over and over again, she tears them until there is none left. Once she finishes, she leaps from tree to tree, meeting her father who is still dealing with his prey. He swings his ax down on one of the intruder's shoulder, splitting him in two. He slices another man's legs and then finishes him off by slamming the blade through him. One manages to slip past him for a time until Father flies high up and throws his ax at him. The runner splatters on the tree bark as the ax splits him and brings down a few more trees with it. Jonah extends his hand and the ax flies back to its wielder's grip. He lands, and Edith jumps near him. Her new appendages gave way and turn to dust, as did her fangs and eyes. A red cloud envelops Jonah until he collapses on the snow. She rushes to help but he bounces back on his feet. Amazed, he gazes at his arms and wiggles his legs. Doing little hops and finding the perfect balance. [[span style="color:red"]]“Feeling well, Jonah?”[[/span]] They both glance at where the voice came from. In front of them are The Red Angel and The Seven-Legged Spider. Lata Kahaht. “What did you do to us?!” he shouts at them. [[span style="color:red"]]“I gave you the chance to bring justice to those who wronged you. To be your true selves. Look around.”[[/span]] Patches of red and white surround us with chunks of meat scattered across. The minced bodies leaking little rivers of red. [[span style="color:red"]]“This is good for you. For none shall ever harm you.”[[/span]] “You… You did this!” Jonah hastily approaches him, but Edith shouts: “Father, look!” She points to the small glows of yellow and orange approaching them with hints of chatter. “We must leave now while we still can.” [[span style="color:red"]]“Or you may fend them off.”[[/span]] Jonah looks at the approaching settlement and then at his daughter. He rushes inside and throws Edith new clothes for both of them, a sack of dry food, and his ax. “Come, Edith.” [[span style="color:red"]]“You have much to learn, my children.”[[/span]] Lata Kahaht grins at them while they run past their apparitions. The snow is starting to pick up more winds, but not enough to cover the tracks they leave behind. From the distance, Edith hears their wailing for the settlement's dead brothers, sons, and nephews. Tonight, they will give chase for as long as they can. Tomorrow, they will use hounds to sniff them out and follow wherever they may be. Edith's thoughts drift to Eric. She would understand he considers her and her father monsters. She wishes that wasn't true. She wishes that she had not lied to him, especially in the presence of Christ. She wishes her father would tell her something, anything about what they are. If Lata Kahaht speaks the truth, then they were foolish to think that they could ever be servants to God. At least, that's what she believes. All she knows is that they are Daeva. They follow one law if they wish to survive. To be stronger. She does not doubt that they're the first or last of our kind. As they dash through the cold, there are glimpses of what Lata Kahaht is trying to rebuild. A mighty Empire. Edith glances at her father. For a moment, she thinks there’s a smile on his face. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] ===== > Filename: Ravatah > Author: [[user Strange Matter]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: http://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/local--files/the-scarlet-father/Ravatah ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-11-01T03:03:00	[ "bleak", "daevite", "horror", "religious-fiction", "scarlet-king", "tale", "third-person" ]	The Scarlet Father - SCP Foundation	17	[ "strange-matter-writes", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "cotsk-hub" ]	[ "http://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/local--files/the-scarlet-father/Ravatah" ]	1457237091	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-scarlet-father
the-scent-of-cinnamon	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="preview"> <p>It was from that port that the Blue Princess herself sailed, to marry a king who'd been dead for a year.</p> </div> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <p><strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/tufto" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3337265); return false;"><img alt="Tufto" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3337265&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1725332313" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3337265)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/tufto" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3337265); return false;">Tufto</a></span>, written on his original account. This is his 2023 AE gift for <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/basirskipreader" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6657366); return false;"><img alt="basirskipreader" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6657366&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1725332313" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6657366)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/basirskipreader" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6657366); return false;">basirskipreader</a></span>. More of his work can be found <a href="/tufto-personnel-file">here</a>.</p> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <p>The ships from Zaiton came via Ma'bar, carrying with them all the stuff of the Yuan to the Western Regions. Sandalwood, spices, jewels; silk to compete with the Il-khan's own wares, gems unique to the Khaghan's realms. It was from that port that the Blue Princess herself sailed, to marry a king who'd been dead for a year.</p> <p>I remember Zaiton, city of my birth. I remember its gardens; I remember fleets of a hundred junks, their battened sails flicking like fans over carved and painted woods. But I do not remember much else. I wonder, sometimes, if I remember any of it.</p> <p>This came about in the seven hundredth and ninety-seventh year of my travail, as I skirted Hy-Brasil again. I saw a formation of three rocks, lichen-soaked and sea-sprayed, and remembered the Luoyang Bridge, that solid and ancient stone of the northern Song, and remembered where I came from. I remembered its name as Zaiton. But its name is not Zaiton, a western name given it by Polo, Ibn Battuta and others. Its name is Quanzhou.</p> <p>When was I born? I searched my memories in vain. I found those from China; then those from India and Iran; further still, those from Africa, England, Utopia, Prester John, the Island of Tomorrow, the Patchwork Archipelago. And now, the more I think of them, the less certain I am. Where did they come from? Which souls did I draw them away from?</p> <p>But through all these questions, some core of me still existed; some part of me remained an I, a fixed point, a first-person-pronoun. I stared upon those rocks and felt, dimly, that something had gone wrong.</p> <hr/> <p>I - the central I - was born in Quanzhou in the Christian year 1266. I was the fifth child of a wealthy family; my father had done well under the old dynasty, rising to high office. But then the Mongols came, and suddenly the south Chinese were at the bottom of the imperial hierarchy. So my father retired to Quanzhou and began to build a fleet of merchant ships.</p> <p>With those ships, he took advantage of the new links with the West which the era had ushered in. He became known as an exporter of cinnamon, using links with Muslim merchants to become even wealthier in private life. His new wife bore him three more children, in addition to the four sons from his youth; I was the first, my brother the second.</p> <p>My brother would snivel around behind me while I stood behind pillars, peeping out at conversations and meetings. My father was a stern man; my feet were bound, my body and mind prepared for my future, a rote and sterile world.</p> <p>I wish I could say I was bold, adventurous. I wish I could say I was a rebel, chafing against the ties that held me down. But I was not. I was a dutiful girl; I loved and honoured my father, and wished to do what was right, what was moral. I left home by chance, not by my will.</p> <p>My father's wealth was well-known around the city. They came by day, paying a member of the household guard. I was in a courtyard at that time, only eighteen, wandering between the flowers alone. The grass was a thick, dark green. The clouds were moving quickly across the sky. The air smelled of cinnamon.</p> <p>I was kidnapped; my father, overloaded with debts that suddenly came due, would or could not pay my ransom. I was, in the end, sold to a Persian merchant from the isle of Qish. I remember the hold of a junk, beams of light peeping out between slats in the wood. And that, more or less, should have been the end of my story. The details are different, but it's still the same; a rearrangement of specific parts, a bag of wood-block pages.</p> <hr/> <p>The argument inside my head has been raging for centuries. I do not recall who the individuals were who began it, or their names; only their argument, which began long before me and will continue long after I am gone.</p> <p>One of them believes that, when I touched the map, that was what sent us along the wrong sea-path; that was why we ended up in Madagascar when we should have been in Madurai, and a false Madagascar at that. This one marshals his arguments logically, sneeringly; of <em>course</em> it took place in this fashion. Everyone <em>knows</em> that some routine cause must create <em>any</em> change in conditions. Are you simple? You must be simple. There's no shame in that. I picture him wearing an American hat, pushing his eyeglasses up and up his nose.</p> <p>The other one screeches and simpers, swearing and cursing that he doesn't get his way. But I think he's the one that's right. He says that the map appeared in the hold <em>after</em> we entered that other place. He pleads, begs, screams, punches the walls. But he always gives up, storms off, smashing his own eyeglasses underfoot.</p> <p>I was a prized slave. I had a large, airy cabin. I knew it well. I do not see how I could have failed to notice the map's presence before. The cold, slimy one, he says that the map was placed there to induce me to touch it. But in that case, what is the difference? The break in time was inevitable. By sundown, the air had taken an uncharacteristic chill. We were within the map.</p> <hr/> <p>What kind of map? It was Frankish, from Europe; another memory says it was English, from a cathedral or church; but even that's still not quite right. Jerusalem lies in its centre. Around it range continents, cities, little illustrations of wonders and imaginings. Old St Peter's. The dwelling-place of Hermes Trismegistus. The Pyramids. Ayasofya. And then, beyond that…</p> <p>We have been sailing for centuries, and still I do not understand the whole of this place. The waters are real waters, but blink and they wave like parchment. They are a dark, inky blue - a truly <em>inky</em> blue. Sometimes I come in here to stare at the map; I have considered, many times, ripping it up, or casting it into its own seas. But I don't.</p> <hr/> <p>The first port we came to was not a real port in Madagascar, but one in the Madagascar of the mind. I do not know whose. It was full of white-knuckle sandstone, carved soap springing from the earth.</p> <p>The port had many taverns, each more rousing than the last. I entered one, and there I met an Englishman. He, eight hundred years after my time, had been a bookseller. He had a shop in Bloomsbury; a little one, the kind of one that had existed for so long that it had become part of the landscape. He'd inherited it from his father, and had used to sit at the window, sipping tea, watching the rain drizzle down.</p> <p>He had been just as caged as me.</p> <p>Then he'd unfurled an antique map, and things began to change. He walked home, took the tube, found himself in Lagos. He tried to walk out, get a train, a taxi, and found himself in Malanje, wandering between houses burnt by the Portuguese. Had the Portuguese burnt houses? He didn't know. The Black Rocks seemed to loom above the city, their sides cascading downwards.</p> <p>He had wandered on, and on, and had found himself here. Was it the same map, we wondered? Had we touched the same parchment in one world, sending us to quite another? I do not know. I don't think we'd ever know. He drank dark beer, and stared at the bottom of the glass, staring and staring from every angle.</p> <hr/> <p>I returned to the ship and sailed on. The sea became glassier; the sky's blue shifted, imperceptibly, downwards. Things, people, smoothed out. It took me the better part of a month to notice that I had not eaten; two before I noticed that nobody else was on the ship with me. I was free. I should head home, back to my father.</p> <p>I turned the ship around, heading northwards. How did I know how to do that? Memories came to me, unbidden. The sericulture of Yazd. The scents and sights of Madurai. The burning of Lin'an, the lights of fire reflected on water. I knew what ropes to put where; but that was only half of it. The ship was cleaner, brighter; it moved according to my will, not my effort. It sailed because it had to sail; no ship ever drowns on a map, except in the face of sea monsters, except when carrying treasure.</p> <p>Where had the slavers gone? Where was the rest of them, that was not inside my head?</p> <p>I sailed north, desperate for home. I never found it. Instead, I landed in Utopia; then England, a fat and merrie England; then Hy-Brasil, for the first time, its twisting milk and honey enveloping me; and so on, and so on, picking up memory after memory that had fallen into this place with me, each part glossier, each part the same.</p> <p>I saw mirror-worlds burn over San Francisco's sky. I saw a feast laid for Prester John, who ran away to sea for me and drowned just as easily. I murdered billionaires in the star-fields of New Portland. I pruned the silver tree of Karakorum, its harbour listing gently away.</p> <p>I was bored out of my mind.</p> <hr/> <p>When you have all the wonder of a map locked up with you, you start to go insane. Whether it's real or not doesn't matter; you possess with you every memory it's inspired, or will inspire. You are within the random matter that has been implanted into it.</p> <p>I wanted to die, at times. I wanted to cast myself to the bottom of the paper sea. But I knew I wouldn't drown. If I were to drown, it would be in some way fitting of a map's illustration, and I didn't know how to do that. I didn't know where to begin.</p> <p>Cities, stars, civilisations passed me by. Each one was more wondrous than the last. Jewel after jewel passed me by. I ate only when I wanted to, or when the situation demanded it. I would recruit vast crews, act the pirate queen, and cry myself to sleep in silken bedclothes as each of them, one by one, went away, leaving only memory.</p> <p>I returned to Hy-Brasil again, skirting its promontories with the skill of a master. I saw the three rocks.</p> <hr/> <p>When I saw them, I knew at once what was wrong; they were real. Slowly, they turned themselves into bricks, stones - a bridge. The Luoyang Bridge. It was real. Humans were using it for the exact purpose it was made; to walk across. I could smell it, sense it, feel it. There was no dreamlike quality about it, no fantasy, no mind that moulded it. I'd found a crack, a way out. I'd found reality.</p> <p>I set my ship towards it. I clambered out, climbed the slippery rock, caught a foothold, another -</p> <p>And I smelt a distant, fiery smell. I smelt cinnamon. I froze, uncertain, reality above me and fiction below me. A paper boat one way, a cold, cloying wind the other.</p> <hr/> <p>I have been frozen in that spot for a decade. I do not know if I'm real any more, or if I have become part of the melting, melded rock.</p> <p>I hear their conversations. My father is long dead. Quanzhou is decaying; a new dynasty is on the throne in the north. I could join them, find a place, become what I once was.</p> <p>Far away, I feel them flow towards me; the memories of more who have fallen in, become trapped. I know my own have done the same; all that I was, splitting and reforming and diverting.</p> <p>My Zaiton. I want my own Zaiton; I want a home that is not my home. I want a home that is a refreshing port to return to at the close of day. I want the sting of wind, the grey of gulls; I want the smell of another spice, another foodstuff. I do not want this place, my father's grey eyes, the firmness of the bridge.</p> <p>I want the sunset at the close of day; the reddening sky already darkened. Away, a few minutes, woodland; a silence suspended in the trees, an awareness of the distance of a world that cannot be seen, here. An owl calls out. A long-distant light is emblazoned on a farmhouse.</p> <p>But what I have is stone, grand stone, filling me up, dominating me, overwhelming me…</p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-scent-of-cinnamon">The Scent of Cinnamon</a>" by Tufto, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-scent-of-cinnamon">https://scpwiki.com/the-scent-of-cinnamon</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	===== [[include <a href="/component:preview">component:preview</a> text= It was from that port that the Blue Princess herself sailed, to marry a king who'd been dead for a year. ]] ===== [[include <a href="/theme:black-highlighter-theme">theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="/component:pride-highlighter">component:pride-highlighter</a> inc-lgbt= --]]] [[include <a href="/info:start">info:start</a>]] Author: [[user Tufto]], written on his original account. This is his 2023 AE gift for [[user basirskipreader]]. More of his work can be found [[[tufto-personnel-file\|here]]]. [[include <a href="/info:end">info:end</a>]] The ships from Zaiton came via Ma'bar, carrying with them all the stuff of the Yuan to the Western Regions. Sandalwood, spices, jewels; silk to compete with the Il-khan's own wares, gems unique to the Khaghan's realms. It was from that port that the Blue Princess herself sailed, to marry a king who'd been dead for a year. I remember Zaiton, city of my birth. I remember its gardens; I remember fleets of a hundred junks, their battened sails flicking like fans over carved and painted woods. But I do not remember much else. I wonder, sometimes, if I remember any of it. This came about in the seven hundredth and ninety-seventh year of my travail, as I skirted Hy-Brasil again. I saw a formation of three rocks, lichen-soaked and sea-sprayed, and remembered the Luoyang Bridge, that solid and ancient stone of the northern Song, and remembered where I came from. I remembered its name as Zaiton. But its name is not Zaiton, a western name given it by Polo, Ibn Battuta and others. Its name is Quanzhou. When was I born? I searched my memories in vain. I found those from China; then those from India and Iran; further still, those from Africa, England, Utopia, Prester John, the Island of Tomorrow, the Patchwork Archipelago. And now, the more I think of them, the less certain I am. Where did they come from? Which souls did I draw them away from? But through all these questions, some core of me still existed; some part of me remained an I, a fixed point, a first-person-pronoun. I stared upon those rocks and felt, dimly, that something had gone wrong. ----- I - the central I - was born in Quanzhou in the Christian year 1266. I was the fifth child of a wealthy family; my father had done well under the old dynasty, rising to high office. But then the Mongols came, and suddenly the south Chinese were at the bottom of the imperial hierarchy. So my father retired to Quanzhou and began to build a fleet of merchant ships. With those ships, he took advantage of the new links with the West which the era had ushered in. He became known as an exporter of cinnamon, using links with Muslim merchants to become even wealthier in private life. His new wife bore him three more children, in addition to the four sons from his youth; I was the first, my brother the second. My brother would snivel around behind me while I stood behind pillars, peeping out at conversations and meetings. My father was a stern man; my feet were bound, my body and mind prepared for my future, a rote and sterile world. I wish I could say I was bold, adventurous. I wish I could say I was a rebel, chafing against the ties that held me down. But I was not. I was a dutiful girl; I loved and honoured my father, and wished to do what was right, what was moral. I left home by chance, not by my will. My father's wealth was well-known around the city. They came by day, paying a member of the household guard. I was in a courtyard at that time, only eighteen, wandering between the flowers alone. The grass was a thick, dark green. The clouds were moving quickly across the sky. The air smelled of cinnamon. I was kidnapped; my father, overloaded with debts that suddenly came due, would or could not pay my ransom. I was, in the end, sold to a Persian merchant from the isle of Qish. I remember the hold of a junk, beams of light peeping out between slats in the wood. And that, more or less, should have been the end of my story. The details are different, but it's still the same; a rearrangement of specific parts, a bag of wood-block pages. ---- The argument inside my head has been raging for centuries. I do not recall who the individuals were who began it, or their names; only their argument, which began long before me and will continue long after I am gone. One of them believes that, when I touched the map, that was what sent us along the wrong sea-path; that was why we ended up in Madagascar when we should have been in Madurai, and a false Madagascar at that. This one marshals his arguments logically, sneeringly; of //course// it took place in this fashion. Everyone //knows// that some routine cause must create //any// change in conditions. Are you simple? You must be simple. There's no shame in that. I picture him wearing an American hat, pushing his eyeglasses up and up his nose. The other one screeches and simpers, swearing and cursing that he doesn't get his way. But I think he's the one that's right. He says that the map appeared in the hold //after// we entered that other place. He pleads, begs, screams, punches the walls. But he always gives up, storms off, smashing his own eyeglasses underfoot. I was a prized slave. I had a large, airy cabin. I knew it well. I do not see how I could have failed to notice the map's presence before. The cold, slimy one, he says that the map was placed there to induce me to touch it. But in that case, what is the difference? The break in time was inevitable. By sundown, the air had taken an uncharacteristic chill. We were within the map. ----- What kind of map? It was Frankish, from Europe; another memory says it was English, from a cathedral or church; but even that's still not quite right. Jerusalem lies in its centre. Around it range continents, cities, little illustrations of wonders and imaginings. Old St Peter's. The dwelling-place of Hermes Trismegistus. The Pyramids. Ayasofya. And then, beyond that... We have been sailing for centuries, and still I do not understand the whole of this place. The waters are real waters, but blink and they wave like parchment. They are a dark, inky blue - a truly //inky// blue. Sometimes I come in here to stare at the map; I have considered, many times, ripping it up, or casting it into its own seas. But I don't. ----- The first port we came to was not a real port in Madagascar, but one in the Madagascar of the mind. I do not know whose. It was full of white-knuckle sandstone, carved soap springing from the earth. The port had many taverns, each more rousing than the last. I entered one, and there I met an Englishman. He, eight hundred years after my time, had been a bookseller. He had a shop in Bloomsbury; a little one, the kind of one that had existed for so long that it had become part of the landscape. He'd inherited it from his father, and had used to sit at the window, sipping tea, watching the rain drizzle down. He had been just as caged as me. Then he'd unfurled an antique map, and things began to change. He walked home, took the tube, found himself in Lagos. He tried to walk out, get a train, a taxi, and found himself in Malanje, wandering between houses burnt by the Portuguese. Had the Portuguese burnt houses? He didn't know. The Black Rocks seemed to loom above the city, their sides cascading downwards. He had wandered on, and on, and had found himself here. Was it the same map, we wondered? Had we touched the same parchment in one world, sending us to quite another? I do not know. I don't think we'd ever know. He drank dark beer, and stared at the bottom of the glass, staring and staring from every angle. ----- I returned to the ship and sailed on. The sea became glassier; the sky's blue shifted, imperceptibly, downwards. Things, people, smoothed out. It took me the better part of a month to notice that I had not eaten; two before I noticed that nobody else was on the ship with me. I was free. I should head home, back to my father. I turned the ship around, heading northwards. How did I know how to do that? Memories came to me, unbidden. The sericulture of Yazd. The scents and sights of Madurai. The burning of Lin'an, the lights of fire reflected on water. I knew what ropes to put where; but that was only half of it. The ship was cleaner, brighter; it moved according to my will, not my effort. It sailed because it had to sail; no ship ever drowns on a map, except in the face of sea monsters, except when carrying treasure. Where had the slavers gone? Where was the rest of them, that was not inside my head? I sailed north, desperate for home. I never found it. Instead, I landed in Utopia; then England, a fat and merrie England; then Hy-Brasil, for the first time, its twisting milk and honey enveloping me; and so on, and so on, picking up memory after memory that had fallen into this place with me, each part glossier, each part the same. I saw mirror-worlds burn over San Francisco's sky. I saw a feast laid for Prester John, who ran away to sea for me and drowned just as easily. I murdered billionaires in the star-fields of New Portland. I pruned the silver tree of Karakorum, its harbour listing gently away. I was bored out of my mind. ----- When you have all the wonder of a map locked up with you, you start to go insane. Whether it's real or not doesn't matter; you possess with you every memory it's inspired, or will inspire. You are within the random matter that has been implanted into it. I wanted to die, at times. I wanted to cast myself to the bottom of the paper sea. But I knew I wouldn't drown. If I were to drown, it would be in some way fitting of a map's illustration, and I didn't know how to do that. I didn't know where to begin. Cities, stars, civilisations passed me by. Each one was more wondrous than the last. Jewel after jewel passed me by. I ate only when I wanted to, or when the situation demanded it. I would recruit vast crews, act the pirate queen, and cry myself to sleep in silken bedclothes as each of them, one by one, went away, leaving only memory. I returned to Hy-Brasil again, skirting its promontories with the skill of a master. I saw the three rocks. ----- When I saw them, I knew at once what was wrong; they were real. Slowly, they turned themselves into bricks, stones - a bridge. The Luoyang Bridge. It was real. Humans were using it for the exact purpose it was made; to walk across. I could smell it, sense it, feel it. There was no dreamlike quality about it, no fantasy, no mind that moulded it. I'd found a crack, a way out. I'd found reality. I set my ship towards it. I clambered out, climbed the slippery rock, caught a foothold, another - And I smelt a distant, fiery smell. I smelt cinnamon. I froze, uncertain, reality above me and fiction below me. A paper boat one way, a cold, cloying wind the other. ----- I have been frozen in that spot for a decade. I do not know if I'm real any more, or if I have become part of the melting, melded rock. I hear their conversations. My father is long dead. Quanzhou is decaying; a new dynasty is on the throne in the north. I could join them, find a place, become what I once was. Far away, I feel them flow towards me; the memories of more who have fallen in, become trapped. I know my own have done the same; all that I was, splitting and reforming and diverting. My Zaiton. I want my own Zaiton; I want a home that is not my home. I want a home that is a refreshing port to return to at the close of day. I want the sting of wind, the grey of gulls; I want the smell of another spice, another foodstuff. I do not want this place, my father's grey eyes, the firmness of the bridge. I want the sunset at the close of day; the reddening sky already darkened. Away, a few minutes, woodland; a silence suspended in the trees, an awareness of the distance of a world that cannot be seen, here. An owl calls out. A long-distant light is emblazoned on a farmhouse. But what I have is stone, grand stone, filling me up, dominating me, overwhelming me... [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-01-07T01:16:00	[ "_licensebox", "adventure", "art-exchange", "first-person", "no-dialogue", "otherworldly", "period-piece", "tale" ]	The Scent of Cinnamon - SCP Foundation	22	[ "tufto-personnel-file", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "art-exchange-hub" ]	[]	1452079700	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-scent-of-cinnamon
the-serpent-deceived	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="preview"> <p>"I lied. The Serpent's Hand planned all of this."<br/> "You will die in the dark so that we can live in the light."</p> </div> <p>« <a href="/hid-from-the-presence">Hid From The Presence</a></p> <p>Biological Research Area-23 was located in an undisclosed location in central Russia.</p> <p>When he was a younger man working for the Soviets, Radomir Valkov had resented spending so much of his life moving from one remote facility to another. As an old man working for the Foundation, he actually found himself looking forward to a chance to relax. He wasn't important enough to get his own charter flight, and his employers couldn't expect him to do Foundation business while traveling by train.</p> <p>As he strolled out of the train station, he appreciated the opportunity to stretch his legs as he walked to a side street nearby. The air was cold, but his heavy grey overcoat took the edge off it.</p> <p>He didn't have to wait long before an unmarked white van arrived, parking a short distance down the road from them. Valkov walked towards it, as a man stepped out of the passenger seat. His white shirt, black trousers, and bulletproof vest gave the impression of a uniform, despite the lack of any identifiable markings.</p> <p>“How was your journey?” he asked in Russian.</p> <p>Valkov had memorized the expected reply. “My journey was long but uneventful.” He was quickly ushered inside the back of the van.</p> <p>There were seats and lights, but no windows. Operational security was serious business, and his employers didn't fully trust anyone. Valkov took a seat, and was mildly surprised to find a young woman sitting in the van next to him.</p> <p>"I didn't realize I would be having company."</p> <p>She was dressed in a blouse and trousers, with neatly trimmed dark hair. A thick blue coat was draped over her shoulders to form a backrest. She shrugged, then looked back at the smartphone she was holding. "It was a last-minute decision." She also spoke Russian, but badly, placing emphasis on all the wrong syllables. Valkov got the impression she was self-conscious about this. The van began to move, the lack of windows making the experience disorienting.</p> <p>"I can speak English if you'd prefer?" tried Valkov. "Are you American?"</p> <p>She nodded, clearly understanding the words he was saying, but turned back to her phone.</p> <p>“What’s your name?” he asked.</p> <p>“Sophie Blake.” She didn’t look up from the screen.</p> <p>“I’m Radomir Valkov. So, what brings you all the way out here?”</p> <p>“Top secret.” Her reply came in a flat monotone.</p> <p>“Naturally. I understand.” Conversations about work were frequently off-limits. “Well, when you’re not working, what do you like to do?”</p> <p>She paused, looking away from her mobile, clearly considering her reply carefully. “Spend time alone.”</p> <p>“Interesting! I enjoy reading when I have time to myself. How familiar are you with Russian literature?"</p> <p>There was no reply.</p> <p>“I’ve read works by English writers too,” Valkov ventured. “Do you have any recommendations for me?”</p> <p>She turned to face him again. “No.” She returned to her screen.</p> <p>Since his companion seemed like she wasn't up for much conversation, Valkov decided to rest. He'd be in the windowless van for the next few hours, he may as well catch up on some sleep.</p> <hr/> <p>Valkov woke as the vehicle came to a halt, and calmly waited until it parked. His female companion seemed far less patient, but was still not in a mood for small talk.</p> <p>Once the doors opened, she got out first, looking around nervously until a man in spectacles approached. Valkov climbed out behind her. While he didn't try to eavesdrop, the conversation he overheard suggested that Miss Blake was a technical consultant, called out to this remote facility to do something with computers. The two of them began walking towards a low-rise building made from weathered Soviet concrete. Every time he visited Area-23, Valkov couldn't help but feel a strange kinship with the ugly relic of a previous era.</p> <p>This time, Valkov did not enter the main building, but was instead led towards the entrance to an underground bunker dug into the side of a mountain. He was escorted by a smartly dressed blonde woman, a colleague he’d worked with before. Valkov greeted Sorokina warmly and accepted her offer to get him a coffee on the way, but waited until they were in the briefing room before starting with his first question.</p> <p>"So, Agent Sorokina, what do we actually know about this prisoner?"</p> <p>The young woman smiled nervously. "A lot, but we suspect it's all lies."</p> <p>Valkov didn't smile, but there was a hint of humor in his voice as he replied. "I imagine that's why you've called for me."</p> <p>She passed the file across the table to him and he opened it as Sorokina offered a quick summary. "Security picked him up inside a disused wing of Site-35, trying to access SCiPNET. He was armed, but didn't try to resist us. Based on his tattoos and the drugs he was carrying, we suspected he was a member of the Neo-Sarkic crime syndicate known as "The Hunter's Black Lodge". That's why they brought him here."</p> <p>The first page was the incident report, but those were pretty dull when the target just surrendered. The second page was a dense technical report that went entirely over Valkov's head, but from the summary seemed like the man had been trying to access information about the location of Foundation facilities in Russia.</p> <p>The third page was what he was actually looking for. The photographs of the prisoner had been taken at Area-23 after he was strip-searched, so several large black snake tattoos were visible on various parts of his body. There were also images of the belongings that had been taken from him. The clothing he'd been wearing was fairly standard, even the body armor wasn't too surprising given that he'd broken into a Foundation Facility. The next photograph showed the items he’d been carrying – a pistol, three knives, and various tools for picking locks, as well as a needle, syringe, and two bottles of red fluid.</p> <p>"Anything anomalous on his person?"</p> <p>"Those drugs are an anabolic steroid known as “Wrath”. It’s a parapharmaceutical produced and distributed by the Hunter’s Black Lodge, so he must have some connection to them.”</p> <p>Valkov had previously read the <a href="/scp-2408">SCP-2408</a> file in full, and had prior experience with members of the Black Lodge. It was unusual that the prisoner had surrendered, rather than using the anomalous physical enhancement provided by injecting SCP-2408-2A to try and fight his way out of custody.</p> <p>“There’s also the living tattoo,” added Sorokina.</p> <p>Valkov checked the file again and noted that an "<a href="/scp-021">SCP-021</a>" file had been included. Apparently, the prisoner had a similar animate tattoo, capable of moving around his body, although the black snake's movements didn't seem to bother him.</p> <p>"You said he had multiple tattoos?"</p> <p>Sorokina hesitated, unsure of how to explain that. "He had other tattoos when they detained him, with lots of Sarkic symbolism, but those are all gone now. We think the snake ate them?"</p> <p>A living tattoo that ate other tattoos was rather unremarkable by Valkov's estimation. He expected more as he looked through the file, but Hume, EVE and Akiva readings were all within normal ranges, and a series of genetic tests, X-rays and even a CT scan had noted no other abnormalities. If this man was affiliated with the Hunter's Black Lodge, he didn't seem to have any of their anomalous perks. Given that he'd been found breaking into a Foundation Site, the organization likely regarded him as disposable.</p> <p>Although with Sarkic cultists, it was impossible to be certain that nothing strange would be revealed once you got into the same room as them. That was apparently a risk his employers were willing to take, although there was still a long list of precautions that he'd been instructed to follow, including wearing gloves to avoid skin-to-skin contact.</p> <p>The rest of the file was a series of transcripts. A lot of transcripts.</p> <p>"You know how, most of the time, the people we detain are reluctant to talk?" Sorokina commented. "Not this one."</p> <p>"He's been very talkative." Valkov stated, basing this assessment more on the weight of the folder than on his brief skim of its contents.</p> <p>Sorokina shrugged. "As far as we can tell, it's all lies. Obviously, we started by questioning him about the Hunter's Black Lodge, and after some initial reluctance he was very informative, but none of it checked out. Once we confronted him with that, he claimed to be working undercover for the GOC, which we thought might be true until we realized that nothing about his story made any sense. Since then, he's claimed to be affiliated with every anomalous organization I've heard of, and a few more that I can only assume exist because all the search results for them were classified."</p> <p>"Very detailed lies, though."</p> <p>"He's either rehearsed a lot of stories, or he's very good at improv. He keeps contradicting himself though."</p> <p>"His aim isn't to be believed when he lies. It's to be disbelieved even if he does let the truth slip out." Valkov got to his feet. "I need to look something up."</p> <p>"So soon? You've barely read the briefing…" It was clear that she'd worked hard putting it together.</p> <p>Valkov was not unsympathetic. He too had spent much of his life filing reports that his superiors never seemed to read. However, unlike most of them, Valkov had a good excuse. "I'm not wasting my time with his lies. He's been stalling for time, waiting for something. I know his type. If I’m going to learn anything about him, I need to look elsewhere."</p> <p>He went off in search of a computer with SCiPNET access, rummaging in his pocket for his login details. IT kept telling him to memorize them, but he didn't have the time to do another password reset.</p> <hr/> <p>A short time later Valkov begrudgingly put on gloves, resenting the implication that he would resort to such crude methods as laying hands on a prisoner. Valkov was an interrogator, but contrary to the expectations of many of his colleagues, that did not mean he just hit people until they started talking. As this current prisoner was demonstrating, getting people to talk was easy. Assessing whether they were telling the truth was much harder. It required years of experience, and the ability to do your own research.</p> <p>Valkov opened the door to Interrogation Room 7, and watched the prisoner stop mid-sentence and look towards him with obvious interest. He was seated opposite the door, with his hands cuffed to the table in front of him. Valkov had assumed the previous photos he'd seen had been overexposed, but seeing the man in person confirmed that he really was as pale as the images had indicated, his skin almost as white as his hair.</p> <p>He was wearing nothing except a pair of boxer shorts, exposing a lean body covered with pale scars and a number of more recent injuries. The flat head of a black serpent tattoo peered over his right shoulder, its tail winding across his back and then around across his stomach. As Valkov watched it, a black tongue flickered out of its mouth for a moment, and it shifted slightly.</p> <p>On the other side of the table, quickly standing up to face the door, were two young men. The previous interrogators had apparently thought that the snake tattoo might be some sort of tell and had wanted to keep an eye on it, although they may have just hoped a cold and exposed prisoner might be more cooperative. They'd tried various combinations of bribes and threats, and had clearly tried beating him a little, but hadn't made any progress despite the volume of transcripts they'd produced. Valkov dismissed them as amateurs.</p> <p>As they got up from their seats, he gestured at them to stay behind him. Assuming they weren't amnesticized at the end of this, they might actually learn something from watching him.</p> <p>"You were telling another story when I interrupted?"</p> <p>"I was just talking about the time I went hunting for a Tarrasque in France." The prisoner was currently addressing one of his former interrogators in Russian, although he'd occasionally switched to other languages. "It was a frightful creature, all horns and teeth, but with my trusty -"</p> <p>Valkov draped his thick coat over the steel chair and then sat down on it. He'd spent far too much of his life doing this to tolerate being uncomfortable. "Liar."</p> <p>"You offend me! Every word I've said has been the absolute truth! Now, if you'll let me continue…"</p> <p>"I won't", said Valkov. "Unlike the men you've previously been talking to, I actually have the clearance to do a background check. Once I ignored every word that's come out of your mouth, the tattoo and general appearance were a giveaway. Would you like me to refer to you as Gianni Ferraro, liberator of anomalous art and murderer of its curators? Or as Juan Herrero, the South American guerrilla fighter affiliated with <em>Las Viboras</em>? Or maybe even as Yahya Haddad, the name they know you by in New Babylon?"</p> <p>The prisoner turned to face him, and spread his hands as wide as the handcuffs permitted - not far. "My friends call me White Crow." It was clear that he couldn't resist gesturing emphatically while talking, and his wrists had been rubbed raw by the steel cuffs. It didn't stop him from smiling broadly.</p> <p>"Of course they do. Your friends have a preference for the melodramatic. They call themselves the Serpent's Hand, after all. Here, you are simply a detained Person of Interest, numerical designation pending."</p> <p>"It seems I can't fool you. You know all three of my aliases. Very impressive." He looked at Valkov with great intensity. "You've been doing this a long time, haven't you?"</p> <p>Valkov didn't respond.</p> <p>"Since you've effortlessly seen through me, I suppose it's time to reveal the truth. You see, you and me, we're not so different. Despite the circumstances."</p> <p>Valkov leaned forward, curious to hear what the prisoner had to say now.</p> <p>"A man like you, you must have experience. Ex-military? No… not quite. Intelligence. Perhaps GRU… I suppose you would have been in the Psychotronics Division, if you ended up here."</p> <p>Valkov didn't think he'd reacted, but the man opposite him smiled as the tattoo coiled around his arm. He'd worked it out. Of course, that was not a particularly unusual career path for an older Russian now working for the SCP Foundation, so it could just be a lucky guess.</p> <p>"I don't think we ever met, you would have been after my time. But it's an amusing coincidence that we'd both end up here."</p> <p>The man's exact age was hard to place. He definitely looked younger than Valkov, despite his white hair. Not that that necessarily meant anything in their line of work.</p> <p>After a long pause, Valkov realized the prisoner was waiting for a reaction from him. Closely scrutinizing the pale face in front of him, Valkov asked "And what was your name?"</p> <p>"Ivan Kuznetzov." The man shrugged, handcuffs rattling. "Not sure if you'll find me in the records, but I was in the KGB. Back in the 1950s."</p> <p>Valkov smiled. "If that's true, you've aged a lot better than I have."</p> <p>Behind him, the two guards nervously laughed. Valkov suspected that they may have started regarding this prisoner as a source of amusing stories, after spending so long listening to his obvious lies.</p> <p>"Oh, I haven't aged at all. Not until recently. See, I got my hands on some… subversive literature, as we said in those days. The person who had the books when we arrested him just told us he'd gotten them from a Library. He seemed reluctant to say too much - and back then, we could be very persuasive. Eventually he gave us directions, but they led to an empty building."</p> <p>"Still, there were some very concerning allegations in those pages, about very important people. It was not the kind of material I wanted to be associated with, not at that stage in my career. I took the executive decision to have the books destroyed."</p> <p>Valkov nodded. He could guess where this was going.</p> <p>"It turns out that incinerating Library books makes Librarians very upset. I soon found out where those books had originally come from, and it was a painful discovery. I owed the Wanderer's Library a debt, and I worked there until it was paid in full."</p> <p>"How long did that take?"</p> <p>"A lifetime. But a rather boring one, mostly spent restocking shelves."</p> <p>"And now?"</p> <p>"Well, it's not like I could go back to the USSR. It no longer exists, and I'm not too fond of what's replaced it."</p> <p>"So you joined the Serpent's Hand? A strange choice, given how you got to the Library in the first place."</p> <p>"Did you ever believe?"</p> <p>Valkov frowned. "That's not how this works. Tell me about you."</p> <p>"You might have been too late for that. You work here, maybe you always just accepted the status quo. But thanks to the Library, I'm old enough to remember the Revolution, to remember the Great Patriotic War. I knew men who fought and died because they believed a better world was possible."</p> <p>Valkov sighed. "So you're political."</p> <p>"The distinction between normal and paranormal is entirely artificial. I stand in solidarity with oppressed people everywhere. The Serpent’s Hand-”</p> <p>"Enough." Valkov interrupted him. "I'm sure it would amuse you to stop inventing stories about organizations you've only read about, and instead tell lies about the group you actually are part of, but it's been a long day, and I don't have the time for that."</p> <p>The prisoner lowered his hands to the table. The smile left his face.</p> <p>"You may think you can convince us to let you out of here with the right words, but you're not going anywhere. The best you can hope for is a more comfortable cell. I suggest you start thinking carefully about what you say, because a lifetime in solitary confinement will be difficult to endure."</p> <p>"I'd expect nothing less from the Jailors."</p> <p>Valkov continued without comment. With an individual like this it was important to not react to every provocation - it would only encourage him. "Naturally, you think that your friends on the outside are coming for you, at some point in the near future."</p> <p>The prisoner feigned shock. "You really think they have some sort of jailbreak planned? For me?"</p> <p>Valkov sighed. "I don't expect you to give us any useful information, not as long as you have that hope."</p> <p>"So, is this the part where you start torturing me?" The prisoner smiled, mockingly, as if daring Valkov to do it.</p> <p>A man less experienced than Valkov would have taken this a bravado, and tried to break the man with physical force. Valkov knew better. It hadn't gotten the two previous interrogators anywhere. Besides, this man didn't flinch as that black serpent tattoo crawled across his chest, and according to the SCP-021 file that was meant to be agonizing. His tolerance for pain may well have been anomalously altered.</p> <p>Valkov stood up. "No. I'm leaving. I think I'll have something to eat, then find a room to sleep in." Turning to the two interrogators, he said "Return him to his cell, and keep him in solitary confinement until I get back. It should be a week, but it may be longer. What he needs is time alone to realize that nobody is coming to rescue him."</p> <p>The two guards nodded. However, the intended impact of his words was ruined by a muffled boom, followed by the emergency siren going off. The loud klaxon was accompanied by the prisoner's sudden laughter, as if the sound was the funniest thing he'd heard. Valkov had to admit that the timing was perfect, if this was an escape attempt by the Serpent's Hand.</p> <p>"Should we still return him to his cell?"</p> <p>As the three of them pondered that, unsure of what to do in the absence of orders, another guard entered the room and gestured at the prisoner. "There's some sort of breach at the perimeter. I'm here to escort him back to his cell." He was clean-shaven, dressed in the standard issue white shirt, black trousers, and bulletproof vest of Area-23's security personnel.</p> <p>He placed a new set of cuffs on the prisoner, then unshackled him from the table, roughly pulling him to his feet with a hand on his shoulder. He then secured the handcuffs to a chain he wrapped around the prisoner's waist, preventing him from raising his hands more than a few centimeters.</p> <p>Leg restraints would have been excessive given the hurry, but Valkov was surprised to only see one guard. "They sent you alone?"</p> <p>The new guard gestured to the previous two interrogators, who were shuffling nervously as the alarm continued in the background. "They can escort me. We need to get this done now. We're still not sure what's going on outside."</p> <p>"I'll accompany you too," said Valkov. The whole facility was in lockdown after a security breach, and would be for a long time before that was relaxed, even if it was a false alarm. He had nowhere to go, and nothing better to do. "I'm curious to see how the prisoner reacts to this."</p> <p>The prisoner in question was uncharacteristically passive. "This has nothing to do with me."</p> <p>Valkov brought up the rear as the new guard escorted the prisoner towards the low-security humanoid containment level, restraining him with a firm grip on his upper arm with a gloved hand. Arguably the prisoner should be held in a higher security cell on one of the lower levels until it was confirmed that he wasn't actually Sarkic, but most of those were full, and even the low-security cell doors were sturdy enough to contain most anomalous entities until backup could arrive.</p> <p>Valkov kept a close eye on the prisoner, the black tattoo now twisting across his shoulders. It was possible the alarm had nothing to do with him, but the Serpent's Hand would probably not abandon someone this well-connected, and wouldn't want to leave him in containment for too long. His list of known associates was a colorful cast of characters. Although none of them were Russian, international borders meant little to people with access to the Wanderer's Library.</p> <p>"Can you get the door?" asked the guard escorting the prisoner, gesturing to his two interrogators.</p> <p>They scanned open the security gate, and the guard escorted the prisoner through, each interrogator holding one of the doors open, entering a hallway lined with cells. Each steel door was marked only with a numerical code, and no other identifying information. The sound of alarms was still audible here, but much more distant, especially once the security gate closed behind Valkov. There was a separate alert that would sound in the event of a containment breach in one of these cells.</p> <p>Valkov was surprised that the prisoner was escorted past all of these cells, to another security gate at the other end. "Aren't those cells reserved for low risk prisoners?" He'd been here before. He knew that section was only used for the long-term containment of compliant individuals, as a bribe for cooperation.</p> <p>One of the former interrogators asked the new guard, "Where exactly are you taking him?"</p> <p>The new guard turned, an expression of confusion on his face. "Which cell did you collect him from?"</p> <p>The other interrogator rummaged in his pocket. Like Valkov, it seemed they struggled to keep track of all the numbers they were given.</p> <p>"I lied," said White Crow loudly. His body was still facing away from them, restrained by the firm grip on his upper arm, but he now turned his neck to look back at them. "The Serpent's Hand planned all of this." He was fidgeting nervously, twisting and rattling the metal of his cuffs.</p> <p>Valkov ignored him, as did the other two guards, since it made no difference either way. It was a little strange that their colleague had been escorting the prisoner without knowing the cell number, however it had been a long day.</p> <p>"You will die in the dark so that we can live in the light."</p> <p>Those unexpected words drew their attention back to White Crow, and he spun around to face them, the closest guard's grip on his upper arm falling away. To their surprise, his hands were now free from their cuffs, enabling him to make a gesture so obscene it triggered the gag reflex of everyone watching. Valkov and the two guards next to him bent forward, retching.</p> <p>The guards all reached for their firearms, but Valkov looked up to see that the man closest to White Crow was handing him a pistol, while averting his eyes. He could only watch in confusion as their now-armed prisoner opened fire, shooting the two former interrogators standing next to Valkov in the head as they struggled to draw their weapons. Valkov was unarmed and still gagging from that strange gesture he'd observed, but instinctively dropped to the floor to present a smaller target.</p> <p>A couple of shots went overhead, then a piercing impact in his chest provided a painful reminder that there was no cover in the hallway.</p> <p>"Well done Loxley", said White Crow. "You remembered to look away."</p> <p>"We practiced… Oh god!" There was another retching sound, this time coming from the only guard still standing, the man White Crow was referring to as Loxley. Valkov, still conscious as he lay on the ground, wondered if the shock from the hole in his chest was making him hallucinate. The man was still dressed as a Foundation guard, but suddenly seemed to have a green reptilian face.</p> <p>Valkov couldn’t stop himself from coughing up a small amount of blood onto the cold floor. Loxley glanced over with inhuman yellow eyes, then immediately looked away.</p> <p>"You're squeamish for a bloodsucker," said White Crow. "Your face slipped again."</p> <p>"It's the open wounds…" groaned Loxley, raising one hand to a mouth full of needle-sharp fangs. "It's almost as bad as that gesture…"</p> <p>Valkov decided to focus on breathing shallowly and trying to remain still.</p> <p>"There's no language more expressive than Library Sign," said White Crow, and Loxley quickly looked away from him again, although White Crow didn't actually repeat the hand movement. Instead, he simply asked, "Is she here?"</p> <p>"Yes, right past that door.” Loxley gestured to the doorway leading to the next section. He seemed to have recovered his composure. Given White Crow’s comments, Valkov apparently hadn’t been imagining the reptilian skin he’d seen, but his human features had now reappeared, as quickly as they’d vanished.</p> <p>"Good. You have my jacket?"</p> <p>Loxley handed a small piece of fabric to White Crow. There was a rusting of fabric as the pale man, with a magician's flourish, pulled an entire black jacket out of the small square he'd been given, then put the garment on over his bare chest. He then inexplicably managed to pull black trousers and shoes out of the garment's pockets, despite there obviously not being enough room inside.</p> <p>“Should I make sure the old man's dead?” asked White Crow casually.</p> <p>Valkov froze, pretending to have already died. It wasn’t too difficult an act, given his current state.</p> <p>“I don’t think that’s necessary,” replied Loxley, with stern insistence. “Focus on opening that door.”</p> <p>“They’ll have seen us on the cameras. The keycards will no longer work.”</p> <p>Valkov was relieved to watch the two of them walking down the hallway away from him.</p> <p>“This is going to be loud,” said White Crow, as he pulled something out of his pocket to place it on the door. The two of them backed away.</p> <p>The loud explosion that followed made Valkov flinch, but he otherwise remained still.</p> <p>"I hope you have some of that left!" shouted Loxley. "We still need to open the cell door!"</p> <p>"I'd rather not blow her up! I'll drill the lock instead!" White Crow lead Loxley into the next section of the hallway, both off them clearly a little deafened by the recent explosion. "We should block this way off first, to stop anyone from coming after us!"</p> <p>Valkov felt that he had too many unanswered questions to die now, but it was getting increasingly difficult to remain conscious. He'd just have to hope he'd stubbornly hold out until a medical team arrived.</p> <p>Everything went dark.</p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><a href="/fruit-of-knowledge">Fruit of Knowledge</a> »</p> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-serpent-deceived">The Serpent Deceived</a>" by Jerden, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-serpent-deceived">https://scpwiki.com/the-serpent-deceived</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Area-23<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/jerden" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1637608); return false;"><img alt="Jerden" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1637608&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1720602262" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1637608)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/jerden" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1637608); return false;">Jerden</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/jerden-insignia">https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/jerden-insignia</a></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[module CSS]] .imagediv { float: right; margin: 15px} @media (max-width: 540px) { .imagediv { float: none; text-align:center; margin: auto; } } div#header h1 a span { font-size: 0px; } div#header h1 a:before { content: "SCP Foundation"; color: #eee; } div#header h2 span { font-size:0px; padding: 4px; } div#header h2:after { content: "Russian Branch, Area-23 Network"; font-weight: bold; color: #f0f0c0; padding: 19px 0; text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px rgba(0, 0, 0, .8); white-space: pre; } #header { background-image: url(https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/jerden-insignia/Area-23.svg); background-size: 90px; } [[/module]] ===== [[include <a href="/component:preview">component:preview</a> text= "I lied. The Serpent's Hand planned all of this." "You will die in the dark so that we can live in the light." ]] ===== [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] << [[[Hid From The Presence]]] Biological Research Area-23 was located in an undisclosed location in central Russia. When he was a younger man working for the Soviets, Radomir Valkov had resented spending so much of his life moving from one remote facility to another. As an old man working for the Foundation, he actually found himself looking forward to a chance to relax. He wasn't important enough to get his own charter flight, and his employers couldn't expect him to do Foundation business while traveling by train. As he strolled out of the train station, he appreciated the opportunity to stretch his legs as he walked to a side street nearby. The air was cold, but his heavy grey overcoat took the edge off it. He didn't have to wait long before an unmarked white van arrived, parking a short distance down the road from them. Valkov walked towards it, as a man stepped out of the passenger seat. His white shirt, black trousers, and bulletproof vest gave the impression of a uniform, despite the lack of any identifiable markings. “How was your journey?” he asked in Russian. Valkov had memorized the expected reply. “My journey was long but uneventful.” He was quickly ushered inside the back of the van. There were seats and lights, but no windows. Operational security was serious business, and his employers didn't fully trust anyone. Valkov took a seat, and was mildly surprised to find a young woman sitting in the van next to him. "I didn't realize I would be having company." She was dressed in a blouse and trousers, with neatly trimmed dark hair. A thick blue coat was draped over her shoulders to form a backrest. She shrugged, then looked back at the smartphone she was holding. "It was a last-minute decision." She also spoke Russian, but badly, placing emphasis on all the wrong syllables. Valkov got the impression she was self-conscious about this. The van began to move, the lack of windows making the experience disorienting. "I can speak English if you'd prefer?" tried Valkov. "Are you American?" She nodded, clearly understanding the words he was saying, but turned back to her phone. “What’s your name?” he asked. “Sophie Blake.” She didn’t look up from the screen. “I’m Radomir Valkov. So, what brings you all the way out here?” “Top secret.” Her reply came in a flat monotone. “Naturally. I understand.” Conversations about work were frequently off-limits. “Well, when you’re not working, what do you like to do?” She paused, looking away from her mobile, clearly considering her reply carefully. “Spend time alone.” “Interesting! I enjoy reading when I have time to myself. How familiar are you with Russian literature?" There was no reply. “I’ve read works by English writers too,” Valkov ventured. “Do you have any recommendations for me?” She turned to face him again. “No.” She returned to her screen. Since his companion seemed like she wasn't up for much conversation, Valkov decided to rest. He'd be in the windowless van for the next few hours, he may as well catch up on some sleep. ---- Valkov woke as the vehicle came to a halt, and calmly waited until it parked. His female companion seemed far less patient, but was still not in a mood for small talk. Once the doors opened, she got out first, looking around nervously until a man in spectacles approached. Valkov climbed out behind her. While he didn't try to eavesdrop, the conversation he overheard suggested that Miss Blake was a technical consultant, called out to this remote facility to do something with computers. The two of them began walking towards a low-rise building made from weathered Soviet concrete. Every time he visited Area-23, Valkov couldn't help but feel a strange kinship with the ugly relic of a previous era. This time, Valkov did not enter the main building, but was instead led towards the entrance to an underground bunker dug into the side of a mountain. He was escorted by a smartly dressed blonde woman, a colleague he’d worked with before. Valkov greeted Sorokina warmly and accepted her offer to get him a coffee on the way, but waited until they were in the briefing room before starting with his first question. "So, Agent Sorokina, what do we actually know about this prisoner?" The young woman smiled nervously. "A lot, but we suspect it's all lies." Valkov didn't smile, but there was a hint of humor in his voice as he replied. "I imagine that's why you've called for me." She passed the file across the table to him and he opened it as Sorokina offered a quick summary. "Security picked him up inside a disused wing of Site-35, trying to access SCiPNET. He was armed, but didn't try to resist us. Based on his tattoos and the drugs he was carrying, we suspected he was a member of the Neo-Sarkic crime syndicate known as "The Hunter's Black Lodge". That's why they brought him here." The first page was the incident report, but those were pretty dull when the target just surrendered. The second page was a dense technical report that went entirely over Valkov's head, but from the summary seemed like the man had been trying to access information about the location of Foundation facilities in Russia. The third page was what he was actually looking for. The photographs of the prisoner had been taken at Area-23 after he was strip-searched, so several large black snake tattoos were visible on various parts of his body. There were also images of the belongings that had been taken from him. The clothing he'd been wearing was fairly standard, even the body armor wasn't too surprising given that he'd broken into a Foundation Facility. The next photograph showed the items he’d been carrying – a pistol, three knives, and various tools for picking locks, as well as a needle, syringe, and two bottles of red fluid. "Anything anomalous on his person?" "Those drugs are an anabolic steroid known as “Wrath”. It’s a parapharmaceutical produced and distributed by the Hunter’s Black Lodge, so he must have some connection to them.” Valkov had previously read the [[[SCP-2408]]] file in full, and had prior experience with members of the Black Lodge. It was unusual that the prisoner had surrendered, rather than using the anomalous physical enhancement provided by injecting SCP-2408-2A to try and fight his way out of custody. “There’s also the living tattoo,” added Sorokina. Valkov checked the file again and noted that an "[[[SCP-021]]]" file had been included. Apparently, the prisoner had a similar animate tattoo, capable of moving around his body, although the black snake's movements didn't seem to bother him. "You said he had multiple tattoos?" Sorokina hesitated, unsure of how to explain that. "He had other tattoos when they detained him, with lots of Sarkic symbolism, but those are all gone now. We think the snake ate them?" A living tattoo that ate other tattoos was rather unremarkable by Valkov's estimation. He expected more as he looked through the file, but Hume, EVE and Akiva readings were all within normal ranges, and a series of genetic tests, X-rays and even a CT scan had noted no other abnormalities. If this man was affiliated with the Hunter's Black Lodge, he didn't seem to have any of their anomalous perks. Given that he'd been found breaking into a Foundation Site, the organization likely regarded him as disposable. Although with Sarkic cultists, it was impossible to be certain that nothing strange would be revealed once you got into the same room as them. That was apparently a risk his employers were willing to take, although there was still a long list of precautions that he'd been instructed to follow, including wearing gloves to avoid skin-to-skin contact. The rest of the file was a series of transcripts. A lot of transcripts. "You know how, most of the time, the people we detain are reluctant to talk?" Sorokina commented. "Not this one." "He's been very talkative." Valkov stated, basing this assessment more on the weight of the folder than on his brief skim of its contents. Sorokina shrugged. "As far as we can tell, it's all lies. Obviously, we started by questioning him about the Hunter's Black Lodge, and after some initial reluctance he was very informative, but none of it checked out. Once we confronted him with that, he claimed to be working undercover for the GOC, which we thought might be true until we realized that nothing about his story made any sense. Since then, he's claimed to be affiliated with every anomalous organization I've heard of, and a few more that I can only assume exist because all the search results for them were classified." "Very detailed lies, though." "He's either rehearsed a lot of stories, or he's very good at improv. He keeps contradicting himself though." "His aim isn't to be believed when he lies. It's to be disbelieved even if he does let the truth slip out." Valkov got to his feet. "I need to look something up." "So soon? You've barely read the briefing..." It was clear that she'd worked hard putting it together. Valkov was not unsympathetic. He too had spent much of his life filing reports that his superiors never seemed to read. However, unlike most of them, Valkov had a good excuse. "I'm not wasting my time with his lies. He's been stalling for time, waiting for something. I know his type. If I’m going to learn anything about him, I need to look elsewhere." He went off in search of a computer with SCiPNET access, rummaging in his pocket for his login details. IT kept telling him to memorize them, but he didn't have the time to do another password reset. ---- A short time later Valkov begrudgingly put on gloves, resenting the implication that he would resort to such crude methods as laying hands on a prisoner. Valkov was an interrogator, but contrary to the expectations of many of his colleagues, that did not mean he just hit people until they started talking. As this current prisoner was demonstrating, getting people to talk was easy. Assessing whether they were telling the truth was much harder. It required years of experience, and the ability to do your own research. Valkov opened the door to Interrogation Room 7, and watched the prisoner stop mid-sentence and look towards him with obvious interest. He was seated opposite the door, with his hands cuffed to the table in front of him. Valkov had assumed the previous photos he'd seen had been overexposed, but seeing the man in person confirmed that he really was as pale as the images had indicated, his skin almost as white as his hair. He was wearing nothing except a pair of boxer shorts, exposing a lean body covered with pale scars and a number of more recent injuries. The flat head of a black serpent tattoo peered over his right shoulder, its tail winding across his back and then around across his stomach. As Valkov watched it, a black tongue flickered out of its mouth for a moment, and it shifted slightly. On the other side of the table, quickly standing up to face the door, were two young men. The previous interrogators had apparently thought that the snake tattoo might be some sort of tell and had wanted to keep an eye on it, although they may have just hoped a cold and exposed prisoner might be more cooperative. They'd tried various combinations of bribes and threats, and had clearly tried beating him a little, but hadn't made any progress despite the volume of transcripts they'd produced. Valkov dismissed them as amateurs. As they got up from their seats, he gestured at them to stay behind him. Assuming they weren't amnesticized at the end of this, they might actually learn something from watching him. "You were telling another story when I interrupted?" "I was just talking about the time I went hunting for a Tarrasque in France." The prisoner was currently addressing one of his former interrogators in Russian, although he'd occasionally switched to other languages. "It was a frightful creature, all horns and teeth, but with my trusty -" Valkov draped his thick coat over the steel chair and then sat down on it. He'd spent far too much of his life doing this to tolerate being uncomfortable. "Liar." "You offend me! Every word I've said has been the absolute truth! Now, if you'll let me continue..." "I won't", said Valkov. "Unlike the men you've previously been talking to, I actually have the clearance to do a background check. Once I ignored every word that's come out of your mouth, the tattoo and general appearance were a giveaway. Would you like me to refer to you as Gianni Ferraro, liberator of anomalous art and murderer of its curators? Or as Juan Herrero, the South American guerrilla fighter affiliated with //Las Viboras//? Or maybe even as Yahya Haddad, the name they know you by in New Babylon?" The prisoner turned to face him, and spread his hands as wide as the handcuffs permitted - not far. "My friends call me White Crow." It was clear that he couldn't resist gesturing emphatically while talking, and his wrists had been rubbed raw by the steel cuffs. It didn't stop him from smiling broadly. "Of course they do. Your friends have a preference for the melodramatic. They call themselves the Serpent's Hand, after all. Here, you are simply a detained Person of Interest, numerical designation pending." "It seems I can't fool you. You know all three of my aliases. Very impressive." He looked at Valkov with great intensity. "You've been doing this a long time, haven't you?" Valkov didn't respond. "Since you've effortlessly seen through me, I suppose it's time to reveal the truth. You see, you and me, we're not so different. Despite the circumstances." Valkov leaned forward, curious to hear what the prisoner had to say now. "A man like you, you must have experience. Ex-military? No... not quite. Intelligence. Perhaps GRU... I suppose you would have been in the Psychotronics Division, if you ended up here." Valkov didn't think he'd reacted, but the man opposite him smiled as the tattoo coiled around his arm. He'd worked it out. Of course, that was not a particularly unusual career path for an older Russian now working for the SCP Foundation, so it could just be a lucky guess. "I don't think we ever met, you would have been after my time. But it's an amusing coincidence that we'd both end up here." The man's exact age was hard to place. He definitely looked younger than Valkov, despite his white hair. Not that that necessarily meant anything in their line of work. After a long pause, Valkov realized the prisoner was waiting for a reaction from him. Closely scrutinizing the pale face in front of him, Valkov asked "And what was your name?" "Ivan Kuznetzov." The man shrugged, handcuffs rattling. "Not sure if you'll find me in the records, but I was in the KGB. Back in the 1950s." Valkov smiled. "If that's true, you've aged a lot better than I have." Behind him, the two guards nervously laughed. Valkov suspected that they may have started regarding this prisoner as a source of amusing stories, after spending so long listening to his obvious lies. "Oh, I haven't aged at all. Not until recently. See, I got my hands on some... subversive literature, as we said in those days. The person who had the books when we arrested him just told us he'd gotten them from a Library. He seemed reluctant to say too much - and back then, we could be very persuasive. Eventually he gave us directions, but they led to an empty building." "Still, there were some very concerning allegations in those pages, about very important people. It was not the kind of material I wanted to be associated with, not at that stage in my career. I took the executive decision to have the books destroyed." Valkov nodded. He could guess where this was going. "It turns out that incinerating Library books makes Librarians very upset. I soon found out where those books had originally come from, and it was a painful discovery. I owed the Wanderer's Library a debt, and I worked there until it was paid in full." "How long did that take?" "A lifetime. But a rather boring one, mostly spent restocking shelves." "And now?" "Well, it's not like I could go back to the USSR. It no longer exists, and I'm not too fond of what's replaced it." "So you joined the Serpent's Hand? A strange choice, given how you got to the Library in the first place." "Did you ever believe?" Valkov frowned. "That's not how this works. Tell me about you." "You might have been too late for that. You work here, maybe you always just accepted the status quo. But thanks to the Library, I'm old enough to remember the Revolution, to remember the Great Patriotic War. I knew men who fought and died because they believed a better world was possible." Valkov sighed. "So you're political." "The distinction between normal and paranormal is entirely artificial. I stand in solidarity with oppressed people everywhere. The Serpent’s Hand-” "Enough." Valkov interrupted him. "I'm sure it would amuse you to stop inventing stories about organizations you've only read about, and instead tell lies about the group you actually are part of, but it's been a long day, and I don't have the time for that." The prisoner lowered his hands to the table. The smile left his face. "You may think you can convince us to let you out of here with the right words, but you're not going anywhere. The best you can hope for is a more comfortable cell. I suggest you start thinking carefully about what you say, because a lifetime in solitary confinement will be difficult to endure." "I'd expect nothing less from the Jailors." Valkov continued without comment. With an individual like this it was important to not react to every provocation - it would only encourage him. "Naturally, you think that your friends on the outside are coming for you, at some point in the near future." The prisoner feigned shock. "You really think they have some sort of jailbreak planned? For me?" Valkov sighed. "I don't expect you to give us any useful information, not as long as you have that hope." "So, is this the part where you start torturing me?" The prisoner smiled, mockingly, as if daring Valkov to do it. A man less experienced than Valkov would have taken this a bravado, and tried to break the man with physical force. Valkov knew better. It hadn't gotten the two previous interrogators anywhere. Besides, this man didn't flinch as that black serpent tattoo crawled across his chest, and according to the SCP-021 file that was meant to be agonizing. His tolerance for pain may well have been anomalously altered. Valkov stood up. "No. I'm leaving. I think I'll have something to eat, then find a room to sleep in." Turning to the two interrogators, he said "Return him to his cell, and keep him in solitary confinement until I get back. It should be a week, but it may be longer. What he needs is time alone to realize that nobody is coming to rescue him." The two guards nodded. However, the intended impact of his words was ruined by a muffled boom, followed by the emergency siren going off. The loud klaxon was accompanied by the prisoner's sudden laughter, as if the sound was the funniest thing he'd heard. Valkov had to admit that the timing was perfect, if this was an escape attempt by the Serpent's Hand. "Should we still return him to his cell?" As the three of them pondered that, unsure of what to do in the absence of orders, another guard entered the room and gestured at the prisoner. "There's some sort of breach at the perimeter. I'm here to escort him back to his cell." He was clean-shaven, dressed in the standard issue white shirt, black trousers, and bulletproof vest of Area-23's security personnel. He placed a new set of cuffs on the prisoner, then unshackled him from the table, roughly pulling him to his feet with a hand on his shoulder. He then secured the handcuffs to a chain he wrapped around the prisoner's waist, preventing him from raising his hands more than a few centimeters. Leg restraints would have been excessive given the hurry, but Valkov was surprised to only see one guard. "They sent you alone?" The new guard gestured to the previous two interrogators, who were shuffling nervously as the alarm continued in the background. "They can escort me. We need to get this done now. We're still not sure what's going on outside." "I'll accompany you too," said Valkov. The whole facility was in lockdown after a security breach, and would be for a long time before that was relaxed, even if it was a false alarm. He had nowhere to go, and nothing better to do. "I'm curious to see how the prisoner reacts to this." The prisoner in question was uncharacteristically passive. "This has nothing to do with me." Valkov brought up the rear as the new guard escorted the prisoner towards the low-security humanoid containment level, restraining him with a firm grip on his upper arm with a gloved hand. Arguably the prisoner should be held in a higher security cell on one of the lower levels until it was confirmed that he wasn't actually Sarkic, but most of those were full, and even the low-security cell doors were sturdy enough to contain most anomalous entities until backup could arrive. Valkov kept a close eye on the prisoner, the black tattoo now twisting across his shoulders. It was possible the alarm had nothing to do with him, but the Serpent's Hand would probably not abandon someone this well-connected, and wouldn't want to leave him in containment for too long. His list of known associates was a colorful cast of characters. Although none of them were Russian, international borders meant little to people with access to the Wanderer's Library. "Can you get the door?" asked the guard escorting the prisoner, gesturing to his two interrogators. They scanned open the security gate, and the guard escorted the prisoner through, each interrogator holding one of the doors open, entering a hallway lined with cells. Each steel door was marked only with a numerical code, and no other identifying information. The sound of alarms was still audible here, but much more distant, especially once the security gate closed behind Valkov. There was a separate alert that would sound in the event of a containment breach in one of these cells. Valkov was surprised that the prisoner was escorted past all of these cells, to another security gate at the other end. "Aren't those cells reserved for low risk prisoners?" He'd been here before. He knew that section was only used for the long-term containment of compliant individuals, as a bribe for cooperation. One of the former interrogators asked the new guard, "Where exactly are you taking him?" The new guard turned, an expression of confusion on his face. "Which cell did you collect him from?" The other interrogator rummaged in his pocket. Like Valkov, it seemed they struggled to keep track of all the numbers they were given. "I lied," said White Crow loudly. His body was still facing away from them, restrained by the firm grip on his upper arm, but he now turned his neck to look back at them. "The Serpent's Hand planned all of this." He was fidgeting nervously, twisting and rattling the metal of his cuffs. Valkov ignored him, as did the other two guards, since it made no difference either way. It was a little strange that their colleague had been escorting the prisoner without knowing the cell number, however it had been a long day. "You will die in the dark so that we can live in the light." Those unexpected words drew their attention back to White Crow, and he spun around to face them, the closest guard's grip on his upper arm falling away. To their surprise, his hands were now free from their cuffs, enabling him to make a gesture so obscene it triggered the gag reflex of everyone watching. Valkov and the two guards next to him bent forward, retching. The guards all reached for their firearms, but Valkov looked up to see that the man closest to White Crow was handing him a pistol, while averting his eyes. He could only watch in confusion as their now-armed prisoner opened fire, shooting the two former interrogators standing next to Valkov in the head as they struggled to draw their weapons. Valkov was unarmed and still gagging from that strange gesture he'd observed, but instinctively dropped to the floor to present a smaller target. A couple of shots went overhead, then a piercing impact in his chest provided a painful reminder that there was no cover in the hallway. "Well done Loxley", said White Crow. "You remembered to look away." "We practiced... Oh god!" There was another retching sound, this time coming from the only guard still standing, the man White Crow was referring to as Loxley. Valkov, still conscious as he lay on the ground, wondered if the shock from the hole in his chest was making him hallucinate. The man was still dressed as a Foundation guard, but suddenly seemed to have a green reptilian face. Valkov couldn’t stop himself from coughing up a small amount of blood onto the cold floor. Loxley glanced over with inhuman yellow eyes, then immediately looked away. "You're squeamish for a bloodsucker," said White Crow. "Your face slipped again." "It's the open wounds..." groaned Loxley, raising one hand to a mouth full of needle-sharp fangs. "It's almost as bad as that gesture..." Valkov decided to focus on breathing shallowly and trying to remain still. "There's no language more expressive than Library Sign," said White Crow, and Loxley quickly looked away from him again, although White Crow didn't actually repeat the hand movement. Instead, he simply asked, "Is she here?" "Yes, right past that door.” Loxley gestured to the doorway leading to the next section. He seemed to have recovered his composure. Given White Crow’s comments, Valkov apparently hadn’t been imagining the reptilian skin he’d seen, but his human features had now reappeared, as quickly as they’d vanished. "Good. You have my jacket?" Loxley handed a small piece of fabric to White Crow. There was a rusting of fabric as the pale man, with a magician's flourish, pulled an entire black jacket out of the small square he'd been given, then put the garment on over his bare chest. He then inexplicably managed to pull black trousers and shoes out of the garment's pockets, despite there obviously not being enough room inside. “Should I make sure the old man's dead?” asked White Crow casually. Valkov froze, pretending to have already died. It wasn’t too difficult an act, given his current state. “I don’t think that’s necessary,” replied Loxley, with stern insistence. “Focus on opening that door.” “They’ll have seen us on the cameras. The keycards will no longer work.” Valkov was relieved to watch the two of them walking down the hallway away from him. “This is going to be loud,” said White Crow, as he pulled something out of his pocket to place it on the door. The two of them backed away. The loud explosion that followed made Valkov flinch, but he otherwise remained still. "I hope you have some of that left!" shouted Loxley. "We still need to open the cell door!" "I'd rather not blow her up! I'll drill the lock instead!" White Crow lead Loxley into the next section of the hallway, both off them clearly a little deafened by the recent explosion. "We should block this way off first, to stop anyone from coming after us!" Valkov felt that he had too many unanswered questions to die now, but it was getting increasingly difficult to remain conscious. He'd just have to hope he'd stubbornly hold out until a medical team arrived. Everything went dark. [[>]] [[[Fruit of Knowledge]]] >> [[/>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] > Filename: Area-23 > Author: [[user Jerden]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/jerden-insignia [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-07-06T07:44:00	[ "_licensebox", "action", "crime-fiction", "serpents-hand", "spy-fiction", "tale" ]	The Serpent Deceived - SCP Foundation	8	[ "hid-from-the-presence", "scp-2408", "scp-021", "fruit-of-knowledge", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide", "jerden-insignia" ]	[ "serpent-s-hand-hub", "now-the-serpent" ]	[]	1454457941	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-serpent-deceived
the-slice-of-the-wire	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="preview"> <p>A forest floor would be the same as a wall, wouldn't it? A pine cone, at distance, as sharp as a nail?</p> </div> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <p><strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/tufto" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3337265); return false;"><img alt="Tufto" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3337265&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1734365705" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3337265)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/tufto" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3337265); return false;">Tufto</a></span>, written on his original account. This is his 2023 AE gift for <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/floorboards" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7912738); return false;"><img alt="FLOORBOARDS" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7912738&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1734365705" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7912738)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/floorboards" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7912738); return false;">FLOORBOARDS</a></span>. More of his work can be found <a href="/tufto-personnel-file">here</a>.</p> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <p>Dr David Krupin got up, splashed water in his face, stared into the mirror to judge how swollen his eyes were, and got ready for work. His apartment was somewhat stark, though not excessively so; a couple of paintings hung on the walls, but the details weren't quite right. A table was too close to the window, the bed wedged too far into the corner.</p> <p>Krupin would sometimes read or check his phone while eating breakfast, but other times he would simply stare into space. He would chew his cereal while looking at one specific point in the kitchen, at the top of a cabinet, where the wood met the plaster of the wall. He would think about a lot of things, but most often he would recall a memory from when he was very young. He was at school, crosslegged in the classroom, looking at a fence outside. It was metal, composed of little squares, an inch or two each in length. One day, he remembered the way it would shake when you ran against it, waving slightly to each side, up and down the line.</p> <p>After showering, dressing, eating breakfast and packing his things, he would get in his car and head to work. He always enjoyed the moment of stepping out of the building. The flats were slightly apart from the rest of the town, a little way up the side of the valley. Pine trees surrounded them; a little winding road took you down to the world. Sometimes, he would stop for a moment, listening to the rustle of wind within leaves; but then he'd remember that other people were in the building, looking out, and he'd open the door to his car and drive away.</p> <hr/> <p>Krupin did not work at Site-17, but as part of his broader responsibilities, he had been granted permission to act as the ritualist in a summoning attempt for <a href="/scp-7356">SCP-7356</a>. He was a paraornithologist, a scholar of anomalous birds, and while 7356 was <em>not</em> a bird, it seemed to move in the same circles. So he'd applied for a permit, and had been accepted, and so had made the long journey by plane away from the pines and the valley.</p> <p>He did not like <a href="/site-17-hub">Site-17</a>. It seemed a serious, snide place, full of long-suppressed emotion. The cruelty underpinning the Foundation vibrated more heavily there, like a taut, suspended wire. But he had remained polite, smiling, reserved throughout; and he had been granted permission to hold the skull, to place it on the wall, to witness the attendant's confused face as he told her that they were participating in a ritual.</p> <p>Then, when it was done, after he had made his notes on arm length, behavioural tics and head tilt, after the creature had vanished yet again, he had thanked the staff, collected his things, and left. The plane ride home had been chilly; it was just a little Cessna, battered and shoved by the wind. It was snowing lightly outside.</p> <p>His own place of work, Site-856, was warmer. Sometimes, in winter, when he was worn out from work, he would look out of the window. The yellow of the inside light, when compared to the wind and darkened skies outside - nothing felt warmer. Nothing felt cosier than knowing that he would not have to step out there for a few more minutes.</p> <hr/> <p>Krupin enjoyed working at Site-856. He was well-liked by his colleagues. His work was engaging to him. You didn't get into academia for the money - although the Foundation made sure to pay their staff well - but for a fascination with one's subject deep enough that you were willing to tolerate the career's indignities. You wanted to delve into it, uncover new knowledge, be the person who did not simply learn what was passed down but who'd push that veil back still further. That his work would remain largely unknown to the outside world didn't bother him; it would exist somewhere, in some vault, ready and waiting.</p> <p>He and his assistants had a quick, easy rapport. He was punctual and friendly. He was quite good at small talk, in a slightly affected way, someone who sees it as an amusing pastime more than something to be either engaged in or despised. He gave the impression of a man with a rich, full life. And despite living alone, despite his neat manners, you could argue that this wasn't entirely wrong. He'd get home and read, or watch an art film, and generally enjoy the silence.</p> <p>Sometimes, on grey or snowy nights, he would stare into the pine trees. A man could get lost in those trees. It seemed like a nice idea, sometimes; to be removed, piece by piece, and become more and more the bark and leaves, snow and wood. To be a little less oneself than before, with all the burdens that entailed.</p> <p>He'd smile at the thought, and go to sleep.</p> <hr/> <p>But since the ritual, his sleep was a little different. The presence of the bird was not unusual - after all, he saw and dealt with birds every day, in cages or containment zones, in colours mundane and abnormal, in previously unknown shapes. They would spit at him, or bite, or shift through one plane to another. SCP-7356 had not, at first, left <em>so</em> great an impression on him, fascinating though it was. He expected birds in his dreams. They were his old friends.</p> <p>No, what was unusual was the hallway. It did not so much seem like the hallway the ritual had taken place in, despite the identical colouring and carpeting. Was it a bit too… small? Or was it that the bird, placed into it, altered his perception of its proportions? It glided through it in such a way that he couldn't resist tilting his head, like he was a camera, like he was creating a Dutch angle. The bird seemed not to glide, now, but to slide, casting itself along a smooth, polished surface. But it was not touching the ground.</p> <p>He woke up a little after four. He frowned.</p> <hr/> <p>"But it's not a bird. You really shouldn't keep calling it that. It's a humanoid with skin and a mouth." His assistant, Martha, was idly chatting with him during lunch. The canteen's bulbs were not as warm as in the office - white, staring things, a cold kind of light that kept the workers moving, not wanting to linger.</p> <p>"Just because you use the skull to summon it, just because of the bird dreams everyone gets - it's still a humanoid. We still cannot be certain of the relation between birds and the figure. Maybe it is a bird in some way. Maybe it's the bird's prey. We simply don't know."</p> <p>Martha chattered on, stirring her soup. Krupin didn't answer her. He alternated between regarding her, the movement of her mouth, the tenor of her voice, and his own meal, into which he'd stirred a little olive oil. It made patterns on the surface, teetering and splitting, forming into strands and bubbles.</p> <p>After work, while driving home, a car passed by without its headlights on. It came out of nowhere; he had to swerve to miss it, screeching the car around a tricky bend. He swore, smashing the horn, but the other car careened past, pitch black, invisible in the night.</p> <hr/> <p>Why had he become an ornithologist?</p> <p>He had a story on hand for that question. When he was young, he'd lived near the coast, and he'd seen the sand martins come and go, nipping into the sea and darting back with fish for their young. He'd say that the combination of all these factors - the swift movements, the lives contained in their cliffside holes, the completeness of their existence laid out before him - had enchanted him, and he'd resolved to study these strange creatures and their ways.</p> <p>The truth was something he kept to himself, out of some vague sense that it was taboo. He'd been walking in the woods and had found a dead bird - a sparrow - lying on the ground. Its wing had been twisted unnaturally, half covered in mud. He'd taken a stick and lifted the wing, and in that moment had seen its splayed structure - its bones and feathers more spread out than a human could ever see in motion. Its structure that allowed it to lift up, into flight, into endless motions upon motions, a living machine, strung up on a wire nobody else could see but it. It was, in its own way, perfect.</p> <p>And a bird's expression was always silent. It might sing, might cry, might cry many times in panic, but it could not emote, change its features, like a human could. It moved through the air, cutting across it, slicing it, from food to mating to sleep to death. It constructed elaborate, intricate nests.</p> <p>And then there were the crows. They would twitch at him, tilting their heads. They'd use their beak and claws to lever chips from polystyrene boxes. It was a cliché to speak of the intelligence of corvids, but it was hard to move on from that intense, fickle gaze, clicking around in his head like old machinery.</p> <hr/> <p>That night, he did not dream of the bird, <a href="/scp-6124">but of cattle</a>. He dreamt of his teeth, biting into their sides, of their surprised, moaning coos as the blood, wet and warm, spilt out. His teeth were so tiny, so multiplicitous. His gaze upon them did nothing to him, nothing.</p> <p>The next morning, he was late for the first time in years. Martha looked at him askance, but he seemed fine, and laughed off her questioning at lunch. He <em>was</em> fine. He asked for extra gravy on his beef at the canteen.</p> <p>As he went home, he took a different road, stopping in a layby. It was snowing. He got out, crunching underfoot, and stood at the edge of the pine trees. The smell was refreshing; the wet, cold flakes felt crisp against his skin. He stared into the forest for a long time, his eyes searching, as if looking for something, someone. A pair of eyes that weren't there.</p> <p>And then he got back into his car and went home.</p> <hr/> <p>It is not known where the REAO-6124-A organism lived. All that remains is a skull. The knowledge the skull gives us is plentiful, but it does not tell us everything, or even most things.</p> <hr/> <p>The next day, Dr David Krupin did not turn up for work. He did not call in sick. In an ordinary workplace, this would simply be a cause for alarm, but for the Foundation it was a more serious matter. People went missing in this job. Entire sites went missing. People defected, or were kidnapped. No break-ins or unexplained exits had been recorded around his apartment, but the Foundation checked anyway. They crowded around a dull, concrete apartment block. Parts of it were chipped off. A couple lived in one of the flats, spending all their time staring from their window; the rest were empty.</p> <p>Dr Krupin's apartment stank. He owned no furniture besides a bed, a table and a chair. Bowls of cereal were strewn across the floor, half smashed, the milk congealing on the carpet. Two pictures were on the walls, one in the bedroom and one in the kitchen. One was a child's drawing of a sparrow's wing, the other a beautiful watercolour of sand martins in flight over a sunny beach.</p> <p>The kitchen - if it could be called such - was empty. Other than the table and chair, a single segment of a cabinet had been nailed to the wall. It was falling away, not touching the wall except at a single point where it hung loose, scratching the plaster. The bathroom contained a shower and a basin, both filthy and unwashed. The drain was blocked. The wardrobe, though, contained several sets of immaculately clean clothes, hung up on hangers, neat and ready.</p> <p>The other rooms contained nothing but spools of fencing; metal, composed of little squares, an inch or two each in length. A smartphone lay on his bed; a single book, a guide to the fish of the Norfolk coastline, was half-opened on the floor.</p> <hr/> <p>In the forest, Krupin had climbed a tree. He watched, as he ascended, how his arms grew and twisted, his hands disappearing. He looked down to see his skin coated and hidden beneath black feathers. He looked at his legs, twisting into talons. He looked at his body, smoothing out, altering itself.</p> <p>He remembered, suddenly, how the bird in his dreams had a broken beak. It had been smashed, like it had been dashed against a wall, a nail. He wasn't sure which.</p> <p>A forest floor would be the same as a wall, wouldn't it? A pine cone, at distance, as sharp as a nail?</p> <p>He reached the top of the tree. From here, he had a view over the whole valley. In the distance, grey and box-like, was Site-856. The valley stretched down on either side, obscuring the world, its walls rising on each side like a corridor. It was snowing again. Had it ever not been? Had the world ever been covered in anything but a blank, singular colour?</p> <p>He took one foot off the tree, letting it hover over the edge. He licked his lips, enjoying the moment, suspending himself in time.</p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-slice-of-the-wire">The Slice of the Wire</a>" by Tufto, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-slice-of-the-wire">https://scpwiki.com/the-slice-of-the-wire</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	===== [[include <a href="/component:preview">component:preview</a> text= A forest floor would be the same as a wall, wouldn't it? A pine cone, at distance, as sharp as a nail? ]] ===== [[include <a href="/theme:black-highlighter-theme">theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="/component:pride-highlighter">component:pride-highlighter</a> inc-lgbt= --]]] [[include <a href="/info:start">info:start</a>]] Author: [[user Tufto]], written on his original account. This is his 2023 AE gift for [[user FLOORBOARDS]]. More of his work can be found [[[tufto-personnel-file\|here]]]. [[include <a href="/info:end">info:end</a>]] Dr David Krupin got up, splashed water in his face, stared into the mirror to judge how swollen his eyes were, and got ready for work. His apartment was somewhat stark, though not excessively so; a couple of paintings hung on the walls, but the details weren't quite right. A table was too close to the window, the bed wedged too far into the corner. Krupin would sometimes read or check his phone while eating breakfast, but other times he would simply stare into space. He would chew his cereal while looking at one specific point in the kitchen, at the top of a cabinet, where the wood met the plaster of the wall. He would think about a lot of things, but most often he would recall a memory from when he was very young. He was at school, crosslegged in the classroom, looking at a fence outside. It was metal, composed of little squares, an inch or two each in length. One day, he remembered the way it would shake when you ran against it, waving slightly to each side, up and down the line. After showering, dressing, eating breakfast and packing his things, he would get in his car and head to work. He always enjoyed the moment of stepping out of the building. The flats were slightly apart from the rest of the town, a little way up the side of the valley. Pine trees surrounded them; a little winding road took you down to the world. Sometimes, he would stop for a moment, listening to the rustle of wind within leaves; but then he'd remember that other people were in the building, looking out, and he'd open the door to his car and drive away. ----- Krupin did not work at Site-17, but as part of his broader responsibilities, he had been granted permission to act as the ritualist in a summoning attempt for [[[SCP-7356]]]. He was a paraornithologist, a scholar of anomalous birds, and while 7356 was //not// a bird, it seemed to move in the same circles. So he'd applied for a permit, and had been accepted, and so had made the long journey by plane away from the pines and the valley. He did not like [[[site-17-hub\|Site-17]]]. It seemed a serious, snide place, full of long-suppressed emotion. The cruelty underpinning the Foundation vibrated more heavily there, like a taut, suspended wire. But he had remained polite, smiling, reserved throughout; and he had been granted permission to hold the skull, to place it on the wall, to witness the attendant's confused face as he told her that they were participating in a ritual. Then, when it was done, after he had made his notes on arm length, behavioural tics and head tilt, after the creature had vanished yet again, he had thanked the staff, collected his things, and left. The plane ride home had been chilly; it was just a little Cessna, battered and shoved by the wind. It was snowing lightly outside. His own place of work, Site-856, was warmer. Sometimes, in winter, when he was worn out from work, he would look out of the window. The yellow of the inside light, when compared to the wind and darkened skies outside - nothing felt warmer. Nothing felt cosier than knowing that he would not have to step out there for a few more minutes. ----- Krupin enjoyed working at Site-856. He was well-liked by his colleagues. His work was engaging to him. You didn't get into academia for the money - although the Foundation made sure to pay their staff well - but for a fascination with one's subject deep enough that you were willing to tolerate the career's indignities. You wanted to delve into it, uncover new knowledge, be the person who did not simply learn what was passed down but who'd push that veil back still further. That his work would remain largely unknown to the outside world didn't bother him; it would exist somewhere, in some vault, ready and waiting. He and his assistants had a quick, easy rapport. He was punctual and friendly. He was quite good at small talk, in a slightly affected way, someone who sees it as an amusing pastime more than something to be either engaged in or despised. He gave the impression of a man with a rich, full life. And despite living alone, despite his neat manners, you could argue that this wasn't entirely wrong. He'd get home and read, or watch an art film, and generally enjoy the silence. Sometimes, on grey or snowy nights, he would stare into the pine trees. A man could get lost in those trees. It seemed like a nice idea, sometimes; to be removed, piece by piece, and become more and more the bark and leaves, snow and wood. To be a little less oneself than before, with all the burdens that entailed. He'd smile at the thought, and go to sleep. ----- But since the ritual, his sleep was a little different. The presence of the bird was not unusual - after all, he saw and dealt with birds every day, in cages or containment zones, in colours mundane and abnormal, in previously unknown shapes. They would spit at him, or bite, or shift through one plane to another. SCP-7356 had not, at first, left //so// great an impression on him, fascinating though it was. He expected birds in his dreams. They were his old friends. No, what was unusual was the hallway. It did not so much seem like the hallway the ritual had taken place in, despite the identical colouring and carpeting. Was it a bit too... small? Or was it that the bird, placed into it, altered his perception of its proportions? It glided through it in such a way that he couldn't resist tilting his head, like he was a camera, like he was creating a Dutch angle. The bird seemed not to glide, now, but to slide, casting itself along a smooth, polished surface. But it was not touching the ground. He woke up a little after four. He frowned. ----- "But it's not a bird. You really shouldn't keep calling it that. It's a humanoid with skin and a mouth." His assistant, Martha, was idly chatting with him during lunch. The canteen's bulbs were not as warm as in the office - white, staring things, a cold kind of light that kept the workers moving, not wanting to linger. "Just because you use the skull to summon it, just because of the bird dreams everyone gets - it's still a humanoid. We still cannot be certain of the relation between birds and the figure. Maybe it is a bird in some way. Maybe it's the bird's prey. We simply don't know." Martha chattered on, stirring her soup. Krupin didn't answer her. He alternated between regarding her, the movement of her mouth, the tenor of her voice, and his own meal, into which he'd stirred a little olive oil. It made patterns on the surface, teetering and splitting, forming into strands and bubbles. After work, while driving home, a car passed by without its headlights on. It came out of nowhere; he had to swerve to miss it, screeching the car around a tricky bend. He swore, smashing the horn, but the other car careened past, pitch black, invisible in the night. ----- Why had he become an ornithologist? He had a story on hand for that question. When he was young, he'd lived near the coast, and he'd seen the sand martins come and go, nipping into the sea and darting back with fish for their young. He'd say that the combination of all these factors - the swift movements, the lives contained in their cliffside holes, the completeness of their existence laid out before him - had enchanted him, and he'd resolved to study these strange creatures and their ways. The truth was something he kept to himself, out of some vague sense that it was taboo. He'd been walking in the woods and had found a dead bird - a sparrow - lying on the ground. Its wing had been twisted unnaturally, half covered in mud. He'd taken a stick and lifted the wing, and in that moment had seen its splayed structure - its bones and feathers more spread out than a human could ever see in motion. Its structure that allowed it to lift up, into flight, into endless motions upon motions, a living machine, strung up on a wire nobody else could see but it. It was, in its own way, perfect. And a bird's expression was always silent. It might sing, might cry, might cry many times in panic, but it could not emote, change its features, like a human could. It moved through the air, cutting across it, slicing it, from food to mating to sleep to death. It constructed elaborate, intricate nests. And then there were the crows. They would twitch at him, tilting their heads. They'd use their beak and claws to lever chips from polystyrene boxes. It was a cliché to speak of the intelligence of corvids, but it was hard to move on from that intense, fickle gaze, clicking around in his head like old machinery. ----- That night, he did not dream of the bird, [[[scp-6124\|but of cattle]]]. He dreamt of his teeth, biting into their sides, of their surprised, moaning coos as the blood, wet and warm, spilt out. His teeth were so tiny, so multiplicitous. His gaze upon them did nothing to him, nothing. The next morning, he was late for the first time in years. Martha looked at him askance, but he seemed fine, and laughed off her questioning at lunch. He //was// fine. He asked for extra gravy on his beef at the canteen. As he went home, he took a different road, stopping in a layby. It was snowing. He got out, crunching underfoot, and stood at the edge of the pine trees. The smell was refreshing; the wet, cold flakes felt crisp against his skin. He stared into the forest for a long time, his eyes searching, as if looking for something, someone. A pair of eyes that weren't there. And then he got back into his car and went home. ----- It is not known where the REAO-6124-A organism lived. All that remains is a skull. The knowledge the skull gives us is plentiful, but it does not tell us everything, or even most things. ----- The next day, Dr David Krupin did not turn up for work. He did not call in sick. In an ordinary workplace, this would simply be a cause for alarm, but for the Foundation it was a more serious matter. People went missing in this job. Entire sites went missing. People defected, or were kidnapped. No break-ins or unexplained exits had been recorded around his apartment, but the Foundation checked anyway. They crowded around a dull, concrete apartment block. Parts of it were chipped off. A couple lived in one of the flats, spending all their time staring from their window; the rest were empty. Dr Krupin's apartment stank. He owned no furniture besides a bed, a table and a chair. Bowls of cereal were strewn across the floor, half smashed, the milk congealing on the carpet. Two pictures were on the walls, one in the bedroom and one in the kitchen. One was a child's drawing of a sparrow's wing, the other a beautiful watercolour of sand martins in flight over a sunny beach. The kitchen - if it could be called such - was empty. Other than the table and chair, a single segment of a cabinet had been nailed to the wall. It was falling away, not touching the wall except at a single point where it hung loose, scratching the plaster. The bathroom contained a shower and a basin, both filthy and unwashed. The drain was blocked. The wardrobe, though, contained several sets of immaculately clean clothes, hung up on hangers, neat and ready. The other rooms contained nothing but spools of fencing; metal, composed of little squares, an inch or two each in length. A smartphone lay on his bed; a single book, a guide to the fish of the Norfolk coastline, was half-opened on the floor. ----- In the forest, Krupin had climbed a tree. He watched, as he ascended, how his arms grew and twisted, his hands disappearing. He looked down to see his skin coated and hidden beneath black feathers. He looked at his legs, twisting into talons. He looked at his body, smoothing out, altering itself. He remembered, suddenly, how the bird in his dreams had a broken beak. It had been smashed, like it had been dashed against a wall, a nail. He wasn't sure which. A forest floor would be the same as a wall, wouldn't it? A pine cone, at distance, as sharp as a nail? He reached the top of the tree. From here, he had a view over the whole valley. In the distance, grey and box-like, was Site-856. The valley stretched down on either side, obscuring the world, its walls rising on each side like a corridor. It was snowing again. Had it ever not been? Had the world ever been covered in anything but a blank, singular colour? He took one foot off the tree, letting it hover over the edge. He licked his lips, enjoying the moment, suspending himself in time. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-01-07T01:08:00	[ "_licensebox", "art-exchange", "slice-of-life", "surrealism", "tale" ]	The Slice of the Wire - SCP Foundation	18	[ "tufto-personnel-file", "scp-7356", "site-17-hub", "scp-6124", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "art-exchange-hub" ]	[]	1452079689	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-slice-of-the-wire
the-soldier	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p style="text-align: center;"><strong>THEN:</strong></p> <p>Troy awoke in a cold sweat. He looked left, right, up, and down, jerking his head in frantic motions. IV fluids and strange machines were scattered across the unfamiliar room. Low moans echoed throughout the building as a flurry of men in white coats shuffled through the hallway outside.</p> <p>He did a double-take as he realized he couldn't remember how he had got there. Or why his left arm was missing. Then, he began to scream.</p> <p>"Where am I?", he shouted.</p> <p>"Daoud Khan Military Hospital", a familiar voice answered. "Relax."</p> <p>Seated at his bedside was a man in his mid-twenties — tall, with dark skin and neatly trimmed black hair. He wore a green-and-brown camouflage uniform, the words "CLARK" and "U.S. ARMY" emblazoned on the lapel of his large chest. Three combat patches were sewn into the area beneath his left shoulder: the flag of his nation, two chevrons — designating his rank — and a quartered green-and-blue symbol Troy recognized immediately.</p> <p>"…Weston”, he replied, momentarily reassured. The young corporal was frowning slightly, a noticeable expression of pity on his face.</p> <p>"You were wounded in action. What's the last thing you remember?"</p> <p>"Your ugly mug", Troy japed. Clark let out a dry chuckle.</p> <p>"Well, it's good to see that you haven't lost your sense of humor."</p> <p>Troy looked at the bandaged stump where his arm should have been. "Gonna miss it", he said, groaning as he tried to sit up. After a few seconds of awkward struggle, he gave up his efforts and glanced towards his friend.</p> <p>"What happened?"</p> <p>"Grenade", the corporal replied. "<em>Two</em>, actually. It's a miracle you survived."</p> <p>Suddenly, the memories began to flood back. Troy tried to process five hundred sensations in five hundredths of a second. He could see explosions in the distance, Clark shrieking orders in the heat of a battle. Men, women, and children — a cacophony of wailing voices, drowned out by the sound of gunfire as he rushed through the compound. And other things.</p> <p>"The stronghold?"</p> <p>"Gone. Most of them, anyway. Commander got away. Jumped through a window just as we were about to bust down the door. Like a high-schooler running from the paddy wagon." He sighed. "In the middle of a <em>battlefield</em>. Lucky son of a bitch."</p> <p>"Eddie, Davis, and the others?"</p> <p>"Davis didn't make it. Eddie and Alex are in critical condition. Vernon, Buggs, and myself managed to make it out unscathed. In fact, I came here to thank you. You… saved our lives. And… um…"</p> <p>"What?", Troy pushed. It was clear his comrade was holding something back.</p> <p>"You've been awarded the congressional medal of honor."</p> <p>Troy stared into space as he took this in. Then he laughed.</p> <p>"You're joking, right?"</p> <p>"Word came in this morning. Ceremony's in two months. They said they'll fly you out once your recovery's complete. You'll be honorably discharged." He paused. "I almost couldn't believe it myself."</p> <p>"Why?"</p> <p>Clark seemed confused. "Well, I mean, you're the first living recipient since… since, well—"</p> <p>"You know that's not what I meant. I mean, <em>why</em>? Davis is gone. Eddie and Alex are out of commission — who knows if they'll pull through? And for what? Our primary objective was a complete <em>failure</em>. And don't get me started on myself… I mean, look at me, for Christ's sake!"</p> <p>Troy pulled back the sheet covering his body. His legs were a twisted mess of protruding bone and charred flesh, his chest similarly burnt. Sores and gangrenous pieces of rotting tissue ravaged his calves, ankles, and feet. Clark recoiled.</p> <p>"I'll never see combat again. And you think a handshake and some piece of metal are supposed to make me happy?" He scoffed.</p> <p>Clark hesitated, staring down.</p> <p>"<em>Tch</em>. I didn't think so."</p> <hr/> <p style="text-align: center;"><strong>NOW:</strong></p> <p>They had needed to amputate his right leg and two toes to stop the infections. The prosthetics ached on the misshapen bulges of flesh at his thigh and forearm. A simple peg of steel for his leg, and a sling of plastic and hardwood for his arm. Fancy.</p> <p>Troy let out a curse as the false limb grated against his skin — a permanent reminder of his failure. As he was lead into the drawing room of the Executive Mansion, all of the pomp and patriotic fervor seemed almost unreal. The banners may have been red, white, and blue. But all Troy could see was red.</p> <p>The wide room at the center of the Presidential Palace was filled to the brim with reporters, cameramen, security guards, and other aides. Troy recognized some of the faces in the crowd. Colonel Frank Moor — his unit's commanding officer — had a wry smile on his face. To his left sat Troy's surviving companions. Alex Andrews, the technician, had lost an eye. Vernon Rogers and Sam Buggs appeared despondent. Eddie Orin and Weston Clark were noticeably absent.</p> <p>After an eternity of awkward handshakes and paparazzi shots, the room gradually fell silent, and Troy was ushered to his seat.</p> <p>“Ladies and gentleman: the President of the United States”, the aide declared, as the tune of some sappy old war hymn Troy couldn’t remember echoed throughout the drawing room.</p> <p>The not-quite elderly man who had once been a Governor of Texas seemed uncomfortable. Troy saw him recoil, ever so slightly, as he registered his grotesque features. But the President managed to catch himself before anyone seemed to notice. Then he began to speak.</p> <p>“Please be seated. Thank you." The attendees took their seats. The President looked down. "I want to begin by thanking all of you who showed up today to support our dear friend, and our troops. This man, right here, is an American hero. An American hero. You know that? Back in my home state, they have this sayin’….”</p> <p>He droned on. Troy’s peg-leg ached with every word of the rambling speech. His eyes wandered throughout the room once more. Save for his old comrades — few that they were — the area of seating reserved for his familiars was noticeably empty.</p> <p>Troy had no family to speak of. When he was seven, his parents had died in a wreck off Interstate 27, and that was about all he could remember of them. He had spent the next ten years drifting from foster parent to foster parent, never feeling quite at home.</p> <p>For all its vices, the army had given him a sense of belonging he had yearned for his entire life. A vocation. A <em>purpose</em>. What was he now?</p> <p>He snapped out of it just as the President was finishing his remarks. <em>What’s done is done</em>, he thought. <em>No use in dwelling on the past.</em></p> <p>“…But, uh… let me tell you, right now. We’re gonna win this war, son. We’re gonna beat this sonabitch. And the sacrifice you’ve made, here, won’t be forgotten. You’re an American hero.”</p> <p>The President handed him the sky blue, star-spangled medal. Troy wasn’t sure whether to scoff, puke, shit, scream, or run away.</p> <p>He opted to lie.</p> <p>“Thank you, Mr. President. It’s an honor.”</p> <p>The rest of the evening was a blur. Andrews had bought him a six-pack before he had left, which Troy quickly took to ravaging until his aches ceased, the room shook, and the ceiling turned purple.</p> <p>He awoke the next morning to the sound of knocking. <em>Room service</em>?, he wondered. “Coming!”, he shouted, jumping to his foot. “About time you came back. I was startin’ t—“</p> <p>Troy took a step back. The man standing on the other side of the door was, evidently, <em>not</em> room service.</p> <p>“Hello”, a hoarse voice said, lips curling into a half-hearted smile. “May I come in?”</p> <p>He was, in truth, perhaps forty, but appeared far older — somewhat gaunt, with dark glassy eyes and thinning greyish hair, trimmed into the uneven remains of a crew cut that had been neglected for far too long. He wore a black, tieless suit and brown khaki pants, and when he spoke, his words came in a thick southern trawl. His demeanor was cold and uncanny — like some undead warrior or arch-lich of old, and when he moved, his fragile limbs trembled sporadically.</p> <p>“Sorry, you’ve got the wrong room—”, Troy said as he reached to shut the door. But the stranger held it open with his foot, jerking his leg with a startling agility unusual for a man of his age.</p> <p>Troy was taken aback. His next response was, perhaps, lacking in the same veneer of <em>courtesy</em> as his first.</p> <p>“Hey! Who the hell do you think you are, huh? Get your foot out of my goddamn doorway, and get out of here before I break your jaw, you old <em>fuck</em>!”</p> <p>“My most <em>sincere</em> apologies—”, the stranger said, insincerely, “—but I must insist. I carry an offer which I believe will interest you <em>very</em> much, Mr. Lament. In fact, it could very well change your life. All is ask is fifteen minutes of your time…”</p> <p><em>Oh, Christ</em>, Troy thought. <em>Another book deal?</em> He had told the hotel staff to turn away any would-be publishers or journalists asking for his room number. Very clearly, in fact. Had they been <em>bribed</em>?</p> <p>“Go away. I’m not interested.” His tone remained defiant. The stranger chuckled.</p> <p>“There’s no need to invoke Christ, son. I'm no opportunist."</p> <p>Troy’s blood ran cold. <em>What?</em></p> <p>His mind began to race. <em>No… that couldn’t be. I didn’t… he couldn’t… he… he… unless… but that's not possible… no. It can't be.</em></p> <p>In the end, he could only think of one word to say.</p> <p>“How?”</p> <hr/> <p>The bright glare of the midday sun reflected sharply off the nazar on the console table, piercing Troy’s retina like a needle, and cutting through his mind’s eye like a sword — although, he hardly noticed the latter.</p> <p>Troy, uncharacteristically brooding, sputtered and stumbled as he tried to find the right words for all the man had said. Manila envelopes and kafkaesque log sheets laid bare across the floor. “This is all so…” <em>Disturbing? Disconcerting? Be…</em></p> <p>“-wildering?”, the stranger finished.</p> <p>“Would you stop that?”, Troy replied. “It’s creeping me out.”</p> <p>The stranger waved a hand. “Eh. You get used to it.”</p> <p>Troy stared at the great glass eye before him with a sense of curiosity… and fear. When he had told him it was possible to read minds with a few tricks and a funny looking necklace, he almost couldn’t believe it. But, even so, the stranger had done it. Then, when told him he could kill a man with a super squirter that shot <em>antimatter</em> bullets… well, Troy wasn’t sure what to believe.</p> <p>“H-how…”, he began, clearing his throat. “These… these <em>things</em>…"</p> <p>For a moment, he seemed lost in thought.</p> <p>"How many?"</p> <p>The stranger’s reply did little to calm his nerves. “<em>Out there</em>? Oh. Trillions.”</p> <p>Troy’s expression was grim. The stranger laughed once more.</p> <p>“Nah, I’m just screwin’ with you. Well, we don’t know, really. There’s about ten-thousand under containment, in one facility or another… all o’er the globe. Most… aren’t like this one… hell, this one ain’t even a skip.”</p> <p>“Skip?” Troy said, confused.</p> <p>“Call it… a term of the trade. Short for “es-cee-pee”… which, itself, is short for “special containment protocols.” Acronyms within acronyms. Who knows where they came from? Heh. Hell, maybe we should get Strataphysics on the case. I digress. Anyway—” He picked up the nazar. “—this one’s just an LAA. ‘Nother acronym. Stands for “Lesser Anomalous Artifact”. We’ve got hundreds of ‘em.”</p> <p>He paused, removing a flagon of water from his waist-pocket before taking a sip.</p> <p>“Most are stashed en masse in subbasements beneath some of the larger sites. Command’s authorized me to carry this one around for certain outings. Comes in handy in more ways than one.”</p> <p>The stranger gave out another dry chuckle, which soon became a coughing fit, which soon turned to silence. Troy put his head down, rubbed his face, and sighed before speaking.</p> <p>“I don’t think I caught your name”</p> <p>“Oh. Yes. Where are my manners?”, the stranger said. “Lee.” He outstretched a hand. “Jack Lee. Pleasure to meet you.”</p> <p>Troy did not respond. Jack put his hand down, and sighed.</p> <p>“Right. I suppose it’s about time we get down to brass tacks. Mr. Lament: I have no doubt that the things you’ve learned today are… upsetting, to say the least. Perhaps you may even believe yourself the victim of a sudden psychotic break, or some overextended practical joke.”</p> <p>He leaned in closer. “But these threats are terribly <em>real</em>. And our organization isn’t seeking just anyone to address them.”</p> <p>“Why me?”, Troy pushed.</p> <p>"Who better?", Lee shot back. "Let's see." He removed a small blue sheet from the pile of documents, and began to read. "Graduated from the United States Military Academy, salutatorian for the class of '89. Very nice. Two tours in the gulf, one in Somalia, three and Kosovo and one in… Afghanistan. Refused a commission on three occasions to remain in active combat. Joined the 75th Ranger Regiment in October of o-zero after—"</p> <p>“But I’m <em>nothing</em>, now," Troy interrupted. "Don’t you see? Nobody! I can’t walk to the fucking fridge anymore without a cane and thirty different types a’ medication.”</p> <p>“You're not "nothing", Troy. Your skills could be quite invaluable to us. And besides, we can <em>mend</em> you. We have the technology. Prosthesis, <em>well</em> beyond anything the VA could ever give you, believe me."</p> <p>Troy took a moment to absorb this information. "Technology?"</p> <p>"Yes. Prosthesis, panaceas, and far more. The possibilities are <em>endless</em>, Troy." Lee leaned in closer, and spoke in a low voice. "And who knows? Maybe this little incident could have a silver lining after all."</p> <p>Troy had heard enough. He jumped out of his seat. “<em>Silver lining</em>? My friends are fucking <em>dead</em>, and you wanna talk about a silver lining?"</p> <p>Lee appeared taken aback. "Mr. Lament, perhaps you've misunderstood. I meant no offense—"</p> <p>"And this <em>technology</em>. Where was it, when they were dying? Huh? You mean to tell me you black op <em>fucks</em> have been living it up, waltzing around with your cures for cancer and pana-whatever-the-fucks while our boys are out here dying?"</p> <p>"Our protocols dictate that—"</p> <p>"<em>I don't give a shit about your protocols!</em>" Lee fell silent. “All of this… this… <em>nonsense</em>… is this supposed to be some kind of <em>promotion</em>?”</p> <p>Troy removed the medal of honor from his waist-pocket, and tossed it onto the floor.</p> <p>“I don’t appreciate your brownie points, and now you black-suited <em>fucks</em> think… what? Fighting monsters is gonna make me feel better? Huh? What kind of sick joke is this!?”</p> <p>Jack appeared incredulous. “Mr. Lament, I believe you’ve… perhaps misunderstood. Our Foundation isn’t affiliated with any of your superio—”</p> <p>“I don’t give a damn about your Foundation! Now take all your… magical… hoodoo… <em>bullshit</em>, and get the hell out of here!”</p> <p>“Mr. Lament, I would urge you to reconsider…”</p> <p>Troy drew his gun. “<em>GO</em>!”, Troy commanded, half-shrieking, half-crying. “Leave me.”</p> <p>Lee's face went dark as he raised his hands. "You're making a mistake, Troy."</p> <p>"Get the fuck out of my room!"</p> <p>Jack sighed once more. “If you insist.”</p> <p>And with that, he was gone.</p> <p>Troy sat down for a moment, taking in the silence.</p> <p>That was when he noticed it. No larger than two inches, laid plainly on the floor, was a small white business card — words just barely legible.</p> <blockquote> <p style="text-align: center;"><strong>Jack Lee</strong></p> <p style="text-align: center;">SOAP CORPSE PRODUCTS</p> <p style="text-align: center;">932-773-1261</p> </blockquote> <p>“<em>Tch</em>“, he said. “The <em>gall</em>.”</p> <p>He crumpled up the card, and tossed it in the trash. And that was that.</p> <p>And <em>yet</em>…</p> <p>Almost unconsciously, he jolted towards the waste-bin, and snatched the slip where it laid.</p> <p>Troy examined the object for a moment, intrigued, before hastily stashing it inside his left waist-pocket. <em>What am I doing?</em>, he mused. <em>This is madness.</em></p> <p>Then, as swift as the moment had come, it was gone.</p> <p>He sighed, and reached for another beer.</p> <hr/> <p>Hours turned to days. Days turned to weeks. Weeks turned to months.</p> <p>It was <em>cold</em> in Philadelphia. It was always cold, this time of year. But something was different tonight. Something queer. Twisted. <em>Wrong</em>. What was it?</p> <p><em>Snow</em>, he thought. Perhaps that was it. Troy had never liked the snow. Come to think of it, Troy had never liked much of anything. Though he disliked snow most of all. Snow meant death, in a battle. Slips. Falls. Automobile accidents. And <em>cold</em>.</p> <p><em>Cold, cold, cold</em>, he thought. <em>Why is it so damn <span style="text-decoration: underline;">cold</span></em>? His hands felt as if they had been pierced by a dozen needles, each one thinner and sharper than the next. But Troy only clenched his jaw, and pressed on.</p> <p>It was at the corner of Jersey and Charles that he spotted it. Sage, steadfast, and sturdy, the great red light of the CVS was a welcome sight amidst the bitter indifference of night. He removed his cap, and hurried inside.</p> <p>It was quiet in the pharmacy. Tranquil, even. Aisles upon aisles of cheap snacks, cough medications, and other knick-knacks stood endless beneath neat parallel rows of fluorescent lighting, sterile and lifeless. He knew them all better than he was willing to admit.</p> <p>"Evenin', Mr. Lament," the old clerk said, "What'll it be today?"</p> <p>Troy grimaced. He couldn't recall when it was they had started calling him by name. After the first month, surely… or perhaps it was the second. Certainly, it was around the time he had started to come so late. <em>Least now, no one's around to see</em>.</p> <p>"The usual," he replied.</p> <p>They came as they always did, in small, cylindrical containers, red and white and green and blue, pills of all shapes and sizes. A few strokes of a pen, the ruffling of paper, a curt 'thank you', and they were his. Troy was stuffing his mouth before he left the parking lot.</p> <p>The night came alive in waves of warm ecstasy, one after another, each more intense than the last. By the fifth block, he was walking on air. And that was when he saw it.</p> <p>Rounding the corner of the alleyway, just out of sight of the hustle-and-bustle of downtown Philadelphia at night, was something like a man… only thinner — <em>sharper</em> — like fresh icicles on a cold winter morning, growing and twisting into strange, jagged edges… then shattering, then twisting, then growing anew.</p> <p>It had two arms and two legs, like a man, but in place of fingers were terribly long claws, even sharper and jaggeder than the beast’s malformed body. Its face was dark and sullen, fiery red eyes staring back at Troy’s empty sky-blues.</p> <p><em>Mary mother of christ</em>, he thought, <em>these must be <span style="text-decoration: underline;">really</span> strong</em>.</p> <p>But only for a moment. Then, he began to scream.</p> <p>Troy tried to run, but the beast wasted no time. One shriek, and the icy horror was upon him at once, claws thrashing in a trail of false images, tracing across the alleyway like a car driving in circles at Mach 10… here, then there, then everywhere, all at once, which made Troy wish — for the first time in months — that he <em>wasn’t</em> high as a kite.</p> <p>He caught the thing in the neck as it barreled towards him, and threw it to the ground with a deafening <em>crash</em>, single hand trembling. The beast made a noise like nothing human, and recoiled, momentarily vanquished.</p> <p>Troy kicked the creature with the full force of his peg leg, metal smashing against cold flesh. The thing let out another wretched howl — closer to a laugh than a scream — before arising at once, this time making for his bad arm.</p> <p><em>Clever bastard</em>, he thought, as the beast tore the prosthetic to pieces like a child opening a bag of candy. Troy winced as the beast’s claws met his bare stump.</p> <p>“<em>Fuck</em>!”, he shouted, stumbling backwards into a pile of trash, dazed and defeated. Blood gushed from his open wound, three dark streaks that leaked red, dotting the pale white ground like stray bullets from a paintball gun.</p> <p>The beast approached slowly, red eyes full of hate. What it was, where it came from, or whatever the hell it wanted with him, Troy would never know. <em>This is the end</em>, he thought. <em>Davis, Eddie, Alex… I’m ready. Oh, god, I’m ready</em>. He closed his eyes, locked in silent prayer.</p> <p>A light snow began to fall. The beast grew ever closer, snarling like a mad dog, savoring its victory with each step.</p> <p>Troy looked up. “Do it,” he rasped, slurring his words. His head was <em>pounding</em>, an unpleasant cacophony of pleasure and pain. Madness. “DO IT! COME ON! I’M READY!”</p> <p>Then he spotted it. Just a few feet away… right out of reach, a discarded chunk of hardwood. The beast did not seem to notice. Troy glanced left, towards the ruin of his “arm”, then right, to his stump. <em>Left. It’s on my left side.</em></p> <p>The beast raised its claw. But Troy only laughed.</p> <p>“If you wanna kill me,” he said, “you’re gonna have to try a little harder than <strong>THAT</strong>!”</p> <p>Troy wasted no time. He planted his arm upon the ground — paying no mind to the sting of the cold below — hoisted himself where he lay, grabbed the chunk with all his strength, and <em>SMASHED</em> the thing in its dark, red eyes, splinters surging into the air. Dark, brown fluid flowed forth from the point of impact like water from a broken pipe. The beast let out one last abhorrent <em>screech</em>, and collapsed.</p> <p>Troy began to laugh.</p> <p>He laughed, and laughed, and laughed, until his laughter turned to tears, his tears to shouts, then, finally — mercifully — silence.</p> <p>He held his hand to his heart. It was beating like a jackhammer. Then he looked to his hands, covered in dirt, and snow, and the lifeblood of the beast he had slain. He was trembling.</p> <p>But it was not fear which stirred him so.</p> <p><em>What's this</em>?, he thought. Only for a moment. Then, he knew.</p> <p>"Alive."</p> <p>He reached into his left pocket, and removed something small, and thin, the small-print text still barely legible. <em>Good as new</em>.</p> <p>The phone began to dial.</p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-soldier">The Soldier</a>" by stoner99, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-soldier">https://scpwiki.com/the-soldier</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module rate]] [[/>]] = THEN: Troy awoke in a cold sweat. He looked left, right, up, and down, jerking his head in frantic motions. IV fluids and strange machines were scattered across the unfamiliar room. Low moans echoed throughout the building as a flurry of men in white coats shuffled through the hallway outside. He did a double-take as he realized he couldn't remember how he had got there. Or why his left arm was missing. Then, he began to scream. "Where am I?", he shouted. "Daoud Khan Military Hospital", a familiar voice answered. "Relax." Seated at his bedside was a man in his mid-twenties -- tall, with dark skin and neatly trimmed black hair. He wore a green-and-brown camouflage uniform, the words "CLARK" and "U.S. ARMY" emblazoned on the lapel of his large chest. Three combat patches were sewn into the area beneath his left shoulder: the flag of his nation, two chevrons -- designating his rank -- and a quartered green-and-blue symbol Troy recognized immediately. "…Weston”, he replied, momentarily reassured. The young corporal was frowning slightly, a noticeable expression of pity on his face. "You were wounded in action. What's the last thing you remember?" "Your ugly mug", Troy japed. Clark let out a dry chuckle. "Well, it's good to see that you haven't lost your sense of humor." Troy looked at the bandaged stump where his arm should have been. "Gonna miss it", he said, groaning as he tried to sit up. After a few seconds of awkward struggle, he gave up his efforts and glanced towards his friend. "What happened?" "Grenade", the corporal replied. "//Two//, actually. It's a miracle you survived." Suddenly, the memories began to flood back. Troy tried to process five hundred sensations in five hundredths of a second. He could see explosions in the distance, Clark shrieking orders in the heat of a battle. Men, women, and children -- a cacophony of wailing voices, drowned out by the sound of gunfire as he rushed through the compound. And other things. "The stronghold?" "Gone. Most of them, anyway. Commander got away. Jumped through a window just as we were about to bust down the door. Like a high-schooler running from the paddy wagon." He sighed. "In the middle of a //battlefield//. Lucky son of a bitch." "Eddie, Davis, and the others?" "Davis didn't make it. Eddie and Alex are in critical condition. Vernon, Buggs, and myself managed to make it out unscathed. In fact, I came here to thank you. You... saved our lives. And... um..." "What?", Troy pushed. It was clear his comrade was holding something back. "You've been awarded the congressional medal of honor." Troy stared into space as he took this in. Then he laughed. "You're joking, right?" "Word came in this morning. Ceremony's in two months. They said they'll fly you out once your recovery's complete. You'll be honorably discharged." He paused. "I almost couldn't believe it myself." "Why?" Clark seemed confused. "Well, I mean, you're the first living recipient since... since, well--" "You know that's not what I meant. I mean, //why//? Davis is gone. Eddie and Alex are out of commission -- who knows if they'll pull through? And for what? Our primary objective was a complete //failure//. And don't get me started on myself... I mean, look at me, for Christ's sake!" Troy pulled back the sheet covering his body. His legs were a twisted mess of protruding bone and charred flesh, his chest similarly burnt. Sores and gangrenous pieces of rotting tissue ravaged his calves, ankles, and feet. Clark recoiled. "I'll never see combat again. And you think a handshake and some piece of metal are supposed to make me happy?" He scoffed. Clark hesitated, staring down. "//Tch//. I didn't think so." ------ = NOW: They had needed to amputate his right leg and two toes to stop the infections. The prosthetics ached on the misshapen bulges of flesh at his thigh and forearm. A simple peg of steel for his leg, and a sling of plastic and hardwood for his arm. Fancy. Troy let out a curse as the false limb grated against his skin -- a permanent reminder of his failure. As he was lead into the drawing room of the Executive Mansion, all of the pomp and patriotic fervor seemed almost unreal. The banners may have been red, white, and blue. But all Troy could see was red. The wide room at the center of the Presidential Palace was filled to the brim with reporters, cameramen, security guards, and other aides. Troy recognized some of the faces in the crowd. Colonel Frank Moor -- his unit's commanding officer -- had a wry smile on his face. To his left sat Troy's surviving companions. Alex Andrews, the technician, had lost an eye. Vernon Rogers and Sam Buggs appeared despondent. Eddie Orin and Weston Clark were noticeably absent. After an eternity of awkward handshakes and paparazzi shots, the room gradually fell silent, and Troy was ushered to his seat. “Ladies and gentleman: the President of the United States”, the aide declared, as the tune of some sappy old war hymn Troy couldn’t remember echoed throughout the drawing room. The not-quite elderly man who had once been a Governor of Texas seemed uncomfortable. Troy saw him recoil, ever so slightly, as he registered his grotesque features. But the President managed to catch himself before anyone seemed to notice. Then he began to speak. “Please be seated. Thank you." The attendees took their seats. The President looked down. "I want to begin by thanking all of you who showed up today to support our dear friend, and our troops. This man, right here, is an American hero. An American hero. You know that? Back in my home state, they have this sayin’….” He droned on. Troy’s peg-leg ached with every word of the rambling speech. His eyes wandered throughout the room once more. Save for his old comrades -- few that they were -- the area of seating reserved for his familiars was noticeably empty. Troy had no family to speak of. When he was seven, his parents had died in a wreck off Interstate 27, and that was about all he could remember of them. He had spent the next ten years drifting from foster parent to foster parent, never feeling quite at home. For all its vices, the army had given him a sense of belonging he had yearned for his entire life. A vocation. A //purpose//. What was he now? He snapped out of it just as the President was finishing his remarks. //What’s done is done//, he thought. //No use in dwelling on the past.// “…But, uh… let me tell you, right now. We’re gonna win this war, son. We’re gonna beat this sonabitch. And the sacrifice you’ve made, here, won’t be forgotten. You’re an American hero.” The President handed him the sky blue, star-spangled medal. Troy wasn’t sure whether to scoff, puke, shit, scream, or run away. He opted to lie. “Thank you, Mr. President. It’s an honor.” The rest of the evening was a blur. Andrews had bought him a six-pack before he had left, which Troy quickly took to ravaging until his aches ceased, the room shook, and the ceiling turned purple. He awoke the next morning to the sound of knocking. //Room service//?, he wondered. “Coming!”, he shouted, jumping to his foot. “About time you came back. I was startin’ t--“ Troy took a step back. The man standing on the other side of the door was, evidently, //not// room service. “Hello”, a hoarse voice said, lips curling into a half-hearted smile. “May I come in?” He was, in truth, perhaps forty, but appeared far older — somewhat gaunt, with dark glassy eyes and thinning greyish hair, trimmed into the uneven remains of a crew cut that had been neglected for far too long. He wore a black, tieless suit and brown khaki pants, and when he spoke, his words came in a thick southern trawl. His demeanor was cold and uncanny — like some undead warrior or arch-lich of old, and when he moved, his fragile limbs trembled sporadically. “Sorry, you’ve got the wrong room—”, Troy said as he reached to shut the door. But the stranger held it open with his foot, jerking his leg with a startling agility unusual for a man of his age. Troy was taken aback. His next response was, perhaps, lacking in the same veneer of //courtesy// as his first. “Hey! Who the hell do you think you are, huh? Get your foot out of my goddamn doorway, and get out of here before I break your jaw, you old //fuck//!” “My most //sincere// apologies—”, the stranger said, insincerely, “—but I must insist. I carry an offer which I believe will interest you //very// much, Mr. Lament. In fact, it could very well change your life. All is ask is fifteen minutes of your time…” //Oh, Christ//, Troy thought. //Another book deal?// He had told the hotel staff to turn away any would-be publishers or journalists asking for his room number. Very clearly, in fact. Had they been //bribed//? “Go away. I’m not interested.” His tone remained defiant. The stranger chuckled. “There’s no need to invoke Christ, son. I'm no opportunist." Troy’s blood ran cold. //What?// His mind began to race. //No… that couldn’t be. I didn’t… he couldn’t… he… he… unless... but that's not possible... no. It can't be.// In the end, he could only think of one word to say. “How?” ----- The bright glare of the midday sun reflected sharply off the nazar on the console table, piercing Troy’s retina like a needle, and cutting through his mind’s eye like a sword — although, he hardly noticed the latter. Troy, uncharacteristically brooding, sputtered and stumbled as he tried to find the right words for all the man had said. Manila envelopes and kafkaesque log sheets laid bare across the floor. “This is all so…” //Disturbing? Disconcerting? Be…// “-wildering?”, the stranger finished. “Would you stop that?”, Troy replied. “It’s creeping me out.” The stranger waved a hand. “Eh. You get used to it.” Troy stared at the great glass eye before him with a sense of curiosity… and fear. When he had told him it was possible to read minds with a few tricks and a funny looking necklace, he almost couldn’t believe it. But, even so, the stranger had done it. Then, when told him he could kill a man with a super squirter that shot //antimatter// bullets… well, Troy wasn’t sure what to believe. “H-how…”, he began, clearing his throat. “These… these //things//…" For a moment, he seemed lost in thought. "How many?" The stranger’s reply did little to calm his nerves. “//Out there//? Oh. Trillions.” Troy’s expression was grim. The stranger laughed once more. “Nah, I’m just screwin’ with you. Well, we don’t know, really. There’s about ten-thousand under containment, in one facility or another… all o’er the globe. Most… aren’t like this one… hell, this one ain’t even a skip.” “Skip?” Troy said, confused. “Call it… a term of the trade. Short for “es-cee-pee”… which, itself, is short for “special containment protocols.” Acronyms within acronyms. Who knows where they came from? Heh. Hell, maybe we should get Strataphysics on the case. I digress. Anyway—” He picked up the nazar. “—this one’s just an LAA. ‘Nother acronym. Stands for “Lesser Anomalous Artifact”. We’ve got hundreds of ‘em.” He paused, removing a flagon of water from his waist-pocket before taking a sip. “Most are stashed en masse in subbasements beneath some of the larger sites. Command’s authorized me to carry this one around for certain outings. Comes in handy in more ways than one.” The stranger gave out another dry chuckle, which soon became a coughing fit, which soon turned to silence. Troy put his head down, rubbed his face, and sighed before speaking. “I don’t think I caught your name” “Oh. Yes. Where are my manners?”, the stranger said. “Lee.” He outstretched a hand. “Jack Lee. Pleasure to meet you.” Troy did not respond. Jack put his hand down, and sighed. “Right. I suppose it’s about time we get down to brass tacks. Mr. Lament: I have no doubt that the things you’ve learned today are… upsetting, to say the least. Perhaps you may even believe yourself the victim of a sudden psychotic break, or some overextended practical joke.” He leaned in closer. “But these threats are terribly //real//. And our organization isn’t seeking just anyone to address them.” “Why me?”, Troy pushed. "Who better?", Lee shot back. "Let's see." He removed a small blue sheet from the pile of documents, and began to read. "Graduated from the United States Military Academy, salutatorian for the class of '89. Very nice. Two tours in the gulf, one in Somalia, three and Kosovo and one in... Afghanistan. Refused a commission on three occasions to remain in active combat. Joined the 75th Ranger Regiment in October of o-zero after--" “But I’m //nothing//, now," Troy interrupted. "Don’t you see? Nobody! I can’t walk to the fucking fridge anymore without a cane and thirty different types a’ medication.” “You're not "nothing", Troy. Your skills could be quite invaluable to us. And besides, we can //mend// you. We have the technology. Prosthesis, //well// beyond anything the VA could ever give you, believe me." Troy took a moment to absorb this information. "Technology?" "Yes. Prosthesis, panaceas, and far more. The possibilities are //endless//, Troy." Lee leaned in closer, and spoke in a low voice. "And who knows? Maybe this little incident could have a silver lining after all." Troy had heard enough. He jumped out of his seat. “//Silver lining//? My friends are fucking //dead//, and you wanna talk about a silver lining?" Lee appeared taken aback. "Mr. Lament, perhaps you've misunderstood. I meant no offense--" "And this //technology//. Where was it, when they were dying? Huh? You mean to tell me you black op //fucks// have been living it up, waltzing around with your cures for cancer and pana-whatever-the-fucks while our boys are out here dying?" "Our protocols dictate that--" "//I don't give a shit about your protocols!//" Lee fell silent. “All of this… this... //nonsense//… is this supposed to be some kind of //promotion//?” Troy removed the medal of honor from his waist-pocket, and tossed it onto the floor. “I don’t appreciate your brownie points, and now you black-suited //fucks// think... what? Fighting monsters is gonna make me feel better? Huh? What kind of sick joke is this!?” Jack appeared incredulous. “Mr. Lament, I believe you’ve… perhaps misunderstood. Our Foundation isn’t affiliated with any of your superio—” “I don’t give a damn about your Foundation! Now take all your… magical… hoodoo… //bullshit//, and get the hell out of here!” “Mr. Lament, I would urge you to reconsider…” Troy drew his gun. “//GO//!”, Troy commanded, half-shrieking, half-crying. “Leave me.” Lee's face went dark as he raised his hands. "You're making a mistake, Troy." "Get the fuck out of my room!" Jack sighed once more. “If you insist.” And with that, he was gone. Troy sat down for a moment, taking in the silence. That was when he noticed it. No larger than two inches, laid plainly on the floor, was a small white business card — words just barely legible. > = Jack Lee > = SOAP CORPSE PRODUCTS > = 932-773-1261 “//Tch//“, he said. “The //gall//.” He crumpled up the card, and tossed it in the trash. And that was that. And //yet//… Almost unconsciously, he jolted towards the waste-bin, and snatched the slip where it laid. Troy examined the object for a moment, intrigued, before hastily stashing it inside his left waist-pocket. //What am I doing?//, he mused. //This is madness.// Then, as swift as the moment had come, it was gone. He sighed, and reached for another beer. ------ Hours turned to days. Days turned to weeks. Weeks turned to months. It was //cold// in Philadelphia. It was always cold, this time of year. But something was different tonight. Something queer. Twisted. //Wrong//. What was it? //Snow//, he thought. Perhaps that was it. Troy had never liked the snow. Come to think of it, Troy had never liked much of anything. Though he disliked snow most of all. Snow meant death, in a battle. Slips. Falls. Automobile accidents. And //cold//. //Cold, cold, cold//, he thought. //Why is it so damn __cold__//? His hands felt as if they had been pierced by a dozen needles, each one thinner and sharper than the next. But Troy only clenched his jaw, and pressed on. It was at the corner of Jersey and Charles that he spotted it. Sage, steadfast, and sturdy, the great red light of the CVS was a welcome sight amidst the bitter indifference of night. He removed his cap, and hurried inside. It was quiet in the pharmacy. Tranquil, even. Aisles upon aisles of cheap snacks, cough medications, and other knick-knacks stood endless beneath neat parallel rows of fluorescent lighting, sterile and lifeless. He knew them all better than he was willing to admit. "Evenin', Mr. Lament," the old clerk said, "What'll it be today?" Troy grimaced. He couldn't recall when it was they had started calling him by name. After the first month, surely... or perhaps it was the second. Certainly, it was around the time he had started to come so late. //Least now, no one's around to see//. "The usual," he replied. They came as they always did, in small, cylindrical containers, red and white and green and blue, pills of all shapes and sizes. A few strokes of a pen, the ruffling of paper, a curt 'thank you', and they were his. Troy was stuffing his mouth before he left the parking lot. The night came alive in waves of warm ecstasy, one after another, each more intense than the last. By the fifth block, he was walking on air. And that was when he saw it. Rounding the corner of the alleyway, just out of sight of the hustle-and-bustle of downtown Philadelphia at night, was something like a man… only thinner — //sharper// — like fresh icicles on a cold winter morning, growing and twisting into strange, jagged edges… then shattering, then twisting, then growing anew. It had two arms and two legs, like a man, but in place of fingers were terribly long claws, even sharper and jaggeder than the beast’s malformed body. Its face was dark and sullen, fiery red eyes staring back at Troy’s empty sky-blues. //Mary mother of christ//, he thought, //these must be __really__ strong//. But only for a moment. Then, he began to scream. Troy tried to run, but the beast wasted no time. One shriek, and the icy horror was upon him at once, claws thrashing in a trail of false images, tracing across the alleyway like a car driving in circles at Mach 10… here, then there, then everywhere, all at once, which made Troy wish — for the first time in months — that he //wasn’t// high as a kite. He caught the thing in the neck as it barreled towards him, and threw it to the ground with a deafening //crash//, single hand trembling. The beast made a noise like nothing human, and recoiled, momentarily vanquished. Troy kicked the creature with the full force of his peg leg, metal smashing against cold flesh. The thing let out another wretched howl — closer to a laugh than a scream — before arising at once, this time making for his bad arm. //Clever bastard//, he thought, as the beast tore the prosthetic to pieces like a child opening a bag of candy. Troy winced as the beast’s claws met his bare stump. “//Fuck//!”, he shouted, stumbling backwards into a pile of trash, dazed and defeated. Blood gushed from his open wound, three dark streaks that leaked red, dotting the pale white ground like stray bullets from a paintball gun. The beast approached slowly, red eyes full of hate. What it was, where it came from, or whatever the hell it wanted with him, Troy would never know. //This is the end//, he thought. //Davis, Eddie, Alex… I’m ready. Oh, god, I’m ready//. He closed his eyes, locked in silent prayer. A light snow began to fall. The beast grew ever closer, snarling like a mad dog, savoring its victory with each step. Troy looked up. “Do it,” he rasped, slurring his words. His head was //pounding//, an unpleasant cacophony of pleasure and pain. Madness. “DO IT! COME ON! I’M READY!” Then he spotted it. Just a few feet away… right out of reach, a discarded chunk of hardwood. The beast did not seem to notice. Troy glanced left, towards the ruin of his “arm”, then right, to his stump. //Left. It’s on my left side.// The beast raised its claw. But Troy only laughed. “If you wanna kill me,” he said, “you’re gonna have to try a little harder than THAT!” Troy wasted no time. He planted his arm upon the ground -- paying no mind to the sting of the cold below -- hoisted himself where he lay, grabbed the chunk with all his strength, and //SMASHED// the thing in its dark, red eyes, splinters surging into the air. Dark, brown fluid flowed forth from the point of impact like water from a broken pipe. The beast let out one last abhorrent //screech//, and collapsed. Troy began to laugh. He laughed, and laughed, and laughed, until his laughter turned to tears, his tears to shouts, then, finally -- mercifully -- silence. He held his hand to his heart. It was beating like a jackhammer. Then he looked to his hands, covered in dirt, and snow, and the lifeblood of the beast he had slain. He was trembling. But it was not fear which stirred him so. //What's this//?, he thought. Only for a moment. Then, he knew. "Alive." He reached into his left pocket, and removed something small, and thin, the small-print text still barely legible. //Good as new//. The phone began to dial. [[div class="footer-wikiwalk-nav"]] [[=]] [[[The Doctor]]] << The Soldier >> [[[The Renegade]]] [[/=]] [[/div]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-03-04T02:06:00	[ "_licensebox", "tale" ]	The Soldier - SCP Foundation	4	[ "the-doctor", "the-renegade", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[]	[]	1452923947	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-soldier
the-son-you-love	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="preview"> <p>Some part of me still loves you dearly. I still can't forgive you.</p> </div> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p>I never want to wake up<br/> Living your faint memory<br/> I want to wake up in your bed<br/> Fucking scared<br/> Pushing through the bullshit<br/> And working up the nerve to speak<br/> ( Lucky Strike - Foot Ox )</p> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/trouts-authorpage">Troutmaskreplica's author page</a></p> </div> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p>i'll never be the <span style="color: gray"><span style="text-decoration: line-through;">son</span></span> you raised</p> <p>i can see it in your eyes</p> <p>you claim you still love me</p> <p>and that i will always be your <span style="color: gray"><span style="text-decoration: line-through;">son</span></span></p> <p>that God makes no mistakes</p> <p>that i can always talk to you</p> <p>that it is okay that i am slightly effeminate</p> <p>you treat me like i am confused</p> <p>like i just don't understand who i am</p> <p>when you have never felt the pain</p> <p>the misery</p> <p>of wearing someone else's skin</p> <p>i want to love you</p> <p>some part of me</p> <p>loves you dearly</p> <p>you sacrificed so much for me</p> <p>and yet</p> <p>when you ask me for help after you berated me</p> <p>after you treated your <strong>daughter</strong> like filth</p> <p>your <strong>daughter</strong> who knows the pains</p> <p>of not being who she wants</p> <p>the pain of wanting to tear yourself to shreds</p> <p>the pain of being covered in vile, disgusting fur</p> <p>the pain of being unable to speak without cringing</p> <p>the pain of</p> <p>never being</p> <p>the <span style="text-decoration: line-through;">son</span> you loved<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> i love you</p> <p>that's why i don't want to see you again.</p> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/wrathcon"><img alt="e5efPv7.png" class="image" src="https://i.imgur.com/e5efPv7.png"/></a></div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div class="collection"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">More From This Author</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">More From This Author</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <table style="1px solid black; width: 100%;"> <tr> <th class="namerow" colspan="2"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p>TroutMaskReplica's Works</p> </div> </div></th> </tr> <tr> <th class="titlecolumn">SCPs</th> <th class="articlecolumn"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-8380">SCP-8380</a> <em>(+80)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-6825">SCP-6825</a> <em>(+88)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-6862">SCP-6862</a> <em>(+80)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-8990">SCP-8990</a> <em>(+23)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-7921">SCP-7921</a> <em>(+40)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-6289">SCP-6289</a> <em>(+124)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-7799">SCP-7799</a> <em>(+31)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-7619">SCP-7619</a> <em>(+34)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-7345">SCP-7345</a> <em>(+126)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-5796">SCP-5796</a> <em>(+101)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-7640">SCP-7640</a> <em>(+44)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-6294">SCP-6294</a> <em>(+40)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-6718">SCP-6718</a> <em>(+55)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-8762">SCP-8762</a> <em>(+34)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-7230">SCP-7230</a> <em>(+29)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> </div></th> </tr> <tr> <th class="titlecolumn">Tales/GoI Formats</th> <th class="articlecolumn"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/one-hundred-and-fifty-thousand">One Hundred And Fifty Thousand</a> <em>(+67)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/backtobed">Heading Off to Bed</a> <em>(+37)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scatterbrained">scatterbrained.</a> <em>(+50)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/freefall">Freefall</a> <em>(+27)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/vile">VILE</a> <em>(+38)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/it-will-all-be-okay">It Will All Be Okay</a> <em>(+38)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/daisydeathdysphoria">Daisies, Death, and Dysphoria</a> <em>(+72)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/in-her-arms">in her arms,</a> <em>(+35)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/deny-defend-depose">Deny, Delay, Depose</a> <em>(+87)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/moonlight">Moonlight, My Dear</a> <em>(+13)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> </div></th> </tr> <tr> <th class="titlecolumn">Other</th> <th class="articlecolumn"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:a-basilisk">ArtExchange 2024 For UberGoober</a> <em>(+26)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:soy-un-perdedor">Soy Un Perdedor</a> <em>(+22)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:life-and-death">Bohart's Life and Death</a> <em>(+36)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/trouts-authorpage">Trout's EPIC Authorpage</a> <em>(+159)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:buy-our-products">Christmas Industries (Art Exchange)</a> <em>(+17)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:they-got-away">Jawn Proposal (Fanart!)</a> <em>(+23)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:reach-for-the-stars">A timely death.</a> <em>(+19)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> </div></th> </tr> </table> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-son-you-love">The Son You Love</a>" by TroutMaskReplica, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-son-you-love">https://scpwiki.com/the-son-you-love</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	===== [[include <a href="/component:preview">component:preview</a> text= Some part of me still loves you dearly. I still can't forgive you. ]] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:toggle-sidebar">:scp-wiki:component:toggle-sidebar</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:scp-trans-pride">:scp-wiki:theme:scp-trans-pride</a> \|trans-pride-animated-header= --] \|trans-pride-logo= --] \|trans-pride-footer= --]]] [[module CSS]] .bblock:hover {color: grey} [[/module]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] [[=]] I never want to wake up Living your faint memory I want to wake up in your bed Fucking scared Pushing through the bullshit And working up the nerve to speak ( Lucky Strike - Foot Ox ) [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/trouts-authorpage Troutmaskreplica's author page] [[/=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:end">:scp-wiki:info:end</a>]] [[=]] i'll never be the ##gray\|--son--## you raised i can see it in your eyes you claim you still love me and that i will always be your ##gray\|--son--## that God makes no mistakes that i can always talk to you that it is okay that i am slightly effeminate you treat me like i am confused like i just don't understand who i am when you have never felt the pain the misery of wearing someone else's skin i want to love you some part of me loves you dearly you sacrificed so much for me and yet when you ask me for help after you berated me after you treated your daughter like filth your daughter who knows the pains of not being who she wants the pain of wanting to tear yourself to shreds the pain of being covered in vile, disgusting fur the pain of being unable to speak without cringing the pain of never being the --son-- you loved @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ i love you that's why i don't want to see you again. [[image https://i.imgur.com/e5efPv7.png link="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/wrathcon"]] [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:wikimodule">:scp-wiki:component:wikimodule</a> \|ratings= --]]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-08-01T04:22:00	[ "_licensebox", "bittersweet", "lgbtq", "poetry", "tale", "wrathcon2024" ]	The Son You Love - SCP Foundation	50	[ "trouts-authorpage", "wrathcon", "scp-8380", "scp-6825", "scp-6862", "scp-8990", "scp-7921", "scp-6289", "scp-7799", "scp-7619", "scp-7345", "scp-5796", "scp-7640", "scp-6294", "scp-6718", "scp-8762", "scp-7230", "one-hundred-and-fifty-thousand", "backtobed", "scatterbrained", "freefall", "vile", "it-will-all-be-okay", "daisydeathdysphoria", "in-her-arms", "deny-defend-depose", "moonlight", "art:a-basilisk", "art:soy-un-perdedor", "art:life-and-death", "art:buy-our-products", "art:they-got-away", "art:reach-for-the-stars", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "unfiltered-exhaust-hub" ]	[ "https://i.imgur.com/e5efPv7.png" ]	1455994763	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-son-you-love
the-spire-star-extended-edition	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div style="display: none"> <div style="text-align: left;"> <div class="code"> <div class="hl-main"> <pre><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Foxtrot</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Sigma-9</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">2022</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">Wikidot</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">Theme</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">By</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Liryn</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">FONTS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Montserrat</span><span class="hl-special">:ital</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">wght</span><span class="hl-var">@0</span><span class="hl-code">,800;1,800&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Lexend</span><span class="hl-special">:wght</span><span class="hl-var">@700</span><span class="hl-code">;800&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">JetBrains</span><span class="hl-code">+</span><span class="hl-identifier">Mono</span><span class="hl-special">:ital</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">wght</span><span class="hl-var">@0</span><span class="hl-code">,400;0,700;1,400;1,700&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Fira</span><span class="hl-code">+</span><span class="hl-identifier">Code</span><span class="hl-special">:wght</span><span class="hl-var">@400</span><span class="hl-code">;700&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Sofia</span><span class="hl-code">+</span><span class="hl-identifier">Sans</span><span class="hl-special">:ital</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">wght</span><span class="hl-var">@0</span><span class="hl-code">,400;0,700;1,400;1,700&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">rsms.me</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">inter</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">inter.css</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Figtree</span><span class="hl-special">:wght</span><span class="hl-var">@800</span><span class="hl-code">;900&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">IBM</span><span class="hl-code">+</span><span class="hl-identifier">Plex</span><span class="hl-code">+</span><span class="hl-identifier">Sans</span><span class="hl-special">:ital</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">wght</span><span class="hl-var">@0</span><span class="hl-code">,400;0,500;0,600;0,700;1,400;1,500;1,600;1,700&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">VARIABLES</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-special">:root</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">VARIABLES</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Core</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ --</span><span class="hl-reserved">header-title:</span><span class="hl-code"> "SCP Foundation"</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">header-subtitle:</span><span class="hl-code"> "SECURE, CONTAIN, PROTECT"</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">logo-img:</span><span class="hl-code"> url(https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/theme:foxtrot/fxtrt-scp_logo_lightmode.svg)</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">darkmode-logo-img:</span><span class="hl-code"> url(https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/theme:foxtrot/fxtrt-scp_logo_darkmode.svg)</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">logo-opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">14</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">head-font:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'Sans Normalcy'</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">ui-font:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'IBM Plex Sans'</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">mono-font:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'JetBrains Mono', 'Fira </span><span class="hl-string">Code</span><span class="hl-code">', </span><span class="hl-string">monospace</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">page-font:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'Inter', 'verdana'</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">base-font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.9</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">page-font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">VARIABLES</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Misc</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ --</span><span class="hl-reserved">header-txt-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">subheader-txt-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">misc-txt-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#464646</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">link-txt-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#E6283C</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">link-hover-txt-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">white</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">VARIABLES</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Color</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Accents</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ --</span><span class="hl-reserved">accent:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--acc-default)</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-default:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">59</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">59</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">59</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-wyoming:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">142</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">18</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-canada:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--acc-default)</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-poland:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">87</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">44</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">17</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-slothspit:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">27</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">60</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">133</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-vanguard:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">153</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">75</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-threshold:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">121</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">113</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">130</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-overwatch:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">28</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">37</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">56</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-spc:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">165</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">200</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-fishing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">67</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">111</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">145</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-nightfall:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">151</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-hybrasil:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">27</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">60</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">133</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-goc:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">39</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">84</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">149</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-spooky:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">252</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">112</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">40</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">VARIABLES</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">BetterFootnotes</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ --</span><span class="hl-reserved">fnColor:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--link-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">fnLinger:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">VARIABLES</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.info-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">barColour:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">linkColour:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#EDEDED</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MAIN</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">html</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">scroll-behavior:</span><span class="hl-code"> smooth</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow-x:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">body</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font), </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--base-font-size)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(</span><span class="hl-number">51</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">51</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">51</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> linear-gradient(to </span><span class="hl-string">bottom</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">200</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-rendering:</span><span class="hl-code"> optimizeLegibility</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow-wrap:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">break-word</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#container-wrap</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#content-wrap</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--page-font), var(--ui-font), </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--page-font-size)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">440</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">strong</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">700</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tt</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-source</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">pre</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-page-textarea</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--mono-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ol</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">p</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-underline-offset:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">40</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> :</span><span class="hl-special">:selection</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Clicky</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">links</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.newpage</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:visited</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:visited</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--link-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.newpage</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:visited:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:visited:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--link-hover-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--link-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">patch</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">for</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">sidebar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">media</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">collapsibles</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">ACS</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ayers</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">module</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">so</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">doesn</span><span class="hl-code">'</span><span class="hl-identifier">t</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">override</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-folded</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-unfolded-link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.danger-diamond</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.info-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-folded</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.info-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--linkColour) !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MAIN</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">160</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font), </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">900</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">0.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> fit-content</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-title)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-subtitle)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font) !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">700</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--misc-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">26</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.35</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">block</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-transform:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">uppercase</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#extra-div-1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">160</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">7</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--logo-img) </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">30</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">130</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--logo-opacity)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MAIN</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Header</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Search</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">text</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#efefef</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--page-font-size) - </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.empty</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#999999</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">47</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MAIN</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Header</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">white</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li.sfhover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.83</span><span class="hl-code">) !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">230</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-indent:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.mobile-top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MAIN</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Header</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Login</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">19</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 767</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.printuser</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.printuser</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.printuser</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">img.small</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">18</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">18</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 767</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.printuser</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">img.small</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">transform:</span><span class="hl-code"> translate(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#my-account</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 767</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#account-topbutton</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MAIN</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Header</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Side</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.open-menu</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">white</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (min-width: 768</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.6</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.6</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">18.75</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">left</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">direction:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">rtl</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">left</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.resources</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.media</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#interwiki</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">direction:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">ltr</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.resources</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.heading</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--misc-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#cfcfcf</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">9</span><span class="hl-string">pt</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">800</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-transform:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">uppercase</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Blockquotes</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">Custom</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Divs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">blockquote</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.15</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#f7f7f7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">dashed</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#f7f7f7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.35</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.35</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#f7f7f7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.15</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fbfbfb</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.quote</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#bbb</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">9</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">9</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#bbb</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.note</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#afafaf</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.round</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Headings</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">Titles</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-title</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.meta-title</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font), </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">800</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#3b3b3b</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> fit-content</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-title</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.meta-title</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#breadcrumbs</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.pseudocrumbs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font), </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">800</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#3b3b3b</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">800</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.footnotes-footer</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.title</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font), </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#3b3b3b</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">800</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Rate</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Module</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.creditRate</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#bbb</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#bbb</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-points</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inline-block</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Rate</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Module</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Author</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Label</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.authorlink-wrapper</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">author-top-adjust:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">author-bottom-adjust:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">author-right-adjust:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--base-font-size)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Side</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anchor</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> sticky</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.14</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc((</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vw - </span><span class="hl-number">870</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">)/</span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vh - </span><span class="hl-number">18</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">103.5</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 1290</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">visibility:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Image</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#f4f4f4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#3b3b3b</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">img</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.imagediv</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">right</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 540</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.imagediv</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">only</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">screen</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 600</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block.block-right</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tables</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Base</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">12</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#bfbfbf</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.35</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tables</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Customization</span><span class="hl-code"> (</span><span class="hl-identifier">Table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Coloring</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">System</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tables</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Customization</span><span class="hl-code"> (</span><span class="hl-identifier">Table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Coloring</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">System</span><span class="hl-code">) > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Headings</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">Image</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Captions</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#E0FFD4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#D8ECF4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FDF6D7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFDFCD</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFCFCF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">146</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.wiki-content-table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-collapse:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">separate</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tables</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Customization</span><span class="hl-code"> (</span><span class="hl-identifier">Table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Coloring</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">System</span><span class="hl-code">) > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Other</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colored</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Divs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote.table1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote.table1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting.table1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation.table1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal.table1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(</span><span class="hl-number">224</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">212</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote.table2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote.table2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting.table2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation.table2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal.table2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(</span><span class="hl-number">226</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">244</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote.table3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote.table3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting.table3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation.table3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal.table3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(</span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">245</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">189</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote.table4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote.table4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting.table4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation.table4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal.table4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(</span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">223</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">205</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote.table5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote.table5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting.table5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation.table5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal.table5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(</span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">207</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">207</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote.table6</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote.table6</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting.table6</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation.table6</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal.table6</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(</span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">218</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tabs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Base</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tabs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Customization</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-wrap:</span><span class="hl-code"> wrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">.125</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">UNSELECTED</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#efefef</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">HOVER</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Listitem</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">relative</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-bottom</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">align-items:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.35</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.75</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> ellipsis</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">white-space:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">nowrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Selection</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">SELECTED</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:active</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">WORDS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">NO</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BROKEY</span><span class="hl-code">. </span><span class="hl-identifier">CROQ</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">HAS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">SPOKEY</span><span class="hl-code">. </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">other</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">things</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">word-break:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">normal</span><span class="hl-code"> !important </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.avatar-hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Dustjacket</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Assets</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fancyhr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--bright-accent), </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-source:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://wanderers-library.wikidot.com/local--files/component:dustjacket-theme/wl_hr.png')</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> round round</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-slice:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-code"> fill</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fancyborder</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://wanderers-library.wikidot.com/local--files/component:dustjacket-theme/wl_border.png') </span><span class="hl-number">600</span><span class="hl-code"> round</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Collapsibles</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">underline</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--link-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-special">:not</span><span class="hl-code">(</span><span class="hl-identifier">.licensebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.info-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.default-col</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">white</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">7</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">9</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--base-font-size)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inline-block</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-special">:not</span><span class="hl-code">(</span><span class="hl-identifier">.licensebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.info-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.default-col</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--accent), </span><span class="hl-number">0.7</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">ACS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Adjustments</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.top-left-box</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">.item</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anom-bar-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anom-bar-container</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anom-bar-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font), Inter, </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.acs-extra-1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.acs-extra-2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.acs-extra-3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.acs-extra-4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font), Inter, </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anom-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">.top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-transform:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Woed</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Adjustments</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.scale</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.item1</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-transform:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">uppercase</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.scale</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.class1</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.9</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.scale</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">woedbar-class-bar-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.scale</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.obj</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.7</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.scale</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.obj</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.55</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MISC</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.bt</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#footer</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#444</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">45</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#footer</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#7b7b7b</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.footer-wikiwalk-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">700</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">88</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">word-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-info-break</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-options-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">213</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">213</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">213</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-watch-options</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.6</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">77</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-options-bottom</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-direction:</span><span class="hl-code"> row</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-wrap:</span><span class="hl-code"> wrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">align-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-options-bottom</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">13</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">13</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom-left-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom-right-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-options-bottom</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--accent), </span><span class="hl-number">0.8</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-info-break</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#license-area</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#5f5f5f</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ecf2f1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#d9d9d9</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#license-area</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> "."</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (min-width: 768</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">16</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> "tags "</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--misc-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">800</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--page-font-size)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inline-block</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.8125</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">.75</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.1875</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">.3125</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">.1875</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom-right-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.25</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top-right-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.25</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">13</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.8125</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--page-font-size) - </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">.1875</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">.625</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.0625</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">.1875</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent)) </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-style:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> ""</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">relative</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">left</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.25</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.25</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.2813</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.125</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-tags-input</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">word-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-page-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.text</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font), </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">800</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">150</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-page-form</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">table.form</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">tbody</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-special">:nth-child</span><span class="hl-code">(1) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.edit-help-34</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">85</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">60</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.3</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> fit-content</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.edit-help-34</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.edit-help-34</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">table.edit-page-bottomtable</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-page-comments</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">86</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#lock-info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.8</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">86</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#lock-info</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> "!"</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">12</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">110</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">60</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#lock-timer</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">115</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#lock-timer</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> "⏲ "</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">textarea</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-page-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.text</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">outline:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ccc</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.3</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-property:</span><span class="hl-code"> box-shadow</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">textarea</span><span class="hl-special">:focus-visible</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-page-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.text</span><span class="hl-special">:focus-visible</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#a3a3a3</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#a3a3a3</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#action-area</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">p</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">85</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> darkslategrey</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#action-area</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">p</span><span class="hl-special">:nth-child</span><span class="hl-code">(5)></span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">block</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">120</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#who-rated-page-area</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">column-count:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 900</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#who-rated-page-area</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">column-count:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 700</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#who-rated-page-area</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">column-count:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 540</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#who-rated-page-area</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">column-count:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.content-warning.creditRate</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">21</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.preview-message</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.9</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">29</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">filter:</span><span class="hl-code"> drop-shadow(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#EDEDED</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.error-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">48</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#B00</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top-left-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top-right-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">table.page-history</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tbody</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-special">:nth-child</span><span class="hl-code">(2</span><span class="hl-identifier">n</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--accent), </span><span class="hl-number">0.05</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation:</span><span class="hl-code"> fade </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@keyframes</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">fade</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> 0% </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> 100% </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.button-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">11</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.button-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--link-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--link-hover-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.button-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.title</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">cursor:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">default</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">800</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">155</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">187</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">187</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">187</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#F7F7F7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow.owait</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow.owait</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.content</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> " "</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">block</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">0.9</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation:</span><span class="hl-code"> loading </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-code">s linear infinite</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> grey</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> grey</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@keyframes</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">loading</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> 0% </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">transform:</span><span class="hl-code"> rotate(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">deg)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> 100% </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">transform:</span><span class="hl-code"> rotate(</span><span class="hl-number">360</span><span class="hl-code">deg)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow.osuccess</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.content</span><span class="hl-special">:nth-child</span><span class="hl-code">(2)></span><span class="hl-identifier">img</span><span class="hl-special">:nth-child</span><span class="hl-code">(1) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.odialog-shader</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#262a39</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.btn</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.15</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.btn</span><span class="hl-special">:not</span><span class="hl-code">(</span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.btn</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-string">submit</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">), </span><span class="hl-identifier">.btn.btn-primary</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.buttons</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.button</span><span class="hl-special">:not</span><span class="hl-code">(</span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-string">submit</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">11</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">cursor:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">pointer</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-cancel-button</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-diff-button</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-preview-button</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-draft-button</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-continue-button</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ccc</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">cursor:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">pointer</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">14</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-cancel-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-diff-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-preview-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-draft-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-continue-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#eaeaea</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-continue-button</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#dbffd6</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.3</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#005a0a</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-continue-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#0d951c</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-cancel-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffe1e1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.3</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#c52727</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-cancel-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#c5272e</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">table.page-history</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tbody</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#757575</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fncon</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--page-font-size) !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fncon</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--page-font-size) !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.hovertip</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">400</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.checkbox</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-history</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#h-perpage</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">cursor:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">pointer</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">textarea</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#breadcrumbs</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.pseudocrumbs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">110</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">REDUCED</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MOTION</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ACCESSIBILITY</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (prefers-reduced-motion: </span><span class="hl-identifier">reduce</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">::</span><span class="hl-identifier">before</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">::</span><span class="hl-identifier">after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.001</span><span class="hl-code">s !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-iteration-count:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.001</span><span class="hl-code">s !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@MEDIA</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 850</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">h2:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 700</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">h2:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8.8</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 620</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">h2:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.15</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">123</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 520</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">h2:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { line-height: </span><span class="hl-number">16</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">9.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">145</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> }</span></pre></div> </div> </div> </div> <div class="authorlink-wrapper"><a href="javascript:;">WarriorofChaos</a> <div class="authorbox"> <div class="authorcontent"> <p style="text-align: center;"><strong>The Spire Star (Extended Edition)</strong> by <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/warriorofchaos" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4246396); return false;"><img alt="WarriorofChaos" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=4246396&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730032557" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=4246396)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/warriorofchaos" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4246396); return false;">WarriorofChaos</a></span></p> </div> </div> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div class="blockquote"> <p>The following was originally published in 1894 by Fae archeologist and historian Trygve Dirmarren, but was then expanded upon in 2027 by head Sidhe Lounge archivist Olivié Gwyneth.</p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <hr/> <p>Since the first sapient life had the first thought, there have existed thousands of subsequent cultures and civilizations throughout our world. Some were forgotten and lost to time, while others managed to preserve their existence and left their impact on the world in ways which can never be undone. Although humans have had the most cultures and some of the most powerful empires throughout history, many other intelligent beings have also walked the Earth for countless millennia. Among these many beings were the Fae, the Fairies, the Fair Folk, the Star Gazers, or Children of the Forest.</p> <p>Over time, the Fae gave rise to one of the most infamous empires upon the face of the Earth. This empire lived on for several thousand years, and once even controlled the entire world in a grip of wonder and fear. This was during a time when magic was widespread, and when gods and deities influenced the fate of the world and its inhabitants, as well as a time when <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/poczatki-normalnosci-i-jej-przyszlosc">the concept of normalcy yet to suffocate the world for more than a century</a>. The empire spread its influence across the lands and seas of the ancient world, and went on to absorb or destroy the many neighboring settlements through alignment or enslavement. This empire was responsible for countless incredible achievements and historical events, both good and bad, while under the rule of its twin demigod queens, the wicked Undoer Mab and her more compassionate sister the Inventor.</p> <p>While this article includes some information from official sources and historical documents, let it be known that much information regarding the Fae Empire is vague due to being lost to time. Historians and writers have worked together to extrapolate as much of the available history as possible and combined that with poetic license in order to develop this potential scenario of Fae history.</p> <p>It is widely believed that the Fae Empire was largely built on major cultural norms, philosophical ideals, governmental power, and architectural traditions throughout the years. For example, their early architectural style was brutalist in nature, and included simplistic yet monumental and imposing towers and palaces. The aristocratic and mabbites were granted the most luxury and privileges. The people followed the wills of the twin queens. Despite these norms, the Empire was formed of many settlements and cities, each having their own customs, cultures, and peoples. Of all these kingdoms and villages, there existed six city-states which were the prime powers of the Empire. They were the most glorious and influential of all the lands over which the Empire ruled.</p> <p>These six cities were known as the Spire Star. It is believed that many forms of Fae existed throughout the Empire and still exist today, and the six cities served as the capital and the core home to a specific group of Fae people. Even with the Empire’s demise, these cities left an influence on both the world and the Fae which withstood the tides of time. Then came a time when the world learned that these cities were not as lost as many had believed.</p> <p>Thus begins a deep look into the many secrets of the Spire Star of the Fae Empire.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div class="one column" style="font-family: Old English Text Mt Regular;"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><span style="font-size: 450%;"><strong>Arlende</strong></span><br/> <span style="font-size: 250%;">(ahr-lahn-deh)</span><br/> <span style="font-size: 250%;">The Velvet Spire, The Heart</span></p> </div> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> As the title implies, the city of Arlende was the heart of the Spire Star. It was the supreme capital which ruled over the entirety of the Fae Empire. It was from this city the seed of the Empire was planted, and blossomed and spread its roots throughout many lands of ages long gone. It is here the palace of the twin queens was located. They would watch over their kingdom from the many turrets and steeples surrounding the megalithic structure. The ancient gods were brought here before the queens to pledge their allegiance to their new rulers, or forfeit their lives. Those who were loyal became members of the courts of the two queens. <p>Arlende’s legend and influence actually extends centuries earlier than the rise of the Empire and the birth of the twin queens. Arlende was built many thousands of years prior, as it was the first home of the Fae <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-enlightened-children">founded during the time of the ancient Sky Keeper dragons known as the Age of Tranquility</a>. It was once a docile and spiritual kingdom which lived harmoniously amongst the lush beauty of the tranquil forests and beautiful meadows, within which it was located. Arlende had been the home of the twin queens since their births, as both were born within its very walls. However, once Mab rose to power, she warped the once peaceful and benevolent kingdom into a monolithic and imperial capital. This capital then ruled over all the Empire.</p> <p>As the Empire capital, Arlende was believed to be the largest and wealthiest of the six cities. It was the home of the common Sidhe Fae (<em>Homo Sapiens Sidhe</em>) within the Empire. Arlende was seen as a city that was both beautiful, yet intimidating. Its many spire tipped blackstone towers were lined with the purest irrilite and silver. Those viewing the imposing structures from the ground would be overwhelmed by the illusion that the towers stretched up to above the heavens, a sight that was both breathtaking and terrifying. It was also a city of wealth, power, and pride. The affluent held great power, and the commoners usually resided in the slums and trenches of the city. While the higher class showered themselves in pleasure, festivity, and all the finest Arlendian attire the city had to offer, the commoners were mistreated and abused, often enslaved simply for being poor. It was also infamous for the widespread practice of slavery through captured Humans and Yeren. These slaves were often either kept as pets to be used as personal servants, or manual labor for the more hazardous of tasks.</p> <p>One theory regarding the start of the Empire’s fall, is that the cruel mistreatment of the commoners was the genesis of the Inventor gaining the courage to stand up against her sister. This act would lead to the civil war which would result in the downfall of the Fae Empire. However, many even to this day contradict this theory as propaganda by Inventor sympathizers. While it is true that the Inventor was a tyrant much like her sister, documents and official sources state that the Inventor was more compassionate and had more noble ideals. Experts in the field of alternate histories hypothesized that if the Inventor survived her battle with Mab, she would have reformed the Fae Empire by outlawing its more oppressive and prejudicial practices. Whatever the reason, it was the Inventor who sparked the beginning of the Civil War that would lead to the First Diaspora. Ironically, the most destructive battle of the civil war would take place in Arlende, the very city where such abuse was most common. Despite all its wealth and power, the city could do nothing to prevent the catastrophic event which would lead to the fall of the city and Mab’s ultimate destruction.</p> <div class="one column" style="font-family: Old English Text Mt Regular;"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><span style="font-size: 350%;"><strong>Present Day</strong></span></p> </div> </div> <p>Of all the cities of the Spire Star, Arlende was the only one which was completely destroyed during the ruination of the Empire. This was shortly after both queens fell in their legendary battle. Despite this, it still serves as a reminder of the cruelty of both the Undoer Mab and the Empire as a whole. Although the city was destroyed, what became of the remains is something of a mystery. The collected theories over the decades, and historical information received from the now dissolved SCP Foundation, combine to form the belief that the Third Diaspora took place where the ruins of Arlende once stood. <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/ralliston-s-proposal">The exact location where the factory of James Rollander was built</a>.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div class="one column" style="font-family: Old English Text Mt Regular;"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><span style="font-size: 450%;"><strong>Brasilveen</strong></span><br/> <span style="font-size: 250%;">(brə-sil-veen)</span><br/> <span style="font-size: 250%;">The Amber Spire, The Grand Archive</span></p> </div> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> It has been stated that knowledge is power, and no settlement embraced that philosophy more so than the city of Brasilveen. The people of Brasilveen were the Elves (<em>Sidhe Tumuli</em>). A center of knowledge and learning, Brasilveen was home to the Empire’s finest libraries and institutions, opened to those seeking to uncover the many mysteries of existence and the untapped potential of the thaumaturgic arts. The city was fraught with observatories, archives, universities, and museums. The many white marbled medieval styled buildings were decorated with fine gold, and featured ornate tapestries hanging from the outside ridges or the inner halls. Many referred to Brasilveen as the mind of the Empire, as it always put logic and reasoning before impulse. <p>It is a common fact that the Fae were genetically linked to humans, as they are considered a cousin species much like the Yeren and Fin-Folk. The Elves were the sub-species which resembled humans more than any other species of Fae in existence. While they retained the standard pointed ears and large shiny black eyes, they completely lacked the ethereal wings of their other fellow Fae, and had human-like skin colors, ranging from the palest of pale to the darkest ebony, and all of the tones and hues in between. Despite being more physically similar to humans, the Elves were still as naturally gifted in thaumaturgy as the rest of their fellow Fae brothers and sisters. The Elves often donned themselves in cloaks of pure silk embroidered in gold and colored threads. They often adorned their heads with laurel leaf crowns or gold chained circlets.</p> <p>It is believed that Brasilveen was governed by a royal court composed of trusted sorcerers and wizards, led under a noble monarchy. The first rulers of Brasilveen were thought to be the monarchs Nemed and Danu Airgetlám, legendary ancestors of the late Nuada Airgetlám VII. Both King Nemed and Queen Danu were well known members of the Seelie Court of the Inventor. As such, the city of Brasilveen followed the Inventor, rather than her sister Mab. Therefore, when the civil war erupted, the people of Brasilveen immediately sided with the Inventor. They desired to avenge the possible murder of Oberon, one of the many lovers of the Inventor.</p> <div class="one column" style="font-family: Old English Text Mt Regular;"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><span style="font-size: 350%;"><strong>Present Day</strong></span></p> </div> </div> <p>Brasilveen managed to preserve its way of life long after the fall of the Empire. Unfortunately, the shape warping people of Fomor could not forget the many years of conflicts between themselves and the Elves, brought forth by Mab and her monstrous general Nessilatha. It is believed that many battles and conflicts between the two peoples continued for many centuries, and caused great damage and destruction to Brasilveen. Ambushes and assassinations befell many of the peoples and nobles of the city. Eventually, after one final bloody clash at the summit of the Sliabh an Iarainn, the Elves stood victorious. However, despite the many years of bloodshed between them, the Elves decided to spare their enemies in the end and let them live. They did not wish to make the same mistakes committed by the Empire because of Mab’s influence, therefore they felt genocide was not the answer and showed mercy. Thus, the war ended, but the damage caused to Brasilveen was devastating.</p> <p>The final fate of Brasilveen after the wars end is at this moment unsured of, as official evidence has yet to be found. The most widely believed theory is that after the war, the citizens of Brasilveen would scatter and go on to find the five Fae kingdoms of the Arthurian Charter, such as <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/finding-avalon">the kingdom of Avalon</a>. This theory states that one portion of the inhabitants chose to stay and would go on to rebuild Brasilveen, a process that would be completed during the 14th century. Feeling their home had been reborn from the ashes of the old, the Elves chose to rename Brasilveen to Hy-Brasil. Over time Hy-Brasil would go on to become a thriving settlement of knowledge and sorcery. It became a monolith of Fae culture and housed one of the largest Fae populations in history. Unfortunately, past enemies of the Empire would soon return to seek vengeance. The terrible Nessilatha, now warped and mutated into the terrifying creature scientifically known as <em>Crocoteuthis gigantis</em>, rose from the ocean and decimated the city of Hy-Brasil. Eventually the beast was destroyed by a Thaumonuclear bomb brought down by the GOC, but it also completely decimated the city in the process.</p> <p>For many decades, Hy-Brasil was left a pitiful shell of its former self and was sparsely populated. Many attempts were made to restore the metropolis, but it was a painstakingly difficult process, especially when the Veil was still held high. The lack of available natural resources greatly inhibited rebuilding efforts. The community sent scouts far and wide outside Hy-Brasil to locate and gather materials suitable for rebuilding. These scouts also endeavored to seek out skilled artisans outside Hy-Brasil within the veiled community willing to assist in the reconstruction.</p> <p>During the initial rebuilding stages, life was difficult and the citizens choosing to remain in Hy-Brasil during that time suffered many hardships and a poor quality of life. However, the Elves were incredibly devoted and patient, and many were determined not to abandon the city they called home for generations. Those who did feel the need to move away, only did so knowing they would one day return. However, with the fall of the Veil around the early 2020’s, the reconstruction process greatly increased. There have been many positive reports received from on-site members of the Manna Charitable Foundation, and the Fae supporters from Esterberg and other Free Ports. If these positive reports continue, it’s likely that Hy-Brasil may once again rise from the ashes.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div class="one column" style="font-family: Old English Text Mt Regular;"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><span style="font-size: 450%;"><strong>Yefshara</strong></span><br/> <span style="font-size: 250%;">(yef-shär-ah)</span><br/> <span style="font-size: 250%;">The Sapphire Spire, The Sea Hub</span></p> </div> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Perched on the surface of a sheet of ice over a frozen sea, <a href="http://scp-int.wikidot.com/morskie-opowiesci">directly above a massive and bottomless trench</a>, Yefshara was believed to be the center of pleasure and luxury within the Empire. A resort city rich in relaxation and entertainment of all forms, enjoyed by many travelers who wished to bask in ecstasy and amusement. Its tall domed towers were held high by marble columns enameled in gold and rich lapis. Elegant docks of hand carved mahogany etched with bronze, and plazas adorned in theatrical stages where many would perform and cater to the masses. Entertainment and pleasures of all forms could be found on every city street, everything from taverns, brothels, spas, and gambling houses. Yefshara was also known for having the loveliest beach in the Empire. Many lovers would stay for long hours perched upon the sand to witness the majestic sunsets. While Yefshara provided the pleasures of the body and liquor, it also provided opportunities to bask in the pleasure of battle. From soldiers to gladiators, many warriors across the Empire would travel to Yefshara to satisfy their lust for battle and conquest. Tournaments and duels were held in a massive colosseum at the peak of the city for the enjoyment of both spectators and competitors. Many of the Fae Empire’s greatest warriors fought, triumphed, and fell in glorious battle within its arena. Even Mab herself would find the time to visit Yefshara, both to witness these battles, and to visit the head ruler of the city, one of her own daughters. <p>The people of Yefshara were the epitome of what you would expect to find in a city that thrived in pleasure and entertainment. The proud Undine (<em>Sidhe Naiad</em>), also known as the Undyin, were known for living off the thrill of battle and the fruits of luxury. Naturally more muscular than other species of Fae, they possessed a bluish hue to their skin. They wore tunics and kilts, often adorned with leather straps, animal pelts or chainmail and irrilite armor plating. Many great warriors and guards of the twin queens were Undine men and women who pledged themselves to the mother of their city’s ruler. Undine women were willing to join their fellow men in the arenas and battlefields, but they were also not afraid to display their beauty through the art of exotic dancing. Many of the finest dancers of the Empire could be found within Yefshara, in their many brothels and on the streets for the masses to witness.</p> <p>With Yefshara being under the rule of her daughter, most of its people sided with Mab when the civil war erupted between the Undoer and the Inventor. This led to Yefshara being targeted by the armies and followers of the Inventor, and caused much of the city to become a battlefield with bloodshed within its streets. However, the Undine were experienced in battle, thus they were able to repel many of the sieges laid upon it. It seemed Yefshara would survive the war nearly unscathed, but that would not come to be. It is said that ultimately, as a result of the damage and destruction brought on by invaders, the ice sheet that Yefshara stood upon slowly melted until finally shattering, sinking into the waters below, taking the city with it. Many who witnessed the devastating defeat went on to document the event. They claimed to witnessing the city being surrounded and engulfed within a massive bubble of light and energy before finally sinking deep into the great depths of the ocean.</p> <div class="one column" style="font-family: Old English Text Mt Regular;"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><span style="font-size: 350%;"><strong>Present Day</strong></span></p> </div> </div> <p>Once thought to have been destroyed and lost forever, it wasn’t until 2010 that the SCP Foundation uncovered the truth of Yefshara’s fate. As a result of its queen’s natural thaumaturgical aptitude that she inherited from her mother, the city was able to survive its destruction through preserving spells and an impenetrable light barrier. After sinking to the deepest depths of the trench it once stood above, Yefshara and its people were able to survive and adapt to their new life beneath the waves, through thaumaturgic evolution by their queen to be more suited for their new aquatic subterranean environment. Although she was unable to successfully accelerate the evolution of the entire population, and many perished in the process. They grew gills, their wings warped into fins, and their skin becoming transparent and changing from a pale blue to a vibrant green, which also made their muscular physiques appear smaller than they supposedly were. One interesting side effect of their rapid evolution was the display of their emotions and intentions through their nervous systems. They would glow in a variety of colors based on their internal feeling. Due to this characteristic, the concept of lies no longer existed in their society because their intentions and feelings are always on display and cannot be hidden, thus making it impossible to lie. The only exception to this is their queen who was not affected in this way through rapid evolution. Life in Yefshara continued and it became an underwater metropolis. For many generations the city continued to bask in the luxuries it provided itself, even if no one on the surface could join in the luxury, including the Undine still living above who were not present when the city sank.</p> <p>However, many generations isolated beneath the waves would have an unfortunate effect on Yefshara and its people. Over time as the centuries turned into millenia, the people of Yefshara slowly began to lose portions of their history and memories of their prior way of life on the surface, to the point where even the name of the city and its queen started to fade. Eventually however, Nordic Vikings led by one Lugos One-Eye accidentally discovered the underwater city and found themselves conversing and feasting with its inhabitants. These Vikings believed they had found themselves within the realm of Niflheim and that its queen was in fact Hel, daughter of Loki the God of Mischief. The meeting with Lugos and his companions greatly influenced the underwater city, with the queen even taking on the title of Hel and renaming the city Niflheim. These Vikings would be the last interaction the Trench Fae had with humans until many centuries later, when on <a href="http://scp-int.wikidot.com/10-kwietnia-2010">April 10, 2010</a>, the Foundation discovered the Baltic Trench and eventually stumbled upon the underwater city. This would lead to the Foundation forming a partnership with the newly dubbed Niflheim, and their involvement in the event referred to as Ragnarök.</p> <p>During the end of the Veil, Yefshara had been recognized as a nexus by the rest of the anomalous community. While the city retained many of the aspects that made itself known as a luxury city, it went on to incorporate numerous Nordic Viking cultural traits. It is a well-known concept to many that the power of belief is immensely great, it can alter the very state of the universe itself, resulting in the birth of deific entities and magnificent realms beyond imagination. Because the Baltic Fae of Yefshara truly believed their home was the realm of Niflheim, the power of belief caused the city to morph into a physical afterlife on Earth, reminiscent of the aforementioned Nordic realm of myth. This also led to the queen of Niflheim becoming the same Hel mentioned in said myth. For those who believed in both Hel and Norse mythology, their souls would traverse to the nexus when they died, but not from battle, as stated in Nordic myth with the concept of Valhalla.</p> <p>These days, while visitors are permitted to enter Yefshara, they must adhere to strict guidelines. They must follow along with the belief they are indeed in the realm of Niflheim. This is to preserve the stability of the afterlife that many spirits now inhabit alongside the Fae natives. While acting as an independent community, the city has an agreement with Vanguard that they will support one another by sharing information and resources when necessary. Despite this agreement, there have been incidents where hostile forces and groups have attempted to destroy the city. Most of these were unsuccessful. Today, the Niflheim turned nexus of Yefshara, stands as an example of how old world human and Fae cultures and beliefs can sometimes merge and create something truly unique and otherworldly beautiful.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div class="one column" style="font-family: Old English Text Mt Regular;"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><span style="font-size: 450%;"><strong>Fernafaun</strong></span><br/> <span style="font-size: 250%;">(fern-ah-faun)</span><br/> <span style="font-size: 250%;">The Emerald Spire, Gaia’s Meadow</span></p> </div> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> It is believed when the Fae were first born, they emerged from the vast forests within the bundles of nature’s gifts from Gaia. This belief was most embraced by Fernafaun, located upon the Emerald Isles. Of the six cities of the Spire Star, Fernafaun was considered the most unique. They chose to embrace and live amongst nature and all the riches the lush lands could provide, becoming one with the environment. They so cherished nature that they dared not damage any foliage in order to prosper or create their structures. Instead, they mastered the art of chloromancy. This entailed manipulating and commanding the very greenery of nature. While their mastery of plant manipulation was not as profound and defined as that of the Yeren’s bio-organic engineering, it was still a sight to witness. All the structures and architecture of Fernafaun were naturally grown. Massive trees and fungi grew to be hollow within, and took the shapes of houses and towers. Bridges were created from vines and lily pads, and massive luminescent flower bulbs served as lanterns. A natural ecological paradise, much of the most exotic foliage and fauna could be found throughout Fernafaun. <p>The city of Fernafaun cherished their homelands and worked hard to ensure natural beauty in their surroundings. They utilized the finest greenhouses and farms to raise and nurture both the plant and animal life within. This lifestyle made Fernafaun the primary source of resources needed to preserve the Empire’s prosperity, leading to them hosting the largest farmer’s market within the empire. Most homes of families boasted lush gardens and shared their homes with a variety of animals which were regarded as their companions rather than pets.</p> <p>The inhabitants of Fernafaun were often regarded as the most unique species of Fae. They were the Dryads and Sprites (<em>Sidhe Norn Napaea</em>) and were given the title of Gaia’s Caretakers. Though having two distinctive names, the Dryads and Sprites were the same species on a genetic level, the aspect of nature they embraced is what determined if they were Dryads or Sprites. The Dryads embraced flora and the sprites embraced fauna, this difference was revealed a year after birth with a cultural ceremony. At that time infants were presented with two baskets, one filled with flowers and the other holding an animal cub. If they chose the flower basket they were deemed a Dryad, and if they chose the cub basket they were a Sprite. By the age of four, they would develop the physical and biological characteristics of the natural aspect they had chosen.</p> <p>Dryads skin resembles wood, fungi or pome fruit and have soft vines or leaves for hair, or a large flower growing on the top of their heads. Their wings resemble leaves or flower petals. Because of these botanical traits, Dryads inherited various genetic abilities of plant life. Though consuming food still provides them with nutrients, they can survive almost entirely on water. They possess an immunity to all forms of natural poisons and can identify whether a plant or fruit is poisonous through gustation (taste) and olfaction (smell). They are capable of performing photosynthesis and gather nutrients from sunlight. Having botanical traits also has their setbacks however. Dryads cannot survive in environments with extreme temperatures such as deserts or polar regions without the necessary protection to survive. The botanical features of their bodies makes them highly flammable. They can also be harmed by anything detrimental to botany like termites, locusts, pollution, hazardous chemicals and smoke. Despite the limitations, being partially botanical grants the Dryads incredible abilities. They can communicate with any form of flora, and can use their chlorokinetic abilities to manipulate, enchant, and heal botany. They are prodigies in the field of horticulture, such as easily being able to determine what fields have the best soil for providing rich nutrient. They wore clothing made entirely from botanical material which, through thaumaturgy, were incapable of deteriorating.</p> <p>Sprites develop the characteristics of any animal on Earth. Such examples include having fur coats, tails, fuzzy ears, antlers, tiger stripes, whiskers, scales, forked tongues, avian wings, or the legs of goats. Sprites also develop the same abilities as wildlife such as heightened hearing and smell, night vision, climbing, running, digging, and swimming. But much like Dryads, the Sprites’ transformations also have their setbacks. Sprites with fur, feathers or scale can shed. They can develop negative behavioral animal traits, like a feline’s fear of water. Finally, much like natural wildlife, Sprites can go through heat cycles once they mature. They maintain a symbiotic relationship with the wildlife of Earth through studying zoology and teaching the animals thaumaturgy. <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2952">This leads to them creating animals with unusual abilities</a>. Sprites traditionally seek and befriend any form of animals, many who would become their companion, familiar, or steed. Sprites have also mastered the ability to shrink themselves so they could interact with smaller animal life, such as squirrels, mice, or <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2323">birds</a>. Sprites manufacture their clothing from the wool, silk, leather, and fur they have harvested from the numerous livestock they herd.</p> <p>Despite having different appearances, Dryads and Sprites are the same species of Fae and can be married to each other. Fernafaun works under a government system similar to a meritocracy. The city is under the guidance of an elected group comprised of the most respected and talented individuals in the city, with the elected head leader being known as the Grand Meadow-Keeper. Despite having an elected body, Fernafaun’s welfare is a shared responsibility. By each member sharing their own skills with all the citizens, everyone benefits. For example, the farmers share their food, the builders share their talents, the caregivers and the healers ensure the well-being of all, and the leaders always work towards the best interest of the citizens.</p> <p>When the civil war erupted within the Empire, Fernafaun did not take up arms in the conflict. Instead, they chose to support by providing the supplies to the armies such as food rations and medical supplies. Surprisingly, Fernafaun provided supplies to both the armies of Mab and the armies of the Inventor. While they too had hatred towards Mab and her followers for their mistreatment of the commoners, they knew that supporting her sister alone would lead Mab’s forces to target Fernafaun as well, so they chose to stand as a neutral party throughout the war. Despite this neutrality however, they secretly prayed for the Inventor’s victory.</p> <div class="one column" style="font-family: Old English Text Mt Regular;"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><span style="font-size: 350%;"><strong>Present Day</strong></span></p> </div> </div> <p>Of all the cities of the Spire Star, only Fernafaun survived the war unscathed. It is believed this is because the city’s love for nature became so pure and limitless, that Gaia herself chose to take in the city as a part of herself. She embraced Fernafaun and fused it with the very essence of nature itself. In simpler terms, Fernafaun’s love of nature led to it being transferred into a pocket dimension of its own creation, the primary entrance way to which is located upon the Hill of Tara in modern day Meath. Four secondary entrances to Fernafaun’s informal districts directly linked to faeiry forts within Ireland. The city continued to thrive even after the fall of the Empire, much like its neighboring city of Brasilveen. Fernafaun did not choose to keep itself confined to its dimension however, as eventually they would go on to explore the outside world several millennia later. This led to their encounters with the Celtic communities as early as 11th Century BCE, which was the earliest traces of human inhabitation in Ireland. It is believed that Fernafaun and the city of Hy-Brasil may be the roots of the many myths and legend of Fair Folk in Irish and Celtic folklore. These interactions also influenced Fernafaun, as the Grand Meadow-Keeper and the four major members of the Fernafaun council would go on to incorporate traits reminiscent of the province crests of Ireland. However, their interactions with these communities would come to an end when William the Conqueror led the Invasion of Ireland in 1169. At the time Fernafaun attempted to help the natives fight off the Normans. These efforts inevitably failed and Fernafaun was left in horrid shape. Having sustained property and life losses, they secluded themselves to recover and rebuild. For almost three hundred years nary a soul entered or departed the city. In the early 1500’s Fernafaun’s people had recovered and felt confident enough to begin interacting with the natives again.</p> <p>It wouldn’t be until the establishment of Her Majesty's Foundation for the Secure Containment of the Paranormal (HMFSCP) by Oliver <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-8120">Hadfield</a> after the Fifth Occult War that the people of Fernafaun would once again be forced back into their pocket dimension. They eventually found themselves in conflict with the French Estate noir, due to the brutal and segregationistic ideals of the HMFSCP which Fernafaun viewed as tyrannical. Unfortunately, the Dryads and Sprites of Fernafaun were no match for the ruthless capabilities of the HMFSCP and its forces. This eventually forced them to seclude themselves within their home city in fear of the threat of genocide. After centuries of hiding, they decided they would never let any groups related to the United Kingdoms or HMFSCP within the boundaries of the city again.</p> <p>The city of Fernafaun would not come out of its seclusion until sometime in 1923, as a result of commotion caused by the IRA (Irish Republican Army), who eventually found a way to enter Fernafaun. Fortunately, direct fighting was kept out due to the respect they showed the Fae for their hospitality during the unrest. It was thanks to this interaction Fernafaun discovered that the threat of the HMFSCP was no longer present, and thus they were once again free to roam the outside world. However, upon learning of the existence of the Veil, they acted much more carefully when traversing outside the city. This cautious traversal prevented the Foundation from discovering Fernafaun until the late 20th century via knowledge obtained from the city of Hy-Brasil. Unfortunately, this knowledge was soon lost due to their on-site facility being destroyed along with the city. The Foundation wouldn’t rediscover Fernafaun until late 2013, when they also made their first contact with the inhabitants. At the time Fernafaun agreed to establish a diplomacy with the SCP Foundation, and eventually granted them permission to build a facility, Site-32, within the city to aid in their operations within Ireland.</p> <p>After the end of the Veil, Fernafaun had become a popular tourist location within Ireland, and a place of intense interest to botanists and zoologists around the world. Their teachings of chlorokinetic thaumaturgy and fellow Dryad volunteers have even led to the successful restoration of many barren and degraded natural landscapes due to deforestation and pollution exposure. The assistance of the Sprites of Fernafaun, and their ways of developing symbiotic relationships with wildlife, has also led to the rescue and preservation of several endangered species of wildlife, especially those which previously were nearly brought to extinction.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div class="one column" style="font-family: Old English Text Mt Regular;"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><span style="font-size: 450%;"><strong>Neonachlar</strong></span><br/> <span style="font-size: 250%;">(neo-nuh-clar)</span><br/> <span style="font-size: 250%;">The Opal Spire, The Star Valley</span></p> </div> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Located along the western boundaries of the Empire was the city of stars, Neonachlar. Secluded within a vast forest filled valley, Neonachlar was a city whose magnificence was not fully revealed until after dusk. Known as the star valley, the city was famous for having the most beautiful view of the night sky within all of the Empire. It resembled a sparkling ocean filled with diamonds. Neonachlar and its people held a deep love and appreciation for the stars, and built their very way of life and culture around them. The city itself was perched directly above the vast trees which spanned across the valley, so the night sky would always be visible. All the buildings of Neonachlar were glamorous towers built of platinum and mahogany, or immense ornate treehouses. The rooftops of every building were composed of a highly durable unique crystal material. These crystals appeared an opaque black when exposed to sunlight, but as night fell, they became as transparent as glass, so the stars were always in view. The streets of Neonachlar were similar to suspension bridges and tree top walkways, each interconnecting every structure within the city. Plazas and parks were large elevated platforms throughout the city. Buildings were often decorated with luminescent star shaped crystals which would glow a warm gold or enchanting emerald color during the night, making the city glisten like the stars above. <p>The people of Neonachlar were known as the Pùca (<em>Sidhe Stellaris</em>), but were commonly referred to as Pixies. The pixies were regarded as the most unusual species of Fae. Pixies resembled the Sidhe Fae, although they had six small eyes which were arranged vertically with two in the middle, two on top, and two at the bottom. They were much shorter than all other species of Fae. Their skin was mint green, their hair multicolored and vibrant, and their ethereal wings were like that of a dragonfly rather than a butterfly. The pixies were well known for being master craftsmen and manufacturers. Whether it be glassblowing, blacksmithing, woodworking, ceramics, jewelry, or sewing, the Pixies were regarded as the best in such fields. Establishments such as workshops or ceramics shops were common within the city. They generally designed their craft items themed around the stars, however they were always willing to honor any special items requested by nobles or the Empire courts. The attire of Neonachlar was described as regal, flowy, exotic and vibrant in design.</p> <p>The Pixies viewed the stars as sacred and tied to the existence of the Fae themselves. While some believed that the Fae were born from the forests by Gaia’s hands, the Pixies believed the Fae were born from the stars, crafted from starlight and the ethereal threads of the universe by a long-lost goddess of stars and dreams. The true name of the goddess was lost to time, but the Pixies have come to call her the Star Mother. This belief would, over time, be expanded upon by many, <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/fae-myths-and-legends">forming a religion that is worshipped even to this day</a>.</p> <p>They believed one day this lost goddess would return, and bring them to a paradise of starlight and miracles, where they could bask in the beauty of the stars for all eternity. Not much about the Star Mother is known, as most knowledge of this deity was lost long before the time of the Empire. However, one aspect that has remained was that a fragment of the Star Mother broke off long ago and took the form of a red shooting star. This red star would soar through the night sky once every six years during a new moon. Every six years the Pixies would hold a grand festival in celebration of this star, and the deity they believed it to be born from. They called this festival the Symphony of Starlight. They celebrated the goddess through joyful dancing, dramatic reenactments, musical performances, selling their best crafts and offering the finest delicacies to the many participants. Many have claimed the most glamorous spectacle of the festival to be the royal duet between the Mistress of Heavenly Glamour, matriarch of Neonachlar, and her daughter, the Princess of Wishful Desires. For this event, the two performed a mesmerizingly beautiful and exotic ceremonial dance together in front of a large Irrilite statue depicting one of the many forms of the Star Mother.</p> <p>Dark times came later for Neonachlar when civil war erupted throughout the Empire. Despite the Mistress of Heavenly Glamour being a member of the Unseelie Court of Mab, she was one of the lovers of the Inventor. She thus secretly opposed Mab and desired to abandon her seat to be among the members of the Inventor’s Seelie Court. When the civil war began, she was forcibly ordered by Mab to have the many smiths of Neonachlar produce weaponry for her forces. However, she also did everything she could to assist the Inventor, such as offering weapon supplies, and leaking both war plans and secrets to the Inventor herself. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be long before Mab became aware of this defiance and eventually caught the Mistress in the act. Enraged, she sentenced the Mistress to death and summoned her royal guards to slay the matriarch. But whether through sheer luck, or divine protection from the Star Mother, the Mistress of Heavenly Glamour narrowly managed to escape with her life. She wasted no time in returning to Neonachlar, knowing full well that Mab would seize her forces upon the city for their deviance. However, it is believed that the matriarch had a plan to ensure the survival of her home and her people. When night fell and the forces of Mab finally came upon the valley of Neonachlar, many Pixie warriors, along with support from the armies of the Inventor, awaited them. They would hold off the followers of Mab long enough to buy time for the Mistress of Heavenly Glamour to enact her plan and save their home. As the hours passed, and the battle continued to rage on, Mab’s forces were starting to push back the retaliating army. Hope was starting to dwindle for the defenders of Neonachlar.</p> <p>What occurred next is not entirely certain due to the passage of time, but legends tell us it was at this moment that a great beam of red light came down from the sky, and the city of Neonachlar was engulfed in a wave of starlight. When the light finally faded, Neonachlar had vanished, leaving only a few structures and crumbling bridges behind. Believing this was an act of their queen, the forces of Mab ceased their clash with their foes and withdrew from the battlefield. They returned to Arlende to defend its walls, under the impression that they were victorious. However, upon disappearing from the horizon, the Pixie warriors roared in delight and triumphed, for it was they who were victorious in the end. What Mab did not realize was that the night of the battle for Neonachlar marked the end of the six year wait for the return of the red star of the Star Mother. As the battle raged on, the Mistress of Heavenly Glamour along with her daughter and the many citizens of the city, prayed to their goddess. They prayed she would deliver them from the chaotic war and spare them from the fires of Mab’s rage. In the end, the red star burst forth with great light, as it answered their prayers.</p> <div class="one column" style="font-family: Old English Text Mt Regular;"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><span style="font-size: 350%;"><strong>Present Day</strong></span></p> </div> </div> <p>Over the millennia, the fate of Neonachlar has always been unclear in history. However, the pixies that were not present within the city when it vanished, and those in modern times knew what happened to Neonachlar, as it has been kept a secret among their people for generations. A birthright that was bestowed upon them, where all newborn Pixies would possess the knowledge of Neonachlar and its fate embedded within their memories.</p> <p>As previously stated, the power of belief can alter the very state of reality itself if it was strong enough. Many deities and concepts exist merely because the power of belief brought them into existence, and that can lead to miracles becoming a reality. That is the case with Neonachlar. There may have been a time when the red star was a simple comet soaring through space, but because of the power of belief, that star may have indeed become a part of the Star Mother, and thus it answered the prayers of the Pixies by fulfilling what they have always prophesied within their religion of stars. When Neonachlar was engulfed in light, it and its inhabitants were in fact transported to another reality, <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/oneiroi">one that is forged from the very essence of dreams and the imagination</a>. The city had found itself in a reality where not only could they forge creations from their very dreams, but they were now always above a sky that was forever filled with beautiful stars. By believing in their goddess, they were able to escape destruction by Mab’s hand and ascend into a paradise where they remain to this very day.</p> <p>But for the Pixies still on baseline Earth, they too were able to have the opportunity to experience this paradise of stars, only not while conscious. Whenever a Pixie sleeps, they awaken within Neonachlar and bask in the wonders its people created from the threads of dreams and starlight. Many times, they are able to reunite with loved ones who have passed, and ancestors who were present when the city ascended. This is because through its power, the city of Neonachlar gathered the souls of Pixies who passed to bask in the stars for all eternity. This was a secret the Pixies kept amongst themselves for generations, a secret mostly unknown to the rest of the Fae of the world.</p> <p>Despite this utopian life in the realm of dreams, there sadly came a later time when Neonachlar would encounter conflicts even within this realm. For the dream realm was not just the home to the dream whisperers of the Oneroi, and ideas given form, it was also home to <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/nt-4041-nimuedianetic-karhu">the domain of the Erlking and his kingdom</a>. Despite being an entity affiliated with the Fae Empire, the Erlking was displeased by the sudden appearance of a new kingdom within his realm. For this reason, he kept a careful, watchful eye on Neonachlar, even sending scouts to spy and infiltrate the citadel. After much time with no reported suspicious activity, and upon realizing the Fae origins of the city, the Erlking’s suspicions of Neonachlar began to dwindle. Yet, still having their doubts, they messaged the city warning to never dare attempt to cause a conflict with their kingdom, or else face their unfathomable wrath. Neonachlar quickly responded, stating that as long as they were free to bask in the stars in peace, there would be no problems between their two kingdoms. Thus, a diplomatic treaty of peace was formed between the two citadels, where as long as one did not antagonize the other, there would be peace between them.</p> <p>Sometime during mid-2025, with the fall of the Veil and seeing how comfortable humanity of the public world had become around sapient beings such as the Fae, the Pixies eventually revealed the secret of Neonachlar’s presence with the dreamscape, and their means to travel there while sleeping. After much discussion with representatives of the Pixie inhabitants of Esterberg, Vanguard, the Sidhe Lounge, and Oneiroi Incorporated, it was decided that the public would be granted means to visit the city of Neonachlar via thauma-technological means. This led to the invention of the Star Dream Transcendence Headset, an optical psionic based headset which puts the users into a thaumaturgically induced REM sleep. It then warps their consciousness into the Oneroi dreamscape city of Neonachlar. Many have compared it to a virtual reality experience. Those who experience the Star Dream Headset are able to visit and vacation within the city, where they can bask in the many marvels that the city of stars offers its many visitors.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div class="one column" style="font-family: Old English Text Mt Regular;"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><span style="font-size: 450%;"><strong>Fata Morgana</strong></span><br/> <span style="font-size: 250%;">(fa-ta mor-ga-na)</span><br/> <span style="font-size: 250%;">The Silver Spire, The White Towers</span></p> </div> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Of all the cities of the Spire Star of the Fae Empire, none was considered more majestic than Fata Morgana. Although Arlende was the capital of the Empire, Fata Morgana was revered as the magnum opus of the Fae Empire’s achievements. Located upon the ocean’s surface several miles off the coast of the beaches of Paradim, Fata Morgana was a city of creativity, beauty, and wonder. From the most heavenly paintings and sculptures to the most harmonious melodies and hymns, Fata Morgana was the creative epicenter of the Empire. Everything the city produced was beyond words in terms of beauty. Even the city itself was an absolute work of art. Tall towers and monolithic palaces of pure silver and glimmering crystal and arches inlayed with the purest gold and alabaster. As a city on the water, pools and rivers of crystal-clear water flowed throughout. Dazzling water fountains, bridges, ornate walkways and platforms spanned far and wide, providing stunning views for all. Like Fernafaun, Fata Morgana also cherished the beauty of nature, but believed that nature and progress should exist harmoniously. The city was filled with many lush parks offering peace and tranquility. The grass was the purest green, and the lovely tall trees were covered with gray bark like that of marble. Silver leaves produced beautiful sounds like that of a wind chime when the winds blew. The parks were surrounded by flower fields brimming with colorful flowers of many varieties. At sunset, the city of Fata Morgana would overlap the sun and appear to sparkle and shine with brilliant light like a diamond. However, the most glorious and breathtaking site was the heart of the city, Titania Spire. The largest structure ever constructed by Fae, the megalithic palace was the governing center of the city. The structure was named after Titania, a legendary benevolent Fae figure from ancient times. Many believed that Titania was an ancestor of the twin queens. <p>Fata Morgana provided many opportunities to bask in the wonders of art and entertainment. Concert halls, theaters, art museums, resorts, exotic dining halls, and aquariums could be found within. But above all, Fata Morgana was a city of absolute peace and purity. While it was undeniable that some of the corruptive influences of Mab had found its way into the other five cities in some shape or form, such as the concept of the wealthy possessing more freedom than the commoner, or how Yefshara utilized human and Yeren slaves, Fata Morgana however held little trace of Mab’s influence. The citizens were adept at maintaining a façade of loyalty to Mab. When not directly under Mab’s watchful eye, all citizens were treated and respected equally, including the many other Fae who would come to visit the city. There was an unspoken understanding that all Fae honored that they would do all within their power to protect Fata Morgana from as much of Mab’s influence as possible. At one time, even Mab respected the beauty within Fata Morgana, and allowed the citizens to live more comfortable lives than in other cities.</p> <p>Just as Fata Morgana itself was a glorious sight to behold, the people of the city, the Changelings (<em>Sidhe Leanan Hesperides</em>), were regarded as the most beautiful of all known species of Fae. The Changelings greatly resembled the common Sidhe Fae more than any other Fae species, however, the Changelings were more elegant in form. Their skin was a healthy vibrant pastel pink with a blue glint, that shone like porcelain. They also had large shiny eyes, but unlike the common black of all other Fae, the eyes of Changelings could be any color imaginable. Their hair was also colorful and flowed like smooth silk. Their wings were their most beautiful feature. They were very large and vibrant, pulsed and rippled with many colors, and were translucent and shimmered like an aurora borealis. Their wings were also strong, as mana flowed deep within them. This allowed them greater mobility and greater speeds while in flight, all the while still retaining their grace.</p> <p>Even the clothing of the Changelings was graceful and elegant. All attire within Fata Morgana were created from a sparkling and reflective material similar to silk. They dressed primarily in white with subtle accents colors. The men generally wore long-sleeved, high collar tunics with ankle length pants, often accompanied by a long scarf around their shoulders like a vestment. The women wore long gossamer dresses with bell-sleeves. But the one clothing detail all Changelings of Fata Morgana shared was their custom of being unshod. With the occasional exception of ankle length silk stirrups and ankle strips, the Changelings were always barefoot. The reason for this is that they view it as a form of balance between nature and urban progress, a means of presenting their embrace of peace and purity.</p> <p>Many often called Fata Morgana the city of the Inventor, for it was her will that brought the city to life. She was the orchestrator of its creation and visited the city often. This is why the city had no traces of Mab’s influence, because she had no affiliation with its creation, thus the Changelings followed the will of the Inventor and her court alone. In fact, the ruler of Fata Morgana was a member of the Seelie Court, Adresin Balleor, first Lord of Fata Morgana and the Inventor’s most cherished lover, as well as a long-time childhood companion. Even though the city disregarded the many ideals brought forth by Mab, Fata Morgana was highly adored and respected by the entirety of the Empire, commoners and aristocrats alike. Even the Mabbites and members of the Unseelie Court viewed Fata Morgana in high regard.</p> <p>All of the Empire revered Fata Morgana, even the Undoer Mab herself did for a time. However, over the years Mab began to despise Fata Morgana once she realized its peoples were only feigning loyalty to her to protect themselves. Ultimately, she knew they were a great threat to her power and could ignite a flame of rebellion against her. She refused to allow this to come to fruition, but she knew that destroying the city would only ensure a revolt occurred against her, even her most loyal followers would likely betray her. Instead, Mab chose to denounce Fata Morgana as a city of the Fae Empire, separating it from the rest of the Spire Star. She even went so far as to have the bridge connecting the city to the mainland destroyed, and imprisoning all Changelings within the city’s walls. She also had several of the artworks of Fata Morgana destroyed, many which might have been lost forever if replicas had not been created before their destruction. Despite being denounced by Mab, that did not stop the rest of the Empire from continuing to visit and hold Fata Morgana in high regard. However, they feared bringing anything that originated from within its walls, believing Mab would punish them greatly for doing so.</p> <p>Despite banishing Fata Morgana from the rest of the Empire, revolution and civil war still erupted. However, Fata Morgana was not at all involved in this war, for they were unable to assist due to Mab imprisoning them within the city’s walls. Though the Inventor likely would have preferred it this way, as she was the one who brought life to Fata Morgana, and so cared greatly for its people, and its ruler Adresin. However, what no one knew was that Adresin was also the father of the Inventor’s child, a child that had yet to be born and was kept a secret. Aside from Adresin himself, the rest of the Empire was kept in the dark about the Inventor’s pregnancy. They feared if Mab were to learn of it, she would view the child as a great threat to her power and bring great harm upon them. One early dawn, the day that would be the apex of the legendary clash between the two queens, the time came for the Inventor to go into labor. On that very morning, the first and only daughter of the Inventor, Princess Ariel, was born. Sadly, the first time she ever laid eyes on her mother, was also her last. The Inventor left Ariel in the care of Adresin and left the city to face her wicked sister in a battle that would end in the demise of both.</p> <p>But before this battle ensued, those who were present at the beaches of Paradim witnessed what would become of Fata Morgana. They claimed to hear a faint humming coming from the horizon, a sound that rose higher and higher. Suddenly, a mysterious pink mist emerged and swallowed the city in its entirety. The fog and the humming continued for what felt like hours, until finally the humming quieted and the fog dissipated. Shockingly, where Fata Morgana once stood, was nothing. The entire city had completely vanished without a trace, leaving only the water surface of the ocean it once stood upon.</p> <div class="one column" style="font-family: Old English Text Mt Regular;"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><span style="font-size: 350%;"><strong>Present Day</strong></span></p> </div> </div> <p>As milleniums passed, the fate of Fata Morgana was a mystery that might never be answered. Eventually, the idea of Fata Morgana faded from fact to mere myth and legend. Many modern Fae believed Fata Morgana and the Changelings never really existed, being nothing more than a tale told by Fae fablers and treasure hunters. Without any means to prove its existence, such as artifacts or ruins, it seemed Fata Morgana would be remembered as nothing more than a fantastical tale. However, it wouldn’t be until 2008 that the truth would finally be uncovered.</p> <p>The truth of the city’s disappearance was, in fact, an act of protection by the Inventor and Adresin. Before leaving to stand against Mab, the Inventor gave Adresin a crystal flower which acted as a reflection of her life force. She then entrusted him with a thaumaturgic practice only known to those such as herself and Mab, the art of dimensional displacement. The Inventor pleaded with Adresin to send the city outside this reality where it would be safe from Mab if she were to fail. She believed it was their only protection if she did not return. The flower would determine whether she had lived or not. If the flower was still healthy at the coming of midnight, it meant she had survived and it was safe for Fata Morgana to return. However, if the flower shattered, it meant she had perished in battle and that Fata Morgana was to remain beyond the realms, until a time came when the world was no longer under the threat of her sister, and was more peaceful. She believed one day the world would become truly tranquil, and all peoples of the land would live in harmony. Her hope for such a future was so deep, that as an extra means, the Inventor secretly stored one piece of art from the city within the Empire’s royal repository, but not before slipping a hymn sheet bearing a hidden message within its frame. She then cast a spell to preserve the repository, so that someone would one day discover it and use the knowledge and treasures within to help create a better future. The hope was that they would also summon the white towers back to its home upon Gaia. Thus, when the fog emerged off the horizon, Fata Morgana was warped into another plain of existence, where it remained until modern day.</p> <p>While Fata Morgana remained outside the realms, Adresin and his daughter Ariel, along with all blood descendants after her, would observe Earth through a device dubbed the Eye of the Observer. The many royals watching went on to archive the events and figures of Earth’s long history, with the Fae Empire now nothing but a memory. They witnessed many historical moments such as the Yeren’s time of glory, the Second Diaspora and the founding of <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7600">Druv’tuul</a>, the fall of Babylon, the birth of the Daevites, the rise and fall of both <a href="javascript:;">the empire of steel</a> and <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/a-baptism-of-fire">the empire of flesh</a>, and the many Occult Wars to plague the world for generations. While the descendants of Ariel watched over Earth, the city of Fata Morgana went on to prosper and advance. They went on to create mana crystals. These were bio-engineered organic crystals that rapidly grow from plants which are the primary power source of all the thaumaturgic based technology the city would go on to develop. They created morgana silver, a thaumaturgic metal created from mana crystal enhanced yttrium that serves as a slightly weaker substitute to irrilite. They also created powerful weapons and battle armor for their royal guards and military force, a necessity in order to defend themselves from hostile entities outside baseline reality.</p> <p>When the siege on the factory of James Rollander erupted on August 13th, 1911, the current Lady Titania of Fata Morgana, Áine Lurline Tanaquill, became aware of the soul of Mab that lay buried beneath the facility. Queen Áine attempted to resummon the city so she and its militia would put an end to the conflict and prevent the release of Mab. Unfortunately, the amassing of her army took too long, and had to witness the Third Diaspora unfold. Watching in horror as seventy-five percent of the Fae population outside extradimensional space were stripped of their names and banished to a nameless prison of Mab’s design. Refusing to give up on the many lives lost during such tragedy, but not possessing the means to restore the names of the nameless, Queen Áine chose to seek aid from the divine. Contacting the many deities of <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/three-moons-initiative-hub">Corbenic</a>, she made the proposal that in exchange for restoring the names of all nameless who died within the Nameless Forest and allowing them to reincarnate, the people of Fata Morgana would worship and praise the deities of Corbenic. Thus, the phenomenon known as VNP-3903 was created, where Nameless Fae along with the victims of the destruction of Hy-Brasil, would reincarnate as humans, who would then be summoned to Fata Morgana when they reached maturity. They would then become Otherkin, Reborn Fae transformed into Changelings, with their true names restored and the memories of their past lives returned.</p> <p>It wouldn’t be until <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-lost-spire-part-1">March of 2008, that the city of Fata Morgana would be rediscovered</a>. When the SCP Foundation discovered the royal repository of the Fae Empire, they came across the aforementioned painting left there by the Inventor. This lead them to learn about Fata Morgana and the legend of the Spire Star. With this information, they temporarily summoned the city back to baseline reality. With the aid of Olivié Gwyneth of the Sidhe Lounge and the Vajra King of Arcadia Ragna Von Morrowind, the SCP Foundation and the Droganians were able to form a partnership with the city of Fata Morgana. In fact, one might say it was the rediscovery of Fata Morgana which started the domino effect leading to the rediscovery of the three remaining cities of the Spire Star. It was also the archives of Fata Morgana, provided by the Lady Titania which revealed much of the knowledge regarding the six cities mentioned here.</p> <p>Before the fall of the Veil on November 25th, 2021, Fata Morgana remained outside baseline reality, but means to access the city was granted to the SCP Foundation, the city of Arcadia, the free port of Esterberg, and the still recovering Hy-Brasil. The resources and knowledge gained from this partnership led to thaumaturgical breakthroughs within the SCP Foundation, and a huge positive impact on the organization’s Public Relations within Esterberg. Also, with the aid of Fata Morgana, the Droganian city of Arcadia was able to advance its thaumaturgical technology and architecture much more quickly. It was also helpful in dealing with other obstacles which greatly slowed the restoration of Hy-Brasil.</p> <p>On February 14th, 2023, as part of several campaigns enacted by <a href="http://scp-pl.wikidot.com/iluminaci-krytykuja-vanguard">the Committee for the Reconciliation of Crimes Against Humanity and Anomalies</a>, the city of Fata Morgana permanently returned to baseline reality, now located not far off the shores of Gdańsk, Poland. The city went to become a popular resort and tourist destination for both humanity and Fae, with sapient peoples of all kinds also free to enjoy the many wonders the city provides. Queen Áine also served as a major contributor in forming the Ever After Congress, an assembly party within the Sidhe Lounge who represent various Fae communities around the world. It is composed of the governing figures of every known Fae settlement. The technology of Fata Morgana quickly went on to be incorporated widely within numerous other Fae communities such as Esterberg. This includes the use of mana crystals as a form of natural energy source in other locations around the world. Since early 2009, many citizens of Esterberg considered Fata Morgana a spark of hope and great change for all of Fae kind. Taking the many contributions the city had provided to the Fae community over the years into consideration, it is safe to say that they are indeed correct.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Regardless of the atrocities committed, and the thousands of years of cruelty and slavery inflicted upon those undeserving of it through the will of Mab, the Fae Empire was without a doubt a fascinating and multicultural civilization. It went on to greatly influence the development of the Fae species as a whole. It left a mark on history that reverberates to the present day. The six cities of the Spire Star show the true brilliance of the Fae as a species, and how it went on to prosper and create one of a kind cultures that which the world has never seen before. Each city delivers something unique, and represents aspects of both the Fae and the Fae Empire that even influence modern day, whether it be through the revelation of more of its remarkable history, or by withstanding the sands of time.</p> <p>Arlende shows how truly ancient the Fae are as a people. Proof that tyranny and greed can have immense consequences for both the innocent and the guilty, such as leading to complete ruination of even the most truly historical civilizations. Brasilveen shows how knowledge can strengthen the mind and spirit. It gifted the resolve to preserve their ways of life even in the darkest of hours, the courage to never surrender, and the will to find the means to rise again stronger than before. Yefshara shows how the life of pleasure and entertainment is not inherently a bad thing. It can give one something to fight for and help one to survive even the most desperate scenarios. It keeps one’s way of life alive, even if it changes in ways that make it almost unrecognizable. Fernafaun shows how one can prosper and thrive just by embracing the natural ways of life. Proof that cooperation and teamwork can create something beautiful that all can cherish and want to protect for ages to come. Neonachlar shows how the strength of the love and admiration for something so universally common can give birth to a beautiful culture, capable of achieving the most incredible of miracles. Finally, Fata Morgana shows how there was indeed some good within the Empire. An example that even in the most hopeless of times, there will always be a spark of hope that will bring about a time of great change and healing.</p> <p>While there were many other cultures that existed at the time, as well as many additional stories and legends regarding the Fae Empire and its twin queens, the legacy of the Spire Star is one that has gone on to shape the world in countless ways. Truly a testament to how remarkable the Fae are as both a species and a culture.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-spire-star-extended-edition">The Spire Star (Extended Edition)</a>" by WarriorofChaos, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-spire-star-extended-edition">https://scpwiki.com/the-spire-star-extended-edition</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Spire Star Emblem.png<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> WarriorofChaos<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0</p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Arlende Emblem.png<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> WarriorofChaos<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0</p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Brasilveen Emblem.png<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> WarriorofChaos<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0</p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Yefshara Emblem.png<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> WarriorofChaos<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0</p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Fernafaun Emblem.png<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> WarriorofChaos<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0</p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Neonachlar Emblem.png<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> WarriorofChaos<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0</p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Fata Morgana Emblem.png<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> WarriorofChaos<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:foxtrot">:scp-wiki:theme:foxtrot</a> poland=a]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:fade-in">:scp-wiki:component:fade-in</a> speed=1]] [[module CSS]] @import url("http://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/local--files/the-spire-star-extended-edition/OLDENGL.TTF"); :root { --accent: 104, 40, 138; } body { background-image: linear-gradient(to bottom, #9467cf, #f5e6ff 200px); background-color: #f5e6ff; } #page-title { display: none; } [[/module]] [[=]] [[module Rate]] [[/=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:author-label-source">:scp-wiki:component:author-label-source</a> start=-- \|name=WarriorofChaos \|center=]] = The Spire Star (Extended Edition)* by [[user WarriorofChaos]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:author-label-source">:scp-wiki:component:author-label-source</a> end=--]] @@ @@ [[=]] [[image http://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/local--files/the-spire-star-extended-edition/Spire%20Star%20Emblem.png style="width: 825px;"]] [[/=]] @@ @@ [[div class="blockquote"]] The following was originally published in 1894 by Fae archeologist and historian Trygve Dirmarren, but was then expanded upon in 2027 by head Sidhe Lounge archivist Olivié Gwyneth. [[/div]] @@ @@ @@ @@ ---- Since the first sapient life had the first thought, there have existed thousands of subsequent cultures and civilizations throughout our world. Some were forgotten and lost to time, while others managed to preserve their existence and left their impact on the world in ways which can never be undone. Although humans have had the most cultures and some of the most powerful empires throughout history, many other intelligent beings have also walked the Earth for countless millennia. Among these many beings were the Fae, the Fairies, the Fair Folk, the Star Gazers, or Children of the Forest. Over time, the Fae gave rise to one of the most infamous empires upon the face of the Earth. This empire lived on for several thousand years, and once even controlled the entire world in a grip of wonder and fear. This was during a time when magic was widespread, and when gods and deities influenced the fate of the world and its inhabitants, as well as a time when [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/poczatki-normalnosci-i-jej-przyszlosc the concept of normalcy yet to suffocate the world for more than a century]. The empire spread its influence across the lands and seas of the ancient world, and went on to absorb or destroy the many neighboring settlements through alignment or enslavement. This empire was responsible for countless incredible achievements and historical events, both good and bad, while under the rule of its twin demigod queens, the wicked Undoer Mab and her more compassionate sister the Inventor. While this article includes some information from official sources and historical documents, let it be known that much information regarding the Fae Empire is vague due to being lost to time. Historians and writers have worked together to extrapolate as much of the available history as possible and combined that with poetic license in order to develop this potential scenario of Fae history. It is widely believed that the Fae Empire was largely built on major cultural norms, philosophical ideals, governmental power, and architectural traditions throughout the years. For example, their early architectural style was brutalist in nature, and included simplistic yet monumental and imposing towers and palaces. The aristocratic and mabbites were granted the most luxury and privileges. The people followed the wills of the twin queens. Despite these norms, the Empire was formed of many settlements and cities, each having their own customs, cultures, and peoples. Of all these kingdoms and villages, there existed six city-states which were the prime powers of the Empire. They were the most glorious and influential of all the lands over which the Empire ruled. These six cities were known as the Spire Star. It is believed that many forms of Fae existed throughout the Empire and still exist today, and the six cities served as the capital and the core home to a specific group of Fae people. Even with the Empire’s demise, these cities left an influence on both the world and the Fae which withstood the tides of time. Then came a time when the world learned that these cities were not as lost as many had believed. Thus begins a deep look into the many secrets of the Spire Star of the Fae Empire. @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ ---- @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] [[image http://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/local--files/the-spire-star-extended-edition/Arlende%20Emblem.png style="width: 450px;"]] [[/=]] [[div class="one column" style="font-family: Old English Text Mt Regular;"]] [[=]] [[span style="font-size: 450%;"]]Arlende[[/span]] [[span style="font-size: 250%;"]](ahr-lahn-deh)[[/span]] [[span style="font-size: 250%;"]]The Velvet Spire, The Heart[[/span]] [[/=]] [[/div]] @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ As the title implies, the city of Arlende was the heart of the Spire Star. It was the supreme capital which ruled over the entirety of the Fae Empire. It was from this city the seed of the Empire was planted, and blossomed and spread its roots throughout many lands of ages long gone. It is here the palace of the twin queens was located. They would watch over their kingdom from the many turrets and steeples surrounding the megalithic structure. The ancient gods were brought here before the queens to pledge their allegiance to their new rulers, or forfeit their lives. Those who were loyal became members of the courts of the two queens. Arlende’s legend and influence actually extends centuries earlier than the rise of the Empire and the birth of the twin queens. Arlende was built many thousands of years prior, as it was the first home of the Fae [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-enlightened-children founded during the time of the ancient Sky Keeper dragons known as the Age of Tranquility]. It was once a docile and spiritual kingdom which lived harmoniously amongst the lush beauty of the tranquil forests and beautiful meadows, within which it was located. Arlende had been the home of the twin queens since their births, as both were born within its very walls. However, once Mab rose to power, she warped the once peaceful and benevolent kingdom into a monolithic and imperial capital. This capital then ruled over all the Empire. As the Empire capital, Arlende was believed to be the largest and wealthiest of the six cities. It was the home of the common Sidhe Fae (//Homo Sapiens Sidhe//) within the Empire. Arlende was seen as a city that was both beautiful, yet intimidating. Its many spire tipped blackstone towers were lined with the purest irrilite and silver. Those viewing the imposing structures from the ground would be overwhelmed by the illusion that the towers stretched up to above the heavens, a sight that was both breathtaking and terrifying. It was also a city of wealth, power, and pride. The affluent held great power, and the commoners usually resided in the slums and trenches of the city. While the higher class showered themselves in pleasure, festivity, and all the finest Arlendian attire the city had to offer, the commoners were mistreated and abused, often enslaved simply for being poor. It was also infamous for the widespread practice of slavery through captured Humans and Yeren. These slaves were often either kept as pets to be used as personal servants, or manual labor for the more hazardous of tasks. One theory regarding the start of the Empire’s fall, is that the cruel mistreatment of the commoners was the genesis of the Inventor gaining the courage to stand up against her sister. This act would lead to the civil war which would result in the downfall of the Fae Empire. However, many even to this day contradict this theory as propaganda by Inventor sympathizers. While it is true that the Inventor was a tyrant much like her sister, documents and official sources state that the Inventor was more compassionate and had more noble ideals. Experts in the field of alternate histories hypothesized that if the Inventor survived her battle with Mab, she would have reformed the Fae Empire by outlawing its more oppressive and prejudicial practices. Whatever the reason, it was the Inventor who sparked the beginning of the Civil War that would lead to the First Diaspora. Ironically, the most destructive battle of the civil war would take place in Arlende, the very city where such abuse was most common. Despite all its wealth and power, the city could do nothing to prevent the catastrophic event which would lead to the fall of the city and Mab’s ultimate destruction. [[div class="one column" style="font-family: Old English Text Mt Regular;"]] [[=]] [[span style="font-size: 350%;"]]Present Day[[/span]] [[/=]] [[/div]] Of all the cities of the Spire Star, Arlende was the only one which was completely destroyed during the ruination of the Empire. This was shortly after both queens fell in their legendary battle. Despite this, it still serves as a reminder of the cruelty of both the Undoer Mab and the Empire as a whole. Although the city was destroyed, what became of the remains is something of a mystery. The collected theories over the decades, and historical information received from the now dissolved SCP Foundation, combine to form the belief that the Third Diaspora took place where the ruins of Arlende once stood. [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/ralliston-s-proposal The exact location where the factory of James Rollander was built]. @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] [[image http://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/local--files/the-spire-star-extended-edition/Brazilveen%20Emblem.png style="width: 450px;"]] [[/=]] [[div class="one column" style="font-family: Old English Text Mt Regular;"]] [[=]] [[span style="font-size: 450%;"]]Brasilveen[[/span]] [[span style="font-size: 250%;"]](brə-sil-veen)[[/span]] [[span style="font-size: 250%;"]]The Amber Spire, The Grand Archive[[/span]] [[/=]] [[/div]] @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ It has been stated that knowledge is power, and no settlement embraced that philosophy more so than the city of Brasilveen. The people of Brasilveen were the Elves (//Sidhe Tumuli//). A center of knowledge and learning, Brasilveen was home to the Empire’s finest libraries and institutions, opened to those seeking to uncover the many mysteries of existence and the untapped potential of the thaumaturgic arts. The city was fraught with observatories, archives, universities, and museums. The many white marbled medieval styled buildings were decorated with fine gold, and featured ornate tapestries hanging from the outside ridges or the inner halls. Many referred to Brasilveen as the mind of the Empire, as it always put logic and reasoning before impulse. It is a common fact that the Fae were genetically linked to humans, as they are considered a cousin species much like the Yeren and Fin-Folk. The Elves were the sub-species which resembled humans more than any other species of Fae in existence. While they retained the standard pointed ears and large shiny black eyes, they completely lacked the ethereal wings of their other fellow Fae, and had human-like skin colors, ranging from the palest of pale to the darkest ebony, and all of the tones and hues in between. Despite being more physically similar to humans, the Elves were still as naturally gifted in thaumaturgy as the rest of their fellow Fae brothers and sisters. The Elves often donned themselves in cloaks of pure silk embroidered in gold and colored threads. They often adorned their heads with laurel leaf crowns or gold chained circlets. It is believed that Brasilveen was governed by a royal court composed of trusted sorcerers and wizards, led under a noble monarchy. The first rulers of Brasilveen were thought to be the monarchs Nemed and Danu Airgetlám, legendary ancestors of the late Nuada Airgetlám VII. Both King Nemed and Queen Danu were well known members of the Seelie Court of the Inventor. As such, the city of Brasilveen followed the Inventor, rather than her sister Mab. Therefore, when the civil war erupted, the people of Brasilveen immediately sided with the Inventor. They desired to avenge the possible murder of Oberon, one of the many lovers of the Inventor. [[div class="one column" style="font-family: Old English Text Mt Regular;"]] [[=]] [[span style="font-size: 350%;"]]Present Day[[/span]] [[/=]] [[/div]] Brasilveen managed to preserve its way of life long after the fall of the Empire. Unfortunately, the shape warping people of Fomor could not forget the many years of conflicts between themselves and the Elves, brought forth by Mab and her monstrous general Nessilatha. It is believed that many battles and conflicts between the two peoples continued for many centuries, and caused great damage and destruction to Brasilveen. Ambushes and assassinations befell many of the peoples and nobles of the city. Eventually, after one final bloody clash at the summit of the Sliabh an Iarainn, the Elves stood victorious. However, despite the many years of bloodshed between them, the Elves decided to spare their enemies in the end and let them live. They did not wish to make the same mistakes committed by the Empire because of Mab’s influence, therefore they felt genocide was not the answer and showed mercy. Thus, the war ended, but the damage caused to Brasilveen was devastating. The final fate of Brasilveen after the wars end is at this moment unsured of, as official evidence has yet to be found. The most widely believed theory is that after the war, the citizens of Brasilveen would scatter and go on to find the five Fae kingdoms of the Arthurian Charter, such as [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/finding-avalon the kingdom of Avalon]. This theory states that one portion of the inhabitants chose to stay and would go on to rebuild Brasilveen, a process that would be completed during the 14th century. Feeling their home had been reborn from the ashes of the old, the Elves chose to rename Brasilveen to Hy-Brasil. Over time Hy-Brasil would go on to become a thriving settlement of knowledge and sorcery. It became a monolith of Fae culture and housed one of the largest Fae populations in history. Unfortunately, past enemies of the Empire would soon return to seek vengeance. The terrible Nessilatha, now warped and mutated into the terrifying creature scientifically known as //Crocoteuthis gigantis//, rose from the ocean and decimated the city of Hy-Brasil. Eventually the beast was destroyed by a Thaumonuclear bomb brought down by the GOC, but it also completely decimated the city in the process. For many decades, Hy-Brasil was left a pitiful shell of its former self and was sparsely populated. Many attempts were made to restore the metropolis, but it was a painstakingly difficult process, especially when the Veil was still held high. The lack of available natural resources greatly inhibited rebuilding efforts. The community sent scouts far and wide outside Hy-Brasil to locate and gather materials suitable for rebuilding. These scouts also endeavored to seek out skilled artisans outside Hy-Brasil within the veiled community willing to assist in the reconstruction. During the initial rebuilding stages, life was difficult and the citizens choosing to remain in Hy-Brasil during that time suffered many hardships and a poor quality of life. However, the Elves were incredibly devoted and patient, and many were determined not to abandon the city they called home for generations. Those who did feel the need to move away, only did so knowing they would one day return. However, with the fall of the Veil around the early 2020’s, the reconstruction process greatly increased. There have been many positive reports received from on-site members of the Manna Charitable Foundation, and the Fae supporters from Esterberg and other Free Ports. If these positive reports continue, it’s likely that Hy-Brasil may once again rise from the ashes. @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] [[image http://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/local--files/the-spire-star-extended-edition/Yefshara%20Emblem.png style="width: 450px;"]] [[/=]] [[div class="one column" style="font-family: Old English Text Mt Regular;"]] [[=]] [[span style="font-size: 450%;"]]Yefshara[[/span]] [[span style="font-size: 250%;"]](yef-shär-ah)[[/span]] [[span style="font-size: 250%;"]]The Sapphire Spire, The Sea Hub[[/span]] [[/=]] [[/div]] @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ Perched on the surface of a sheet of ice over a frozen sea, [http://scp-int.wikidot.com/morskie-opowiesci directly above a massive and bottomless trench], Yefshara was believed to be the center of pleasure and luxury within the Empire. A resort city rich in relaxation and entertainment of all forms, enjoyed by many travelers who wished to bask in ecstasy and amusement. Its tall domed towers were held high by marble columns enameled in gold and rich lapis. Elegant docks of hand carved mahogany etched with bronze, and plazas adorned in theatrical stages where many would perform and cater to the masses. Entertainment and pleasures of all forms could be found on every city street, everything from taverns, brothels, spas, and gambling houses. Yefshara was also known for having the loveliest beach in the Empire. Many lovers would stay for long hours perched upon the sand to witness the majestic sunsets. While Yefshara provided the pleasures of the body and liquor, it also provided opportunities to bask in the pleasure of battle. From soldiers to gladiators, many warriors across the Empire would travel to Yefshara to satisfy their lust for battle and conquest. Tournaments and duels were held in a massive colosseum at the peak of the city for the enjoyment of both spectators and competitors. Many of the Fae Empire’s greatest warriors fought, triumphed, and fell in glorious battle within its arena. Even Mab herself would find the time to visit Yefshara, both to witness these battles, and to visit the head ruler of the city, one of her own daughters. The people of Yefshara were the epitome of what you would expect to find in a city that thrived in pleasure and entertainment. The proud Undine (//Sidhe Naiad//), also known as the Undyin, were known for living off the thrill of battle and the fruits of luxury. Naturally more muscular than other species of Fae, they possessed a bluish hue to their skin. They wore tunics and kilts, often adorned with leather straps, animal pelts or chainmail and irrilite armor plating. Many great warriors and guards of the twin queens were Undine men and women who pledged themselves to the mother of their city’s ruler. Undine women were willing to join their fellow men in the arenas and battlefields, but they were also not afraid to display their beauty through the art of exotic dancing. Many of the finest dancers of the Empire could be found within Yefshara, in their many brothels and on the streets for the masses to witness. With Yefshara being under the rule of her daughter, most of its people sided with Mab when the civil war erupted between the Undoer and the Inventor. This led to Yefshara being targeted by the armies and followers of the Inventor, and caused much of the city to become a battlefield with bloodshed within its streets. However, the Undine were experienced in battle, thus they were able to repel many of the sieges laid upon it. It seemed Yefshara would survive the war nearly unscathed, but that would not come to be. It is said that ultimately, as a result of the damage and destruction brought on by invaders, the ice sheet that Yefshara stood upon slowly melted until finally shattering, sinking into the waters below, taking the city with it. Many who witnessed the devastating defeat went on to document the event. They claimed to witnessing the city being surrounded and engulfed within a massive bubble of light and energy before finally sinking deep into the great depths of the ocean. [[div class="one column" style="font-family: Old English Text Mt Regular;"]] [[=]] [[span style="font-size: 350%;"]]Present Day[[/span]] [[/=]] [[/div]] Once thought to have been destroyed and lost forever, it wasn’t until 2010 that the SCP Foundation uncovered the truth of Yefshara’s fate. As a result of its queen’s natural thaumaturgical aptitude that she inherited from her mother, the city was able to survive its destruction through preserving spells and an impenetrable light barrier. After sinking to the deepest depths of the trench it once stood above, Yefshara and its people were able to survive and adapt to their new life beneath the waves, through thaumaturgic evolution by their queen to be more suited for their new aquatic subterranean environment. Although she was unable to successfully accelerate the evolution of the entire population, and many perished in the process. They grew gills, their wings warped into fins, and their skin becoming transparent and changing from a pale blue to a vibrant green, which also made their muscular physiques appear smaller than they supposedly were. One interesting side effect of their rapid evolution was the display of their emotions and intentions through their nervous systems. They would glow in a variety of colors based on their internal feeling. Due to this characteristic, the concept of lies no longer existed in their society because their intentions and feelings are always on display and cannot be hidden, thus making it impossible to lie. The only exception to this is their queen who was not affected in this way through rapid evolution. Life in Yefshara continued and it became an underwater metropolis. For many generations the city continued to bask in the luxuries it provided itself, even if no one on the surface could join in the luxury, including the Undine still living above who were not present when the city sank. However, many generations isolated beneath the waves would have an unfortunate effect on Yefshara and its people. Over time as the centuries turned into millenia, the people of Yefshara slowly began to lose portions of their history and memories of their prior way of life on the surface, to the point where even the name of the city and its queen started to fade. Eventually however, Nordic Vikings led by one Lugos One-Eye accidentally discovered the underwater city and found themselves conversing and feasting with its inhabitants. These Vikings believed they had found themselves within the realm of Niflheim and that its queen was in fact Hel, daughter of Loki the God of Mischief. The meeting with Lugos and his companions greatly influenced the underwater city, with the queen even taking on the title of Hel and renaming the city Niflheim. These Vikings would be the last interaction the Trench Fae had with humans until many centuries later, when on [http://scp-int.wikidot.com/10-kwietnia-2010 April 10, 2010], the Foundation discovered the Baltic Trench and eventually stumbled upon the underwater city. This would lead to the Foundation forming a partnership with the newly dubbed Niflheim, and their involvement in the event referred to as Ragnarök. During the end of the Veil, Yefshara had been recognized as a nexus by the rest of the anomalous community. While the city retained many of the aspects that made itself known as a luxury city, it went on to incorporate numerous Nordic Viking cultural traits. It is a well-known concept to many that the power of belief is immensely great, it can alter the very state of the universe itself, resulting in the birth of deific entities and magnificent realms beyond imagination. Because the Baltic Fae of Yefshara truly believed their home was the realm of Niflheim, the power of belief caused the city to morph into a physical afterlife on Earth, reminiscent of the aforementioned Nordic realm of myth. This also led to the queen of Niflheim becoming the same Hel mentioned in said myth. For those who believed in both Hel and Norse mythology, their souls would traverse to the nexus when they died, but not from battle, as stated in Nordic myth with the concept of Valhalla. These days, while visitors are permitted to enter Yefshara, they must adhere to strict guidelines. They must follow along with the belief they are indeed in the realm of Niflheim. This is to preserve the stability of the afterlife that many spirits now inhabit alongside the Fae natives. While acting as an independent community, the city has an agreement with Vanguard that they will support one another by sharing information and resources when necessary. Despite this agreement, there have been incidents where hostile forces and groups have attempted to destroy the city. Most of these were unsuccessful. Today, the Niflheim turned nexus of Yefshara, stands as an example of how old world human and Fae cultures and beliefs can sometimes merge and create something truly unique and otherworldly beautiful. @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] [[image http://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/local--files/the-spire-star-extended-edition/Fernafaun%20Emblem.png style="width: 450px;"]] [[/=]] [[div class="one column" style="font-family: Old English Text Mt Regular;"]] [[=]] [[span style="font-size: 450%;"]]Fernafaun[[/span]] [[span style="font-size: 250%;"]](fern-ah-faun)[[/span]] [[span style="font-size: 250%;"]]The Emerald Spire, Gaia’s Meadow[[/span]] [[/=]] [[/div]] @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ It is believed when the Fae were first born, they emerged from the vast forests within the bundles of nature’s gifts from Gaia. This belief was most embraced by Fernafaun, located upon the Emerald Isles. Of the six cities of the Spire Star, Fernafaun was considered the most unique. They chose to embrace and live amongst nature and all the riches the lush lands could provide, becoming one with the environment. They so cherished nature that they dared not damage any foliage in order to prosper or create their structures. Instead, they mastered the art of chloromancy. This entailed manipulating and commanding the very greenery of nature. While their mastery of plant manipulation was not as profound and defined as that of the Yeren’s bio-organic engineering, it was still a sight to witness. All the structures and architecture of Fernafaun were naturally grown. Massive trees and fungi grew to be hollow within, and took the shapes of houses and towers. Bridges were created from vines and lily pads, and massive luminescent flower bulbs served as lanterns. A natural ecological paradise, much of the most exotic foliage and fauna could be found throughout Fernafaun. The city of Fernafaun cherished their homelands and worked hard to ensure natural beauty in their surroundings. They utilized the finest greenhouses and farms to raise and nurture both the plant and animal life within. This lifestyle made Fernafaun the primary source of resources needed to preserve the Empire’s prosperity, leading to them hosting the largest farmer’s market within the empire. Most homes of families boasted lush gardens and shared their homes with a variety of animals which were regarded as their companions rather than pets. The inhabitants of Fernafaun were often regarded as the most unique species of Fae. They were the Dryads and Sprites (//Sidhe Norn Napaea//) and were given the title of Gaia’s Caretakers. Though having two distinctive names, the Dryads and Sprites were the same species on a genetic level, the aspect of nature they embraced is what determined if they were Dryads or Sprites. The Dryads embraced flora and the sprites embraced fauna, this difference was revealed a year after birth with a cultural ceremony. At that time infants were presented with two baskets, one filled with flowers and the other holding an animal cub. If they chose the flower basket they were deemed a Dryad, and if they chose the cub basket they were a Sprite. By the age of four, they would develop the physical and biological characteristics of the natural aspect they had chosen. Dryads skin resembles wood, fungi or pome fruit and have soft vines or leaves for hair, or a large flower growing on the top of their heads. Their wings resemble leaves or flower petals. Because of these botanical traits, Dryads inherited various genetic abilities of plant life. Though consuming food still provides them with nutrients, they can survive almost entirely on water. They possess an immunity to all forms of natural poisons and can identify whether a plant or fruit is poisonous through gustation (taste) and olfaction (smell). They are capable of performing photosynthesis and gather nutrients from sunlight. Having botanical traits also has their setbacks however. Dryads cannot survive in environments with extreme temperatures such as deserts or polar regions without the necessary protection to survive. The botanical features of their bodies makes them highly flammable. They can also be harmed by anything detrimental to botany like termites, locusts, pollution, hazardous chemicals and smoke. Despite the limitations, being partially botanical grants the Dryads incredible abilities. They can communicate with any form of flora, and can use their chlorokinetic abilities to manipulate, enchant, and heal botany. They are prodigies in the field of horticulture, such as easily being able to determine what fields have the best soil for providing rich nutrient. They wore clothing made entirely from botanical material which, through thaumaturgy, were incapable of deteriorating. Sprites develop the characteristics of any animal on Earth. Such examples include having fur coats, tails, fuzzy ears, antlers, tiger stripes, whiskers, scales, forked tongues, avian wings, or the legs of goats. Sprites also develop the same abilities as wildlife such as heightened hearing and smell, night vision, climbing, running, digging, and swimming. But much like Dryads, the Sprites’ transformations also have their setbacks. Sprites with fur, feathers or scale can shed. They can develop negative behavioral animal traits, like a feline’s fear of water. Finally, much like natural wildlife, Sprites can go through heat cycles once they mature. They maintain a symbiotic relationship with the wildlife of Earth through studying zoology and teaching the animals thaumaturgy. [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2952 This leads to them creating animals with unusual abilities]. Sprites traditionally seek and befriend any form of animals, many who would become their companion, familiar, or steed. Sprites have also mastered the ability to shrink themselves so they could interact with smaller animal life, such as squirrels, mice, or [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2323 birds]. Sprites manufacture their clothing from the wool, silk, leather, and fur they have harvested from the numerous livestock they herd. Despite having different appearances, Dryads and Sprites are the same species of Fae and can be married to each other. Fernafaun works under a government system similar to a meritocracy. The city is under the guidance of an elected group comprised of the most respected and talented individuals in the city, with the elected head leader being known as the Grand Meadow-Keeper. Despite having an elected body, Fernafaun’s welfare is a shared responsibility. By each member sharing their own skills with all the citizens, everyone benefits. For example, the farmers share their food, the builders share their talents, the caregivers and the healers ensure the well-being of all, and the leaders always work towards the best interest of the citizens. When the civil war erupted within the Empire, Fernafaun did not take up arms in the conflict. Instead, they chose to support by providing the supplies to the armies such as food rations and medical supplies. Surprisingly, Fernafaun provided supplies to both the armies of Mab and the armies of the Inventor. While they too had hatred towards Mab and her followers for their mistreatment of the commoners, they knew that supporting her sister alone would lead Mab’s forces to target Fernafaun as well, so they chose to stand as a neutral party throughout the war. Despite this neutrality however, they secretly prayed for the Inventor’s victory. [[div class="one column" style="font-family: Old English Text Mt Regular;"]] [[=]] [[span style="font-size: 350%;"]]Present Day[[/span]] [[/=]] [[/div]] Of all the cities of the Spire Star, only Fernafaun survived the war unscathed. It is believed this is because the city’s love for nature became so pure and limitless, that Gaia herself chose to take in the city as a part of herself. She embraced Fernafaun and fused it with the very essence of nature itself. In simpler terms, Fernafaun’s love of nature led to it being transferred into a pocket dimension of its own creation, the primary entrance way to which is located upon the Hill of Tara in modern day Meath. Four secondary entrances to Fernafaun’s informal districts directly linked to faeiry forts within Ireland. The city continued to thrive even after the fall of the Empire, much like its neighboring city of Brasilveen. Fernafaun did not choose to keep itself confined to its dimension however, as eventually they would go on to explore the outside world several millennia later. This led to their encounters with the Celtic communities as early as 11th Century BCE, which was the earliest traces of human inhabitation in Ireland. It is believed that Fernafaun and the city of Hy-Brasil may be the roots of the many myths and legend of Fair Folk in Irish and Celtic folklore. These interactions also influenced Fernafaun, as the Grand Meadow-Keeper and the four major members of the Fernafaun council would go on to incorporate traits reminiscent of the province crests of Ireland. However, their interactions with these communities would come to an end when William the Conqueror led the Invasion of Ireland in 1169. At the time Fernafaun attempted to help the natives fight off the Normans. These efforts inevitably failed and Fernafaun was left in horrid shape. Having sustained property and life losses, they secluded themselves to recover and rebuild. For almost three hundred years nary a soul entered or departed the city. In the early 1500’s Fernafaun’s people had recovered and felt confident enough to begin interacting with the natives again. It wouldn’t be until the establishment of Her Majesty's Foundation for the Secure Containment of the Paranormal (HMFSCP) by Oliver [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-8120 Hadfield] after the Fifth Occult War that the people of Fernafaun would once again be forced back into their pocket dimension. They eventually found themselves in conflict with the French Estate noir, due to the brutal and segregationistic ideals of the HMFSCP which Fernafaun viewed as tyrannical. Unfortunately, the Dryads and Sprites of Fernafaun were no match for the ruthless capabilities of the HMFSCP and its forces. This eventually forced them to seclude themselves within their home city in fear of the threat of genocide. After centuries of hiding, they decided they would never let any groups related to the United Kingdoms or HMFSCP within the boundaries of the city again. The city of Fernafaun would not come out of its seclusion until sometime in 1923, as a result of commotion caused by the IRA (Irish Republican Army), who eventually found a way to enter Fernafaun. Fortunately, direct fighting was kept out due to the respect they showed the Fae for their hospitality during the unrest. It was thanks to this interaction Fernafaun discovered that the threat of the HMFSCP was no longer present, and thus they were once again free to roam the outside world. However, upon learning of the existence of the Veil, they acted much more carefully when traversing outside the city. This cautious traversal prevented the Foundation from discovering Fernafaun until the late 20th century via knowledge obtained from the city of Hy-Brasil. Unfortunately, this knowledge was soon lost due to their on-site facility being destroyed along with the city. The Foundation wouldn’t rediscover Fernafaun until late 2013, when they also made their first contact with the inhabitants. At the time Fernafaun agreed to establish a diplomacy with the SCP Foundation, and eventually granted them permission to build a facility, Site-32, within the city to aid in their operations within Ireland. After the end of the Veil, Fernafaun had become a popular tourist location within Ireland, and a place of intense interest to botanists and zoologists around the world. Their teachings of chlorokinetic thaumaturgy and fellow Dryad volunteers have even led to the successful restoration of many barren and degraded natural landscapes due to deforestation and pollution exposure. The assistance of the Sprites of Fernafaun, and their ways of developing symbiotic relationships with wildlife, has also led to the rescue and preservation of several endangered species of wildlife, especially those which previously were nearly brought to extinction. @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] [[image http://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/local--files/the-spire-star-extended-edition/Neonachlar%20Emblem.png style="width: 450px;"]] [[/=]] [[div class="one column" style="font-family: Old English Text Mt Regular;"]] [[=]] [[span style="font-size: 450%;"]]Neonachlar[[/span]] [[span style="font-size: 250%;"]](neo-nuh-clar)[[/span]] [[span style="font-size: 250%;"]]The Opal Spire, The Star Valley[[/span]] [[/=]] [[/div]] @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ Located along the western boundaries of the Empire was the city of stars, Neonachlar. Secluded within a vast forest filled valley, Neonachlar was a city whose magnificence was not fully revealed until after dusk. Known as the star valley, the city was famous for having the most beautiful view of the night sky within all of the Empire. It resembled a sparkling ocean filled with diamonds. Neonachlar and its people held a deep love and appreciation for the stars, and built their very way of life and culture around them. The city itself was perched directly above the vast trees which spanned across the valley, so the night sky would always be visible. All the buildings of Neonachlar were glamorous towers built of platinum and mahogany, or immense ornate treehouses. The rooftops of every building were composed of a highly durable unique crystal material. These crystals appeared an opaque black when exposed to sunlight, but as night fell, they became as transparent as glass, so the stars were always in view. The streets of Neonachlar were similar to suspension bridges and tree top walkways, each interconnecting every structure within the city. Plazas and parks were large elevated platforms throughout the city. Buildings were often decorated with luminescent star shaped crystals which would glow a warm gold or enchanting emerald color during the night, making the city glisten like the stars above. The people of Neonachlar were known as the Pùca (//Sidhe Stellaris//), but were commonly referred to as Pixies. The pixies were regarded as the most unusual species of Fae. Pixies resembled the Sidhe Fae, although they had six small eyes which were arranged vertically with two in the middle, two on top, and two at the bottom. They were much shorter than all other species of Fae. Their skin was mint green, their hair multicolored and vibrant, and their ethereal wings were like that of a dragonfly rather than a butterfly. The pixies were well known for being master craftsmen and manufacturers. Whether it be glassblowing, blacksmithing, woodworking, ceramics, jewelry, or sewing, the Pixies were regarded as the best in such fields. Establishments such as workshops or ceramics shops were common within the city. They generally designed their craft items themed around the stars, however they were always willing to honor any special items requested by nobles or the Empire courts. The attire of Neonachlar was described as regal, flowy, exotic and vibrant in design. The Pixies viewed the stars as sacred and tied to the existence of the Fae themselves. While some believed that the Fae were born from the forests by Gaia’s hands, the Pixies believed the Fae were born from the stars, crafted from starlight and the ethereal threads of the universe by a long-lost goddess of stars and dreams. The true name of the goddess was lost to time, but the Pixies have come to call her the Star Mother. This belief would, over time, be expanded upon by many, [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/fae-myths-and-legends forming a religion that is worshipped even to this day]. They believed one day this lost goddess would return, and bring them to a paradise of starlight and miracles, where they could bask in the beauty of the stars for all eternity. Not much about the Star Mother is known, as most knowledge of this deity was lost long before the time of the Empire. However, one aspect that has remained was that a fragment of the Star Mother broke off long ago and took the form of a red shooting star. This red star would soar through the night sky once every six years during a new moon. Every six years the Pixies would hold a grand festival in celebration of this star, and the deity they believed it to be born from. They called this festival the Symphony of Starlight. They celebrated the goddess through joyful dancing, dramatic reenactments, musical performances, selling their best crafts and offering the finest delicacies to the many participants. Many have claimed the most glamorous spectacle of the festival to be the royal duet between the Mistress of Heavenly Glamour, matriarch of Neonachlar, and her daughter, the Princess of Wishful Desires. For this event, the two performed a mesmerizingly beautiful and exotic ceremonial dance together in front of a large Irrilite statue depicting one of the many forms of the Star Mother. Dark times came later for Neonachlar when civil war erupted throughout the Empire. Despite the Mistress of Heavenly Glamour being a member of the Unseelie Court of Mab, she was one of the lovers of the Inventor. She thus secretly opposed Mab and desired to abandon her seat to be among the members of the Inventor’s Seelie Court. When the civil war began, she was forcibly ordered by Mab to have the many smiths of Neonachlar produce weaponry for her forces. However, she also did everything she could to assist the Inventor, such as offering weapon supplies, and leaking both war plans and secrets to the Inventor herself. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be long before Mab became aware of this defiance and eventually caught the Mistress in the act. Enraged, she sentenced the Mistress to death and summoned her royal guards to slay the matriarch. But whether through sheer luck, or divine protection from the Star Mother, the Mistress of Heavenly Glamour narrowly managed to escape with her life. She wasted no time in returning to Neonachlar, knowing full well that Mab would seize her forces upon the city for their deviance. However, it is believed that the matriarch had a plan to ensure the survival of her home and her people. When night fell and the forces of Mab finally came upon the valley of Neonachlar, many Pixie warriors, along with support from the armies of the Inventor, awaited them. They would hold off the followers of Mab long enough to buy time for the Mistress of Heavenly Glamour to enact her plan and save their home. As the hours passed, and the battle continued to rage on, Mab’s forces were starting to push back the retaliating army. Hope was starting to dwindle for the defenders of Neonachlar. What occurred next is not entirely certain due to the passage of time, but legends tell us it was at this moment that a great beam of red light came down from the sky, and the city of Neonachlar was engulfed in a wave of starlight. When the light finally faded, Neonachlar had vanished, leaving only a few structures and crumbling bridges behind. Believing this was an act of their queen, the forces of Mab ceased their clash with their foes and withdrew from the battlefield. They returned to Arlende to defend its walls, under the impression that they were victorious. However, upon disappearing from the horizon, the Pixie warriors roared in delight and triumphed, for it was they who were victorious in the end. What Mab did not realize was that the night of the battle for Neonachlar marked the end of the six year wait for the return of the red star of the Star Mother. As the battle raged on, the Mistress of Heavenly Glamour along with her daughter and the many citizens of the city, prayed to their goddess. They prayed she would deliver them from the chaotic war and spare them from the fires of Mab’s rage. In the end, the red star burst forth with great light, as it answered their prayers. [[div class="one column" style="font-family: Old English Text Mt Regular;"]] [[=]] [[span style="font-size: 350%;"]]Present Day[[/span]] [[/=]] [[/div]] Over the millennia, the fate of Neonachlar has always been unclear in history. However, the pixies that were not present within the city when it vanished, and those in modern times knew what happened to Neonachlar, as it has been kept a secret among their people for generations. A birthright that was bestowed upon them, where all newborn Pixies would possess the knowledge of Neonachlar and its fate embedded within their memories. As previously stated, the power of belief can alter the very state of reality itself if it was strong enough. Many deities and concepts exist merely because the power of belief brought them into existence, and that can lead to miracles becoming a reality. That is the case with Neonachlar. There may have been a time when the red star was a simple comet soaring through space, but because of the power of belief, that star may have indeed become a part of the Star Mother, and thus it answered the prayers of the Pixies by fulfilling what they have always prophesied within their religion of stars. When Neonachlar was engulfed in light, it and its inhabitants were in fact transported to another reality, [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/oneiroi one that is forged from the very essence of dreams and the imagination]. The city had found itself in a reality where not only could they forge creations from their very dreams, but they were now always above a sky that was forever filled with beautiful stars. By believing in their goddess, they were able to escape destruction by Mab’s hand and ascend into a paradise where they remain to this very day. But for the Pixies still on baseline Earth, they too were able to have the opportunity to experience this paradise of stars, only not while conscious. Whenever a Pixie sleeps, they awaken within Neonachlar and bask in the wonders its people created from the threads of dreams and starlight. Many times, they are able to reunite with loved ones who have passed, and ancestors who were present when the city ascended. This is because through its power, the city of Neonachlar gathered the souls of Pixies who passed to bask in the stars for all eternity. This was a secret the Pixies kept amongst themselves for generations, a secret mostly unknown to the rest of the Fae of the world. Despite this utopian life in the realm of dreams, there sadly came a later time when Neonachlar would encounter conflicts even within this realm. For the dream realm was not just the home to the dream whisperers of the Oneroi, and ideas given form, it was also home to [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/nt-4041-nimuedianetic-karhu the domain of the Erlking and his kingdom]. Despite being an entity affiliated with the Fae Empire, the Erlking was displeased by the sudden appearance of a new kingdom within his realm. For this reason, he kept a careful, watchful eye on Neonachlar, even sending scouts to spy and infiltrate the citadel. After much time with no reported suspicious activity, and upon realizing the Fae origins of the city, the Erlking’s suspicions of Neonachlar began to dwindle. Yet, still having their doubts, they messaged the city warning to never dare attempt to cause a conflict with their kingdom, or else face their unfathomable wrath. Neonachlar quickly responded, stating that as long as they were free to bask in the stars in peace, there would be no problems between their two kingdoms. Thus, a diplomatic treaty of peace was formed between the two citadels, where as long as one did not antagonize the other, there would be peace between them. Sometime during mid-2025, with the fall of the Veil and seeing how comfortable humanity of the public world had become around sapient beings such as the Fae, the Pixies eventually revealed the secret of Neonachlar’s presence with the dreamscape, and their means to travel there while sleeping. After much discussion with representatives of the Pixie inhabitants of Esterberg, Vanguard, the Sidhe Lounge, and Oneiroi Incorporated, it was decided that the public would be granted means to visit the city of Neonachlar via thauma-technological means. This led to the invention of the Star Dream Transcendence Headset, an optical psionic based headset which puts the users into a thaumaturgically induced REM sleep. It then warps their consciousness into the Oneroi dreamscape city of Neonachlar. Many have compared it to a virtual reality experience. Those who experience the Star Dream Headset are able to visit and vacation within the city, where they can bask in the many marvels that the city of stars offers its many visitors. @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] [[image http://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/local--files/the-spire-star-extended-edition/Fata%20Morgana%20Emblem.png style="width: 450px;"]] [[/=]] [[div class="one column" style="font-family: Old English Text Mt Regular;"]] [[=]] [[span style="font-size: 450%;"]]Fata Morgana[[/span]] [[span style="font-size: 250%;"]](fa-ta mor-ga-na)[[/span]] [[span style="font-size: 250%;"]]The Silver Spire, The White Towers[[/span]] [[/=]] [[/div]] @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ Of all the cities of the Spire Star of the Fae Empire, none was considered more majestic than Fata Morgana. Although Arlende was the capital of the Empire, Fata Morgana was revered as the magnum opus of the Fae Empire’s achievements. Located upon the ocean’s surface several miles off the coast of the beaches of Paradim, Fata Morgana was a city of creativity, beauty, and wonder. From the most heavenly paintings and sculptures to the most harmonious melodies and hymns, Fata Morgana was the creative epicenter of the Empire. Everything the city produced was beyond words in terms of beauty. Even the city itself was an absolute work of art. Tall towers and monolithic palaces of pure silver and glimmering crystal and arches inlayed with the purest gold and alabaster. As a city on the water, pools and rivers of crystal-clear water flowed throughout. Dazzling water fountains, bridges, ornate walkways and platforms spanned far and wide, providing stunning views for all. Like Fernafaun, Fata Morgana also cherished the beauty of nature, but believed that nature and progress should exist harmoniously. The city was filled with many lush parks offering peace and tranquility. The grass was the purest green, and the lovely tall trees were covered with gray bark like that of marble. Silver leaves produced beautiful sounds like that of a wind chime when the winds blew. The parks were surrounded by flower fields brimming with colorful flowers of many varieties. At sunset, the city of Fata Morgana would overlap the sun and appear to sparkle and shine with brilliant light like a diamond. However, the most glorious and breathtaking site was the heart of the city, Titania Spire. The largest structure ever constructed by Fae, the megalithic palace was the governing center of the city. The structure was named after Titania, a legendary benevolent Fae figure from ancient times. Many believed that Titania was an ancestor of the twin queens. Fata Morgana provided many opportunities to bask in the wonders of art and entertainment. Concert halls, theaters, art museums, resorts, exotic dining halls, and aquariums could be found within. But above all, Fata Morgana was a city of absolute peace and purity. While it was undeniable that some of the corruptive influences of Mab had found its way into the other five cities in some shape or form, such as the concept of the wealthy possessing more freedom than the commoner, or how Yefshara utilized human and Yeren slaves, Fata Morgana however held little trace of Mab’s influence. The citizens were adept at maintaining a façade of loyalty to Mab. When not directly under Mab’s watchful eye, all citizens were treated and respected equally, including the many other Fae who would come to visit the city. There was an unspoken understanding that all Fae honored that they would do all within their power to protect Fata Morgana from as much of Mab’s influence as possible. At one time, even Mab respected the beauty within Fata Morgana, and allowed the citizens to live more comfortable lives than in other cities. Just as Fata Morgana itself was a glorious sight to behold, the people of the city, the Changelings (//Sidhe Leanan Hesperides//), were regarded as the most beautiful of all known species of Fae. The Changelings greatly resembled the common Sidhe Fae more than any other Fae species, however, the Changelings were more elegant in form. Their skin was a healthy vibrant pastel pink with a blue glint, that shone like porcelain. They also had large shiny eyes, but unlike the common black of all other Fae, the eyes of Changelings could be any color imaginable. Their hair was also colorful and flowed like smooth silk. Their wings were their most beautiful feature. They were very large and vibrant, pulsed and rippled with many colors, and were translucent and shimmered like an aurora borealis. Their wings were also strong, as mana flowed deep within them. This allowed them greater mobility and greater speeds while in flight, all the while still retaining their grace. Even the clothing of the Changelings was graceful and elegant. All attire within Fata Morgana were created from a sparkling and reflective material similar to silk. They dressed primarily in white with subtle accents colors. The men generally wore long-sleeved, high collar tunics with ankle length pants, often accompanied by a long scarf around their shoulders like a vestment. The women wore long gossamer dresses with bell-sleeves. But the one clothing detail all Changelings of Fata Morgana shared was their custom of being unshod. With the occasional exception of ankle length silk stirrups and ankle strips, the Changelings were always barefoot. The reason for this is that they view it as a form of balance between nature and urban progress, a means of presenting their embrace of peace and purity. Many often called Fata Morgana the city of the Inventor, for it was her will that brought the city to life. She was the orchestrator of its creation and visited the city often. This is why the city had no traces of Mab’s influence, because she had no affiliation with its creation, thus the Changelings followed the will of the Inventor and her court alone. In fact, the ruler of Fata Morgana was a member of the Seelie Court, Adresin Balleor, first Lord of Fata Morgana and the Inventor’s most cherished lover, as well as a long-time childhood companion. Even though the city disregarded the many ideals brought forth by Mab, Fata Morgana was highly adored and respected by the entirety of the Empire, commoners and aristocrats alike. Even the Mabbites and members of the Unseelie Court viewed Fata Morgana in high regard. All of the Empire revered Fata Morgana, even the Undoer Mab herself did for a time. However, over the years Mab began to despise Fata Morgana once she realized its peoples were only feigning loyalty to her to protect themselves. Ultimately, she knew they were a great threat to her power and could ignite a flame of rebellion against her. She refused to allow this to come to fruition, but she knew that destroying the city would only ensure a revolt occurred against her, even her most loyal followers would likely betray her. Instead, Mab chose to denounce Fata Morgana as a city of the Fae Empire, separating it from the rest of the Spire Star. She even went so far as to have the bridge connecting the city to the mainland destroyed, and imprisoning all Changelings within the city’s walls. She also had several of the artworks of Fata Morgana destroyed, many which might have been lost forever if replicas had not been created before their destruction. Despite being denounced by Mab, that did not stop the rest of the Empire from continuing to visit and hold Fata Morgana in high regard. However, they feared bringing anything that originated from within its walls, believing Mab would punish them greatly for doing so. Despite banishing Fata Morgana from the rest of the Empire, revolution and civil war still erupted. However, Fata Morgana was not at all involved in this war, for they were unable to assist due to Mab imprisoning them within the city’s walls. Though the Inventor likely would have preferred it this way, as she was the one who brought life to Fata Morgana, and so cared greatly for its people, and its ruler Adresin. However, what no one knew was that Adresin was also the father of the Inventor’s child, a child that had yet to be born and was kept a secret. Aside from Adresin himself, the rest of the Empire was kept in the dark about the Inventor’s pregnancy. They feared if Mab were to learn of it, she would view the child as a great threat to her power and bring great harm upon them. One early dawn, the day that would be the apex of the legendary clash between the two queens, the time came for the Inventor to go into labor. On that very morning, the first and only daughter of the Inventor, Princess Ariel, was born. Sadly, the first time she ever laid eyes on her mother, was also her last. The Inventor left Ariel in the care of Adresin and left the city to face her wicked sister in a battle that would end in the demise of both. But before this battle ensued, those who were present at the beaches of Paradim witnessed what would become of Fata Morgana. They claimed to hear a faint humming coming from the horizon, a sound that rose higher and higher. Suddenly, a mysterious pink mist emerged and swallowed the city in its entirety. The fog and the humming continued for what felt like hours, until finally the humming quieted and the fog dissipated. Shockingly, where Fata Morgana once stood, was nothing. The entire city had completely vanished without a trace, leaving only the water surface of the ocean it once stood upon. [[div class="one column" style="font-family: Old English Text Mt Regular;"]] [[=]] [[span style="font-size: 350%;"]]Present Day[[/span]] [[/=]] [[/div]] As milleniums passed, the fate of Fata Morgana was a mystery that might never be answered. Eventually, the idea of Fata Morgana faded from fact to mere myth and legend. Many modern Fae believed Fata Morgana and the Changelings never really existed, being nothing more than a tale told by Fae fablers and treasure hunters. Without any means to prove its existence, such as artifacts or ruins, it seemed Fata Morgana would be remembered as nothing more than a fantastical tale. However, it wouldn’t be until 2008 that the truth would finally be uncovered. The truth of the city’s disappearance was, in fact, an act of protection by the Inventor and Adresin. Before leaving to stand against Mab, the Inventor gave Adresin a crystal flower which acted as a reflection of her life force. She then entrusted him with a thaumaturgic practice only known to those such as herself and Mab, the art of dimensional displacement. The Inventor pleaded with Adresin to send the city outside this reality where it would be safe from Mab if she were to fail. She believed it was their only protection if she did not return. The flower would determine whether she had lived or not. If the flower was still healthy at the coming of midnight, it meant she had survived and it was safe for Fata Morgana to return. However, if the flower shattered, it meant she had perished in battle and that Fata Morgana was to remain beyond the realms, until a time came when the world was no longer under the threat of her sister, and was more peaceful. She believed one day the world would become truly tranquil, and all peoples of the land would live in harmony. Her hope for such a future was so deep, that as an extra means, the Inventor secretly stored one piece of art from the city within the Empire’s royal repository, but not before slipping a hymn sheet bearing a hidden message within its frame. She then cast a spell to preserve the repository, so that someone would one day discover it and use the knowledge and treasures within to help create a better future. The hope was that they would also summon the white towers back to its home upon Gaia. Thus, when the fog emerged off the horizon, Fata Morgana was warped into another plain of existence, where it remained until modern day. While Fata Morgana remained outside the realms, Adresin and his daughter Ariel, along with all blood descendants after her, would observe Earth through a device dubbed the Eye of the Observer. The many royals watching went on to archive the events and figures of Earth’s long history, with the Fae Empire now nothing but a memory. They witnessed many historical moments such as the Yeren’s time of glory, the Second Diaspora and the founding of [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7600 Druv’tuul], the fall of Babylon, the birth of the Daevites, the rise and fall of both [# the empire of steel] and [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/a-baptism-of-fire the empire of flesh], and the many Occult Wars to plague the world for generations. While the descendants of Ariel watched over Earth, the city of Fata Morgana went on to prosper and advance. They went on to create mana crystals. These were bio-engineered organic crystals that rapidly grow from plants which are the primary power source of all the thaumaturgic based technology the city would go on to develop. They created morgana silver, a thaumaturgic metal created from mana crystal enhanced yttrium that serves as a slightly weaker substitute to irrilite. They also created powerful weapons and battle armor for their royal guards and military force, a necessity in order to defend themselves from hostile entities outside baseline reality. When the siege on the factory of James Rollander erupted on August 13th, 1911, the current Lady Titania of Fata Morgana, Áine Lurline Tanaquill, became aware of the soul of Mab that lay buried beneath the facility. Queen Áine attempted to resummon the city so she and its militia would put an end to the conflict and prevent the release of Mab. Unfortunately, the amassing of her army took too long, and had to witness the Third Diaspora unfold. Watching in horror as seventy-five percent of the Fae population outside extradimensional space were stripped of their names and banished to a nameless prison of Mab’s design. Refusing to give up on the many lives lost during such tragedy, but not possessing the means to restore the names of the nameless, Queen Áine chose to seek aid from the divine. Contacting the many deities of [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/three-moons-initiative-hub Corbenic], she made the proposal that in exchange for restoring the names of all nameless who died within the Nameless Forest and allowing them to reincarnate, the people of Fata Morgana would worship and praise the deities of Corbenic. Thus, the phenomenon known as VNP-3903 was created, where Nameless Fae along with the victims of the destruction of Hy-Brasil, would reincarnate as humans, who would then be summoned to Fata Morgana when they reached maturity. They would then become Otherkin, Reborn Fae transformed into Changelings, with their true names restored and the memories of their past lives returned. It wouldn’t be until [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-lost-spire-part-1 March of 2008, that the city of Fata Morgana would be rediscovered]. When the SCP Foundation discovered the royal repository of the Fae Empire, they came across the aforementioned painting left there by the Inventor. This lead them to learn about Fata Morgana and the legend of the Spire Star. With this information, they temporarily summoned the city back to baseline reality. With the aid of Olivié Gwyneth of the Sidhe Lounge and the Vajra King of Arcadia Ragna Von Morrowind, the SCP Foundation and the Droganians were able to form a partnership with the city of Fata Morgana. In fact, one might say it was the rediscovery of Fata Morgana which started the domino effect leading to the rediscovery of the three remaining cities of the Spire Star. It was also the archives of Fata Morgana, provided by the Lady Titania which revealed much of the knowledge regarding the six cities mentioned here. Before the fall of the Veil on November 25th, 2021, Fata Morgana remained outside baseline reality, but means to access the city was granted to the SCP Foundation, the city of Arcadia, the free port of Esterberg, and the still recovering Hy-Brasil. The resources and knowledge gained from this partnership led to thaumaturgical breakthroughs within the SCP Foundation, and a huge positive impact on the organization’s Public Relations within Esterberg. Also, with the aid of Fata Morgana, the Droganian city of Arcadia was able to advance its thaumaturgical technology and architecture much more quickly. It was also helpful in dealing with other obstacles which greatly slowed the restoration of Hy-Brasil. On February 14th, 2023, as part of several campaigns enacted by [http://scp-pl.wikidot.com/iluminaci-krytykuja-vanguard the Committee for the Reconciliation of Crimes Against Humanity and Anomalies], the city of Fata Morgana permanently returned to baseline reality, now located not far off the shores of Gdańsk, Poland. The city went to become a popular resort and tourist destination for both humanity and Fae, with sapient peoples of all kinds also free to enjoy the many wonders the city provides. Queen Áine also served as a major contributor in forming the Ever After Congress, an assembly party within the Sidhe Lounge who represent various Fae communities around the world. It is composed of the governing figures of every known Fae settlement. The technology of Fata Morgana quickly went on to be incorporated widely within numerous other Fae communities such as Esterberg. This includes the use of mana crystals as a form of natural energy source in other locations around the world. Since early 2009, many citizens of Esterberg considered Fata Morgana a spark of hope and great change for all of Fae kind. Taking the many contributions the city had provided to the Fae community over the years into consideration, it is safe to say that they are indeed correct. @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ ---- @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ Regardless of the atrocities committed, and the thousands of years of cruelty and slavery inflicted upon those undeserving of it through the will of Mab, the Fae Empire was without a doubt a fascinating and multicultural civilization. It went on to greatly influence the development of the Fae species as a whole. It left a mark on history that reverberates to the present day. The six cities of the Spire Star show the true brilliance of the Fae as a species, and how it went on to prosper and create one of a kind cultures that which the world has never seen before. Each city delivers something unique, and represents aspects of both the Fae and the Fae Empire that even influence modern day, whether it be through the revelation of more of its remarkable history, or by withstanding the sands of time. Arlende shows how truly ancient the Fae are as a people. Proof that tyranny and greed can have immense consequences for both the innocent and the guilty, such as leading to complete ruination of even the most truly historical civilizations. Brasilveen shows how knowledge can strengthen the mind and spirit. It gifted the resolve to preserve their ways of life even in the darkest of hours, the courage to never surrender, and the will to find the means to rise again stronger than before. Yefshara shows how the life of pleasure and entertainment is not inherently a bad thing. It can give one something to fight for and help one to survive even the most desperate scenarios. It keeps one’s way of life alive, even if it changes in ways that make it almost unrecognizable. Fernafaun shows how one can prosper and thrive just by embracing the natural ways of life. Proof that cooperation and teamwork can create something beautiful that all can cherish and want to protect for ages to come. Neonachlar shows how the strength of the love and admiration for something so universally common can give birth to a beautiful culture, capable of achieving the most incredible of miracles. Finally, Fata Morgana shows how there was indeed some good within the Empire. An example that even in the most hopeless of times, there will always be a spark of hope that will bring about a time of great change and healing. While there were many other cultures that existed at the time, as well as many additional stories and legends regarding the Fae Empire and its twin queens, the legacy of the Spire Star is one that has gone on to shape the world in countless ways. Truly a testament to how remarkable the Fae are as both a species and a culture. @@ @@ @@ @@ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] ===== > Filename:* Spire Star Emblem.png > Author: WarriorofChaos > License: CC BY-SA 3.0 > Filename: Arlende Emblem.png > Author: WarriorofChaos > License: CC BY-SA 3.0 > Filename: Brasilveen Emblem.png > Author: WarriorofChaos > License: CC BY-SA 3.0 > Filename: Yefshara Emblem.png > Author: WarriorofChaos > License: CC BY-SA 3.0 > Filename: Fernafaun Emblem.png > Author: WarriorofChaos > License: CC BY-SA 3.0 > Filename: Neonachlar Emblem.png > Author: WarriorofChaos > License: CC BY-SA 3.0 > Filename: Fata Morgana Emblem.png > Author: WarriorofChaos > License: CC BY-SA 3.0 ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-05-07T15:55:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "children-of-the-night", "from-120s-archives", "homo-sapiens-sidhe", "hy-brasil", "nameless", "olivie-gwyneth", "oneiroi", "queen-mab", "tale", "worldbuilding" ]	The Spire Star (Extended Edition) - SCP Foundation	13	[ "poczatki-normalnosci-i-jej-przyszlosc", "the-enlightened-children", "ralliston-s-proposal", "finding-avalon", "scp-2952", "scp-2323", "scp-8120", "fae-myths-and-legends", "oneiroi", "nt-4041-nimuedianetic-karhu", "scp-7600", "a-baptism-of-fire", "three-moons-initiative-hub", "the-lost-spire-part-1", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "from-120-s-archives-hub" ]	[]	1453558355	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-spire-star-extended-edition
the-squirrel	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=1&theme=https://cdn.scpwiki.com/theme/en/basalt/normalize-min.css&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=2&theme=https://cdn.scpwiki.com/theme/en/basalt/basalt-bedrock-min.css&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=3&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Abasalt/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <div class="preview"> <p>Worship keeps a god alive. His joints may creak and his bones may ache, but he was alive as long as someone kept him alive.</p> </div> <div class="authorlink-wrapper"><a href="javascript:;">oritiefling</a> <div class="authorbox"> <div class="authorcontent"> <p>Did you enjoy the article? Please check out my other works! <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/oris-box">Right here</a>!</p> </div> </div> </div> <div style="margin-bottom: 1.5em; text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc0"><span>The Squirrel</span></h1> </div> <p>Ratatoskr had always believed that with age came wisdom. Now, with his snout painted white, he knew better. With age came little more than joint pain and a deep-seated desire to nap. His days of scampering up and down the Tree delivering messages to the divine had long passed. Those who were still alive no longer had need of him, and his old joints would never allow him to make such a trip.</p> <p>So he had settled into a new routine. He would rise every morning with aching bones and scamper down the tree he called home. It was no Yggdrasil, no. It was but a humble oak, perhaps even less impressive than those around it. Still, that made it gentler on his exhausted body for the times where he did have to climb and descend it. Following his descent, he would walk towards the altar where his final acolytes would offer him worship in the form of a single peanut, which he would gleefully claim before scampering off somewhere to enjoy.</p> <p>Worship keeps a god alive. His joints may creak and his bones may ache, but he was alive as long as someone kept him alive. He no longer had the recognition he once held. The whispering in his ears from those praying to him or offering him praise had vanished over the years. Still, the two aged men who offered him his daily peanut were his worshippers, and he their patron. He had claimed them as such.</p> <p>Today, much as any other day, Ratatoskr claimed his tribute and scampered off. Just as he was able to shell his worship and drink deeply of it, he felt something strange. A indescribable feeling within him, almost like a static burning. He shook himself, scratching a paw over his ear, and did his best to set the strange sensation aside as he consumed his prize. Once his belly had been filled, he found that the sensation had vanished. He stretched, and with tired eyes he returned to his tree.</p> <hr/> <p>The joy of a daily routine is that it breeds familiarity. He knew that many gods grew disillusioned with this, the endless mundanity of repetition, but for one such as him who had never held a large cult to begin with, it was comforting. He knew his acolytes would always be there, and he knew he'd always walk away with tribute.</p> <p>So he arrived at the altar as always. He would smile, if he could, as one aged man wrapped an arm around the other. It was charming, the affections mortals showed one another. Still, he was here for a reason. He held his arms out, watching as the men smiled and chuckled at one another, and received his peanut.</p> <p>Scampering off once more, he was overcome with the odd sensation once more. It was more defined this time— a burning deep within his soul. He doubled over, overcome with sudden pain. Gripping his head he cursed in a silent voice to no one in particular. How dare these sensations interrupt his feasting! This was a very important part of his day! Didn't these disquieting sensations know who he was? He was…!</p> <p>…He realized that no name was coming to him. He searched his mind desperately, pouring through what years worth of memories had remained, only to be met with silence. Name? Name? What was it…? He felt his body heave and shudder as he clawed at something that no longer existed.</p> <p>Eventually he shook the empty sensation away. No matter. He still had tribute. Shelling his peanut, he filled his stomach once more, and the emptiness was gone. He didn't need a name, anyway. He still had worshippers, that was more than many others could say after all.</p> <hr/> <p>The next day, he only found one of his worshippers at the altar. There was a profound heaviness in the air about him, the man's eyes red and tired. Still, a sparkle returned to them when he saw the squirrel arrive as expected. He could see the man's mouth moving, speaking… something. He couldn't understand. Virus? Hospital? The man seemed upset, and the squirrel remained to listen as best as he could. A god must listen to the woes of his worshippers. What kind of god would he be if he didn't? He had always been good at listening, after all.</p> <p>As always, his listening was rewarded with fresh tribute. Today's offering was especially high quality, the shell covered in a dusting of salt. A truly rare prize indeed! Greedily, he scampered off to enjoy his treat, but stopped right before he began the process of shelling it. He waited, expecting the sudden pain to overtake him once more. Eventually he did feel something, but instead of the same soul-shattering pain he had felt prior, it was little more than a slight burning on the back of his hand. He looked down, and saw a small patch of flesh begin to fizzle.</p> <p>There were many things he knew he should have felt then. He should've felt afraid, he should've felt agony, he should've been overtaken with dread. Instead he felt… peace. This was going to happen eventually, he had known this since his youth. He was blessed after all, to have lasted as long as he had at all. In the moment, his mind went to his worshippers. Would they miss him? Would they notice he was gone? Certainly he was as much a part of their routine as they were his. Would they keep him alive in memory?</p> <p>Many questions danced in his head as he savored his peanut. Despite everything, it still filled his belly and soul.</p> <hr/> <p>The squirrel had always been a creature of habit. It knew where to go for food, it knew what to do to get it. Every day it arrived at the same bench, expecting the same two gentlemen who would cast a smile and a peanut its way, and then it would scamper off. Today confirmed the routine had changed, however. Once again only one man was at the bench to meet it. The squirrel in all its acuity could tell something was wrong. His eyes were dark and red, and tears flowed down his cheeks as he sat slumped over on the bench.</p> <p>The squirrel knew that it should simply leave and search elsewhere, but something inside of it told it to comfort the man. It felt kinship to him. So the squirrel edged over to the man, and with creaking joints it climbed onto the bench and sat beside him. The man seemed shocked at first, and then a slight sparkle returned to his melancholy eyes. He chuckled, and handed a peanut out to the squirrel. The squirrel, in turn, took this gift.</p> <p>This time, however, it stayed. Shelling the nut, it sat and enjoyed its treat next to the man. The man, in turn, watched the squirrel enjoy the gift. It was a small thing, but it was enough to take the man's mind off of his troubles. Hesitantly, the man reached a hand out to the squirrel. The squirrel eyed this motion with caution, but eventually set a tiny paw into the man's hand.</p> <p>The two sat for but a moment, listening to the world around them in quiet contemplation.</p> <p>Eventually the nut was finished. The squirrel looked to the man one final time. It knew the man was important to it. It didn't remember why or how, but it knew that much. It nuzzled the man's hand, then scampered off. The man waved goodbye to the strange creature one final time.</p> <p>On its way home the squirrel collapsed to the ground. Looking down it watched as its paw continued to fizzle and slowly fade away. This continued with its legs, its body slowly fading away piece by piece.</p> <p>And it would smile if it could. It was ready. As its head faded away, it cast one final thought to the men who had been so kind to it until the end. The two who had noticed it and honored it until it was gone.</p> <p>It would be okay. It had been a good life.</p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-squirrel">The Squirrel</a>" by OriTiefling, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-squirrel">https://scpwiki.com/the-squirrel</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:basalt">:scp-wiki:theme:basalt</a> hidetitle=a]] ===== [[include <a href="/component:preview">component:preview</a> text= Worship keeps a god alive. His joints may creak and his bones may ache, but he was alive as long as someone kept him alive. ]] ===== [[module css]] :root { --logo: url(https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/secure-facility-dossier-site-58/58logo.png); --title: "SITE-58:"; --subtitle: "BRIDGING THE GAPS BETWEEN US"; } .email-example .collapsible-block-folded a.collapsible-block-link { animation: blink 0.8s ease-in-out infinite alternate; } @keyframes blink { 0% { color: transparent; } 50%, 100% { color: #b01; } } .email {border: solid 2px #000000; width: 88%; padding: 1px 15px; margin: 10px; box-shadow: 0 1px 3px rgba(0,0,0,.5)} .email-example a.collapsible-block-link {font-weight: bold;} .tofrom {margin-left: 10px; margin-top: 5px; padding: 1px 15px; border-left: solid 3px maroon} /* Borrowed from SCP-3984! / .outside { margin: 2em -6em; padding: 1em 10em; --narration-color: rgba(214, 234, 248,1); background: var(--narration-color); background: linear-gradient(90deg, rgba(255,255,255,0) 0%, var(--narration-color) 20%, var(--narration-color) 80%, rgba(255,255,255,0) 100%); z-index: -2; } / Make the blue bois that are within the document have smaller margins so they break flow less*/ .outside.inline { margin: 1em -6em; padding: 1px 10em; } [[/module]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:author-label-source">:scp-wiki:component:author-label-source</a> start=-- \|name=oritiefling]] Did you enjoy the article? Please check out my other works! [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/oris-box Right here]! [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:author-label-source">:scp-wiki:component:author-label-source</a> end=--]] [[div style="margin-bottom: 1.5em; text-align: center;"]] + The Squirrel [[/div]] Ratatoskr had always believed that with age came wisdom. Now, with his snout painted white, he knew better. With age came little more than joint pain and a deep-seated desire to nap. His days of scampering up and down the Tree delivering messages to the divine had long passed. Those who were still alive no longer had need of him, and his old joints would never allow him to make such a trip. So he had settled into a new routine. He would rise every morning with aching bones and scamper down the tree he called home. It was no Yggdrasil, no. It was but a humble oak, perhaps even less impressive than those around it. Still, that made it gentler on his exhausted body for the times where he did have to climb and descend it. Following his descent, he would walk towards the altar where his final acolytes would offer him worship in the form of a single peanut, which he would gleefully claim before scampering off somewhere to enjoy. Worship keeps a god alive. His joints may creak and his bones may ache, but he was alive as long as someone kept him alive. He no longer had the recognition he once held. The whispering in his ears from those praying to him or offering him praise had vanished over the years. Still, the two aged men who offered him his daily peanut were his worshippers, and he their patron. He had claimed them as such. Today, much as any other day, Ratatoskr claimed his tribute and scampered off. Just as he was able to shell his worship and drink deeply of it, he felt something strange. A indescribable feeling within him, almost like a static burning. He shook himself, scratching a paw over his ear, and did his best to set the strange sensation aside as he consumed his prize. Once his belly had been filled, he found that the sensation had vanished. He stretched, and with tired eyes he returned to his tree. ------ The joy of a daily routine is that it breeds familiarity. He knew that many gods grew disillusioned with this, the endless mundanity of repetition, but for one such as him who had never held a large cult to begin with, it was comforting. He knew his acolytes would always be there, and he knew he'd always walk away with tribute. So he arrived at the altar as always. He would smile, if he could, as one aged man wrapped an arm around the other. It was charming, the affections mortals showed one another. Still, he was here for a reason. He held his arms out, watching as the men smiled and chuckled at one another, and received his peanut. Scampering off once more, he was overcome with the odd sensation once more. It was more defined this time-- a burning deep within his soul. He doubled over, overcome with sudden pain. Gripping his head he cursed in a silent voice to no one in particular. How dare these sensations interrupt his feasting! This was a very important part of his day! Didn't these disquieting sensations know who he was? He was...! ...He realized that no name was coming to him. He searched his mind desperately, pouring through what years worth of memories had remained, only to be met with silence. Name? Name? What was it...? He felt his body heave and shudder as he clawed at something that no longer existed. Eventually he shook the empty sensation away. No matter. He still had tribute. Shelling his peanut, he filled his stomach once more, and the emptiness was gone. He didn't need a name, anyway. He still had worshippers, that was more than many others could say after all. ------ The next day, he only found one of his worshippers at the altar. There was a profound heaviness in the air about him, the man's eyes red and tired. Still, a sparkle returned to them when he saw the squirrel arrive as expected. He could see the man's mouth moving, speaking... something. He couldn't understand. Virus? Hospital? The man seemed upset, and the squirrel remained to listen as best as he could. A god must listen to the woes of his worshippers. What kind of god would he be if he didn't? He had always been good at listening, after all. As always, his listening was rewarded with fresh tribute. Today's offering was especially high quality, the shell covered in a dusting of salt. A truly rare prize indeed! Greedily, he scampered off to enjoy his treat, but stopped right before he began the process of shelling it. He waited, expecting the sudden pain to overtake him once more. Eventually he did feel something, but instead of the same soul-shattering pain he had felt prior, it was little more than a slight burning on the back of his hand. He looked down, and saw a small patch of flesh begin to fizzle. There were many things he knew he should have felt then. He should've felt afraid, he should've felt agony, he should've been overtaken with dread. Instead he felt... peace. This was going to happen eventually, he had known this since his youth. He was blessed after all, to have lasted as long as he had at all. In the moment, his mind went to his worshippers. Would they miss him? Would they notice he was gone? Certainly he was as much a part of their routine as they were his. Would they keep him alive in memory? Many questions danced in his head as he savored his peanut. Despite everything, it still filled his belly and soul. ------ The squirrel had always been a creature of habit. It knew where to go for food, it knew what to do to get it. Every day it arrived at the same bench, expecting the same two gentlemen who would cast a smile and a peanut its way, and then it would scamper off. Today confirmed the routine had changed, however. Once again only one man was at the bench to meet it. The squirrel in all its acuity could tell something was wrong. His eyes were dark and red, and tears flowed down his cheeks as he sat slumped over on the bench. The squirrel knew that it should simply leave and search elsewhere, but something inside of it told it to comfort the man. It felt kinship to him. So the squirrel edged over to the man, and with creaking joints it climbed onto the bench and sat beside him. The man seemed shocked at first, and then a slight sparkle returned to his melancholy eyes. He chuckled, and handed a peanut out to the squirrel. The squirrel, in turn, took this gift. This time, however, it stayed. Shelling the nut, it sat and enjoyed its treat next to the man. The man, in turn, watched the squirrel enjoy the gift. It was a small thing, but it was enough to take the man's mind off of his troubles. Hesitantly, the man reached a hand out to the squirrel. The squirrel eyed this motion with caution, but eventually set a tiny paw into the man's hand. The two sat for but a moment, listening to the world around them in quiet contemplation. Eventually the nut was finished. The squirrel looked to the man one final time. It knew the man was important to it. It didn't remember why or how, but it knew that much. It nuzzled the man's hand, then scampered off. The man waved goodbye to the strange creature one final time. On its way home the squirrel collapsed to the ground. Looking down it watched as its paw continued to fizzle and slowly fade away. This continued with its legs, its body slowly fading away piece by piece. And it would smile if it could. It was ready. As its head faded away, it cast one final thought to the men who had been so kind to it until the end. The two who had noticed it and honored it until it was gone. It would be okay. It had been a good life. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-06-09T00:52:00	[ "_licensebox", "bittersweet", "fading-stars", "lgbtq", "mythological", "no-dialogue", "pridefest2024", "tale" ]	The Squirrel - SCP Foundation	61	[ "oris-box", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "pridefest", "fading-stars-hub", "canon-hub" ]	[]	1454034447	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-squirrel
the-standstill	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="limit"> <div class="anchor"> <div class="authorbox"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th>The Standstill</th> </tr> <tr> <td style="text-align: center;"><strong>By:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/mastertman2" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8279798); return false;"><img alt="MasterTman2" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=8279798&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1736645268" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=8279798)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/mastertman2" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8279798); return false;">MasterTman2</a></span></td> </tr> <tr> <th>Published on <span class="odate time_1714534568 format_%25d%20%25b%20%25Y">01 May 2024 03:36</span></th> </tr> </table> </div> </div></div> <br/></div> </div> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=2&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Aflopstyle/2&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <div class="preview"> <p>As the Impasse ravages the world, it starts to kill the thing keeping two universes alive.</p> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="psuedocrumbs"> <p><a href="http://scp-int.wikidot.com/k-s-g-hub">Kong, Shing, Gong Hub</a> » <a class="newpage" href="/take-a-right-to-the-right-phase-hub">Take A Right To The Right Phase Hub</a> / <a href="/from-120-s-archives-hub">From 120's Archives Hub</a> / <a href="/no-return-hub">No Return Hub</a> » The Standstill</p> </div> </div> <div class="journal"> <p><strong>Item #:</strong> <a href="/scp-6500">SCP-3650</a><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <strong>Object Class:</strong> Finis<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <strong>Special Containment Procedures:</strong> At the recommendation of the Foundation,<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-1" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-1')">1</a></sup> the following steps are necessary to slow the effects of SCP-3650.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <ul> <li>Each Scholarly Tower is to determine which, if any, anomalies under its purview would cause negligible damage to the world at large. <ul> <li>Anomalous items belonging to other groups will be returned to the aforementioned groups.</li> <li>Anomalous literature will be given to the Wanderers' Library.<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-2" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-2')">2</a></sup></li> <li>Anomalous animals will be given to <a href="/wilson-s-wildlife-solutions-hub">Rebecca's Rescues Research Center</a>.</li> </ul> </li> </ul> <p>Currently, it is impossible to stop SCP-3650, only to slow its effects.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <strong>Description:</strong> SCP-3650 is a process of entropy exclusively targeting the anomalous and magic as a whole. SCP-3650 is responsible for the neutralization of a large portion of the world's species and objects.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> By virtue of the exact circumstances of the recreation of civilization following the <a href="http://scp-int.wikidot.com/truth-legacy">end of the Era of the Gods</a>, natives of baseline reality are considered "anomalous" to SCP-3650 as well as due to their ability to utilize divine energy to perform magic. This is because SCP-3650 is derived from a stronger variant of the anomaly from <a href="/scp-cn-1997">SCP-3997-1</a>, and it is present in baseline reality because of the connection to SCP-3997-1 through Hong Shing. This causes SCP-3650 to target based on normalization rules enforced by organizations like the Foundation in SCP-3997-1.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> At its current speed, nearly everything within baseline reality will be destroyed by 4260 AtG.<span class="blinkbar">\|</span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="footnotes-footer"> <div class="title">Footnotes</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-1"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-1')">1</a>. A normalcy organization located within SCP-3997-1.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-2"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-2')">2</a>. An extra-dimensional library. A Way into it is located within Hong Shing.</div> </div> </div> <hr/> <p>Esteemed Scholar Mea Scarlet stopped writing and buried his face in his hands.</p> <p>SCP-3650, colloquially referred to as the Standstill by members of the <a href="/scp-cn-1997">Zhujihui</a> and inhabitants of the Right Phase in general, was severely affecting him. He looked like a shell of his former self; his eyes had a perpetual look of exhaustion and his hair was beginning to fall out. It helped him to not think about it, but unfortunately, he didn't get that liberty. He was assigned to write the SCP-3650 file.</p> <p>At this point, he only had part of the description done. The new standards set by the Left Phase's Foundation made it so he had a lot more work left to do. He had to include diagram after diagram, experiment after experiment, source after source, and he did not have the energy to do that right now. After keeping his face in his hands for about three more minutes, he sighed and stood up.</p> <p>"<em>sudo. 3650.scp, save. Done,</em>" Scarlet gave the command to his multitome and watched as the words on the page lit ablaze as he closed the book.</p> <p>Moving slower than the average child mage, he conjured a healing spell to help with his headache. He felt a sense of relief wash over him for a brief moment before the familiar feeling seeped back in, albeit less intense this time around.</p> <p>He looked around the room, hoping that someone had decided to visit. Seeing nobody, he sighed and said one sentence to nobody in particular. "This will certainly be a struggle," he muttered and closed his eyes.</p> <p>A piercing <em>DING</em> sound forced him to open his eyes again, and he reluctantly did the same to his multitome.</p> <p>He saw that his assistant was requesting to have a meeting and sighed.</p> <hr/> <p><a href="http://scp-int.wikidot.com/hong-shing-hub">Hong Shing</a> was beginning to fall apart.</p> <p>The city between the phases, once a major hub for paratechnology in the region, now looked desolate and nearly abandoned, except for some vital personnel. Originally founded in 1973 Anno Domini or 4210 After the Gods, depending on who you ask, Hong Shing was created by the Zhujihui in order to prevent their universe, the Right Phase, from colliding with another called the Left Phase. It was kept intact through a spatial boundary known as the Sky Wall that had to be regularly maintained.</p> <p>The Sky Wall Maintenance Committee worked tirelessly — or, at least, the members that still had enough energy to work did. Many people on the Committee were present or had loved ones present the last time the Sky Wall broke, and they were determined to not let that destruction happen again. Despite this, most member organizations from the Right Phase were too preoccupied with maintaining their health during the Standstill to take the extra time and energy to maintain the Sky Wall, however essential it may be.</p> <p>A large number of people from Left Phase organizations were also affected but enough of them were baseline humans from the Left Phase that they weren't affected by the Standstill as much and could continue their work.</p> <p>The Foundation and the Zhujihui were working together to figure out how to stop the Standstill, or the Impasse, as the Foundation called it; still, to the Zhujihui, the Sky Wall took priority.</p> <p>For if Hong Shing fell, there would be no Standstill to stop.</p> <p>Or anything else, for that matter.</p> <hr/> <p>"Do you have any updates, Anticla?"</p> <p>Scarlet sat at the end of a table. Three feet away from him, his assistant stood holding a multitome.</p> <p>"X Chamber of Commerce has started to sell drugs to alleviate Standstill symptoms, from what I can gather they work rather well but are extremely addicting. Its Left Phase counterpart, Marshall, Carter, and Dark, is also selling its own version of the drugs. At the very least, the competition between the two should force them to make better versions of the drug," Anticla flips to another page. "The <a href="/pdps">Copyright Abolishment Society</a> has donated a significant amount of literature to us, as long as we promise to give it back to them plus some."</p> <p>Scarlet raised an eyebrow. "What kind of literature?"</p> <p>"A bunch of books about general subjects that might help us. There are multiple forms of magic that I've never even heard of before. They say that they might be able to help."</p> <p>Scarlet nodded and just sat in silence for a few moments. He took another sip of his coffee and turned back to Anticla. "How many more anomalies have we released?" He absent-mindedly opened to a random page in another book before looking upward, eyes widened.</p> <p>"Twelve, in the past few days. But we're running out of ones we can release. Has the Foundation given any more advice?"</p> <p>"No, they haven't. But I think I might have an idea."</p> <hr/> <p>In another world, Leo Ferenz walked into the <a href="/scp-8280">Alludrun exhibit</a> in the Esterberg Zoo.</p> <p>Holding some mundane cabbage, he scanned the area to see how many had noticed him.</p> <p>The Alludrun haven't taken the Impasse well at all. About ten percent of them have died, and those who are still alive are close to death. Those clinging to life have either lost their terrakinesis or consciously choose not to use it.</p> <p>The zoo staff tried to help them by feeding them some SCP-8280-1, but after a few harvests, the plants and all the seeds had crumbled into dust.</p> <p>Leo waved his hand in front of one of the older instances in an attempt to get his attention. It worked and the instance slowly opened its mouth and chomped on the cabbage he was holding. Leo sighed, for he was starting to get tired of the same routine with animals that barely moved every single day.</p> <p>But Leo had other concerns now, mainly the fact that the Alludrun spent most of their time staring in the same direction and whining.</p> <p>Leo wasn't the greatest at geography, as he failed most geography tests in high school. Still, he was fairly certain that they were all facing Hong Shing.</p> <hr/> <p>"Are you sure about this? You are in no condition to go into the field."</p> <p>Anticla scurried after Scarlet as he rapidly moved through the roads and alleyways of the town. She knew that the Standstill had been ravaging the world, but it somehow hadn't fully clicked in her head until now. As she looked around, she noticed that the streets were remarkably emptier than they usually were. The few people that she did see all either moved slowly or were slumped against a wall somewhere.</p> <p>"Yes, I'm sure. I think this will help us with the Standstill," Scarlet replied, "There's an island nation out in the Sebonack. They have the world's largest Solar Furnace and the leading Magic Academy. Even if they don't know how to solve this, the extra divine energy should help us be able to think of a solution at the very least. Ah, there it is."</p> <p>Divine energy, or as it's known in the Left Phase, ionizing radiation, is produced by Solar Furnaces, or nuclear reactors. Although the main reason that the Standstill was as devastating to the Right Phase as it is was because of its inhabitants' ability to use it to do magic, large enough exposure was able to make them feel healthier and clear their minds.</p> <p>Scarlet looked at a large wooden boat docked in port and started toward it. On the deck, a man in a long coat and strange hat noticed them and began to wave. Anticlta noticed he had a sword around his waist.</p> <p>"Sir," Anticla started, "are you sure this boat can make it?"</p> <p>Scarlet walked onto the deck and slapped the railing.</p> <p>"This boat has been around since the Era of the Gods. I'm sure it's capable of taking us to our destination. It's got the same symbol the divine ruins do, except instead of a number this one has a few words in the Language of the Gods. Something about someone named <a href="https://scp-int.wikidot.com/scp-003-pig">Polly wanting a "cracker"</a>, whatever that is."</p> <p>Scarlet gestured for Anticla to join him. She sighed and followed.</p> <hr/> <p>"There's another crack over here!"</p> <p>"We need one more person for this ritual!"</p> <p>"Bring it right here! Just— where's that goddamn <a href="/scp-cn-1921">seal</a>!?"</p> <p>The Sky Wall Maintenance Committee spent every waking moment on maintaining the Sky Wall.</p> <p>Unfortunately, they knew that it was deteriorating just slightly faster than they could repair it.</p> <p>That didn't mean, however, that they wouldn't keep Hong Shing up for as long as they could. No matter what happened, they wanted to give people as much time as humanely possible to fix this.</p> <p>Coupled with the effects of the Standstill, and the fact that most people who were good enough at thaumaturgy were too busy dying, maintaining the Sky Wall was tough work.</p> <p>Despite the fact that it was not technically a part of the Committee, the Serpent's Hand was still present in Hong Shing. And one member, Ian Simons, had what he thought was a solution.</p> <p>He had taken advantage of the overall chaos of the anomalous world's collapse to nab a book from a certain <a href="/scp-5292">library</a>, telling himself that he planned to return it after this was all over. Well, return it to <em>a</em> library, at the very least.</p> <p>He raced through the alleyways, determination burning in his eyes, as he moved from crack to crack. He passed by a sandwich place, making a mental note to return if it was open again. Despite his hunger, he continued the routine he's had for weeks at this point, approaching another small crack in the Sky Wall.</p> <p>Stopping, he flipped open the book to the right page and began to chant.</p> <p>However, seconds after finishing the incantation, Simons was knocked off his feet by a shockwave followed by a deafening crack. With fear in his eyes, he watched as a part of the Sky Wall ripped open in the distance. He was there during the Sky Wall Crisis back in 2010 and he watched as the Changing Sun district, the district his family lived in, and everything around it for hundreds of meters was instantly razed to the ground.</p> <p>But unlike in 2010, he wasn't convinced that they could fix the wall this time.</p> <hr/> <p>In another phase, a man looked out to the sea.</p> <p>The water was calm, so calm that looking at it almost lulled him into a short slumber. With a jolt, he opened his eyes and glanced at his unmoving fishing rod.</p> <p>"Point Nemo," he scoffed to his friend next to him, "Hell of a misnomer, if you ask me. Not a single clownfish."</p> <p>His friend, sitting about three feet away in his own chair, smiled before looking back at him.</p> <p>"I told you, Gerald, Point Nemo has nothing to do with the movie." Gerald's friend said, being interrupted by a loud cracking sound. Thinking nothing of it, he continued berating Gerald. "It's the farthest place on Earth from everything else."</p> <p>Gerald puts his fishing rod down, the feeling of betrayal evident in his body language. "You mean you were serious? Why'd you come along then? Why'd you let me go? Help a brother out, Tim."</p> <p>Tim shrugged. "Had nothing better to… do…"</p> <p>The two friends stood up and walked over to the railing, watching in shock as a large whirlpool started to form, sucking up near endless amounts of water to god knows where.</p> <p>About ten seconds later, they had a much more pressing concern as the whirlpool pulled in so much water that it started moving their boat too.</p> <p>Screaming louder than they'd ever done before, the two friends immediately gripped each other's hands, wanting their last thoughts to be comfort and friendship.</p> <p>Unfortunately for Gerald, Tim was thinking not of his friend, but of the fact that there was a landmass rising out of the middle of the whirlpool.</p> <hr/> <p>Elsewhere, one of Leo's problems was fixed, he was at least thankful for that.</p> <p>Unfortunately, that directly caused another worse problem.</p> <p>The Alludrun weren't just sitting around and staring at one spot, which was an improvement.</p> <p>However, instead, they ran around their enclosure and into everything in their enclosure. Whenever they ran into something, they would back up a few feet and throw a bunch of earth into it, usually moving it.</p> <p>When the Alludrun were moved from their containment chamber into the Esterberg Zoo, Leo had requested to be transferred with them. Luckily for him, that meant he still had connections in the Foundation.</p> <p>Telling his manager he had a family emergency, he raced to the nearby <a href="/secure-facility-dossier-site-120">Site-120</a>, hoping someone there knew the answer to his questions.</p> <p>To his credit, the Alludrun had been present in the Left Phase for a little over fifty years at this point, as a couple dozen of them had slipped through from the Right Phase and emerged there when the phases were about to collide. It was reasonable for him to assume that in at least one of the files or perhaps one of the books in the library there had been something like this documented.</p> <p>Unfortunately for him, he discovered nobody knew what would be causing this change in behavior while talking to everyone he could. It had been eleven years since the Sky Hole crisis, and the Alludrun had behaved normally then. Besides, nobody there bothered to read up on the crisis.</p> <p>After all, why would they when they were halfway across the world from the cause?</p> <p>And why would they care, for in an ocean of chaos, even the incoming end of the world is but a mere drop?</p> <hr/> <p>The capital city of Kalimisa was truly a site to behold. It encompassed approximately eight percent of the ten thousand-kilometer island and had some of the tallest buildings in the world. Students from all over the world, but especially from those the <a href="/scp-cn-999">United State of A Mary King</a>, flocked to the city to study in its magical academies. They were staffed by the world's leading magicians and nearly every month either an alumni or student published a paper with a leading breakthrough.</p> <p>It was also slowly sinking.</p> <p>Scarlet and Anticla noticed this rather pressing fact when they were about ten minutes out. People on the island noticed it much sooner because their path to the island was blocked by a bunch of people desperately filing onto boats to leave. Everything from the smallest fishing boats to large whale-ships was filled to the brim. Even then, there were just as many people still walking around going about their day.</p> <p>After waiting around twenty minutes, a big enough path had opened up that the boat could dock. The ground, Scarlet noted to himself, was about three inches lower than it was when they got there.</p> <p>After departing from the boat, Scarlet and Anticla thanked the boat's crew. When Scarlet turned around to start walking away, however, he nearly jumped out of his skin as a woman was standing a foot away, staring directly at him with a blank expression on her face.</p> <p>"Zhujihui?" the woman asked. Scarlet noticed that she looked noticeably more… important, he thought that was the most fitting word he could use, than everyone else nearby. While everyone wore clothes with simple patterns and very few accessories, she had an extravagant dress on with an accessory on every part of her body that could fit one, it seemed.</p> <p>"Yes, we come on behalf of the Zhujihui to recruit your help in stopping the Standstill!" Scarlet replied with pride.</p> <p>The woman looked unimpressed. "Come with me." She turned and started toward a rather fancy-looking building. Scarlet wasn't sure what the building exactly <em>was</em>, but he figured he would find out soon enough.</p> <p>While Scarlet was busy studying the building they were going to, Anticla was looking at the buildings that they <em>weren't</em> going to. She noticed that they all looked significantly more intact than the buildings from the town they came from. In fact, everything and everyone here looked more healthy and whole than anywhere else she'd seen. It filled her with hope that Kalimisa had a solution. Still, the fact that there was a mass exodus from the city filled her with dread.</p> <p>The three of them entered into a central plaza with a building in the middle. Like a clock, there were twelve towers surrounding the plaza. Each one had a person standing at the top holding a wooden staff. It reminded Anticla of a sundial. It reminded Scarlet of a much darker <a href="https://scp-wiki-cn.wikidot.com/floor-of-lava-that-melting-the-base">thought</a>, however. He hoped that whatever Kalimisa was doing would not have the same outcome.</p> <hr/> <p>Ian Simons was scared.</p> <p>No, not scared. He was terrified.</p> <p>He wasn't sure exactly how, for they had been maintaining the Sky Wall vigorously, but the worst had come to pass and it now had a large hole in it.</p> <p>He and hundreds of others raced to the scene to begin to patch the new hole. The smaller cracks could wait. They had to do this <em>now</em>, and they had to do it by themselves. They had no time to check, but if it was anything like the last time, most of the few Ways into Hong Shing were now permanently closed. They didn't have time to try to call for help and for them to try a dozen different Ways to see which ones still worked.</p> <p>As Simons ran through the alleyways, he found one Way still open. One that could be a lifesaver if he can play his cards right. The Way into the Wanderers' Library from Hong Shing.</p> <p>He stopped in his tracks and turned, ready to go through the Way to call for help. He thought he could convince a couple of Wanderers to help. At most he thought he would get ten people.</p> <p>Fortunately for him, several dozen Serpent's Hand members ran through the Way and toward the Sky Wall hole.</p> <p>Unfortunately for him, they trampled over him in the process.</p> <hr/> <p>The woman leading Scarlet and Anticla brought them into a room.</p> <p>In the middle of the room stood a large table with several maps laid overtop. Standing around the table were several people in a heated discussion. Silently, a man stood at the end of the table, deep in thought.</p> <p>"King Rottosher," the woman said to the man at the end of the table. "Members of the Zhujihui have arrived."</p> <p>"Oh, good," he replied. "You may go, now."</p> <p>The woman bowed and quickly left the room.</p> <p>"Welcome. I am King Rottosher of Kalimisa. And you are?" he asked.</p> <p>Scarlet was the first to reply. "My name is Mea Scarlet. I am an Esteemed Scholar of the Zhujihui."</p> <p>Anticla spoke next. "My name is Anticla Broocal. I am his assistant."</p> <p>King Rottosher smiled. "Pleased to meet the both of you. I gather you are here to discuss how to stop the ongoing cataclysm," He glanced at the other people around the table. "We have all reached a consensus."</p> <p>"And what consensus have you reached?" Scarlet asked.</p> <p>"We're going to let Kalimisa fall through the phases," the king answered.</p> <p>The answer though, was nothing at all like anything Scarlet or Anticla expected. It left them with about fifteen times more questions than it answered.</p> <p>King Rottosher noticed the confusion on their faces and chuckled. He sat down and raised his hands. "Allow me to explain. We've known for weeks now that Kalimisa is falling through the phases. We have mages slowing the descent but it's impossible to completely stop it. When the time is right, we're going to let our islands fall through into the area between the phase plane and we have a ritual ready to reinforce Hong Shing. Unfortunately, though, we will emerge in the Left Phase."</p> <p>Scarlet put the pieces together in his head, but something didn't add up. "Wait, but that will not stop the Standstill? It will keep Hong Shing intact, yes, but everything will still decay."</p> <p>The king nodded. "Yes, we are aware. But it doesn't really matter if we figure out how to stop the Standstill if the phases collide first."</p> <p>This time, Anticla spoke up. "How do you know you're going to emerge in an empty part of the Left Phase? If the phases are parallel universes, surely there are islands there too?</p> <p>King Rottosher reached behind himself and picked up a book, holding it out in front of Anticla. "The Kalimisa Islands were first formed with the death of a <a href="/lte-0851-cetus">Titan</a> around three thousand years ago. Over time, dirt and sand washed onto its corpse and formed some islands. It still emits large amounts of divine energy which we refine in our specialized Solar Furnace. Regardless, this island chain doesn't exist in the Left Phase as it was made after the Era of the Gods. At least according to my understanding. Scarlet?"</p> <p>"Yes, I believe you may be right," Scarlet responded.</p> <p>The king started walking out of the building and gestured for the two to follow him. When they were outside, he started pointing at the towers surrounding the plaza. "At the top of each tower, one of our strongest mages is ready to complete the ritual. It uses a similar method as the spell used in The Perishing of Machinery and Clockwork, just instead of destroying a city, it's reinforcing it." the king explained, "If you two would like to aid in the ritual, you're welcome to stay. Otherwise, you're also welcome to leave. Keep in mind if you do stay, you will be transported to the Left Phase."</p> <p>At the mention of The Perishing of Machinery and Clockwork, Scarlet froze. It is true that he thought of it when he saw the towers, but he didn't think that the thought had any basis in reality. It was the darkest day in the history of the Zhujihui when its previous administration chose to completely destroy an entire city and all of its inhabitants just to retrieve a few anomalies. Still, he quickly regained his composure.</p> <p>Scarlet thought for a moment about the Foundation's normalization policies. Kalimisa would most likely be hidden from public view and its inhabitants would not be allowed to leave. Still, he wanted to help make sure his universe survived.</p> <p>"I want to stay."</p> <hr/> <p>Simons remembered how Hong Shing's streets were nearly empty and how its inhabitants just stayed holed up in their homes. He had gotten used to that.</p> <p>Now, while he was grateful for the help, he wished he could go back to that quiet.</p> <p>More and more Serpent's Hand members emerged from the Way and ran to the Sky Wall hole. Something inside the Library had notified them about the crisis, but Simons wasn't sure exactly what.</p> <p>He joined the stampede and got into formation, helping out with whatever spells he could. While in formation, he saw that the local area was completely flattened. For a brief moment, he thought of the blocks full of people that vanished in an instant, but he didn't entertain the thought. He didn't have time for distractions right now.</p> <p>The Sky Wall collapsing seemingly was not an uncommon occurrence across universes as they seemed to have a bunch of spells specialized for regenerating the wall. They worked tirelessly to fix the wall, but it seemed to tear faster than they could rebuild it. Through the hole, Simons thought he saw a series of islands floating in the phase plane, but he figured he was just seeing things.</p> <p>He continued fixing the wall until he saw them again. The islands were much closer this time and were glowing a bright white color. Between spells, he noticed that the white light was growing brighter and eventually coalesced into one ball which then flew toward Hong Shing. White light encompassed the entire Sky Wall for nearly a minute before it dissipated.</p> <p>Afterward, Simons noticed that there was no longer a hole in the Sky Wall. When he looked around he saw that the destroyed buildings were back too.</p> <p>Despite the circumstances, he felt fine.</p> <p>Just like before the Standstill.</p> <hr/> <p>"It's time."</p> <p>The king grabbed a staff and climbed a ladder next to the plaza building. Once he was on the roof, he strapped himself into place.</p> <p>Everyone who didn't want to have to move to the Left Phase had gotten off of the island, and everyone still on it was strapped into various chairs. Scarlet had told his ship to return to the mainland. He wasn't going to need it anyway.</p> <p>Scarlet mentally prepared himself as King Rottosher counted down.</p> <p>"<strong><em>Five.</em></strong>"</p> <p>"<strong><em>Four.</em></strong>"</p> <p>"<strong><em>Three.</em></strong>"</p> <p>"<strong><em>Two.</em></strong>"</p> <p>"<strong><em>One.</em></strong>"</p> <p>Scarlet gritted his teeth as Kalimisa rapidly fell. The islands descended fast enough that there wasn't even time for water to fill up the streets.</p> <p>The islands started falling faster.</p> <p>and faster.</p> <p>and <em>faster.</em></p> <p>and <strong><em>fast—</em></strong></p> <p><strong><em>"NOW."</em></strong></p> <p>King Rottosher yelled the command at his mages, who proceeded to slap a book next to them as hard as they could. Within an instant, Kalimisa slowed to a crawl, causing Scarlet to almost lose his lunch. He undid his restraints and stood up, making the mistake of looking anywhere but the ground.</p> <p>He immediately keeled over, being caught by Anticla. He knew that this would be difficult to handle, sure, but he didn't think it would be this bad. He considered asking Anticla to read him an <a href="http://scp-int.wikidot.com/scp-cn-404">"immunity from harmful vectors" spell</a> just in case there were any hostile memes, but he needed his sight for whatever came next.</p> <p>He looked around and saw that everyone had similar reactions to him. After about a minute, though, everyone recovered and got to work. While Scarlet and Anticla got into position, they looked around and marveled at the beauty of the space between the phases. It made them feel quite sick of course, as no human was meant to see something like this, but they still appreciated this once-in-a-lifetime experience.</p> <p>Well, Scarlet got into position. Anticla's position was sitting in a chair offering moral support. She didn't have the magical prowess to be of any help but she still wanted to see the Left Phase as well as support her boss and friend.</p> <p>Scarlet hadn't had much time to memorize the spell, so he held his multitome in one hand with an ancient wooden staff in the other as he chanted an incantation in the Language of the Gods.</p> <p>As the mages chanted, large amounts of light began connecting each mage, forming a circle around the plaza. After about four minutes, all the light began moving toward the center of the plaza, coalescing into a sphere. Anticla watched in awe at the sight.</p> <p>Once the sphere of light looked about as large as the sun in the sky, King Rottosher waved his staff toward Hong Shing. As Scarlet followed the light through extradimensional space, he realized he hadn't looked at Hong Shing yet. From where he was standing, the Sky Wall looked like a large semi-circle. Well, a large semi-circle with a large tear in it.</p> <p>Scarlet jumped as he heard the sound of someone clearing his throat, but not through his ears. It felt more like the sound was being broadcast directly into his head. He felt this sensation before but as the king was within his line of sight, he assumed he was just speaking extremely loudly.</p> <p><strong>"Everyone, go back and strap yourselves in. We are leaving."</strong></p> <p>Scarlet turned around and met back up with Anticla and they both went back to their restraints. They were disappointed that they couldn't see the result of the spell, but they had faith that it would work.</p> <p>As King Rottosher counted down again, Scarlet tried to prepare himself for the jump into the Left Phase.</p> <p>It did not work.</p> <p>Upon entering the Left Phase, Scarlet turned to the side and threw up. He regretted eating a hearty breakfast that morning.</p> <p>After taking a moment to prepare himself, he got up and looked out to the Pacific Ocean. He saw two men on a boat in the distance, holding on desperately to the boat's railing. They were staring at Kalimisa, mouths agape.</p> <p>Scarlet was ecstatic that he was alive and that they made it to the Left Phase safely. After all, countless things could have gone catastrophically wrong. However, a moment later, the gravity of their situation dawned on him.</p> <p>They were in the Left Phase, and an island chain appearing in the ocean would surely get the Foundation's attention and they would likely be contained. Well, Scarlet and Anticla would likely be allowed to return, but anyone who wanted who wasn't a member of the Zhujihui would likely be forced to stay on the islands.</p> <p>But luckily for Kalimisa's inhabitants, <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-6500/offset/10">the Foundation's O5 Council had just begun a vote</a> on whether or not to dissolve the Veil. And fortunately, Scarlet found, the vote would go through, reforming the Foundation into Vanguard.</p> <p>Unfortunately for Scarlet, this meant that he was now stuck in press conference after press conference explaining his home dimension and more importantly, how a new island chain just appeared in the Pacific.</p> <p>Turns out, he found, that could be pretty difficult to explain.</p> <div class="collection"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">More From This Author</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">More From This Author</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <table style="1px solid black; width: 100%;"> <tr> <th class="namerow" colspan="2"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p>MasterTman2's Works</p> </div> </div></th> </tr> <tr> <th class="titlecolumn">SCPs</th> <th class="articlecolumn"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-8280">SCP-8280</a> <em>(+46)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> </div></th> </tr> <tr> <th class="titlecolumn">Tales/GoI Formats</th> <th class="articlecolumn"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/the-hubris-of-the-broken">The Hubris of the Broken</a> <em>(+16)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> </div></th> </tr> <tr> <th class="titlecolumn">Other</th> <th class="articlecolumn"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/mastertman2-s-menagerie">MasterTman2's Menagerie</a> <em>(+14)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> </div></th> </tr> </table> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-standstill">The Standstill</a>" by MasterTman2, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-standstill">https://scpwiki.com/the-standstill</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:flopstyle">:scp-wiki:theme:flopstyle</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:ratio-bar">:scp-wiki:component:ratio-bar</a> base=--]] ===== [[include <a href="/component:preview">component:preview</a> text= As the Impasse ravages the world, it starts to kill the thing keeping two universes alive. ]] ===== [[module CSS]] @import url(/local--files/component:theme/font-bauhaus.css); #header h1 a { display: block; margin: 0; padding: 80px 0 25px; line-height: 0px; max-height: 0px; color: transparent; background: transparent; font-size: 120%; text-shadow: none; text-decoration: none; } #header h1 a::before { content: "Zhujihui"; color: #FFFFFF; background: transparent; font-family: BauhausLTDemi, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 150%; text-decoration: none; text-shadow: 3px 3px 5px #000000; } #header h2 span { display: block; margin: 0; padding: 19px 0; line-height: 0px; max-height: 0px; color: transparent; text-shadow: none; } #header h2 span::before { content: 'Using Divine Energy, Construct Our Tower to the Sky — Secure, Contain, Protect'; color: #f0f0c0; text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #000; text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px rgba(0,0,0,.8); } @media only screen and (max-width: 600px) { #header h1 a { display: block; margin: 0; padding: 80px 0 25px; line-height: 0px; max-height: 0px; color: transparent; background: transparent; font-size: 120%; text-shadow: none; text-decoration: none; } #header h1 a::before { content: "Zhujihui"; color: #FFFFFF; background: transparent; font-family: BauhausLTDemi, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 150%; text-decoration: none; text-shadow: 3px 3px 5px #000000; } #header h2 span { display: block; margin: 0; padding: 19px 0; line-height: 0px; max-height: 0px; color: transparent; text-shadow: none; } #header h2 span::before { content: 'Secure, Contain, Protect'; color: #f0f0c0; text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #000; text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px rgba(0,0,0,.8); font-size: 80%; } } [[/module]] [[=]] [[div class="psuedocrumbs"]] [[[http://scp-int.wikidot.com/k-s-g-hub\|Kong, Shing, Gong Hub]]] » [[[take-a-right-to-the-right-phase-hub\|Take A Right To The Right Phase Hub]]] / [[[from-120-s-archives-hub\|From 120's Archives Hub]]] / [[[no-return-hub\|No Return Hub]]] » The Standstill [[/div]] [[/=]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[div class="journal"]] Item #: [[[scp-6500\|SCP-3650]]] @@ @@ Object Class: Finis @@ @@ Special Containment Procedures: At the recommendation of the Foundation,[[footnote]]A normalcy organization located within SCP-3997-1.[[/footnote]] the following steps are necessary to slow the effects of SCP-3650. @@ @@ * Each Scholarly Tower is to determine which, if any, anomalies under its purview would cause negligible damage to the world at large. * Anomalous items belonging to other groups will be returned to the aforementioned groups. * Anomalous literature will be given to the Wanderers' Library.[[footnote]]An extra-dimensional library. A Way into it is located within Hong Shing.[[/footnote]] * Anomalous animals will be given to [[[wilson-s-wildlife-solutions-hub\|Rebecca's Rescues Research Center]]]. Currently, it is impossible to stop SCP-3650, only to slow its effects. @@ @@ Description: SCP-3650 is a process of entropy exclusively targeting the anomalous and magic as a whole. SCP-3650 is responsible for the neutralization of a large portion of the world's species and objects. @@ @@ By virtue of the exact circumstances of the recreation of civilization following the [[[http://scp-int.wikidot.com/truth-legacy\|end of the Era of the Gods]]], natives of baseline reality are considered "anomalous" to SCP-3650 as well as due to their ability to utilize divine energy to perform magic. This is because SCP-3650 is derived from a stronger variant of the anomaly from [[[scp-cn-1997\|SCP-3997-1]]], and it is present in baseline reality because of the connection to SCP-3997-1 through Hong Shing. This causes SCP-3650 to target based on normalization rules enforced by organizations like the Foundation in SCP-3997-1. @@ @@ At its current speed, nearly everything within baseline reality will be destroyed by 4260 AtG.[[span class="blinkbar"]]\|[[/span]] @@ @@ [[footnoteblock]] [[/div]] ----- Esteemed Scholar Mea Scarlet stopped writing and buried his face in his hands. SCP-3650, colloquially referred to as the Standstill by members of the [[[scp-cn-1997\|Zhujihui]]] and inhabitants of the Right Phase in general, was severely affecting him. He looked like a shell of his former self; his eyes had a perpetual look of exhaustion and his hair was beginning to fall out. It helped him to not think about it, but unfortunately, he didn't get that liberty. He was assigned to write the SCP-3650 file. At this point, he only had part of the description done. The new standards set by the Left Phase's Foundation made it so he had a lot more work left to do. He had to include diagram after diagram, experiment after experiment, source after source, and he did not have the energy to do that right now. After keeping his face in his hands for about three more minutes, he sighed and stood up. "//sudo. 3650.scp, save. Done,//" Scarlet gave the command to his multitome and watched as the words on the page lit ablaze as he closed the book. Moving slower than the average child mage, he conjured a healing spell to help with his headache. He felt a sense of relief wash over him for a brief moment before the familiar feeling seeped back in, albeit less intense this time around. He looked around the room, hoping that someone had decided to visit. Seeing nobody, he sighed and said one sentence to nobody in particular. "This will certainly be a struggle," he muttered and closed his eyes. A piercing //DING// sound forced him to open his eyes again, and he reluctantly did the same to his multitome. He saw that his assistant was requesting to have a meeting and sighed. ----- [[[http://scp-int.wikidot.com/hong-shing-hub\|Hong Shing]]] was beginning to fall apart. The city between the phases, once a major hub for paratechnology in the region, now looked desolate and nearly abandoned, except for some vital personnel. Originally founded in 1973 Anno Domini or 4210 After the Gods, depending on who you ask, Hong Shing was created by the Zhujihui in order to prevent their universe, the Right Phase, from colliding with another called the Left Phase. It was kept intact through a spatial boundary known as the Sky Wall that had to be regularly maintained. The Sky Wall Maintenance Committee worked tirelessly -- or, at least, the members that still had enough energy to work did. Many people on the Committee were present or had loved ones present the last time the Sky Wall broke, and they were determined to not let that destruction happen again. Despite this, most member organizations from the Right Phase were too preoccupied with maintaining their health during the Standstill to take the extra time and energy to maintain the Sky Wall, however essential it may be. A large number of people from Left Phase organizations were also affected but enough of them were baseline humans from the Left Phase that they weren't affected by the Standstill as much and could continue their work. The Foundation and the Zhujihui were working together to figure out how to stop the Standstill, or the Impasse, as the Foundation called it; still, to the Zhujihui, the Sky Wall took priority. For if Hong Shing fell, there would be no Standstill to stop. Or anything else, for that matter. ----- "Do you have any updates, Anticla?" Scarlet sat at the end of a table. Three feet away from him, his assistant stood holding a multitome. "X Chamber of Commerce has started to sell drugs to alleviate Standstill symptoms, from what I can gather they work rather well but are extremely addicting. Its Left Phase counterpart, Marshall, Carter, and Dark, is also selling its own version of the drugs. At the very least, the competition between the two should force them to make better versions of the drug," Anticla flips to another page. "The [[[pdps\|Copyright Abolishment Society]]] has donated a significant amount of literature to us, as long as we promise to give it back to them plus some." Scarlet raised an eyebrow. "What kind of literature?" "A bunch of books about general subjects that might help us. There are multiple forms of magic that I've never even heard of before. They say that they might be able to help." Scarlet nodded and just sat in silence for a few moments. He took another sip of his coffee and turned back to Anticla. "How many more anomalies have we released?" He absent-mindedly opened to a random page in another book before looking upward, eyes widened. "Twelve, in the past few days. But we're running out of ones we can release. Has the Foundation given any more advice?" "No, they haven't. But I think I might have an idea." ---- In another world, Leo Ferenz walked into the [[[scp-8280\|Alludrun exhibit]]] in the Esterberg Zoo. Holding some mundane cabbage, he scanned the area to see how many had noticed him. The Alludrun haven't taken the Impasse well at all. About ten percent of them have died, and those who are still alive are close to death. Those clinging to life have either lost their terrakinesis or consciously choose not to use it. The zoo staff tried to help them by feeding them some SCP-8280-1, but after a few harvests, the plants and all the seeds had crumbled into dust. Leo waved his hand in front of one of the older instances in an attempt to get his attention. It worked and the instance slowly opened its mouth and chomped on the cabbage he was holding. Leo sighed, for he was starting to get tired of the same routine with animals that barely moved every single day. But Leo had other concerns now, mainly the fact that the Alludrun spent most of their time staring in the same direction and whining. Leo wasn't the greatest at geography, as he failed most geography tests in high school. Still, he was fairly certain that they were all facing Hong Shing. ---- "Are you sure about this? You are in no condition to go into the field." Anticla scurried after Scarlet as he rapidly moved through the roads and alleyways of the town. She knew that the Standstill had been ravaging the world, but it somehow hadn't fully clicked in her head until now. As she looked around, she noticed that the streets were remarkably emptier than they usually were. The few people that she did see all either moved slowly or were slumped against a wall somewhere. "Yes, I'm sure. I think this will help us with the Standstill," Scarlet replied, "There's an island nation out in the Sebonack. They have the world's largest Solar Furnace and the leading Magic Academy. Even if they don't know how to solve this, the extra divine energy should help us be able to think of a solution at the very least. Ah, there it is." Divine energy, or as it's known in the Left Phase, ionizing radiation, is produced by Solar Furnaces, or nuclear reactors. Although the main reason that the Standstill was as devastating to the Right Phase as it is was because of its inhabitants' ability to use it to do magic, large enough exposure was able to make them feel healthier and clear their minds. Scarlet looked at a large wooden boat docked in port and started toward it. On the deck, a man in a long coat and strange hat noticed them and began to wave. Anticlta noticed he had a sword around his waist. "Sir," Anticla started, "are you sure this boat can make it?" Scarlet walked onto the deck and slapped the railing. "This boat has been around since the Era of the Gods. I'm sure it's capable of taking us to our destination. It's got the same symbol the divine ruins do, except instead of a number this one has a few words in the Language of the Gods. Something about someone named [[[https://scp-int.wikidot.com/scp-003-pig\|Polly wanting a "cracker"]]], whatever that is." Scarlet gestured for Anticla to join him. She sighed and followed. ----- "There's another crack over here!" "We need one more person for this ritual!" "Bring it right here! Just-- where's that goddamn [[[scp-cn-1921\|seal]]]!?" The Sky Wall Maintenance Committee spent every waking moment on maintaining the Sky Wall. Unfortunately, they knew that it was deteriorating just slightly faster than they could repair it. That didn't mean, however, that they wouldn't keep Hong Shing up for as long as they could. No matter what happened, they wanted to give people as much time as humanely possible to fix this. Coupled with the effects of the Standstill, and the fact that most people who were good enough at thaumaturgy were too busy dying, maintaining the Sky Wall was tough work. Despite the fact that it was not technically a part of the Committee, the Serpent's Hand was still present in Hong Shing. And one member, Ian Simons, had what he thought was a solution. He had taken advantage of the overall chaos of the anomalous world's collapse to nab a book from a certain [[[scp-5292\|library]]], telling himself that he planned to return it after this was all over. Well, return it to //a// library, at the very least. He raced through the alleyways, determination burning in his eyes, as he moved from crack to crack. He passed by a sandwich place, making a mental note to return if it was open again. Despite his hunger, he continued the routine he's had for weeks at this point, approaching another small crack in the Sky Wall. Stopping, he flipped open the book to the right page and began to chant. However, seconds after finishing the incantation, Simons was knocked off his feet by a shockwave followed by a deafening crack. With fear in his eyes, he watched as a part of the Sky Wall ripped open in the distance. He was there during the Sky Wall Crisis back in 2010 and he watched as the Changing Sun district, the district his family lived in, and everything around it for hundreds of meters was instantly razed to the ground. But unlike in 2010, he wasn't convinced that they could fix the wall this time. ----- In another phase, a man looked out to the sea. The water was calm, so calm that looking at it almost lulled him into a short slumber. With a jolt, he opened his eyes and glanced at his unmoving fishing rod. "Point Nemo," he scoffed to his friend next to him, "Hell of a misnomer, if you ask me. Not a single clownfish." His friend, sitting about three feet away in his own chair, smiled before looking back at him. "I told you, Gerald, Point Nemo has nothing to do with the movie." Gerald's friend said, being interrupted by a loud cracking sound. Thinking nothing of it, he continued berating Gerald. "It's the farthest place on Earth from everything else." Gerald puts his fishing rod down, the feeling of betrayal evident in his body language. "You mean you were serious? Why'd you come along then? Why'd you let me go? Help a brother out, Tim." Tim shrugged. "Had nothing better to... do..." The two friends stood up and walked over to the railing, watching in shock as a large whirlpool started to form, sucking up near endless amounts of water to god knows where. About ten seconds later, they had a much more pressing concern as the whirlpool pulled in so much water that it started moving their boat too. Screaming louder than they'd ever done before, the two friends immediately gripped each other's hands, wanting their last thoughts to be comfort and friendship. Unfortunately for Gerald, Tim was thinking not of his friend, but of the fact that there was a landmass rising out of the middle of the whirlpool. ----- Elsewhere, one of Leo's problems was fixed, he was at least thankful for that. Unfortunately, that directly caused another worse problem. The Alludrun weren't just sitting around and staring at one spot, which was an improvement. However, instead, they ran around their enclosure and into everything in their enclosure. Whenever they ran into something, they would back up a few feet and throw a bunch of earth into it, usually moving it. When the Alludrun were moved from their containment chamber into the Esterberg Zoo, Leo had requested to be transferred with them. Luckily for him, that meant he still had connections in the Foundation. Telling his manager he had a family emergency, he raced to the nearby [[[secure-facility-dossier-site-120\|Site-120]]], hoping someone there knew the answer to his questions. To his credit, the Alludrun had been present in the Left Phase for a little over fifty years at this point, as a couple dozen of them had slipped through from the Right Phase and emerged there when the phases were about to collide. It was reasonable for him to assume that in at least one of the files or perhaps one of the books in the library there had been something like this documented. Unfortunately for him, he discovered nobody knew what would be causing this change in behavior while talking to everyone he could. It had been eleven years since the Sky Hole crisis, and the Alludrun had behaved normally then. Besides, nobody there bothered to read up on the crisis. After all, why would they when they were halfway across the world from the cause? And why would they care, for in an ocean of chaos, even the incoming end of the world is but a mere drop? ----- The capital city of Kalimisa was truly a site to behold. It encompassed approximately eight percent of the ten thousand-kilometer island and had some of the tallest buildings in the world. Students from all over the world, but especially from those the [[[scp-cn-999\|United State of A Mary King]]], flocked to the city to study in its magical academies. They were staffed by the world's leading magicians and nearly every month either an alumni or student published a paper with a leading breakthrough. It was also slowly sinking. Scarlet and Anticla noticed this rather pressing fact when they were about ten minutes out. People on the island noticed it much sooner because their path to the island was blocked by a bunch of people desperately filing onto boats to leave. Everything from the smallest fishing boats to large whale-ships was filled to the brim. Even then, there were just as many people still walking around going about their day. After waiting around twenty minutes, a big enough path had opened up that the boat could dock. The ground, Scarlet noted to himself, was about three inches lower than it was when they got there. After departing from the boat, Scarlet and Anticla thanked the boat's crew. When Scarlet turned around to start walking away, however, he nearly jumped out of his skin as a woman was standing a foot away, staring directly at him with a blank expression on her face. "Zhujihui?" the woman asked. Scarlet noticed that she looked noticeably more... important, he thought that was the most fitting word he could use, than everyone else nearby. While everyone wore clothes with simple patterns and very few accessories, she had an extravagant dress on with an accessory on every part of her body that could fit one, it seemed. "Yes, we come on behalf of the Zhujihui to recruit your help in stopping the Standstill!" Scarlet replied with pride. The woman looked unimpressed. "Come with me." She turned and started toward a rather fancy-looking building. Scarlet wasn't sure what the building exactly //was//, but he figured he would find out soon enough. While Scarlet was busy studying the building they were going to, Anticla was looking at the buildings that they //weren't// going to. She noticed that they all looked significantly more intact than the buildings from the town they came from. In fact, everything and everyone here looked more healthy and whole than anywhere else she'd seen. It filled her with hope that Kalimisa had a solution. Still, the fact that there was a mass exodus from the city filled her with dread. The three of them entered into a central plaza with a building in the middle. Like a clock, there were twelve towers surrounding the plaza. Each one had a person standing at the top holding a wooden staff. It reminded Anticla of a sundial. It reminded Scarlet of a much darker [[[https://scp-wiki-cn.wikidot.com/floor-of-lava-that-melting-the-base\|thought]]], however. He hoped that whatever Kalimisa was doing would not have the same outcome. ----- Ian Simons was scared. No, not scared. He was terrified. He wasn't sure exactly how, for they had been maintaining the Sky Wall vigorously, but the worst had come to pass and it now had a large hole in it. He and hundreds of others raced to the scene to begin to patch the new hole. The smaller cracks could wait. They had to do this //now//, and they had to do it by themselves. They had no time to check, but if it was anything like the last time, most of the few Ways into Hong Shing were now permanently closed. They didn't have time to try to call for help and for them to try a dozen different Ways to see which ones still worked. As Simons ran through the alleyways, he found one Way still open. One that could be a lifesaver if he can play his cards right. The Way into the Wanderers' Library from Hong Shing. He stopped in his tracks and turned, ready to go through the Way to call for help. He thought he could convince a couple of Wanderers to help. At most he thought he would get ten people. Fortunately for him, several dozen Serpent's Hand members ran through the Way and toward the Sky Wall hole. Unfortunately for him, they trampled over him in the process. ----- The woman leading Scarlet and Anticla brought them into a room. In the middle of the room stood a large table with several maps laid overtop. Standing around the table were several people in a heated discussion. Silently, a man stood at the end of the table, deep in thought. "King Rottosher," the woman said to the man at the end of the table. "Members of the Zhujihui have arrived." "Oh, good," he replied. "You may go, now." The woman bowed and quickly left the room. "Welcome. I am King Rottosher of Kalimisa. And you are?" he asked. Scarlet was the first to reply. "My name is Mea Scarlet. I am an Esteemed Scholar of the Zhujihui." Anticla spoke next. "My name is Anticla Broocal. I am his assistant." King Rottosher smiled. "Pleased to meet the both of you. I gather you are here to discuss how to stop the ongoing cataclysm," He glanced at the other people around the table. "We have all reached a consensus." "And what consensus have you reached?" Scarlet asked. "We're going to let Kalimisa fall through the phases," the king answered. The answer though, was nothing at all like anything Scarlet or Anticla expected. It left them with about fifteen times more questions than it answered. King Rottosher noticed the confusion on their faces and chuckled. He sat down and raised his hands. "Allow me to explain. We've known for weeks now that Kalimisa is falling through the phases. We have mages slowing the descent but it's impossible to completely stop it. When the time is right, we're going to let our islands fall through into the area between the phase plane and we have a ritual ready to reinforce Hong Shing. Unfortunately, though, we will emerge in the Left Phase." Scarlet put the pieces together in his head, but something didn't add up. "Wait, but that will not stop the Standstill? It will keep Hong Shing intact, yes, but everything will still decay." The king nodded. "Yes, we are aware. But it doesn't really matter if we figure out how to stop the Standstill if the phases collide first." This time, Anticla spoke up. "How do you know you're going to emerge in an empty part of the Left Phase? If the phases are parallel universes, surely there are islands there too? King Rottosher reached behind himself and picked up a book, holding it out in front of Anticla. "The Kalimisa Islands were first formed with the death of a [[[lte-0851-cetus\|Titan]]] around three thousand years ago. Over time, dirt and sand washed onto its corpse and formed some islands. It still emits large amounts of divine energy which we refine in our specialized Solar Furnace. Regardless, this island chain doesn't exist in the Left Phase as it was made after the Era of the Gods. At least according to my understanding. Scarlet?" "Yes, I believe you may be right," Scarlet responded. The king started walking out of the building and gestured for the two to follow him. When they were outside, he started pointing at the towers surrounding the plaza. "At the top of each tower, one of our strongest mages is ready to complete the ritual. It uses a similar method as the spell used in The Perishing of Machinery and Clockwork, just instead of destroying a city, it's reinforcing it." the king explained, "If you two would like to aid in the ritual, you're welcome to stay. Otherwise, you're also welcome to leave. Keep in mind if you do stay, you will be transported to the Left Phase." At the mention of The Perishing of Machinery and Clockwork, Scarlet froze. It is true that he thought of it when he saw the towers, but he didn't think that the thought had any basis in reality. It was the darkest day in the history of the Zhujihui when its previous administration chose to completely destroy an entire city and all of its inhabitants just to retrieve a few anomalies. Still, he quickly regained his composure. Scarlet thought for a moment about the Foundation's normalization policies. Kalimisa would most likely be hidden from public view and its inhabitants would not be allowed to leave. Still, he wanted to help make sure his universe survived. "I want to stay." ----- Simons remembered how Hong Shing's streets were nearly empty and how its inhabitants just stayed holed up in their homes. He had gotten used to that. Now, while he was grateful for the help, he wished he could go back to that quiet. More and more Serpent's Hand members emerged from the Way and ran to the Sky Wall hole. Something inside the Library had notified them about the crisis, but Simons wasn't sure exactly what. He joined the stampede and got into formation, helping out with whatever spells he could. While in formation, he saw that the local area was completely flattened. For a brief moment, he thought of the blocks full of people that vanished in an instant, but he didn't entertain the thought. He didn't have time for distractions right now. The Sky Wall collapsing seemingly was not an uncommon occurrence across universes as they seemed to have a bunch of spells specialized for regenerating the wall. They worked tirelessly to fix the wall, but it seemed to tear faster than they could rebuild it. Through the hole, Simons thought he saw a series of islands floating in the phase plane, but he figured he was just seeing things. He continued fixing the wall until he saw them again. The islands were much closer this time and were glowing a bright white color. Between spells, he noticed that the white light was growing brighter and eventually coalesced into one ball which then flew toward Hong Shing. White light encompassed the entire Sky Wall for nearly a minute before it dissipated. Afterward, Simons noticed that there was no longer a hole in the Sky Wall. When he looked around he saw that the destroyed buildings were back too. Despite the circumstances, he felt fine. Just like before the Standstill. ----- "It's time." The king grabbed a staff and climbed a ladder next to the plaza building. Once he was on the roof, he strapped himself into place. Everyone who didn't want to have to move to the Left Phase had gotten off of the island, and everyone still on it was strapped into various chairs. Scarlet had told his ship to return to the mainland. He wasn't going to need it anyway. Scarlet mentally prepared himself as King Rottosher counted down. "//Five.//" "//Four.//" "//Three.//" "//Two.//" "//One.//" Scarlet gritted his teeth as Kalimisa rapidly fell. The islands descended fast enough that there wasn't even time for water to fill up the streets. The islands started falling faster. and faster. and //faster.// and //fast--// //"NOW."// King Rottosher yelled the command at his mages, who proceeded to slap a book next to them as hard as they could. Within an instant, Kalimisa slowed to a crawl, causing Scarlet to almost lose his lunch. He undid his restraints and stood up, making the mistake of looking anywhere but the ground. He immediately keeled over, being caught by Anticla. He knew that this would be difficult to handle, sure, but he didn't think it would be this bad. He considered asking Anticla to read him an [[[http://scp-int.wikidot.com/scp-cn-404\|"immunity from harmful vectors" spell]]] just in case there were any hostile memes, but he needed his sight for whatever came next. He looked around and saw that everyone had similar reactions to him. After about a minute, though, everyone recovered and got to work. While Scarlet and Anticla got into position, they looked around and marveled at the beauty of the space between the phases. It made them feel quite sick of course, as no human was meant to see something like this, but they still appreciated this once-in-a-lifetime experience. Well, Scarlet got into position. Anticla's position was sitting in a chair offering moral support. She didn't have the magical prowess to be of any help but she still wanted to see the Left Phase as well as support her boss and friend. Scarlet hadn't had much time to memorize the spell, so he held his multitome in one hand with an ancient wooden staff in the other as he chanted an incantation in the Language of the Gods. As the mages chanted, large amounts of light began connecting each mage, forming a circle around the plaza. After about four minutes, all the light began moving toward the center of the plaza, coalescing into a sphere. Anticla watched in awe at the sight. Once the sphere of light looked about as large as the sun in the sky, King Rottosher waved his staff toward Hong Shing. As Scarlet followed the light through extradimensional space, he realized he hadn't looked at Hong Shing yet. From where he was standing, the Sky Wall looked like a large semi-circle. Well, a large semi-circle with a large tear in it. Scarlet jumped as he heard the sound of someone clearing his throat, but not through his ears. It felt more like the sound was being broadcast directly into his head. He felt this sensation before but as the king was within his line of sight, he assumed he was just speaking extremely loudly. "Everyone, go back and strap yourselves in. We are leaving." Scarlet turned around and met back up with Anticla and they both went back to their restraints. They were disappointed that they couldn't see the result of the spell, but they had faith that it would work. As King Rottosher counted down again, Scarlet tried to prepare himself for the jump into the Left Phase. It did not work. Upon entering the Left Phase, Scarlet turned to the side and threw up. He regretted eating a hearty breakfast that morning. After taking a moment to prepare himself, he got up and looked out to the Pacific Ocean. He saw two men on a boat in the distance, holding on desperately to the boat's railing. They were staring at Kalimisa, mouths agape. Scarlet was ecstatic that he was alive and that they made it to the Left Phase safely. After all, countless things could have gone catastrophically wrong. However, a moment later, the gravity of their situation dawned on him. They were in the Left Phase, and an island chain appearing in the ocean would surely get the Foundation's attention and they would likely be contained. Well, Scarlet and Anticla would likely be allowed to return, but anyone who wanted who wasn't a member of the Zhujihui would likely be forced to stay on the islands. But luckily for Kalimisa's inhabitants, [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-6500/offset/10\|the Foundation's O5 Council had just begun a vote]]] on whether or not to dissolve the Veil. And fortunately, Scarlet found, the vote would go through, reforming the Foundation into Vanguard. Unfortunately for Scarlet, this meant that he was now stuck in press conference after press conference explaining his home dimension and more importantly, how a new island chain just appeared in the Pacific. Turns out, he found, that could be pretty difficult to explain. [[include <a href="/component:wikimodule">component:wikimodule</a> \|ratings= --]]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-05-01T03:36:00	[ "_licensebox", "esterberg", "foundation-format", "from-120s-archives", "hong-shing", "no-return", "otherworldly", "serpents-hand", "tale" ]	The Standstill - SCP Foundation	19	[ "take-a-right-to-the-right-phase-hub", "from-120-s-archives-hub", "no-return-hub", "scp-6500", "wilson-s-wildlife-solutions-hub", "scp-cn-1997", "pdps", "scp-8280", "scp-cn-1921", "scp-5292", "secure-facility-dossier-site-120", "scp-cn-999", "lte-0851-cetus", "scp-6500/offset/10", "the-hubris-of-the-broken", "mastertman2-s-menagerie", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "serpent-s-hand-hub", "no-return-hub", "from-120-s-archives-hub" ]	[]	1453505914	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-standstill
the-sub-of-your-beep	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="preview"> <p>at night i dream of sub sandwiches</p> </div> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=1&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Acreepypasta/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong><a href="http://www.scp-wiki.net/ellie3-gimmick-free">More by this author</a></strong></p> </div> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <blockquote> <p><span style="color: green"><strong>The-Original-Ellie</strong></span> 02/04/17 (Wed) 08:35:22 #35825061</p> <hr/> <p>Last night I had a really strange dream.</p> <p>I was at a Subway. The place was full, so an employee had to open this giant garage-like door so folks could eat at a few picnic tables outside. Meanwhile, I sat at a table inside with one of my best friends as she devoured a sub.</p> <p>"You gonna go get one?" She asked.</p> <p>I nodded and stood, taking a look at the counter where you order before sitting back down again, confused. Everything was wrong. Instead of an area where you would walk along and tell the employees what you wanted on your sub, it was all separated across the entire store!</p> <p>After staring for what seemed to be hours, I found a kiosk where you could get an egg carton-like box to lay your unfinished sub in. Then, I spotted a big dispenser that spit out bread— but before I could step towards it, I was distracted by an employee at a nearby counter coughing loudly. When I looked back towards the dispenser, it was gone.</p> <p>It felt like the whole Subway was changing just to fuck with me. But eventually I found the bread area again, and I slapped a whole-wheat roll into my box.</p> <p>But then what? I paced around nervously, then sat back at the table with my friend, burrowing my flustered cheeks into my hands. It was humiliating! I was just wandering around the whole Subway not knowing what to do, but it was a <em>Subway</em> for godsakes! How fucking hard could it be?!</p> <p>My friend poked me and then pointed to something, yet my vision magnetized to a boy sitting next to us. The boy was one of my exes— a dude who ended up threating to bomb my highschool after I broke up with him. He smiled at me with a shit-eating grin.</p> <p>I don't get furious much, but I looked towards this asswipe and screamed at the top of my lungs, "fucking leave me alone, you bitch!"</p> <p>He slowly frowned and left, and thankfully I didn't see him again. But I could feel everyone's eyes on me, their glances like little prickly needles all across my body.</p> <p>I shivered and took a deep breath, scratching my arm. After a few minutes, my friend poked me again and pointed at a small stand.</p> <p>Thanking her, I walked over and put a few slices of turkey and cheese onto my sub. Almost done.</p> <p>But the veggies were somewhere else! Of course they were!</p> <p>I went up to another counter, waiting for an employee to come help. After five minutes, I sat back down at my table again. But of course, the moment my butt hit the seat, an employee came up, so I stood up and went to talk to him.</p> <p>He asked what I wanted on the sub. "Lettuce and carrots," I replied. But who gets carrots on a sub? That's not even an option at Subway!</p> <p>"And your name?"</p> <p>"Ellie."</p> <p>"Alrighty then…" The employee wrote my name on the box and then turned to his computer. "You know, not all names need to have capital letters." He then proceeded to walk away from the counter, probably to put the veggies on my sub.</p> <p>As I thought about what he'd said, my attention was drawn to a monitor where a list was being shown. It was like this:</p> <blockquote> <p>ellie<br/> name<br/> name<br/> name<br/> i swear to god if I have to make one more edit to this fucking list I'm quitting</p> </blockquote> <p>For some reason, the last four 'names' were suddenly erased, leaving my uncapitalized name at the top of the list. So <em>that</em> was what he meant. It was off-putting to say the least, but eventually the employee came back with my boxed-up vegetable-packed sub.</p> <p>My stomach suddenly groaned, and I realized I was starving. So instead of paying, I snatched the box from his hands, tearing it open frantically to see my succulent sandwich.</p> <p>It looked so delectable… the lightly toasted bread, some turkey and lettuce hanging off the side, the mix of smells and tastes complementing each other to form a mouthwatering aroma that just made me want to just eat the whole thing in one bite like a cartoon character.</p> <p>I slowly lifted it up to my mouth, opened wide, and then…</p> <p><strong>BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP</strong></p> <p>I know that cartoons exaggerate how much we hate alarm clocks, but I really felt like taking a hammer out from under my pillow and smashing it right then and there.</p> <p>Fuck.</p> <p>Now I want a sub.</p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><span style="color: blue"><strong>Jumbat</strong></span> 02/04/17 (Wed) 08:48:17 #35826260</p> <hr/> <p>Gosh, I also had a Subway dream!</p> <p>I was trapped in an endless Subway. Every time I would go through a door, it would open to another Subway, but there was never any actual food.</p> <p>After days of wandering, I was starving. But then, I saw a sub placed upon a table, wrapped up in that waxy paper stuff they use.</p> <p>I unwrapped the sandwich, practically salivating as I opened my mouth, and—</p> <p>My wife poked me, saying that I was drooling on her.</p> <p>We agreed to go out and get subs for lunch today.</p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><span style="color: purple"><strong>Conni9</strong></span> 02/04/17 (Wed) 09:24:52 #35827114</p> <hr/> <p>This is… really weird. I had a Subway dream too, kinda.</p> <p>I was trapped in a damp, dark room. No exits, no furniture, just a pizza box in the middle of the room. Dominoes, specifically.</p> <p>It wasn't even <em>good.</em> At least, not after the first few days.</p> <p>What used to be an alluring box of junk food turned into a maggoty mess with an inescapable pungent smell.</p> <p>I starved in there.</p> <p>But then, I woke up one day.</p> <p>The pizza box had been replaced by a Subway sub, and I could feel my mouth watering in anticipation as I ran towards it, but…</p> <p>Yeah. I woke up. Probably gonna get a sub for lunch today now.</p> <p>But isn't it suspicious? I mean, <em>three</em> of us have similar pro-Subway dreams?</p> <p>I mean, I know corporations brainwash us, but… Subway? What do you guys think?</p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><span style="color: green"><strong>The-Original-Ellie</strong></span> 02/04/17 (Wed) 09:44:12 #35827529</p> <hr/> <p>You might be onto something. What if they're making us have these dreams so they get more business?</p> <p>I mean, it makes sense, I think. If it's even possible.</p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><span style="color: purple"><strong>Conni9</strong></span> 02/04/17 (Wed) 09:49:24 #35827843</p> <hr/> <p>Now, I know advertising is a dystopian industry… but I think forcing dreams into people's heads would be too much work just to get folks to buy subs.</p> <p>I mean, Subway is such a big chain, it's probably just coincidence we all dreamed of it.</p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><span style="color: yellow"><strong>FreakyFranchiser</strong></span> 02/04/17 (Wed) 10:32:00 #35827989</p> <hr/> <p>Subway is pretty awesome. I usually go there for subs, but for some reason I went to a Jimmy John's last Tuesday, and this punk at the counter wouldn't take my order. His eyes scanned me from head to toe, and then he scoffed.</p> <p>"A mere Subway-eater enters our domain? You don't have what it takes, but I'll give you a chance to prove yourself. Answer my riddles three correctly, and I shall grant you admittance into Jimmy's bountiful embrace."</p> <p>I stared at him, unsure of if he was for real or not.</p> <p>"Riddle one! The most fishy delight, a bounty of the sea. What kind of sandwich do I happen to be?"</p> <p>"Uh. Fuckin. A submarine?"</p> <p>The employee slammed the counter, his eye twitching. "DRATS! You must not be as foolish as I thought…"</p> <p>I wish I could say I was more freaked out by all of this, but I was honestly just suprised that I got the question right. I mean, I guess you could say a submarine is a sandwich of metal, but even then, it's not very fishy… but maybe the people piloting the submarine smell like fish? You probably don't get to shower down there often, right?</p> <p>Anyways, eventually he straightened his back, brushing off his apron before looking back at me. "Riddle two. A semi-hard slice, an Italian creation. What is this cheese that blesses our nation?!"</p> <p>"Provolone!" (I actually knew this one! I like cheese.)</p> <p>The kid bought his hands upwards, clenching them into fists so hard that they trembled. "YOU SLIME! H-how have you gotten so far? But this last riddle will get you! What is Jimmy John's FULL NAME???"</p> <p>This riddle shocked me a bit— I was sure I didn't know the answer! But for some reason, I smirked anyways, taking a step forward. "Jimmy. John. Liautaud."</p> <p>And the employee gasped in suprise. For a moment, it looked like he was about to profess defeat. But then, something changed in his eyes, and he grabbed his chest. "Please, Jimmy, no…" He fell to the floor. "I— I thought I served you… well…"</p> <p>And then, my memory just fizzles out. The last thing I remember is opening my eyes in bed, and I'm sure I didn't actually go to bed myself that night. And when I looked at the news, I saw that an employee at the local Jimmy John's had died of a heart attack.</p> <p>I'm sure that I wasn't dreaming then. Because from what I remember of the dream that I for-sure <em>did</em> have, I saw him, Jimmy John Liautaud, and he smiled warmly at me. "Don't worry, man. We got you home…"</p> <p>I opened my mouth, but he held his palm up.</p> <p>"And we did it freaky fast."</p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><span style="color: green"><strong>The-Original-Ellie</strong></span> 02/04/17 (Wed) 11:01:23 #35828504</p> <hr/> <p>You know what? I think I'll just make a sandwich at home.</p> </blockquote> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong><<a href="/but-a-dream">Hub</a>></strong></p> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-sub-of-your-beep">The Sub of Your Dreams</a>" by Ellie3, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-sub-of-your-beep">https://scpwiki.com/the-sub-of-your-beep</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:preview">:scp-wiki:component:preview</a> text=at night i dream of sub sandwiches ]] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:creepypasta">:scp-wiki:theme:creepypasta</a>]] [[include <a href="/info:start">info:start</a>]] [[=]] [http://www.scp-wiki.net/ellie3-gimmick-free More by this author] [[/=]] [[include <a href="/info:end">info:end</a>]] > ##green\|The-Original-Ellie## 02/04/17 (Wed) 08:35:22 #35825061 > ------ > > Last night I had a really strange dream. > > I was at a Subway. The place was full, so an employee had to open this giant garage-like door so folks could eat at a few picnic tables outside. Meanwhile, I sat at a table inside with one of my best friends as she devoured a sub. > > "You gonna go get one?" She asked. > > I nodded and stood, taking a look at the counter where you order before sitting back down again, confused. Everything was wrong. Instead of an area where you would walk along and tell the employees what you wanted on your sub, it was all separated across the entire store! > > After staring for what seemed to be hours, I found a kiosk where you could get an egg carton-like box to lay your unfinished sub in. Then, I spotted a big dispenser that spit out bread-- but before I could step towards it, I was distracted by an employee at a nearby counter coughing loudly. When I looked back towards the dispenser, it was gone. > > It felt like the whole Subway was changing just to fuck with me. But eventually I found the bread area again, and I slapped a whole-wheat roll into my box. > > But then what? I paced around nervously, then sat back at the table with my friend, burrowing my flustered cheeks into my hands. It was humiliating! I was just wandering around the whole Subway not knowing what to do, but it was a //Subway// for godsakes! How fucking hard could it be?! > > My friend poked me and then pointed to something, yet my vision magnetized to a boy sitting next to us. The boy was one of my exes-- a dude who ended up threating to bomb my highschool after I broke up with him. He smiled at me with a shit-eating grin. > > I don't get furious much, but I looked towards this asswipe and screamed at the top of my lungs, "fucking leave me alone, you bitch!" > > He slowly frowned and left, and thankfully I didn't see him again. But I could feel everyone's eyes on me, their glances like little prickly needles all across my body. > > I shivered and took a deep breath, scratching my arm. After a few minutes, my friend poked me again and pointed at a small stand. > > Thanking her, I walked over and put a few slices of turkey and cheese onto my sub. Almost done. > > But the veggies were somewhere else! Of course they were! > > I went up to another counter, waiting for an employee to come help. After five minutes, I sat back down at my table again. But of course, the moment my butt hit the seat, an employee came up, so I stood up and went to talk to him. > > He asked what I wanted on the sub. "Lettuce and carrots," I replied. But who gets carrots on a sub? That's not even an option at Subway! > > "And your name?" > > "Ellie." > > "Alrighty then..." The employee wrote my name on the box and then turned to his computer. "You know, not all names need to have capital letters." He then proceeded to walk away from the counter, probably to put the veggies on my sub. > > As I thought about what he'd said, my attention was drawn to a monitor where a list was being shown. It was like this: > >> ellie >> name >> name >> name >> i swear to god if I have to make one more edit to this fucking list I'm quitting > > For some reason, the last four 'names' were suddenly erased, leaving my uncapitalized name at the top of the list. So //that// was what he meant. It was off-putting to say the least, but eventually the employee came back with my boxed-up vegetable-packed sub. > > My stomach suddenly groaned, and I realized I was starving. So instead of paying, I snatched the box from his hands, tearing it open frantically to see my succulent sandwich. > > It looked so delectable... the lightly toasted bread, some turkey and lettuce hanging off the side, the mix of smells and tastes complementing each other to form a mouthwatering aroma that just made me want to just eat the whole thing in one bite like a cartoon character. > > I slowly lifted it up to my mouth, opened wide, and then... > > BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP > > I know that cartoons exaggerate how much we hate alarm clocks, but I really felt like taking a hammer out from under my pillow and smashing it right then and there. > > Fuck. > > Now I want a sub. > ##blue\|Jumbat## 02/04/17 (Wed) 08:48:17 #35826260 > ------ > > Gosh, I also had a Subway dream! > > I was trapped in an endless Subway. Every time I would go through a door, it would open to another Subway, but there was never any actual food. > > After days of wandering, I was starving. But then, I saw a sub placed upon a table, wrapped up in that waxy paper stuff they use. > > I unwrapped the sandwich, practically salivating as I opened my mouth, and-- > > My wife poked me, saying that I was drooling on her. > > We agreed to go out and get subs for lunch today. > ##purple\|Conni9## 02/04/17 (Wed) 09:24:52 #35827114 > ------ > > This is... really weird. I had a Subway dream too, kinda. > > I was trapped in a damp, dark room. No exits, no furniture, just a pizza box in the middle of the room. Dominoes, specifically. > > It wasn't even //good.// At least, not after the first few days. > > What used to be an alluring box of junk food turned into a maggoty mess with an inescapable pungent smell. > > I starved in there. > > But then, I woke up one day. > > The pizza box had been replaced by a Subway sub, and I could feel my mouth watering in anticipation as I ran towards it, but... > > Yeah. I woke up. Probably gonna get a sub for lunch today now. > > But isn't it suspicious? I mean, //three// of us have similar pro-Subway dreams? > > I mean, I know corporations brainwash us, but... Subway? What do you guys think? > ##green\|The-Original-Ellie## 02/04/17 (Wed) 09:44:12 #35827529 > ------ > > You might be onto something. What if they're making us have these dreams so they get more business? > > I mean, it makes sense, I think. If it's even possible. > > ##purple\|Conni9## 02/04/17 (Wed) 09:49:24 #35827843 > ------ > > Now, I know advertising is a dystopian industry... but I think forcing dreams into people's heads would be too much work just to get folks to buy subs. > > I mean, Subway is such a big chain, it's probably just coincidence we all dreamed of it. > ##yellow\|FreakyFranchiser## 02/04/17 (Wed) 10:32:00 #35827989 > ------ > > Subway is pretty awesome. I usually go there for subs, but for some reason I went to a Jimmy John's last Tuesday, and this punk at the counter wouldn't take my order. His eyes scanned me from head to toe, and then he scoffed. > > "A mere Subway-eater enters our domain? You don't have what it takes, but I'll give you a chance to prove yourself. Answer my riddles three correctly, and I shall grant you admittance into Jimmy's bountiful embrace." > > I stared at him, unsure of if he was for real or not. > > "Riddle one! The most fishy delight, a bounty of the sea. What kind of sandwich do I happen to be?" > > "Uh. Fuckin. A submarine?" > > The employee slammed the counter, his eye twitching. "DRATS! You must not be as foolish as I thought..." > > I wish I could say I was more freaked out by all of this, but I was honestly just suprised that I got the question right. I mean, I guess you could say a submarine is a sandwich of metal, but even then, it's not very fishy... but maybe the people piloting the submarine smell like fish? You probably don't get to shower down there often, right? > > Anyways, eventually he straightened his back, brushing off his apron before looking back at me. "Riddle two. A semi-hard slice, an Italian creation. What is this cheese that blesses our nation?!" > > "Provolone!" (I actually knew this one! I like cheese.) > > The kid bought his hands upwards, clenching them into fists so hard that they trembled. "YOU SLIME! H-how have you gotten so far? But this last riddle will get you! What is Jimmy John's FULL NAME???" > > This riddle shocked me a bit-- I was sure I didn't know the answer! But for some reason, I smirked anyways, taking a step forward. "Jimmy. John. Liautaud." > > And the employee gasped in suprise. For a moment, it looked like he was about to profess defeat. But then, something changed in his eyes, and he grabbed his chest. "Please, Jimmy, no..." He fell to the floor. "I-- I thought I served you... well..." > > And then, my memory just fizzles out. The last thing I remember is opening my eyes in bed, and I'm sure I didn't actually go to bed myself that night. And when I looked at the news, I saw that an employee at the local Jimmy John's had died of a heart attack. > > I'm sure that I wasn't dreaming then. Because from what I remember of the dream that I for-sure //did// have, I saw him, Jimmy John Liautaud, and he smiled warmly at me. "Don't worry, man. We got you home..." > > I opened my mouth, but he held his palm up. > > "And we did it freaky fast." > ##green\|The-Original-Ellie## 02/04/17 (Wed) 11:01:23 #35828504 > ------ > > You know what? I think I'll just make a sandwich at home. [[=]] <[[[but-a-dream\|Hub]]]> [[/=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [!-- N/A (No Images) --] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-07-23T22:57:00	[ "_licensebox", "but-a-dream", "correspondence", "parawatch", "surrealism", "tale" ]	The Sub of Your Dreams - SCP Foundation	23	[ "but-a-dream", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "parawatch-hub", "but-a-dream" ]	[]	1455942921	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-sub-of-your-beep
the-tale-of-modrins-tower	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="limit"> <div class="anchor"> <div class="authorbox tableb"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th>The Tale Of Modrin's Tower</th> </tr> <tr> <td style="text-align: center;"><span class="bt bb">Byㅤ</span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dr-leonerd" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7475869); return false;"><img alt="Dr Leonerd" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7475869&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1736645267" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7475869)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dr-leonerd" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7475869); return false;">Dr Leonerd</a></span></td> </tr> <tr> <th>Published on <span class="odate time_1710240597 format_%25d%20%25b%20%25Y">12 Mar 2024 10:49</span></th> </tr> </table> </div> </div></div> <br/></div> </div> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=2&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Aflopstyle-dark/2&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <p style="text-align: center;"><strong>Songs of the Crimson Moon.</strong></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><strong>Written by</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dr-leonerd" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7475869); return false;"><img alt="Dr Leonerd" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7475869&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1736437552" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7475869)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dr-leonerd" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7475869); return false;">Dr Leonerd</a></span></p> <hr/></div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="meta-title"> <p>The Tale of Modrin's Tower</p> </div> <div class="scp-image-block block-right" style="width:180px;"><img alt="Milky_Way_Night_Sky_Black_Rock_Desert_Nevada.jpg" class="image" src="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/c/c6/Milky_Way_Night_Sky_Black_Rock_Desert_Nevada.jpg"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>The works of man may perish, but those of the gods persist.</p> </div> </div> <p>Before the blanket of interminable night was thrust upon creation and all her wretched brood unchained, there lived a renowned craftsman by the name of Modrin. Now, Modrin was regarded as the finest architect in the Principalities and Kingdoms of Yore, designing all things from palaces to prisons with unrivalled expertise.</p> <p>Beyond brick and mortar, Modrin was deeply devoted to his wife, the seraphic and soft-spoken Kabasti, who died from cruel and silent fever just three years into their marriage, bearing him no children. Overcome with grief from the loss of his beloved, Modrin razed the fabulous manor he had designed for them to the ground. As he mournfully watched those great plumes of smoke rise and settle into the upper echelons of aether, the architect was struck with an idea.</p> <p>So it was that Modrin retired from public life, departing the civilized lands for a distant nameless plateau that no men called home. It was here that Modrin took upon a new task, one that would prove the most daring and ambitious of his eminent career: to build a stair tower of such height that it pierced the heavens themselves. This would, the craftsman supposed, allow him to rescue his darling Kabasti from the clutches of death, and return triumphant with her in his arms to the safety of the mortal realm.</p> <p>Modrin worked alone on this endeavor, for he knew that that if others caught wind of his plans, they too might seek access to the spire with aspirations of retrieving their own dear departed. For many years the architect toiled in isolation all day every day, the loneliness he felt only strengthening his resolve. By the time the great stair tower had usurped the nethermost clouds, Modrin's masterpiece was nearing its completion, and it was then that the gods did take notice of his handiwork.</p> <p>Infuriated that Modrin would dare encroach the sanctity of the celestial kingdom, the storm lord Hiboran sent six thunderbolts to crumble the Tower, reducing it to mere ash and embers. The spire's smoldering remnants were then cast unceremoniously across the night sky, forming a lambent scar upon the welkin's face that endures to this day, and serves as a perpetual reminder to meddlesome mortals of the price of blasphemy.</p> <p>As for the architect himself, Modrin was condemned never to die, but like so many heathens before him was instead cursed to wander the earth until the earth is no more. What is perhaps most tragic about Modrin's fate is that had he never conceived of the Tower, he would in little time have found himself reunited with Kabasti in the bright and starry pastures of the Hereafter; yet because of his own hubris and defiance this is never to be.</p> <p>Thus ends the tale of Modrin's Tower.</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/dr-leonerd-s-author-page" target="_blank">More from this author...</a></p> </div> <hr/> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-tale-of-modrins-tower">The Tale Of Modrin's Tower</a>" by Dr Leonerd, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-tale-of-modrins-tower">https://scpwiki.com/the-tale-of-modrins-tower</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Milky_Way_Night_Sky_Black_Rock_Desert_Nevada.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Steve Jurvetson<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY 2.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Milky_Way_Night_Sky_Black_Rock_Desert_Nevada.jpg">Wikimedia Commons</a></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:flopstyle-dark">:scp-wiki:theme:flopstyle-dark</a>]] [[module CSS]] :root{ /* -- COLORS -- / --accentColor: hsl(0, 89%, 41%); --accentColorLite: hsla(0, 89%, 51%, .5); --hue: 0deg; / -- LOGO -- / --lgurl: url(https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/nightfall-hub/moon1.png); / -- TITLES -- / --header-title: "NIGHTFALL"; --header-subtitle: "Songs of the Crimson Moon"; / -- STATIC COLORS -- / --textColor: hsl(212, 3%, 75%); --bgColor: hsl(220, 20%, 10%); } #extra-div-1{ filter: opacity(.2) saturate(1.25) brightness(1.25); } [[/module]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] = Songs of the Crimson Moon.* = Written by [[user Dr Leonerd]] ------ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:end">:scp-wiki:info:end</a>]] @@ @@ [[div class="meta-title"]] The Tale of Modrin's Tower [[/div]] [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> name=https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/c/c6/Milky_Way_Night_Sky_Black_Rock_Desert_Nevada.jpg\| caption= The works of man may perish, but those of the gods persist.\| width=180px]] Before the blanket of interminable night was thrust upon creation and all her wretched brood unchained, there lived a renowned craftsman by the name of Modrin. Now, Modrin was regarded as the finest architect in the Principalities and Kingdoms of Yore, designing all things from palaces to prisons with unrivalled expertise. Beyond brick and mortar, Modrin was deeply devoted to his wife, the seraphic and soft-spoken Kabasti, who died from cruel and silent fever just three years into their marriage, bearing him no children. Overcome with grief from the loss of his beloved, Modrin razed the fabulous manor he had designed for them to the ground. As he mournfully watched those great plumes of smoke rise and settle into the upper echelons of aether, the architect was struck with an idea. So it was that Modrin retired from public life, departing the civilized lands for a distant nameless plateau that no men called home. It was here that Modrin took upon a new task, one that would prove the most daring and ambitious of his eminent career: to build a stair tower of such height that it pierced the heavens themselves. This would, the craftsman supposed, allow him to rescue his darling Kabasti from the clutches of death, and return triumphant with her in his arms to the safety of the mortal realm. Modrin worked alone on this endeavor, for he knew that that if others caught wind of his plans, they too might seek access to the spire with aspirations of retrieving their own dear departed. For many years the architect toiled in isolation all day every day, the loneliness he felt only strengthening his resolve. By the time the great stair tower had usurped the nethermost clouds, Modrin's masterpiece was nearing its completion, and it was then that the gods did take notice of his handiwork. Infuriated that Modrin would dare encroach the sanctity of the celestial kingdom, the storm lord Hiboran sent six thunderbolts to crumble the Tower, reducing it to mere ash and embers. The spire's smoldering remnants were then cast unceremoniously across the night sky, forming a lambent scar upon the welkin's face that endures to this day, and serves as a perpetual reminder to meddlesome mortals of the price of blasphemy. As for the architect himself, Modrin was condemned never to die, but like so many heathens before him was instead cursed to wander the earth until the earth is no more. What is perhaps most tragic about Modrin's fate is that had he never conceived of the Tower, he would in little time have found himself reunited with Kabasti in the bright and starry pastures of the Hereafter; yet because of his own hubris and defiance this is never to be. Thus ends the tale of Modrin's Tower. ------ [[=]] [http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/dr-leonerd-s-author-page More from this author...] [[/=]] ------ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] > Filename: Milky_Way_Night_Sky_Black_Rock_Desert_Nevada.jpg > Author: Steve Jurvetson > License: CC BY 2.0 > Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Milky_Way_Night_Sky_Black_Rock_Desert_Nevada.jpg Wikimedia Commons] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-03-12T10:49:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "bleak", "fantasy", "nightfall", "no-dialogue", "tale", "worldbuilding" ]	The Tale Of Modrin's Tower - SCP Foundation	25	[ "dr-leonerd-s-author-page", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "nightfall-hub", "department-of-mythology-and-folkloristics-hub" ]	[ "https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/c/c6/Milky_Way_Night_Sky_Black_Rock_Desert_Nevada.jpg" ]	1453029257	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-tale-of-modrins-tower
the-tale-of-yolph-thrice-slain	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="limit"> <div class="anchor"> <div class="authorbox tableb"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th>The Tale Of Yolph Thrice-Killed</th> </tr> <tr> <td style="text-align: center;"><span class="bt bb">Byㅤ</span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dr-leonerd" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7475869); return false;"><img alt="Dr Leonerd" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7475869&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1736645267" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7475869)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dr-leonerd" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7475869); return false;">Dr Leonerd</a></span></td> </tr> <tr> <th>Published on <span class="odate time_1710533578 format_%25d%20%25b%20%25Y">15 Mar 2024 20:12</span></th> </tr> </table> </div> </div></div> <br/></div> </div> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=2&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Aflopstyle-dark/2&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <p style="text-align: center;"><strong>Songs of the Crimson Moon.</strong></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><strong>Written by</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dr-leonerd" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7475869); return false;"><img alt="Dr Leonerd" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7475869&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1736437574" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7475869)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dr-leonerd" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7475869); return false;">Dr Leonerd</a></span></p> <hr/></div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="meta-title"> <p>The Tale of Yolph Thrice-Killed</p> </div> <div class="scp-image-block block-right" style="width:275px;"><img alt="Banshee.jpg" class="image" src="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/8/89/Banshee.jpg"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>None keen for the keener, but it is her dread symphony that even the ravens fear.</p> </div> </div> <p>In an age where the sun shines only in old men's dreams, no child of night is more widely reviled than the shrieking banshee. While these gaunt and feeble figures pose no physical threat, their rooftop cries herald imminent demise for one residing in the household beneath, and there is no spell, prayer nor talisman that might avert this outcome.</p> <p>The banshee's origins are as shrouded in shadows as they themselves, some believing them to be the spirits of childless crones that died alone and were not found until long after the fact - none wept for the banshee, thus the banshee is condemned to weep for all. What follows is perhaps the best-known banshee tale, that of the farmer named Yolph, who lived on the outskirts of a small forgotten village with his wife and infant daughter.</p> <p>One fateful night, Yolph awoke to the sound of faint footsteps coming from above, followed by a clamoring cacophony of ghastly shrieks and howls. While by no means a learned man, with little experience in matters of the reawakened dead, Yolph knew what grim fate the banshee's bawl foretold. It was in that moment that he felt a fear far greater any other in all of his thirty years. And so it was that morning that the farmer took matters into his own hands, and ruthlessly strangled his wife while she slept: this betrayal, Yolph supposed, might persuade death to accept her soul instead of his.</p> <p>On the second night, after disposing of his wife's remains, Yolph was once again startled by those same anguished cries - this time, even louder than before. It was without thought nor hesitation that Yolph stabbed his young daughter straight through the heart, hoping with that with this second offering fate's treacherous tides must surely spare him. With empty sorrow, Yolph buried the babe next to her mother beneath the bloody glare of the swollen moon.</p> <p>Nonetheless, on the third night, the haggard harbinger returned once more to the rooftop, her deafening screams matched only in intensity by the panicked beating of Yolph's own craven heart. With none left in the household save for himself, the farmer knew that his only chance for survival was to flee on foot. Taking little more than the clothes on his back, Yolph trekked for miles before encountering a derelict rope bridge tottering above a rushing river.</p> <p>In his haste, the farmer did not notice that he was being watched silently from the woods: from the darkness there sprung a vicious beoar<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-1" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-1')">1</a></sup>, which tore furiously at Yolph's face, chest and limbs, leaving him badly bloodied. Just as the hungry beast was preparing to finish him, Yolph seized the dagger from his pocket, still stained with his firstborn's blood, and stabbed blindly at the beoar's throat, killing it instantly.</p> <p>Before Yolph could so much as breathe a sigh of relief, the old bridge collapsed from under his feet, unable to withstand the combined weight of both he and the slain urswine. The farmer was plunged into the deep and pitiless waters below, flailing and gasping for breath as he was dragged helplessly downstream. It was then, as his lungs were filling rapidly with water, that Yolph sighted the solitary branch of a poisonous <em>lethka</em> tree reaching precariously from the riverbank.</p> <p>Foolishly thinking himself blessed, Yolph grasped the thorny plant with both hands, howling in pain as he did so, and used it to haul himself safely back onto dry land. At last free from harm, Yolph instinctively raised his aching fingers to his mouth to ease the lethka's sting, thereby unwittingly exposing himself to the plant's deadly venom.</p> <p>It was in his arrogance that Yolph believed destiny a force to be bartered with, but fate had retaliated with utmost vigor, slaying him not just once but three times. Let the tale of Yolph Thrice-Killed reminds us of both death's assurance, and the inherent futility in fighting fate.</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/dr-leonerd-s-author-page" target="_blank">More from this author...</a></p> </div> <hr/> <div class="footnotes-footer"> <div class="title">Footnotes</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-1"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-1')">1</a>. A rare beast endemic to the Xerophyllan lowlands possessing the qualities of a bear and a hog.</div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:flopstyle-dark">:scp-wiki:theme:flopstyle-dark</a>]] [[module CSS]] :root{ /* -- COLORS -- / --accentColor: hsl(0, 89%, 41%); --accentColorLite: hsla(0, 89%, 51%, .5); --hue: 0deg; / -- LOGO -- / --lgurl: url(https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/nightfall-hub/moon1.png); / -- TITLES -- / --header-title: "NIGHTFALL"; --header-subtitle: "Songs of the Crimson Moon"; / -- STATIC COLORS -- / --textColor: hsl(212, 3%, 75%); --bgColor: hsl(220, 20%, 10%); } #extra-div-1{ filter: opacity(.2) saturate(1.25) brightness(1.25); } [[/module]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] = Songs of the Crimson Moon.* = Written by [[user Dr Leonerd]] ------ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:end">:scp-wiki:info:end</a>]] @@ @@ [[div class="meta-title"]] The Tale of Yolph Thrice-Killed [[/div]] [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> name=https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/8/89/Banshee.jpg\| caption= None keen for the keener, but it is her dread symphony that even the ravens fear.\| width=275px]] In an age where the sun shines only in old men's dreams, no child of night is more widely reviled than the shrieking banshee. While these gaunt and feeble figures pose no physical threat, their rooftop cries herald imminent demise for one residing in the household beneath, and there is no spell, prayer nor talisman that might avert this outcome. The banshee's origins are as shrouded in shadows as they themselves, some believing them to be the spirits of childless crones that died alone and were not found until long after the fact - none wept for the banshee, thus the banshee is condemned to weep for all. What follows is perhaps the best-known banshee tale, that of the farmer named Yolph, who lived on the outskirts of a small forgotten village with his wife and infant daughter. One fateful night, Yolph awoke to the sound of faint footsteps coming from above, followed by a clamoring cacophony of ghastly shrieks and howls. While by no means a learned man, with little experience in matters of the reawakened dead, Yolph knew what grim fate the banshee's bawl foretold. It was in that moment that he felt a fear far greater any other in all of his thirty years. And so it was that morning that the farmer took matters into his own hands, and ruthlessly strangled his wife while she slept: this betrayal, Yolph supposed, might persuade death to accept her soul instead of his. On the second night, after disposing of his wife's remains, Yolph was once again startled by those same anguished cries - this time, even louder than before. It was without thought nor hesitation that Yolph stabbed his young daughter straight through the heart, hoping with that with this second offering fate's treacherous tides must surely spare him. With empty sorrow, Yolph buried the babe next to her mother beneath the bloody glare of the swollen moon. Nonetheless, on the third night, the haggard harbinger returned once more to the rooftop, her deafening screams matched only in intensity by the panicked beating of Yolph's own craven heart. With none left in the household save for himself, the farmer knew that his only chance for survival was to flee on foot. Taking little more than the clothes on his back, Yolph trekked for miles before encountering a derelict rope bridge tottering above a rushing river. In his haste, the farmer did not notice that he was being watched silently from the woods: from the darkness there sprung a vicious beoar[[footnote]]A rare beast endemic to the Xerophyllan lowlands possessing the qualities of a bear and a hog.[[/footnote]], which tore furiously at Yolph's face, chest and limbs, leaving him badly bloodied. Just as the hungry beast was preparing to finish him, Yolph seized the dagger from his pocket, still stained with his firstborn's blood, and stabbed blindly at the beoar's throat, killing it instantly. Before Yolph could so much as breathe a sigh of relief, the old bridge collapsed from under his feet, unable to withstand the combined weight of both he and the slain urswine. The farmer was plunged into the deep and pitiless waters below, flailing and gasping for breath as he was dragged helplessly downstream. It was then, as his lungs were filling rapidly with water, that Yolph sighted the solitary branch of a poisonous //lethka// tree reaching precariously from the riverbank. Foolishly thinking himself blessed, Yolph grasped the thorny plant with both hands, howling in pain as he did so, and used it to haul himself safely back onto dry land. At last free from harm, Yolph instinctively raised his aching fingers to his mouth to ease the lethka's sting, thereby unwittingly exposing himself to the plant's deadly venom. It was in his arrogance that Yolph believed destiny a force to be bartered with, but fate had retaliated with utmost vigor, slaying him not just once but three times. Let the tale of Yolph Thrice-Killed reminds us of both death's assurance, and the inherent futility in fighting fate. ------ [[=]] [http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/dr-leonerd-s-author-page More from this author...] [[/=]] ------	2024-03-15T20:12:00	[ "nightfall", "tale", "worldbuilding" ]	The Tale Of Yolph Thrice-Killed - SCP Foundation	23	[ "dr-leonerd-s-author-page" ]	[ "nightfall-hub", "department-of-mythology-and-folkloristics-hub" ]	[ "https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/8/89/Banshee.jpg" ]	1453047986	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-tale-of-yolph-thrice-slain
the-vic-and-the-pendulum	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <blockquote> <p>I think I'm drowning, asphyxiated.</p> </blockquote> <p>Air conditioning is out. Beautiful. Doctor Elise Webb, half awake and operating on 4 hours of sleep, shifts into first gear after pulling out of the driveway. Their 317,000 mile CR-V still ripped despite being 23 years old, though the constant modification and maintenance has extended the life of it. Not bad for something Elise's parents bought for three thousand dollars.</p> <blockquote> <p>I want to break this spell that you've created.</p> </blockquote> <p>They didn't know why the Foundation decided to rush new containment procedures on the Tango events. Whether the arrays failed, countermeasures weren't prepared, or maybe through plain stupidity. It doesn't matter now. However, Elise knew that it was a bad idea to have modified <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2326">SCP-2326-2</a>. No matter how many reports they wrote, the hard-headed fools at Site-24 decided to mess with SCP-2326-2, and drop it off on a platform in the Atlantic. Those lazy fucks were bullshitting their procedures and strategies just to maintain funding. Now, the world is about to pay the ultimate price.</p> <blockquote> <p>You're something beautiful, a contradiction.</p> </blockquote> <p>Elise's phone buzzed. It gets even better.</p> <p>"Doctor Carol."</p> <p>Disappointing. At least they didn't have to pretend to be energetic today.</p> <blockquote> <p>I want to play the game, I want the friction.</p> </blockquote> <p>"Doctor Webb. The Semi-Automatic Ground Environment integration has failed. Report to Site-24 immediately. A link with SCP-2326 instances was established for a couple of minutes and all it did was reroute them here."</p> <p>"Understood. I'll be there in about 8 minutes."</p> <p>"You will be here in 5."</p> <blockquote> <p>You will be the death of me.</p> </blockquote> <p>Senior Researcher Rupert Carol hung up on them. A boring, stuffy Cold War pilot, overly formal and angry, even at the end of the world. Dick.<br/> Elise already knew what was happening. Why bother calling? They just got called less than 10 minutes ago! The migraines kicked in. It just keeps getting better for them. They elegantly cut across 3 lanes of traffic, weaving through the Midwest mess that is I-80 at 6 in the morning, and headed towards Site-24. Only, it wasn't elegant. The exit ramp was brutal and it smells like clutch in here.</p> <blockquote> <p>Bury it. I wont let you bury it. I wont let you smother it.</p> </blockquote> <p>Elise rushed through security and parked inside the underground spaces at <span style="text-decoration: line-through;">Site-24</span> the SAC Museum,<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-1" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-1')">1</a></sup> the light tip tap of Elise's steps reverberating through the entire lot as they made their way onto the elevator. Idiots. Why did Carol think it was a good idea to wire a building-sized IBM with an anomalous Elbrus-3? Those computers came from two different sides of the Iron Curtain! No time to dwell on it. The bombers are headed to North America and it's the SCP Foundation's fault. Focus.</p> <p>Inside Site-24's conference hall, the cold, humming fluorescent lights were turned off. The exhausted engineers were shuffling papers and dropping diagrams. The AN/FSQ-7 IBM computer kept working the teleprinter. MTF Sigma-9 pilots were being scrambled to intercept the SCP-2326 instances. The bright, neon-like glow of the SAGE monitors was more than enough to keep everyone awake. Every action in the hall was robotic, cold, and unsympathetic.</p> <p>Doctor Carol smashed the conference hall's landline against a monitor. The deafening crack was enough to get everyone's attention, including Elise, who took their seat, not the least bit surprised at what was happening.</p> <p>"I don't care to acknowledge every single one of you. Your own fear and incompetence has assured me of what good that would do… SCP-2362's containment was MY project, and YOUR failure is costing us all greatly and has called my abilities into question!"</p> <blockquote> <p>I wont let you murder it.</p> </blockquote> <p>That self centered asshole. Elise could imagine him twiddling his cartoonishly evil mustache (if he had one). Doctor Carol only brought those closely involved with SCP-2326 to yell at them. He didn't even get SCP-2326's designation correct. Fool.<br/> They weren't up for this nonsense. What hasn't Elise done to help? Over and over, their concerns were dismissed, turned down in favor of making Site-24 into a money pit, all for what?</p> <p>Elise grew detached, watching the monitors as SCP-2326 approached the edge of Canada, silently indulging in their own smug satisfaction at being correct. Carol had dug his own grave, and Elise will pay him with as much respect as he deserves. They put in an earbud, so obvious, visible in the blue glow, yet still going unnoticed by <span style="text-decoration: line-through;">Captain Ahab</span> Doctor Carol. Unnoticed, they will be, as the contacts get closer.</p> <blockquote> <p>Our time is running out.</p> </blockquote> <div class="footnotes-footer"> <div class="title">Footnotes</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-1"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-1')">1</a>. Strategic Air Command Museum. Site-24's front.</div> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-vic-and-the-pendulum">The Vic and the Pendulum</a>" by HorsellCommon, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-vic-and-the-pendulum">https://scpwiki.com/the-vic-and-the-pendulum</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module rate]] [[/>]] > I think I'm drowning, asphyxiated. Air conditioning is out. Beautiful. Doctor Elise Webb, half awake and operating on 4 hours of sleep, shifts into first gear after pulling out of the driveway. Their 317,000 mile CR-V still ripped despite being 23 years old, though the constant modification and maintenance has extended the life of it. Not bad for something Elise's parents bought for three thousand dollars. > I want to break this spell that you've created. They didn't know why the Foundation decided to rush new containment procedures on the Tango events. Whether the arrays failed, countermeasures weren't prepared, or maybe through plain stupidity. It doesn't matter now. However, Elise knew that it was a bad idea to have modified [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2326 SCP-2326-2]. No matter how many reports they wrote, the hard-headed fools at Site-24 decided to mess with SCP-2326-2, and drop it off on a platform in the Atlantic. Those lazy fucks were bullshitting their procedures and strategies just to maintain funding. Now, the world is about to pay the ultimate price. > You're something beautiful, a contradiction. Elise's phone buzzed. It gets even better. "Doctor Carol." Disappointing. At least they didn't have to pretend to be energetic today. > I want to play the game, I want the friction. "Doctor Webb. The Semi-Automatic Ground Environment integration has failed. Report to Site-24 immediately. A link with SCP-2326 instances was established for a couple of minutes and all it did was reroute them here." "Understood. I'll be there in about 8 minutes." "You will be here in 5." > You will be the death of me. Senior Researcher Rupert Carol hung up on them. A boring, stuffy Cold War pilot, overly formal and angry, even at the end of the world. Dick. Elise already knew what was happening. Why bother calling? They just got called less than 10 minutes ago! The migraines kicked in. It just keeps getting better for them. They elegantly cut across 3 lanes of traffic, weaving through the Midwest mess that is I-80 at 6 in the morning, and headed towards Site-24. Only, it wasn't elegant. The exit ramp was brutal and it smells like clutch in here. > Bury it. I wont let you bury it. I wont let you smother it. Elise rushed through security and parked inside the underground spaces at --Site-24-- the SAC Museum,[[footnote]] Strategic Air Command Museum. Site-24's front. [[/footnote]] the light tip tap of Elise's steps reverberating through the entire lot as they made their way onto the elevator. Idiots. Why did Carol think it was a good idea to wire a building-sized IBM with an anomalous Elbrus-3? Those computers came from two different sides of the Iron Curtain! No time to dwell on it. The bombers are headed to North America and it's the SCP Foundation's fault. Focus. Inside Site-24's conference hall, the cold, humming fluorescent lights were turned off. The exhausted engineers were shuffling papers and dropping diagrams. The AN/FSQ-7 IBM computer kept working the teleprinter. MTF Sigma-9 pilots were being scrambled to intercept the SCP-2326 instances. The bright, neon-like glow of the SAGE monitors was more than enough to keep everyone awake. Every action in the hall was robotic, cold, and unsympathetic. Doctor Carol smashed the conference hall's landline against a monitor. The deafening crack was enough to get everyone's attention, including Elise, who took their seat, not the least bit surprised at what was happening. "I don't care to acknowledge every single one of you. Your own fear and incompetence has assured me of what good that would do... SCP-2362's containment was MY project, and YOUR failure is costing us all greatly and has called my abilities into question!" > I wont let you murder it. That self centered asshole. Elise could imagine him twiddling his cartoonishly evil mustache (if he had one). Doctor Carol only brought those closely involved with SCP-2326 to yell at them. He didn't even get SCP-2326's designation correct. Fool. They weren't up for this nonsense. What hasn't Elise done to help? Over and over, their concerns were dismissed, turned down in favor of making Site-24 into a money pit, all for what? Elise grew detached, watching the monitors as SCP-2326 approached the edge of Canada, silently indulging in their own smug satisfaction at being correct. Carol had dug his own grave, and Elise will pay him with as much respect as he deserves. They put in an earbud, so obvious, visible in the blue glow, yet still going unnoticed by --Captain Ahab-- Doctor Carol. Unnoticed, they will be, as the contacts get closer. > Our time is running out. [[footnoteblock]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-05-08T14:59:00	[ "_licensebox", "military-fiction", "spy-fiction", "tale" ]	The Vic and the Pendulum - SCP Foundation	7	[ "scp-2326", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "young-and-under-30" ]	[]	1453563663	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-vic-and-the-pendulum
the-woman-in-the-boxes	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <ul class="modal-wrapper"> <li class="unfolded"> <div id="u-adult-warning"> <div id="u-adult-header"> <p>ADULT CONTENT</p> </div> <br/> This article contains adult content that may not be suitable for all readers. <div class="content-descriptor"><span style="display: none">Graphic depiction of blood, gore or mutilation of body parts</span><br/> <span style="display: block">Features sexual themes or language, but does not depict sexual acts.</span><br/> <span style="display: none">Explicit depiction of sexual acts.</span><br/> <span style="display: none">Features non-consensual sexual acts.</span><br/> <span style="display: none">Depiction of severe mistreatment of children</span><br/> <span style="display: none">Depiction of self-harm</span><br/> <span style="display: none">Depiction of suicide</span><br/> <span style="display: none">Depiction of torture</span><br/> <span style="display: none">{$custom-content}</span></div> <p>If you are above the age of 18+ and wish to read such content, then you may click Continue to view said content.</p> <div class="foldable-list-container choice"><a href="javascript:;">Continue</a></div> <div class="choice"><a href="/">Back to Front Page</a></div> </div> <br/></li> </ul> <div style="display: none"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">+ CODE</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">- CODE</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div style="text-align: left;"> <div class="code"> <div class="hl-main"> <pre><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BLANKSTYLE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CSS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">2021</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">Wikidot</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">Theme</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">By</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Placeholder</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">McD</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">HarryBlank</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Based</span><span class="hl-code"> on: </span><span class="hl-identifier">Paperstack</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Penumbra</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Montserrat</span><span class="hl-special">:ital</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">wght</span><span class="hl-var">@0</span><span class="hl-code">,800;1,800&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.9</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">1.6</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#container-wrap</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'Montserrat', </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-title, "R\</span><span class="hl-number">0026</span><span class="hl-code"> C SITE-43")</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">400</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-subtitle, "SUBVERTING COMMON PRACTICE")</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">700</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 707</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">a:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">1.6</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-title</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#footer</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#footer</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#efefef</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.empty</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#999999</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem!important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">7.9</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'Montserrat', </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.45</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#extra-div-1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">160</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Ablankstyle/</span><span class="hl-number">43</span><span class="hl-code">Head.png')</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> contain</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 707</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#extra-div-1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">body</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> linear-gradient( to </span><span class="hl-string">bottom</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">200</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">200</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-special">:root</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">timeScale:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">timeDelay:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">posX:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">358</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">13</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">fnLinger:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">12</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.35</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#DDD</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.open-menu</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 767</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-identifier">target</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">black</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FDF6D7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-var">#D7EFE7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.resources</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-var">#F5D8E0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.creditRate</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">PAGE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">RATING</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-points</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anchor</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> sticky</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.14</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc((</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vw - </span><span class="hl-number">870</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">)/</span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vh - </span><span class="hl-number">18</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">103.5</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 1290</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">visibility:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">h2:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">0.9</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">YUI</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TAB</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BASE</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">YUI</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TAB</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CUSTOMIZATION</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-wrap:</span><span class="hl-code"> wrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">.125</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">UNSELECTED</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#efefef</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">HOVER</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Listitem</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">relative</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-bottom</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">align-items:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.35</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.75</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> ellipsis</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">white-space:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">nowrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Selection</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">SELECTED</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:active</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">SCROLLBAR</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-track</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-thumb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#CCC</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-thumb</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#EEE</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">CENTER</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">IMAGES</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ON</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MOBILE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">courtesy</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">of</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">PeppersGhost</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.imagediv</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">right</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 540</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.imagediv</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">only</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">screen</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 600</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block.block-right</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">ACS-COLORED</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TABLE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">DIVS</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#D7EFE7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#D8ECF4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FDF6D7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFDABF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#F5D8E0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">146</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.wiki-content-table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-collapse:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">separate</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">img</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.top-left-box</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">.item</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">WORDS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">NO</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">LONGER</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BROKEN</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">THE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CROQUEMBOUCHE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">HAS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">SPOKEN</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">word-break:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">normal</span><span class="hl-code"> !important </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.avatar-hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#breadcrumbs</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.pseudocrumbs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> -- </span><span class="hl-identifier">FANCY</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">THINGS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">from</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Woedenaz</span><span class="hl-code">'</span><span class="hl-identifier">s</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Dustjacket</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> -- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fancyhr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--bright-accent), </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-source:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Aflopstyle-dark/wl_hr.png')</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> round round</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-slice:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-code"> fill</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fancyborder</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Aflopstyle-dark/wl_border.png') </span><span class="hl-number">600</span><span class="hl-code"> round</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span></pre></div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc0"><span>The Woman in the Boxes</span></h1> </div> <p>You are <a href="/art:loveterminal">the artist</a>. Hello, the artist.</p> <p>You open the door.</p> <p>You aren't sure what you expected to find on the other side, but this isn't it. Row after row on shelf over shelf of boxes full to bursting with… well, take one down and take a look. Take down a dozen. Take them all down. They're yours.</p> <p>Sketches, illustrations, half-baked notions and snippets of description, that's what the boxes are full of. Much of the art and florid language is in your hand, and the rest at least has your fingerprints on it. The first box you open features a margin-scrawled scribble, a re-drawn meme, a few pieces that would make an anatomist blush, a sheaf of very artistic and professional-looking renderings, and one extremely crude digital art likeness, the only thing in this box you didn't produce yourself. The anatomy here is dubious, the colour balance murky and the flourish nonexistent, but still it produces its effect on you. It was the first.</p> <p>It also doesn't even exist anymore, anywhere else. It looks kind of like this, but a whole lot worse:</p> <p>You've re-rendered this woman in this outfit more times than she ever canonically wore it, enough times that the image makes you feel proprietorial, amateurish as the foreign original might be. That other artist didn't manage much, but they did manage to capture some sense of the beauty, power, confidence, <em>arrogance</em> of their subject. Even in its vague and untutored first formulation, before you got your hands on it and gave it a practiced <em>twist,</em> you could and still can see that the woman in this image is a woman who would cheerfully choke a bitch.</p> <p>You don't feel guilty for the thrill of that thought. Not in here, where it's only you girls.</p> <p>The other boxes are much the same. Patterns for a doll. Studies of a spindly-fingered hand. White-crested waves of cool blue hair — light blue is white on white, dark blue is black on white, art is weird sometimes — sharp, icy eyes that pierce you even though you're the one who committed them to paper. You created them.</p> <p>You know that in more than one sense, yours is the most faithful corner of this complex. Walk in one of the directions you're not walking in right now, and you'd be bound to end up in some remote, uncluttered corner where you could find her rendered short, or blonde, or green-eyed — the latter a result of a long-standing misunderstanding to which you are immune. Somewhere out there is a corner where she has a brother named Lyle, or a fondness for Will Wood, or worse. The artists and writers who enter through those doors do so infrequently. They flirt with the subject of this archive, which is distressing, since you are married to her.</p> <p>More than that, you've even been on a date. Sort of.</p> <p>Something like you met something like her, once. An avatar and a parody, together in racy — but not nearly racy enough — satire. It didn't so much scratch the itch as outline and emphasize it for you. You didn't take it personally, you wanted it to get more personal.</p> <p>And so here you are. You are the artist, and she is the art, and she is here as well. Not the embedded fiction of Lillian Lillihammer, learning memetic thaumaturgy at a glacial pace because the writer responsible has severely misguided priorities, but the core constellation of ideas and interpretations which persists between stories. Somewhere in here, you know, is the real, truly real, Lillian Lillihammer, because this is the archive of <em>her.</em></p> <p>You know to be suspicious of this thought even as it crosses your mind. This has the trappings of a cautionary tale. <em>Doki Doki SCP Foundation.</em> Are you being set up for an unwanted lesson on the limits of fictionality and the merits of touching grass?</p> <p>Of course not. That would be a shitty <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/forum/t-16456604/12th-annual-art-exchange">Christmas present</a>, wouldn't it? And on December the 25th, 2023, there is precious little grass available for touching in Canada.</p> <p>No.</p> <p>She's definitely here.</p> <p>And you're definitely doing this.</p> <p>Because may god and the devil and everything else in between help us all, it's what you <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/forum/t-16456604/12th-annual-art-exchange#post-6248933">fucking asked for</a>.</p> <p>What is her default state? Where does her pattern hold? <em>Where do you find her?</em></p> <p>Where else?</p> <p>You've never been to this place before, and yet, it's where you met. She is standing on the rocky shore in a white jumpsuit with a high collar, holding a black umbrella and standing defiantly upright in a sea-whipped breeze. Her hair is streaming out behind her, long tendrils of soft white, and she is powerful, she is beautiful, and nothing intervenes to ruin the perfection of this moment. It would be crass to interrupt the scene with a stray ivory lock across those furious features, or a sudden spray of salt from the rumbling breakers, or a curse at the inclement weather from those wicked, thin lips. So she stands, and she endures, she is a snapshot of herself reframed and touched up by an artist with an appropriate sense of her splendour and uniqueness. To wit, you.</p> <p>Of course, you are also here. It is very windy, and it is very cold, and you are very small, and while both of you are very real, she is the only one benefitting from narrative staging. So, of course, you shiver, and then, of course, you sneeze.</p> <p>She turns to face you, and the hair changes course to wrap around her sharp features like a sail, and she screams, "Oh, for FUCK'S SAKE! Son of a BITCH! GESUNDHEIT!" She really puts her pearly whites on display with that last word. German was practically invented for screaming.</p> <p>She pulls a handkerchief out of her belt. The original illustration showed no such thing, but you know her to be a practical woman. She's always ready for whatever happens. She flicks it at you, and the breeze carries it directly into your face. You reach up, bunch it in over your nose, and clean the snot off your face, and lock eyes with her. You have met for the first time, yet again. What does this make? Twice? Three times? A thousand?</p> <p>She stalks toward you. She is tall, and her legs are very long. She's wearing tall black boots, and for a moment the perspective generates a dark fantasy in your mind. She has the high ground, you have the low ground, and she's getting larger as she gets closer, and you imagine those big black boots becoming obsidian towers in the landscape, that unforgettable face glaring down from above like an angry star, and then she raises one heel and brings it down—</p> <p>"The fuck are we doing here?" she demands, and you see her again as she really is, merely a foot and a half taller than you. The official figure is presently six feet, three inches, but you don't respect that. You're sure she's more like six and a half, and so, in this moment, she is. This close and you can see the imperfections in her skin, the lines around her mouth and on her forehead, lines that don't exist in the 'original article' because the originator idealizes her to an honestly embarrassing extent, whereas you merely idealize what would actually <em>be.</em> Your way is more honest, and so with you, she is more real. If she knows about this, she almost certainly won't thank you for it.</p> <p>She asked you a question. Your answer is "Uh."</p> <p>"Uh," she spits into the back of the wind, "is not an answer. I fucking hate Australia. I was very, very quite clear about that the last time I was here. Why am I in Australia?" She is standing so close to you that it hurts your neck to look up at her, looking down at you. "Why are <em>we</em> in Australia?"</p> <p>Her physical proximity and rising colour make you panic a little bit, but still you know to take a second and consider the question before responding. She is, from her perspective, in something of a dream. Being who she is, she's nevertheless reacting with something like her full faculties. A lie might not go over well. But would the truth? Better to keep it vague.</p> <p>"It's pretty," you tell her.</p> <p>She laughs. She laughs like a sick donkey. It's ungraceful, unladylike, and completely unaffected. It's a bray. You know she's doing this on purpose. You know she knows she could pull off the ice queen look, regal and spotless, and she's choosing instead to flex; she can drag herself down as far as she wants without harming her effect even a little. "The only thing I have in common with an oil painting," she tells you, and she leans down, and for a moment you consider doing something that would land you on the rocks with a whole new suite of bruises, and she finishes her sentence right into your nose, "is that you SHOULD NOT GET ME WET."</p> <p>You suppress a thousand filthy responses to this, many of which she would almost certainly appreciate, and force yourself to stop trembling. Maybe it even works. You point up the hill, to where a lighthouse in tidy red brick sits waiting to warn incoming ships that there is a hazard, a sharp, unyielding hazard here which will break them into tiny pieces if they strike it at speed, and you say "We could go inside?"</p> <p>"Why is that a question?" She storms past you, and you hurry to keep up. "Inside is always better. Jesus Christ, did you plan <em>any</em> of this? You call me up somewhere I can't even HEAR MYSELF THINK," the wind is only rising a little, not nearly enough to justify the sudden shouting, "somewhere I BASICALLY HAVE TO SCREAM AT YOU, and you think oh, it's alright, it looks <em>pretty.</em>" She shakes her head, and is now wearing most of her hair as a double-wrapped scarf. She hollers something unintelligible and foul as you crest the hill together.</p> <p>Somewhere behind you, in the distance, a cherry red SUV drives away. It came here for a different story. It's leaving confused.</p> <p>She takes one look around the interior of the lighthouse and decides it's not good enough. You can tell by the way her shoulders hunch up, her back arcs, and she stands up a little on the tips of her toes as though summoning a pair of symbolic high heels. Bitch mode. She wheels on you, and before she can say anything, you raise your hands defensively and say… nothing, actually. What could you say? It's not your fault lighthouses are boring inside? It's not your fault she's so glamorous that she'd make the ballroom at the Ritz look cheap and gaudy? What?</p> <p>She huffs, and puffs, and then heads up the spiral staircase. You follow, watching her sway her way up, up, up, and a few times you nearly pass out from the blood rushing to your head, and you think <em>She probably wouldn't come back down to see if I'm okay.</em> For some reason, the thought excites you more, and you have to stop thinking it or you really will pass out.</p> <p>At the top of the lighthouse, there is a view. It is a view of more Australia, which under normal circumstances you might find quite arresting, for a few seconds, but right now you're still in the middle of your very first face-to-face with Lillian Lillihammer in this context, so honestly Australia can get fucked. Judging from the look on Lillian's face, the two of you are thinking the same thing for the first time today.</p> <p>She walks to the nearest window and looks out at the ocean pensively. "What do you think I was looking at?" she asks, and you assume it's a question for you, because otherwise she's talking to herself in your company, and that's not great.</p> <p>"The water?" you hazard.</p> <p>She snorts. Wrinkles up her nose and snorts. It's wild how she knows exactly how to disrupt her own elegance for maximum effect. She's like a human lava lamp. "We've got water in Canada. I work next to a lake. Try again."</p> <p>You try again. You try to internalize some of the cool cleverness she exudes, taking a deep breath of clean southern air and exciting your already overstimulated brain cells. What you come up with is "I don't think you were looking at anything."</p> <p>She spins, hair spiralling everywhere, and leans back on the window. "Exactly! Because there's sweet fuck all out there. I was standing on the shore and looking out at sweet fuck all because some prick thought that would make for a striking image. How sad is that?"</p> <p>You find it difficult to comment. You found the image striking enough to recreate it, better, half a dozen times. Enough to get problematically attached to a fictional character. And you don't feel sad. How could you? Right now? Right here? With her?</p> <p>"Of course," she muses, "it was mostly for comedic effect. Right? The thing with the hair, and the swearing." She pulls a handful in front of her face and mocks an angry expression. All you can see is the eyebrows. Fake angry faces are cute.</p> <p>You don't think she'd like to hear that you think she's being cute.</p> <p>"We could go somewhere else," you suggest. "And talk."</p> <p>She raises an eyebrow. Both of her eyebrows are always partially raised, by virtue of that devilish little peak people always draw on eyebrows when they want a woman to look sexy. Of course she has those. "Like a little coffee shop in Grand Bend, maybe? That what you want?"</p> <p>You look down at your feet, then back up at her. Her brow has inched up further.</p> <p>"Yeah, I remember. Of course I do. And it looks like you do, too. So that's where we stand." She turns to look out at the sea again, resting her chin on her shoulder. "You came down from the mountain for a weird science date, and now you've brought <em>me</em> up <em>here.</em>"</p> <p>This is not a fair assessment. The weird science dates were, in fact, a thing done to you both by someone else. That someone made a judgement call, deciding you'd find it too appealing to be offended, and they'd been right. But it hadn't been your idea.</p> <p>This, though. This was definitely your idea. But you're still not doing it, and you feel like you ought to tell her that.</p> <p>"I'm not doing this," you say.</p> <p>She doesn't turn back to look at you.</p> <p>"But I did want it done."</p> <p>She turns back to look at you. "So, let's do it then. Show me what you've got. I'm hoping you've got more than <em>Australia.</em>"</p> <p>As you try to think of a better venue for whatever this is going to turn into, you can't help but think to yourself <em>a whole-ass continent is not enough for this bitch.</em></p> <p>You can't pretend to be surprised, and you can't pretend you aren't pleased.</p> <p>Where do people go on dates? Well, you know the answer to that. You've got ideas. But are they Lillian Lillihammer ideas? Are they good enough for her? Good enough for real people, sure, but her? Probably not.</p> <p>You could take her to the park. You've taken her to the park before! Sort of. It was sort of her. Does she know about that? She probably knows about that.</p> <p>"Yeah," she says, walking primly along the edge of a pond flush with green life. "I remember this. Riding in your backpack. That's weird. You know that's weird, right?"</p> <p>"Of course I know it's weird," you mean to think to yourself, but don't. "How would it not be weird? I just don't care."</p> <p>She smiles at you with nothing but friendliness for the first time since this… date? Since this date started. "Yeah," she says. "There she is. You ever hear a really shit impression of someone? Celebrity impression?" She glances down at the water, dipping the toe of her boot at the surface, then drawing back. "Everyone sucks at those. At best they sound like one <em>mood,</em> and who's got just the one mood? So it doesn't work." She yawns, and leans back on the balls of her feet. "And that's what the VKTM bullshit was like, you know? Poor little mousy little <em>you,</em>" and she leans down, bending at the waist, and pats you on the top of your head, and you hope she can't hear your thoughts even though she <em>is</em> your thoughts, "just a smol lil' bean, that kind of bullshit, and me the big scary sex lady, because whoever wrote that shit wasn't paying enough attention to both sides. We both know you've got a DGAF streak, right? Let it all hang out. Quiet voice, LOUD VOICE, horny voice." She's shouting in your face again.</p> <p>"It's mostly horny voice," you admit.</p> <p>She laughs, and claps her hands. "There she IS. Alright. We're cooking. I can work with this." She's now rubbing her hands together. "We're not blowing our opportunity on a literal walk in the literal park. Go deeper." She cocks her head, and whispers it again: "<em>Go deeper.</em>"</p> <p>You go deeper.</p> <p>A nondescript dorm room. An ugly couch lovingly recreated from canon. You have drawn this couch. Nobody else has drawn this couch. You are the authority on this couch, so she will recognize it for what it is.</p> <p>"Hey," she says. "It's that couch." She nods. "Cool beans."</p> <p>And she begins to cough.</p> <p>There's rags stuffed under the crack where the dorm room door meets the hall. The air is thick with something rancid. You raise your eyebrows at her as if to say "Eh? Eh?" as you hand her the joint.</p> <p>She swats it out of your hand. It scatters sparks all over the carpet. "Smells like shit," she says. "Think this through, would you? I'm fictional. I'm the most competent fictional person in an organization of competent fictional people. Everything I do is better than everything you do. If I smoke pot, I smoke better pot than you can <em>dream.</em>"</p> <p>You choose to take issue with the second-to-last clause. "I've seen your art," you say. "You ain't shit at art."</p> <p>She takes a swing at you, and catches hair. She flips the hair in front of your face, so you can't see. When you flip it back, her nose is <em>literally touching your nose.</em> You're breathing her air. She says: "You've seen <em>my</em> art, shorty? I've seen <em>your</em> art."</p> <p>She presses forward. The tips of your noses squish. Yours more than hers.</p> <p>"And you draw my tits too big. Now, can we ditch the—"</p> <p>You poke her in the chest, twice, with your two forefingers. "They seem right to me," you say.</p> <p>She pushes you over. You hit your head.</p> <p>You're in your room. You're <em>both</em> in your room. You fell, and you hit your head, and between that and that you thought "maybe she'll fall on me," and now here you are. In your room. You're on your bed.</p> <p>She is not on you. She's not on the bed, either. She's in the corner, where you have apparently cleared a space big enough for a human-sized cage. There is a human in it. She does not look impressed.</p> <p>"I might have given you the wrong impression." She wraps her long, thin fingers around the bars. "This kind of weird goes at the <em>end</em> of the date. Do you want this to be the end of the date?"</p> <p>You sit up, and dangle your legs off the side of the bed. The cage is on the floor, and it's only a few feet tall, so for the first time she's not towering over you. You look her over speculatively. Nope. Still intimidating. "Why don't you magic your way out of there?" you suggest.</p> <p>She glares at you. "That's not the kind of magic I do."</p> <p>"What <em>is</em> the kind of magic you do?" You bounce on the bed a little. "That fucker never finished your SCP article. Never even <em>started</em> it. Photoshopped some Russian chick to look like you, and left it at that."</p> <p>She's still sitting there in her Australia suit. She picks at the lapel. "I was <em>based</em> on some Russian chick."</p> <p>You go and get her a mirror. "You don't look Russian. At all."</p> <p>She doesn't bother looking. "Of course not. I look like whatever wine aunt bullshit turns you on. You walked in on me from the you-door. I'm you-me."</p> <p>"Yumi," you repeat. "I'm going to call you that now."</p> <p>She shakes her head. "No, you're not. You'd miss hearing my actual name. You're a weird pervert for my <em>actual name,</em> Margie."</p> <p>It's the first time she's called you something. You tell her: "That's not <em>my</em> actual name."</p> <p>She shrugs.</p> <p>"Don't shrug. That's not what I call myself."</p> <p>She shrugs again, with emphasis this time, the tax you pay for having dared to tell her what to do. "Well, what do you call yourself, then?"</p> <p>You don't tell her. You <em>can't</em> tell her. You actually, legitimately cannot tell her what your name is. She probably knows; certainly she knows. This woman has lived with you. You have carried this woman around in your backpack. You have played dress up with this woman. She is on your computer. She is on your phone. She is in your brain. This woman knows enough things about you that if she were a real, flesh and blood human being, she could kick off a series of events that would end with you starving to death happy in this very room. She knows your name. But she can't say it right now, and you can't say it either, and that is… interesting?</p> <p>"So," she says, watching your mind race. "About this whole human trafficking thing."</p> <p>You take off one sock, and sit down next to the cage. "I want to try something."</p> <p>She stares at you. "I do <em>not</em> want to try someth—"</p> <p>You lean back, and put your foot into her face.</p> <p>She bites your toes. All five at once.</p> <p>You push her over.</p> <p>Another dorm room. It's full of naked women.</p> <p>"Oh," she says. "Come <em>on.</em> This is too meta even for you."</p> <p>The other women don't notice. They're <a href="/testing-the-margins">playing Uno</a>. They're not all naked; most of them have at least one article of clothing left, else they would already have lost the game. This scene exists <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/forum/t-15388623/11th-annual-holiday-art-exchange#post-5715383">because of you</a>, but it was executed by someone who really should have known better.</p> <p>"What do you think he was thinking?" Lillian is sitting primly, feet up on the edge of her stool to obscure… you choose not to think about that, hands oriented to obscure the rest up top. She's wearing cat ears. You can count the number of freckles she has on her chest. You can see where her ribs are. You can estimate her body fat. You're taking mental photographs. "Posting this, I mean. Refuge in audacity? 'Wasn't my idea, don't blame me'? Maybe he figured doing it for your Christmas present meant he'd get to dodge the criticism. 'Don't worry, I'm still a mentally-evolved bleeding heart leftist ally, it's just I was writing this gift for a chick who likes chicks, so that's the <em>sole and only reason</em> it includes a scene where all my female characters take their clothes off'."</p> <p>You pick up an upended stool, and sit down. You don't think you could stay upright otherwise. Beside you, Udo Okorie is… you don't look at her. Beside Udo, Delfina Ibanez is also not being looked at by you. In the distance, Karen Elstrom is walking to the washroom. She has lost the game. You accidentally look. You intentionally stop looking. This is beyond too much.</p> <p>She throws down her cards. "I don't know how to play this stupid game."</p> <p>She doesn't bother putting her arms back in place.</p> <p>She makes eye contact.</p> <p>You're able to keep your eyes up there for, oh… just barely long enough to confirm that she was making eye contact.</p> <p>"They're definitely the right size," you say.</p> <p>"This isn't canon," she responds.</p> <p>"Why not?"</p> <p>The words hang in the air. The other players in the game keep playing, regardless of the fact that Lillian has stopped. This time you do hold her eye contact. Her bright, energetic, intelligent, fuck-you-up-on-the-side-of-the-road blue eyes. What are you thinking? Her, you… is there even any difference between the two?</p> <p>"There is no canon," you say.</p> <p>"That," she sneers, "is almost exclusively deployed by lazy writers and lazy readers."</p> <p>"Okay," and you stand up, "but seriously. What makes this any less canon than anything else that's ever happened to you? There's an in-universe explanation for me. We've even met before. There's a whole system of weird science to explain shit like this."</p> <p>"That's your argument?" She stands up. Oh, good great god jesus christ oh my what the fuck she stands up, and walks over to you, and you are simultaneously just under five feet tall and a pink puddle on the floor that she walks through with her naked feet. "You're one of them, you're a Swann Entity, so anything you dream up is real? Real on my level, if not on yours?"</p> <p>"Yes," you squeak. You resist the urge to reach out and touch her. You don't think you'd ever recover, emotionally, from getting beaten up by a naked Lillian Lillihammer. How would you ever match that high?</p> <p>"Don't fucking <em>squeak.</em>" She reaches down, grabs your hand, and pulls you up. You didn't realize you were down. You thought the puddle thing was metaphorical. Someone seems to have lost the plot. It was probably you. "You're not doing that submissive bullshit here. If this is happening, there has to be a <em>point.</em> You learn something, I learn something, something conclusive is achieved. Or it's just masturbatory fanfiction." She pokes you in the nose so hard and so sudden that it aches. You smile. "And don't say that it's all masturbatory fanfiction, that's a stupid fucking argument and you know it."</p> <p>"I made you," you say. "You're my fiction. I'm your fan."</p> <p>She puts a hand on your forehead, and pushes you back. You stagger until you hit a wall; she leans forward, supporting her weight via her palm on your forehead. She hangs her head down low, digging her toes into the carpet to stay upright, and a curtain of her hair falls all around you, hiding everything but her face. It's like woven silk. She says: "Prove it."</p> <p>And then you realize.</p> <p>You <em>can.</em></p> <p>You can prove it.</p> <p>"I know," you breathe.</p> <p>She breathes your air, this time. "You know what?"</p> <p>"I know where to take your on our date."</p> <p>You open the door for her, and bow low. "Ladies first."</p> <p>She catches the hair on the top of your head on the way by, and drags you in after her.</p> <p>You're back in the archives. Rows on rows of boxes on shelves, the sum total of what has gone into the simulacrum of Lillian Lillihammer who now stands right in the middle of them. For the first time, she looks genuinely uncertain of what to do.</p> <p>So you pick a box, and you pick it up, and you shove it into her stomach. The impact is lessened by the leopard print dress she's now wearing. You look down, past the box. She's wearing those stockings you drew. You shouldn't have spent so much time on the detail. It's coming back to bite you. You want her to bite you.</p> <p>She pulls the lid off the box. "This one," she says, "is full of—."</p> <p>You take the lid away from her, and close the box around her hand. "Yeah," you say, turning away before she can see the look on your face. "Yeah, there'll be a lot of that. Okay. Try this one instead."</p> <p>She goes for the lucky dip again, this time coming away with a pile of scraps. Little snippets of text. She reads them out loud, one by one. "'She was a woman of two aspects. One conferred the posture of a satisfied cat in the sun; the other, an unsatisfied cat in the presence of a second, unfamiliar cat. In the former she was narrow-eyed, smug, and distant; in the latter she was nervous, agitated, and prone to sudden explosions of ferality.'" She sighs. "How much you want to bet this fucker never describes his male characters like this?" She clears her throat, and finishes the passage. "'The determining factor in which aspect she adopted was also distinctly feline: either she was doing what she wanted to do, or she was not.' Terrific. Fucking great. I'm seeing purple." She fishes out another. "'The fact that she'd shown up wearing a pair of cat ears had thrown everyone off their game'… this is just the Uno shit again." Another. "'The pose that Dr. Lillihammer took reminded Bastien of a cat right before it bit the head off of a mouse,' are these seriously…" She drops the box on your foot. It's a box of paper scraps. It doesn't hurt. "Are these seriously just all the times people have compared me to a cat? That's a big part of my <em>existential makeup</em> now?"</p> <p>Your cheeks are burning. "There's probably a box full of all the times you hissed and purred and clawed at shit, too."</p> <p>"I do not <em>claw at shit,</em>" she hisses. She stalks down the aisles, selects another box at random, and pulls it open. "There are three pieces of paper in here," she announces. "The first says 'CAT MILFDDS CAT MIFLD CAT MILGSS GAT MILD CAT MILLFS CAT MYILKFS," the second says 'CAT MILFLS CAT MILDDDD CAT MILDD CAT MILFGS VAT MOLD CAT MILOF CAT MILFS CATNNIN," and the third says, and I remind you that I quote, 'CAT MILFS THAF ARE HUMAN CA TMIKFD THAT RE HUMAN CAT MILFLS THAT SDTR HIMMAN'." She frowns, and runs her thumb along the third scrap. "My bad, there's a fourth one in here I didn't see. It just says 'LILLIAN LILLIHAMMER'. Thanks for the clarification."</p> <p>"We're looking at the wrong boxes," you explain, very reasonably. "These are the wrong boxes. There's a lot of them." You wave. "Lots of boxes."</p> <p>She proceeds to dismantle an entire aisle. You follow, cleaning up after her. "Evangelion memes," she snorts. "Very original. Oh, you play The Sims? That's a surprise. I wouldn't have thought you'd be into controlling little paper dolls and deciding what they get to wear and who they get to fuck. This one's got video. Is that <em>your</em> heavy breathing? Oh, hey, this one's different." She waves the box comprising <em>this one</em> at you. "It's a digital readout of your web search history. Really specific excerpts from your web search history."</p> <p>"Everyone has web search history," you say. You're still picking up papers.</p> <p>"Yeah, but your web search history is <em>baked into my bones,</em> bitch." She's relentless. She's going through every box, and…</p> <p>"Hold on a second."</p> <p>"There's a computer terminal over here," she calls out. "What's #lillihammered? What the fuck is—"</p> <p>"HOLD ON." You stomp over, not bothering to pick up the rest of the papers. "I'm calling bullshit. This isn't fair <em>at all.</em>"</p> <p>She's hunched over the computer she found. She's scrolling through Discord message history. You see "oh… mm … ya… what’s that … the ambient vibrations of my shitposts bouncing off the walls… i think it’s gaining sapience," and you think <em>ooh, good find, that one's very on-topic.</em></p> <p>You pull her away from the screen. She straightens up, and looks down her nose at you. Uncharacteristically, she waits. Maybe she really does like it when you're assertive like that. You test the theory, and press on. "There's something going on here." You wave at the archive. "Nothing you've pulled out is about <em>me,</em> not really. There's nothing in here about the media I've consumed, the experiences I've had, my romantic relationships, my family relationships, my friends… it's all just… little events that other people saw, and media I've made. It's like a superficial skim of what I've put into you."</p> <p>She raises both eyebrows this time. "What have <em>you put into me?</em>"</p> <p>You want to dodge that hook, because the tale's more than half over already and you definitely need to focus, but you can't help yourself. "There's a box somewhere around here with a list," you snap, and her eyes shine bright with delighted joy. "But shut the fuck up and <em>listen.</em> This is like the cartoon version of my contributions. I didn't invent you, but I sure as fuck evolved you. I picked your <em>ethnicity,</em> as a <em>joke,</em> for a <em>friend.</em>" You poke her in the chest, and she burps lightly. "I was like the second person ever to try drawing you, and half the people on Reddit who know you exist know because of me. I whined like a puppy who wants to go for a walk <em>over and over again</em> until the people who write the words agreed to write more words about you, and all those words are a little bit because of me, too, about what I wanted to know, about what I wanted to <em>see.</em> I've asked questions about you that didn't have answers until I asked the questions, so the questions <em>caused</em> the answers, and they made you more real, and half the time I think the answers were targeted to what I wanted them to be, so it was <em>me</em> making you more real. When people write about you, and they picture you, they're picturing <em>my pictures.</em> Even the ones who have pictures of their own. Even the one who made the <em>first picture.</em>" You stick your finger in the crook of her vest, and pull it until the first button slips out. She doesn't say a thing, she just stares. "I'm the reason people know your eyes are blue even though that confusing bit in 'Meanwhile, in Australia' makes it sound like they might be green. I'm the reason people know your hair is white even though your hair was red in like fifty tales. <em>I'm the reason you know what Uno is.</em>"</p> <p>"I don't like knowing what Uno is," she whispers.</p> <p>"<em>And I don't care,</em>" you whisper back. "You don't have to like it. People don't like everything about themselves. But I like everything about you, even the things that suck. You barely existed when I found you, but I loved what was there, so I put other things that I love in there, and it made you exist more. If I didn't clap back about you, you wouldn't be the main character. You're the main character because my feedback says it's okay for you to be the main character."</p> <p>She puts her finger under your nose and uses it to tip your head back. "This," she says, "is still just little events that other people saw, and media you've made, and a superficial skim of what you've put into me. Why is that?"</p> <p>I mean, I think it's pretty obvious at this point.</p> <p>"Oh," she says. She closes her eyes. "Oh, for fuck's sake, we're doing <em>this</em> now."</p> <p>Well, I'm sorry to break the spell, but she came right out and asked, didn't she?</p> <p>"You could have let it go," you sigh. You had her alone. You had her to <em>yourself.</em> Or at least we were all pretending you did.</p> <p>But what would be the point of that? Letting it go? Neither of you can say or do anything that isn't in my head, because I'm the one holding the reins, I'm the one on the keyboard right now, and this isn't NCIS, so I can't have a copilot. I'm writing both of you. I know pretty well exactly how one of you will behave — only pretty well exactly, because it's not <em>my</em> version of her, it's <em>yours,</em> and I'm sure I'm getting some of it wrong — but I can't claim to know all the things you've put into your conception of who she is.</p> <p>"Sort your subjects out," Lillian snaps. "I can't even tell who you're talking to."</p> <p>I'm talking to the artist. Hello, the artist. Are you enjoying this so far? It's probably not what you wanted, but for now it's what you're getting. Someone else was working on something that would probably have turned out a lot better, but shit happens and therefore other shit <em>doesn't</em> happen, at least not yet, so you'll have to wait for that. Today, it's my metatextual ramblings.</p> <p>Obviously you didn't want to write this yourself. I get that. It needs a phantom hand to feel real. And I do know the material like nobody else… but someone less meek and prudish might have been able to get you a little further before tastefully turning the camera away.</p> <p>"Hey." She stamps her foot. "We're not doing any camera-turning. We're not going to fuck just because you're looking the other way."</p> <p>"Well," you say. "Let's not rule anything out just yet."</p> <p>"I have an idea." Lillian walks to the space between the aisles, and spins in place, searching the horizon. "How big is this place? Where does your bit end?"</p> <p>She's asking you. You shrug. It wasn't your decision to conceptualize the interior of Lillian Lillihammer's ephemeral internet character as a hall full of boxes. You would have thought of something cleverer. This is what you get when a historian — you don't say it as 'an' historian, because honestly, who does that — dreams that shit up.</p> <p>She goes for a walk, and of course, you follow. The shelves, you now notice, are often subtly different in this part of the archive. Different heights, different lengths and widths, even different materials altogether sometimes. There are doors, too, like the door you came in through. Lillian scrabbles through a box where every mention calls her "Lillianhammer," tosses it aside, and takes a peek behind the associated door.</p> <p>She slams it shut, and shudders. "Poland," she explains, and you move on.</p> <p>Here there's a cozy little nook, just a few shelves with boxes featuring illustrations in a very different style from the ones in your own boxes. Lillian's hair is blonde. She considers this carefully, perhaps speculatively. You snatch the picture from her hand, put it back in the box, and tell her 'no' like she's your pet chihuahua. She flicks you in the forehead and walks away.</p> <p>This section is piled full of Vikander-Kneed material. Whoever comes in through that door spends a lot of time thinking about Lillian as a student of memetic media. Haha, it's funny because we're pretending we don't know who these people are.</p> <p>"Ha ha," Lillian snarls. "I do like the VKTM bits, though. Wettle always gets hurt."</p> <p>Not always.</p> <p>"Always in the ones I remember."</p> <p>"Hey," you say. You wave your hands, as though you think you might just be too short to be noticed. "Don't talk to my girlfriend. This is <em>our</em> date."</p> <p>"I'm never said I was your girlfriend," she says over her shoulder. She doesn't then say that she isn't.</p> <p>You become aware of a change in the air. You're moving through a transitional space. The space beyond is much, much larger. And actually, you decide you don't want to do this, so you turn and walk away.</p> <p>"No," Lillian grins, "we do not." She turns to face you, still walking backwards. It's a thing she likes to do. Shows off that catlike poise. "You want to get some real dirt? Consider this our Christmas shopping trip."</p> <p>Okay, I think it's time I wound this story down.</p> <p>"We haven't even fucked," Lillian sings as she picks up a box from the new wall of shelves, which stretches off into the far distance. "Wouldn't be a very good romance tale if it ends before we fucked. And we're not doing that," she pulls the lid off, "until <em>you</em> get fucked for putting us through this bullshit instead of giving us a normal god damn date like any sensible author would have."</p> <p>The box contains a dossier. The first thing in the dossier is a photograph of a woman. She's short, and she's grinning. She looks nothing like Lillian. Her name isn't Lillian. But there's a mischief in her eyes that looks familiar… you might have enjoyed knowing whoever this was, you think.</p> <p>Lillian makes a little 'o' face of surprise. "You based me on some… weird little…?"</p> <p>I mean, not really? Character writing is about synthes—</p> <p>You're devouring the dossier now. There's an executive summary. You marvel at the similarities and differences between this real human relationship and the fictional one you've been digesting and re-digesting for ages. You point out some of the more direct parallels to Lillian. She whistles appreciatively, and swears.</p> <p>She picks up another box, and tosses the lid on the floor. "This one's about some punk kid. There isn't even an updated photo, they haven't talked in ages. Kid used to walk into his house and start playing with his Nintendo…" She stops reading, and stares. "Did you just put a bunch of different people in a fucking <em>blender?</em>"</p> <p>You're not any one person, alright? I just borrowed some traits here and there, this is how most peop—</p> <p>"I found the brainstorming file," you call out. Lillian scurries over to read it over your shoulder, or rather the top of your head. "Did you know he never intended to make it clear you're trans?"</p> <p>I thought it was more tasteful if the evidence was there, but people had to put it tog—</p> <p>"What the fuck?" Lillian stabs at the page you've just started reading. She's already read it all. "You made up <em>all</em> of my backstory on the fly?"</p> <p>Yeah, I mean, I think it's better to have a character <em>tell you</em> who they are somet—</p> <p>"Your eyes WERE green originally!" you yelp. "He fucked up!"</p> <p>I DID NOT F—</p> <p>Lillian slides down the aisles like she's skating on ice, and finds a locked door labelled 'AUDITORIUM' on the far wall. "What's in here?"</p> <p>The auditorium.</p> <p>"I don't think it <em>is</em> locked, actually," you declare, and you make a solid attempt to kick the door open.</p> <p>Then Lillian kicks the door open for real.</p> <p>Inside, you find… an auditorium. All the seats are empty down to the front row, where one is occupied. In the middle of the stage is a couch, <em>the couch,</em> and on the couch there is a sleeping woman. She has a longer nose than the woman you're with, and fewer lines on her face, and more prominent cheekbones and chin, and she's also exactly the same woman all over again. She's lying the fuck out of on that couch — now there's a creative clause for you — like she's trying to keep it from getting away by splaying over it as much as possible. She's talking to the guy in the front row, and could the two of you back there please keep it the fuck down, we're talking through a really important scene and oh for fuck's sake don't come <em>down here.</em></p> <p>"I'd definitely crack a joke," my Lillian is telling me. "Under no circumstances would I not crack a joke. Especially since <em>you</em> won't be cracking any."</p> <p>"I'll be shell-shocked," I say back to her. "Heartbroken. Of course I won't be cracking a joke. And you wouldn't do it either, because you <em>know</em> I'm shell-shocked and heartbroken, and you are not wholly without tact."</p> <p>"Yeah, but that's the thing," and she rearranges herself to depress and embarrass the couch better, "I'd be trying to raise the mood. Obviously I'll be all fucked up too, but I'll want to, you know, jazz the vibe a bit. I'm generous like that, when I need to be."</p> <p>"Jazz the vibe," I snort. "This is the tragic climax of a whole year's work, for fuck's sake. You'll jazz the vibe in the <em>main</em> climax, for gallows humour. You won't do it <em>here,</em> the story needs to be at low ebb."</p> <p>She snorts back at me. "Buddy, you know what I'd do. This is just part of you telling the other part of you. Don't call up the simulation if you're gonna ignore the results."</p> <p>She notices you.</p> <p>She also notices herself.</p> <p>She says, very slowly, "Hiiiii."</p> <p>I do not turn around. I already know you're here, trying to get <em>spoilers,</em> or else see how far I'm going to take this bizarre extrapolation of the nature of shared fictional creations, and I'm really not into it. I am having a conversation with an element of my personality, who is, yes, made up of elements of other people's personalities as well, and some of yours, and some random shit that's webbed in between, because <em>that's how characters work,</em> and it's been a private conversation until now.</p> <p>"This is weird," you say. "I just wanted a porn story."</p> <p>You can't ask for a porn story for Art Exchange.</p> <p>"Yeah," you admit, "but like… I thought I might get one anyway? If I just kind of <em>implied</em> it enough. Did you read the small text?"</p> <p>"I did not agree to be in a porn story." Lillian rests an elbow on your shoulder, and begins to drive you down into the carpet by centimetres. "I'm not saying I wouldn't have, but—"</p> <p>"You guys on a date or something?" the Lillian on the couch, my Lillian, asks. "Sounds better than this pointless Q&A."</p> <p>Hey.</p> <p>Your Lillian shrugs. "It <em>was</em> a date. Then it was a sort of factfinding mission. Now it's just kind of a clusterfuck?"</p> <p>My Lillian nods. "Find any interesting facts?"</p> <p>Yours stops to consider. "I found out that the writer's inspiration isn't any more profound than the artist's, I guess."</p> <p>Hey.</p> <p>"Hey," you say. You detected the hint of an insult in there.</p> <p>Your Lillian stops trying to slow-motion piledrive you and ruffles your hair affectionately. "Keep your shirt on, squirt. Big women are talking."</p> <p>This is supposed to be her Christmas pr—</p> <p>"Oh, shut the fuck up," my Lillian says. She says that a lot. "If this is supposed to be her Christmas present, it ought to actually provide her with something of value. Obviously a good sex scene is completely out of the question, given the source. Probably there's a shitty drawing stuck at the end, also considering the source—"</p> <p>yeah</p> <p>"—but that's not hardly good enough. What can this big meta mess even give her that she couldn't give herself already?"</p> <p>"Canonicity," your Lillian suddenly responds.</p> <p>What?</p> <p>"You know how it works, when people read fiction. If they like it, they internalize it. They think about it. They have <em>thoughts</em> about it. Opinions. They start considering angles the person who wrote it never did. They come up with explanations. Extrapolations. They make more and more and <em>more</em> of it, even if it's not 'official'."</p> <p>"Well," you chime in, increasingly aware that the presence of two Lillihammers is dividing your attention catastrophically, "and SCP is a collaborative writing thing, right?"</p> <p>"Right," your Lillian agrees, scratching your head like you're a favoured cat. Everybody's a fucking cat now, hooray. "Or rather, a collaborative <em>fiction</em> thing. It's not just one person imagining, and even when it's <em>mostly</em> one person, they don't do it in a vacuum."</p> <p>"We're simulated," my Lillian takes over, "but we're simulated across so many minds. A handful of artists and authors, who think us the most, make us the most real, can talk to us in their heads if they try hard enough, but tons and tons of other people as well. Every one of them has a version of us, no matter how well or poorly-defined. There will always be a few dominant interpretations, but that's fluid and flexible. It's really just whoever's done the most thinking, and talking, about a character."</p> <p>"Meaning you two," your Lillian tells you, and me, I guess. "You two have thought about me—"</p> <p>"And me," my Lillian cuts in.</p> <p>"—about <em>us two,</em> even though really we're just aspects of the same person, you two have thought about us more than anyone. He drew a shitty picture—"</p> <p>And I fucking removed it already—</p> <p>"—and stuck it in a story about how I'm amazing, and you read it and you thought 'holy fuck she's amazing', and you drew <em>your</em> pictures, and started talking to everyone you could find about me until eventually the authors all found out, and then you talked about it with <em>them,</em> and made them see her the way you saw her, and now there might be some question about how long my nose is or how many lines there are on my face—"</p> <p>"—or how flat my chest is—"</p> <p>"—or whatever, but really you're both talking about the same person, fundamentally, and that person exists even when nobody's writing about her at all, just sort of… floating in the ether."</p> <p>"An archive of boxes that just keeps growing, every version taking shape in communication with every other."</p> <p>"Hi," whatever one's been Lillian B in the above conversation says to the other one, who keeps finishing their sentences.</p> <p>"Hey," Lillian A grins back at her. I should check to see which is which, but I'm finally getting to the point, so I won't.</p> <p>"What's the point?" you ask. "This is all just self-indulgent rambling about how stories get written and shit, and it's very confusingly formatted, and it's not getting me any more laid in this supposed Christmas present story."</p> <p>The point is—</p> <p>"The point is—"</p> <p>"The <em>point</em> is, I'm more than just an imaginary friend. I'm more than just one person's contribution to a big fanfiction cuddle pile on the internet." Your Lillian kneels down in front of you, and takes your arms in her hands, and tells you: "I'm not <em>independently real,</em> but I'm more real than just a figment of your imagination, or his, or Grigori Karpin's or ihp's or Estrella Yoshte's or anyone else who's written about me or drawn a picture of me or voted on one of those weird-ass polls. I'm a distributed gestalt of experiences and concepts from the real world and the imaginations of a handful of people in the main, and a whole mass of others in aggregate. I have a life of my own, and I owe a lot of that to you. Maybe more than I owe it to him."</p> <p>Well, let's not get carried aw—</p> <p>"So if you love me," she smiles, "try to remember that you put yourself into me, that you worked to make me what you want me to be, that I'm part of the things you've seen and done and thought about and <em>been,</em> so if you love me, you have to love yourself at least a little bit."</p> <p>And she leans in, and she kisses you.</p> <p>And then slaps you on the back of the head.</p> <p>"So take better care of yourself and maintain a healthy real life/fantasy balance or I will STOMP YOUR SHIT FLAT."</p> <p>She pushes you over.</p> <p>You don't hit your head.</p> <p>She drops down onto you, like a feather on the wind.</p> <p>I make my exit. My Lillian's already gone. For the time being, it's just you and yours.</p> <p>I don't know what the two of you do next.</p> <p>But you aren't really you, are you? You're me, writing you, watching me write her. That would actually make it worse.</p> <p>So perhaps we can make a virtue of the limitations here, rather than writing something that would get both of us in even more trouble than we're already in. I can let slip a few concise details, disarticulated and bare, and you can decide where they fit in, and we can decide that your decisions are final. If anyone has that power, in this situation, it's us. And her. So really, just us.</p> <p>She has a two-inch streak of white skin somewhere that doesn't show in a t-shirt and shorts. An old, long-healed scar. I don't know where it is. You do. You're the first and only person to know that, now. Maybe you'll never bother telling anyone else. Does that help?</p> <p>You make a sound at some point. It's inelegant. Probably high-pitched. She makes the sound back at you for the remainder of the interlude, with a mocking lilt. You get the impression she'll never get tired of it. This is your life now.</p> <p>You definitely sprain or strain something. She pulls a hamstring, and instead of handling it graciously, she punches something so hard and so many times that it never quite returns to its former shape.</p> <p>She picks up her phone and dictates herself a message about memetic kinesiology. She doesn't quite manage to keep her voice steady.</p> <p>She tells you to shut up several times. She smiles when she does this. She still means it, though.</p> <p>She accidentally puts most of her left index finger up your nose. She decides this is your fault, and does not apologize. Later on, she does it again on purpose.</p> <p>Her hair is softer, sleeker, and cooler than you could possibly have imagined.</p> <p>She tells you, in a moment of uncharacteristic candour, that as amazing as she is, you can definitely still do better.</p> <p>"And when you do," she grins, "that doesn't mean we can't still f—"</p> <div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-woman-in-the-boxes">The Woman in the Boxes</a>" by HarryBlank, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-woman-in-the-boxes">https://scpwiki.com/the-woman-in-the-boxes</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <div style="text-align: left;"> <p>This tale contains excerpts from <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/1-remember-remember">Remember, Remember...</a> and <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/testing-the-margins">Testing the Margins</a> by <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/harryblank" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6479803); return false;"><img alt="HarryBlank" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6479803&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730032533" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6479803)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/harryblank" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6479803); return false;">HarryBlank</a></span> and <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-lamest-story-never-told">The Lamest Story Never Told</a> by ihp.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> LilBoxes.jpg, Meanwhile.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> HarryBlank<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Notes:</strong> These images utilize reference materials created by the author using <a href="https://www.daz3d.com/">Daz Studio</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:adult-content-warning">:scp-wiki:component:adult-content-warning</a> \|gore=0 \|sexual-references=1 \|sexually-explicit=0 \|sexual-assault=0 \|child-abuse=0 \|self-harm=0 \|suicide=0 \|torture=0 \|custom=0 ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:blankstyle">:scp-wiki:theme:blankstyle</a>]] [[>]] [[module rate]] [[/>]] [[=]] + The Woman in the Boxes [[/=]] [[div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[/div]] You are [/art:loveterminal the artist]. Hello, the artist. You open the door. You aren't sure what you expected to find on the other side, but this isn't it. Row after row on shelf over shelf of boxes full to bursting with... well, take one down and take a look. Take down a dozen. Take them all down. They're yours. Sketches, illustrations, half-baked notions and snippets of description, that's what the boxes are full of. Much of the art and florid language is in your hand, and the rest at least has your fingerprints on it. The first box you open features a margin-scrawled scribble, a re-drawn meme, a few pieces that would make an anatomist blush, a sheaf of very artistic and professional-looking renderings, and one extremely crude digital art likeness, the only thing in this box you didn't produce yourself. The anatomy here is dubious, the colour balance murky and the flourish nonexistent, but still it produces its effect on you. It was the first. It also doesn't even exist anymore, anywhere else. It looks kind of like this, but a whole lot worse: [[=image http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/goomh/Meanwhile.jpg]] You've re-rendered this woman in this outfit more times than she ever canonically wore it, enough times that the image makes you feel proprietorial, amateurish as the foreign original might be. That other artist didn't manage much, but they did manage to capture some sense of the beauty, power, confidence, //arrogance// of their subject. Even in its vague and untutored first formulation, before you got your hands on it and gave it a practiced //twist,// you could and still can see that the woman in this image is a woman who would cheerfully choke a bitch. You don't feel guilty for the thrill of that thought. Not in here, where it's only you girls. The other boxes are much the same. Patterns for a doll. Studies of a spindly-fingered hand. White-crested waves of cool blue hair -- light blue is white on white, dark blue is black on white, art is weird sometimes -- sharp, icy eyes that pierce you even though you're the one who committed them to paper. You created them. You know that in more than one sense, yours is the most faithful corner of this complex. Walk in one of the directions you're not walking in right now, and you'd be bound to end up in some remote, uncluttered corner where you could find her rendered short, or blonde, or green-eyed -- the latter a result of a long-standing misunderstanding to which you are immune. Somewhere out there is a corner where she has a brother named Lyle, or a fondness for Will Wood, or worse. The artists and writers who enter through those doors do so infrequently. They flirt with the subject of this archive, which is distressing, since you are married to her. More than that, you've even been on a date. Sort of. Something like you met something like her, once. An avatar and a parody, together in racy -- but not nearly racy enough -- satire. It didn't so much scratch the itch as outline and emphasize it for you. You didn't take it personally, you wanted it to get more personal. And so here you are. You are the artist, and she is the art, and she is here as well. Not the embedded fiction of Lillian Lillihammer, learning memetic thaumaturgy at a glacial pace because the writer responsible has severely misguided priorities, but the core constellation of ideas and interpretations which persists between stories. Somewhere in here, you know, is the real, truly real, Lillian Lillihammer, because this is the archive of //her.// You know to be suspicious of this thought even as it crosses your mind. This has the trappings of a cautionary tale. //Doki Doki SCP Foundation.// Are you being set up for an unwanted lesson on the limits of fictionality and the merits of touching grass? Of course not. That would be a shitty [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/forum/t-16456604/12th-annual-art-exchange Christmas present], wouldn't it? And on December the 25th, 2023, there is precious little grass available for touching in Canada. No. She's definitely here. And you're definitely doing this. Because may god and the devil and everything else in between help us all, it's what you [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/forum/t-16456604/12th-annual-art-exchange#post-6248933 fucking asked for]. [[div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[/div]] What is her default state? Where does her pattern hold? //Where do you find her?// Where else? You've never been to this place before, and yet, it's where you met. She is standing on the rocky shore in a white jumpsuit with a high collar, holding a black umbrella and standing defiantly upright in a sea-whipped breeze. Her hair is streaming out behind her, long tendrils of soft white, and she is powerful, she is beautiful, and nothing intervenes to ruin the perfection of this moment. It would be crass to interrupt the scene with a stray ivory lock across those furious features, or a sudden spray of salt from the rumbling breakers, or a curse at the inclement weather from those wicked, thin lips. So she stands, and she endures, she is a snapshot of herself reframed and touched up by an artist with an appropriate sense of her splendour and uniqueness. To wit, you. Of course, you are also here. It is very windy, and it is very cold, and you are very small, and while both of you are very real, she is the only one benefitting from narrative staging. So, of course, you shiver, and then, of course, you sneeze. She turns to face you, and the hair changes course to wrap around her sharp features like a sail, and she screams, "Oh, for FUCK'S SAKE! Son of a BITCH! GESUNDHEIT!" She really puts her pearly whites on display with that last word. German was practically invented for screaming. She pulls a handkerchief out of her belt. The original illustration showed no such thing, but you know her to be a practical woman. She's always ready for whatever happens. She flicks it at you, and the breeze carries it directly into your face. You reach up, bunch it in over your nose, and clean the snot off your face, and lock eyes with her. You have met for the first time, yet again. What does this make? Twice? Three times? A thousand? She stalks toward you. She is tall, and her legs are very long. She's wearing tall black boots, and for a moment the perspective generates a dark fantasy in your mind. She has the high ground, you have the low ground, and she's getting larger as she gets closer, and you imagine those big black boots becoming obsidian towers in the landscape, that unforgettable face glaring down from above like an angry star, and then she raises one heel and brings it down-- "The fuck are we doing here?" she demands, and you see her again as she really is, merely a foot and a half taller than you. The official figure is presently six feet, three inches, but you don't respect that. You're sure she's more like six and a half, and so, in this moment, she is. This close and you can see the imperfections in her skin, the lines around her mouth and on her forehead, lines that don't exist in the 'original article' because the originator idealizes her to an honestly embarrassing extent, whereas you merely idealize what would actually //be.// Your way is more honest, and so with you, she is more real. If she knows about this, she almost certainly won't thank you for it. She asked you a question. Your answer is "Uh." "Uh," she spits into the back of the wind, "is not an answer. I fucking hate Australia. I was very, very quite clear about that the last time I was here. Why am I in Australia?" She is standing so close to you that it hurts your neck to look up at her, looking down at you. "Why are //we// in Australia?" Her physical proximity and rising colour make you panic a little bit, but still you know to take a second and consider the question before responding. She is, from her perspective, in something of a dream. Being who she is, she's nevertheless reacting with something like her full faculties. A lie might not go over well. But would the truth? Better to keep it vague. "It's pretty," you tell her. She laughs. She laughs like a sick donkey. It's ungraceful, unladylike, and completely unaffected. It's a bray. You know she's doing this on purpose. You know she knows she could pull off the ice queen look, regal and spotless, and she's choosing instead to flex; she can drag herself down as far as she wants without harming her effect even a little. "The only thing I have in common with an oil painting," she tells you, and she leans down, and for a moment you consider doing something that would land you on the rocks with a whole new suite of bruises, and she finishes her sentence right into your nose, "is that you SHOULD NOT GET ME WET." You suppress a thousand filthy responses to this, many of which she would almost certainly appreciate, and force yourself to stop trembling. Maybe it even works. You point up the hill, to where a lighthouse in tidy red brick sits waiting to warn incoming ships that there is a hazard, a sharp, unyielding hazard here which will break them into tiny pieces if they strike it at speed, and you say "We could go inside?" "Why is that a question?" She storms past you, and you hurry to keep up. "Inside is always better. Jesus Christ, did you plan //any// of this? You call me up somewhere I can't even HEAR MYSELF THINK," the wind is only rising a little, not nearly enough to justify the sudden shouting, "somewhere I BASICALLY HAVE TO SCREAM AT YOU, and you think oh, it's alright, it looks //pretty.//" She shakes her head, and is now wearing most of her hair as a double-wrapped scarf. She hollers something unintelligible and foul as you crest the hill together. Somewhere behind you, in the distance, a cherry red SUV drives away. It came here for a different story. It's leaving confused. [[div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[/div]] She takes one look around the interior of the lighthouse and decides it's not good enough. You can tell by the way her shoulders hunch up, her back arcs, and she stands up a little on the tips of her toes as though summoning a pair of symbolic high heels. Bitch mode. She wheels on you, and before she can say anything, you raise your hands defensively and say... nothing, actually. What could you say? It's not your fault lighthouses are boring inside? It's not your fault she's so glamorous that she'd make the ballroom at the Ritz look cheap and gaudy? What? She huffs, and puffs, and then heads up the spiral staircase. You follow, watching her sway her way up, up, up, and a few times you nearly pass out from the blood rushing to your head, and you think //She probably wouldn't come back down to see if I'm okay.// For some reason, the thought excites you more, and you have to stop thinking it or you really will pass out. At the top of the lighthouse, there is a view. It is a view of more Australia, which under normal circumstances you might find quite arresting, for a few seconds, but right now you're still in the middle of your very first face-to-face with Lillian Lillihammer in this context, so honestly Australia can get fucked. Judging from the look on Lillian's face, the two of you are thinking the same thing for the first time today. She walks to the nearest window and looks out at the ocean pensively. "What do you think I was looking at?" she asks, and you assume it's a question for you, because otherwise she's talking to herself in your company, and that's not great. "The water?" you hazard. She snorts. Wrinkles up her nose and snorts. It's wild how she knows exactly how to disrupt her own elegance for maximum effect. She's like a human lava lamp. "We've got water in Canada. I work next to a lake. Try again." You try again. You try to internalize some of the cool cleverness she exudes, taking a deep breath of clean southern air and exciting your already overstimulated brain cells. What you come up with is "I don't think you were looking at anything." She spins, hair spiralling everywhere, and leans back on the window. "Exactly! Because there's sweet fuck all out there. I was standing on the shore and looking out at sweet fuck all because some prick thought that would make for a striking image. How sad is that?" You find it difficult to comment. You found the image striking enough to recreate it, better, half a dozen times. Enough to get problematically attached to a fictional character. And you don't feel sad. How could you? Right now? Right here? With her? "Of course," she muses, "it was mostly for comedic effect. Right? The thing with the hair, and the swearing." She pulls a handful in front of her face and mocks an angry expression. All you can see is the eyebrows. Fake angry faces are cute. You don't think she'd like to hear that you think she's being cute. "We could go somewhere else," you suggest. "And talk." She raises an eyebrow. Both of her eyebrows are always partially raised, by virtue of that devilish little peak people always draw on eyebrows when they want a woman to look sexy. Of course she has those. "Like a little coffee shop in Grand Bend, maybe? That what you want?" You look down at your feet, then back up at her. Her brow has inched up further. "Yeah, I remember. Of course I do. And it looks like you do, too. So that's where we stand." She turns to look out at the sea again, resting her chin on her shoulder. "You came down from the mountain for a weird science date, and now you've brought //me// up //here.//" This is not a fair assessment. The weird science dates were, in fact, a thing done to you both by someone else. That someone made a judgement call, deciding you'd find it too appealing to be offended, and they'd been right. But it hadn't been your idea. This, though. This was definitely your idea. But you're still not doing it, and you feel like you ought to tell her that. "I'm not doing this," you say. She doesn't turn back to look at you. "But I did want it done." She turns back to look at you. "So, let's do it then. Show me what you've got. I'm hoping you've got more than //Australia.//" As you try to think of a better venue for whatever this is going to turn into, you can't help but think to yourself //a whole-ass continent is not enough for this bitch.// You can't pretend to be surprised, and you can't pretend you aren't pleased. [[div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[/div]] Where do people go on dates? Well, you know the answer to that. You've got ideas. But are they Lillian Lillihammer ideas? Are they good enough for her? Good enough for real people, sure, but her? Probably not. You could take her to the park. You've taken her to the park before! Sort of. It was sort of her. Does she know about that? She probably knows about that. "Yeah," she says, walking primly along the edge of a pond flush with green life. "I remember this. Riding in your backpack. That's weird. You know that's weird, right?" "Of course I know it's weird," you mean to think to yourself, but don't. "How would it not be weird? I just don't care." She smiles at you with nothing but friendliness for the first time since this... date? Since this date started. "Yeah," she says. "There she is. You ever hear a really shit impression of someone? Celebrity impression?" She glances down at the water, dipping the toe of her boot at the surface, then drawing back. "Everyone sucks at those. At best they sound like one //mood,// and who's got just the one mood? So it doesn't work." She yawns, and leans back on the balls of her feet. "And that's what the VKTM bullshit was like, you know? Poor little mousy little //you,//" and she leans down, bending at the waist, and pats you on the top of your head, and you hope she can't hear your thoughts even though she //is// your thoughts, "just a smol lil' bean, that kind of bullshit, and me the big scary sex lady, because whoever wrote that shit wasn't paying enough attention to both sides. We both know you've got a DGAF streak, right? Let it all hang out. Quiet voice, LOUD VOICE, horny voice." She's shouting in your face again. "It's mostly horny voice," you admit. She laughs, and claps her hands. "There she IS. Alright. We're cooking. I can work with this." She's now rubbing her hands together. "We're not blowing our opportunity on a literal walk in the literal park. Go deeper." She cocks her head, and whispers it again: "//Go deeper.//" You go deeper. [[div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[/div]] A nondescript dorm room. An ugly couch lovingly recreated from canon. You have drawn this couch. Nobody else has drawn this couch. You are the authority on this couch, so she will recognize it for what it is. "Hey," she says. "It's that couch." She nods. "Cool beans." And she begins to cough. There's rags stuffed under the crack where the dorm room door meets the hall. The air is thick with something rancid. You raise your eyebrows at her as if to say "Eh? Eh?" as you hand her the joint. She swats it out of your hand. It scatters sparks all over the carpet. "Smells like shit," she says. "Think this through, would you? I'm fictional. I'm the most competent fictional person in an organization of competent fictional people. Everything I do is better than everything you do. If I smoke pot, I smoke better pot than you can //dream.//" You choose to take issue with the second-to-last clause. "I've seen your art," you say. "You ain't shit at art." She takes a swing at you, and catches hair. She flips the hair in front of your face, so you can't see. When you flip it back, her nose is //literally touching your nose.// You're breathing her air. She says: "You've seen //my// art, shorty? I've seen //your// art." She presses forward. The tips of your noses squish. Yours more than hers. "And you draw my tits too big. Now, can we ditch the--" You poke her in the chest, twice, with your two forefingers. "They seem right to me," you say. She pushes you over. You hit your head. [[div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[/div]] You're in your room. You're //both// in your room. You fell, and you hit your head, and between that and that you thought "maybe she'll fall on me," and now here you are. In your room. You're on your bed. She is not on you. She's not on the bed, either. She's in the corner, where you have apparently cleared a space big enough for a human-sized cage. There is a human in it. She does not look impressed. "I might have given you the wrong impression." She wraps her long, thin fingers around the bars. "This kind of weird goes at the //end// of the date. Do you want this to be the end of the date?" You sit up, and dangle your legs off the side of the bed. The cage is on the floor, and it's only a few feet tall, so for the first time she's not towering over you. You look her over speculatively. Nope. Still intimidating. "Why don't you magic your way out of there?" you suggest. She glares at you. "That's not the kind of magic I do." "What //is// the kind of magic you do?" You bounce on the bed a little. "That fucker never finished your SCP article. Never even //started// it. Photoshopped some Russian chick to look like you, and left it at that." She's still sitting there in her Australia suit. She picks at the lapel. "I was //based// on some Russian chick." You go and get her a mirror. "You don't look Russian. At all." She doesn't bother looking. "Of course not. I look like whatever wine aunt bullshit turns you on. You walked in on me from the you-door. I'm you-me." "Yumi," you repeat. "I'm going to call you that now." She shakes her head. "No, you're not. You'd miss hearing my actual name. You're a weird pervert for my //actual name,// Margie." It's the first time she's called you something. You tell her: "That's not //my// actual name." She shrugs. "Don't shrug. That's not what I call myself." She shrugs again, with emphasis this time, the tax you pay for having dared to tell her what to do. "Well, what do you call yourself, then?" You don't tell her. You //can't// tell her. You actually, legitimately cannot tell her what your name is. She probably knows; certainly she knows. This woman has lived with you. You have carried this woman around in your backpack. You have played dress up with this woman. She is on your computer. She is on your phone. She is in your brain. This woman knows enough things about you that if she were a real, flesh and blood human being, she could kick off a series of events that would end with you starving to death happy in this very room. She knows your name. But she can't say it right now, and you can't say it either, and that is... interesting? "So," she says, watching your mind race. "About this whole human trafficking thing." You take off one sock, and sit down next to the cage. "I want to try something." She stares at you. "I do //not// want to try someth--" You lean back, and put your foot into her face. She bites your toes. All five at once. You push her over. [[div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[/div]] Another dorm room. It's full of naked women. "Oh," she says. "Come //on.// This is too meta even for you." The other women don't notice. They're [/testing-the-margins playing Uno]. They're not all naked; most of them have at least one article of clothing left, else they would already have lost the game. This scene exists [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/forum/t-15388623/11th-annual-holiday-art-exchange#post-5715383 because of you], but it was executed by someone who really should have known better. "What do you think he was thinking?" Lillian is sitting primly, feet up on the edge of her stool to obscure... you choose not to think about that, hands oriented to obscure the rest up top. She's wearing cat ears. You can count the number of freckles she has on her chest. You can see where her ribs are. You can estimate her body fat. You're taking mental photographs. "Posting this, I mean. Refuge in audacity? 'Wasn't my idea, don't blame me'? Maybe he figured doing it for your Christmas present meant he'd get to dodge the criticism. 'Don't worry, I'm still a mentally-evolved bleeding heart leftist ally, it's just I was writing this gift for a chick who likes chicks, so that's the //sole and only reason// it includes a scene where all my female characters take their clothes off'." You pick up an upended stool, and sit down. You don't think you could stay upright otherwise. Beside you, Udo Okorie is... you don't look at her. Beside Udo, Delfina Ibanez is also not being looked at by you. In the distance, Karen Elstrom is walking to the washroom. She has lost the game. You accidentally look. You intentionally stop looking. This is beyond too much. She throws down her cards. "I don't know how to play this stupid game." She doesn't bother putting her arms back in place. She makes eye contact. You're able to keep your eyes up there for, oh... just barely long enough to confirm that she was making eye contact. "They're definitely the right size," you say. "This isn't canon," she responds. "Why not?" The words hang in the air. The other players in the game keep playing, regardless of the fact that Lillian has stopped. This time you do hold her eye contact. Her bright, energetic, intelligent, fuck-you-up-on-the-side-of-the-road blue eyes. What are you thinking? Her, you... is there even any difference between the two? "There is no canon," you say. "That," she sneers, "is almost exclusively deployed by lazy writers and lazy readers." "Okay," and you stand up, "but seriously. What makes this any less canon than anything else that's ever happened to you? There's an in-universe explanation for me. We've even met before. There's a whole system of weird science to explain shit like this." "That's your argument?" She stands up. Oh, good great god jesus christ oh my what the fuck she stands up, and walks over to you, and you are simultaneously just under five feet tall and a pink puddle on the floor that she walks through with her naked feet. "You're one of them, you're a Swann Entity, so anything you dream up is real? Real on my level, if not on yours?" "Yes," you squeak. You resist the urge to reach out and touch her. You don't think you'd ever recover, emotionally, from getting beaten up by a naked Lillian Lillihammer. How would you ever match that high? "Don't fucking //squeak.//" She reaches down, grabs your hand, and pulls you up. You didn't realize you were down. You thought the puddle thing was metaphorical. Someone seems to have lost the plot. It was probably you. "You're not doing that submissive bullshit here. If this is happening, there has to be a //point.// You learn something, I learn something, something conclusive is achieved. Or it's just masturbatory fanfiction." She pokes you in the nose so hard and so sudden that it aches. You smile. "And don't say that it's all masturbatory fanfiction, that's a stupid fucking argument and you know it." "I made you," you say. "You're my fiction. I'm your fan." She puts a hand on your forehead, and pushes you back. You stagger until you hit a wall; she leans forward, supporting her weight via her palm on your forehead. She hangs her head down low, digging her toes into the carpet to stay upright, and a curtain of her hair falls all around you, hiding everything but her face. It's like woven silk. She says: "Prove it." And then you realize. You //can.// You can prove it. "I know," you breathe. She breathes your air, this time. "You know what?" "I know where to take your on our date." [[div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[/div]] You open the door for her, and bow low. "Ladies first." She catches the hair on the top of your head on the way by, and drags you in after her. You're back in the archives. Rows on rows of boxes on shelves, the sum total of what has gone into the simulacrum of Lillian Lillihammer who now stands right in the middle of them. For the first time, she looks genuinely uncertain of what to do. So you pick a box, and you pick it up, and you shove it into her stomach. The impact is lessened by the leopard print dress she's now wearing. You look down, past the box. She's wearing those stockings you drew. You shouldn't have spent so much time on the detail. It's coming back to bite you. You want her to bite you. She pulls the lid off the box. "This one," she says, "is full of--." You take the lid away from her, and close the box around her hand. "Yeah," you say, turning away before she can see the look on your face. "Yeah, there'll be a lot of that. Okay. Try this one instead." She goes for the lucky dip again, this time coming away with a pile of scraps. Little snippets of text. She reads them out loud, one by one. "'She was a woman of two aspects. One conferred the posture of a satisfied cat in the sun; the other, an unsatisfied cat in the presence of a second, unfamiliar cat. In the former she was narrow-eyed, smug, and distant; in the latter she was nervous, agitated, and prone to sudden explosions of ferality.'" She sighs. "How much you want to bet this fucker never describes his male characters like this?" She clears her throat, and finishes the passage. "'The determining factor in which aspect she adopted was also distinctly feline: either she was doing what she wanted to do, or she was not.' Terrific. Fucking great. I'm seeing purple." She fishes out another. "'The fact that she'd shown up wearing a pair of cat ears had thrown everyone off their game'... this is just the Uno shit again." Another. "'The pose that Dr. Lillihammer took reminded Bastien of a cat right before it bit the head off of a mouse,' are these seriously..." She drops the box on your foot. It's a box of paper scraps. It doesn't hurt. "Are these seriously just all the times people have compared me to a cat? That's a big part of my //existential makeup// now?" Your cheeks are burning. "There's probably a box full of all the times you hissed and purred and clawed at shit, too." "I do not //claw at shit,//" she hisses. She stalks down the aisles, selects another box at random, and pulls it open. "There are three pieces of paper in here," she announces. "The first says 'CAT MILFDDS CAT MIFLD CAT MILGSS GAT MILD CAT MILLFS CAT MYILKFS," the second says 'CAT MILFLS CAT MILDDDD CAT MILDD CAT MILFGS VAT MOLD CAT MILOF CAT MILFS CATNNIN," and the third says, and I remind you that I quote, 'CAT MILFS THAF ARE HUMAN CA TMIKFD THAT RE HUMAN CAT MILFLS THAT SDTR HIMMAN'." She frowns, and runs her thumb along the third scrap. "My bad, there's a fourth one in here I didn't see. It just says 'LILLIAN LILLIHAMMER'. Thanks for the clarification." "We're looking at the wrong boxes," you explain, very reasonably. "These are the wrong boxes. There's a lot of them." You wave. "Lots of boxes." She proceeds to dismantle an entire aisle. You follow, cleaning up after her. "Evangelion memes," she snorts. "Very original. Oh, you play The Sims? That's a surprise. I wouldn't have thought you'd be into controlling little paper dolls and deciding what they get to wear and who they get to fuck. This one's got video. Is that //your// heavy breathing? Oh, hey, this one's different." She waves the box comprising //this one// at you. "It's a digital readout of your web search history. Really specific excerpts from your web search history." "Everyone has web search history," you say. You're still picking up papers. "Yeah, but your web search history is //baked into my bones,// bitch." She's relentless. She's going through every box, and... "Hold on a second." "There's a computer terminal over here," she calls out. "What's #lillihammered? What the fuck is--" "HOLD ON." You stomp over, not bothering to pick up the rest of the papers. "I'm calling bullshit. This isn't fair //at all.//" She's hunched over the computer she found. She's scrolling through Discord message history. You see "oh… mm … ya… what’s that … the ambient vibrations of my shitposts bouncing off the walls… i think it’s gaining sapience," and you think //ooh, good find, that one's very on-topic.// You pull her away from the screen. She straightens up, and looks down her nose at you. Uncharacteristically, she waits. Maybe she really does like it when you're assertive like that. You test the theory, and press on. "There's something going on here." You wave at the archive. "Nothing you've pulled out is about //me,// not really. There's nothing in here about the media I've consumed, the experiences I've had, my romantic relationships, my family relationships, my friends... it's all just... little events that other people saw, and media I've made. It's like a superficial skim of what I've put into you." She raises both eyebrows this time. "What have //you put into me?//" You want to dodge that hook, because the tale's more than half over already and you definitely need to focus, but you can't help yourself. "There's a box somewhere around here with a list," you snap, and her eyes shine bright with delighted joy. "But shut the fuck up and //listen.// This is like the cartoon version of my contributions. I didn't invent you, but I sure as fuck evolved you. I picked your //ethnicity,// as a //joke,// for a //friend.//" You poke her in the chest, and she burps lightly. "I was like the second person ever to try drawing you, and half the people on Reddit who know you exist know because of me. I whined like a puppy who wants to go for a walk //over and over again// until the people who write the words agreed to write more words about you, and all those words are a little bit because of me, too, about what I wanted to know, about what I wanted to //see.// I've asked questions about you that didn't have answers until I asked the questions, so the questions //caused// the answers, and they made you more real, and half the time I think the answers were targeted to what I wanted them to be, so it was //me// making you more real. When people write about you, and they picture you, they're picturing //my pictures.// Even the ones who have pictures of their own. Even the one who made the //first picture.//" You stick your finger in the crook of her vest, and pull it until the first button slips out. She doesn't say a thing, she just stares. "I'm the reason people know your eyes are blue even though that confusing bit in 'Meanwhile, in Australia' makes it sound like they might be green. I'm the reason people know your hair is white even though your hair was red in like fifty tales. //I'm the reason you know what Uno is.//" "I don't like knowing what Uno is," she whispers. "//And I don't care,//" you whisper back. "You don't have to like it. People don't like everything about themselves. But I like everything about you, even the things that suck. You barely existed when I found you, but I loved what was there, so I put other things that I love in there, and it made you exist more. If I didn't clap back about you, you wouldn't be the main character. You're the main character because my feedback says it's okay for you to be the main character." She puts her finger under your nose and uses it to tip your head back. "This," she says, "is still just little events that other people saw, and media you've made, and a superficial skim of what you've put into me. Why is that?" I mean, I think it's pretty obvious at this point. "Oh," she says. She closes her eyes. "Oh, for fuck's sake, we're doing //this// now." Well, I'm sorry to break the spell, but she came right out and asked, didn't she? "You could have let it go," you sigh. You had her alone. You had her to //yourself.// Or at least we were all pretending you did. But what would be the point of that? Letting it go? Neither of you can say or do anything that isn't in my head, because I'm the one holding the reins, I'm the one on the keyboard right now, and this isn't NCIS, so I can't have a copilot. I'm writing both of you. I know pretty well exactly how one of you will behave -- only pretty well exactly, because it's not //my// version of her, it's //yours,// and I'm sure I'm getting some of it wrong -- but I can't claim to know all the things you've put into your conception of who she is. "Sort your subjects out," Lillian snaps. "I can't even tell who you're talking to." I'm talking to the artist. Hello, the artist. Are you enjoying this so far? It's probably not what you wanted, but for now it's what you're getting. Someone else was working on something that would probably have turned out a lot better, but shit happens and therefore other shit //doesn't// happen, at least not yet, so you'll have to wait for that. Today, it's my metatextual ramblings. Obviously you didn't want to write this yourself. I get that. It needs a phantom hand to feel real. And I do know the material like nobody else... but someone less meek and prudish might have been able to get you a little further before tastefully turning the camera away. "Hey." She stamps her foot. "We're not doing any camera-turning. We're not going to fuck just because you're looking the other way." "Well," you say. "Let's not rule anything out just yet." "I have an idea." Lillian walks to the space between the aisles, and spins in place, searching the horizon. "How big is this place? Where does your bit end?" She's asking you. You shrug. It wasn't your decision to conceptualize the interior of Lillian Lillihammer's ephemeral internet character as a hall full of boxes. You would have thought of something cleverer. This is what you get when a historian -- you don't say it as 'an' historian, because honestly, who does that -- dreams that shit up. She goes for a walk, and of course, you follow. The shelves, you now notice, are often subtly different in this part of the archive. Different heights, different lengths and widths, even different materials altogether sometimes. There are doors, too, like the door you came in through. Lillian scrabbles through a box where every mention calls her "Lillianhammer," tosses it aside, and takes a peek behind the associated door. She slams it shut, and shudders. "Poland," she explains, and you move on. Here there's a cozy little nook, just a few shelves with boxes featuring illustrations in a very different style from the ones in your own boxes. Lillian's hair is blonde. She considers this carefully, perhaps speculatively. You snatch the picture from her hand, put it back in the box, and tell her 'no' like she's your pet chihuahua. She flicks you in the forehead and walks away. This section is piled full of Vikander-Kneed material. Whoever comes in through that door spends a lot of time thinking about Lillian as a student of memetic media. Haha, it's funny because we're pretending we don't know who these people are. "Ha ha," Lillian snarls. "I do like the VKTM bits, though. Wettle always gets hurt." Not always. "Always in the ones I remember." "Hey," you say. You wave your hands, as though you think you might just be too short to be noticed. "Don't talk to my girlfriend. This is //our// date." "I'm never said I was your girlfriend," she says over her shoulder. She doesn't then say that she isn't. You become aware of a change in the air. You're moving through a transitional space. The space beyond is much, much larger. And actually, you decide you don't want to do this, so you turn and walk away. "No," Lillian grins, "we do not." She turns to face you, still walking backwards. It's a thing she likes to do. Shows off that catlike poise. "You want to get some real dirt? Consider this our Christmas shopping trip." Okay, I think it's time I wound this story down. "We haven't even fucked," Lillian sings as she picks up a box from the new wall of shelves, which stretches off into the far distance. "Wouldn't be a very good romance tale if it ends before we fucked. And we're not doing that," she pulls the lid off, "until //you// get fucked for putting us through this bullshit instead of giving us a normal god damn date like any sensible author would have." The box contains a dossier. The first thing in the dossier is a photograph of a woman. She's short, and she's grinning. She looks nothing like Lillian. Her name isn't Lillian. But there's a mischief in her eyes that looks familiar... you might have enjoyed knowing whoever this was, you think. Lillian makes a little 'o' face of surprise. "You based me on some... weird little...?" I mean, not really? Character writing is about synthes-- You're devouring the dossier now. There's an executive summary. You marvel at the similarities and differences between this real human relationship and the fictional one you've been digesting and re-digesting for ages. You point out some of the more direct parallels to Lillian. She whistles appreciatively, and swears. She picks up another box, and tosses the lid on the floor. "This one's about some punk kid. There isn't even an updated photo, they haven't talked in ages. Kid used to walk into his house and start playing with his Nintendo..." She stops reading, and stares. "Did you just put a bunch of different people in a fucking //blender?//" You're not any one person, alright? I just borrowed some traits here and there, this is how most peop-- "I found the brainstorming file," you call out. Lillian scurries over to read it over your shoulder, or rather the top of your head. "Did you know he never intended to make it clear you're trans?" I thought it was more tasteful if the evidence was there, but people had to put it tog-- "What the fuck?" Lillian stabs at the page you've just started reading. She's already read it all. "You made up //all// of my backstory on the fly?" Yeah, I mean, I think it's better to have a character //tell you// who they are somet-- "Your eyes WERE green originally!" you yelp. "He fucked up!" I DID NOT F-- Lillian slides down the aisles like she's skating on ice, and finds a locked door labelled 'AUDITORIUM' on the far wall. "What's in here?" The auditorium. "I don't think it //is// locked, actually," you declare, and you make a solid attempt to kick the door open. Then Lillian kicks the door open for real. Inside, you find... an auditorium. All the seats are empty down to the front row, where one is occupied. In the middle of the stage is a couch, //the couch,// and on the couch there is a sleeping woman. She has a longer nose than the woman you're with, and fewer lines on her face, and more prominent cheekbones and chin, and she's also exactly the same woman all over again. She's lying the fuck out of on that couch -- now there's a creative clause for you -- like she's trying to keep it from getting away by splaying over it as much as possible. She's talking to the guy in the front row, and could the two of you back there please keep it the fuck down, we're talking through a really important scene and oh for fuck's sake don't come //down here.// "I'd definitely crack a joke," my Lillian is telling me. "Under no circumstances would I not crack a joke. Especially since //you// won't be cracking any." "I'll be shell-shocked," I say back to her. "Heartbroken. Of course I won't be cracking a joke. And you wouldn't do it either, because you //know// I'm shell-shocked and heartbroken, and you are not wholly without tact." "Yeah, but that's the thing," and she rearranges herself to depress and embarrass the couch better, "I'd be trying to raise the mood. Obviously I'll be all fucked up too, but I'll want to, you know, jazz the vibe a bit. I'm generous like that, when I need to be." "Jazz the vibe," I snort. "This is the tragic climax of a whole year's work, for fuck's sake. You'll jazz the vibe in the //main// climax, for gallows humour. You won't do it //here,// the story needs to be at low ebb." She snorts back at me. "Buddy, you know what I'd do. This is just part of you telling the other part of you. Don't call up the simulation if you're gonna ignore the results." She notices you. She also notices herself. She says, very slowly, "Hiiiii." I do not turn around. I already know you're here, trying to get //spoilers,// or else see how far I'm going to take this bizarre extrapolation of the nature of shared fictional creations, and I'm really not into it. I am having a conversation with an element of my personality, who is, yes, made up of elements of other people's personalities as well, and some of yours, and some random shit that's webbed in between, because //that's how characters work,// and it's been a private conversation until now. "This is weird," you say. "I just wanted a porn story." You can't ask for a porn story for Art Exchange. "Yeah," you admit, "but like... I thought I might get one anyway? If I just kind of //implied// it enough. Did you read the small text?" "I did not agree to be in a porn story." Lillian rests an elbow on your shoulder, and begins to drive you down into the carpet by centimetres. "I'm not saying I wouldn't have, but--" "You guys on a date or something?" the Lillian on the couch, my Lillian, asks. "Sounds better than this pointless Q&A." Hey. Your Lillian shrugs. "It //was// a date. Then it was a sort of factfinding mission. Now it's just kind of a clusterfuck?" My Lillian nods. "Find any interesting facts?" Yours stops to consider. "I found out that the writer's inspiration isn't any more profound than the artist's, I guess." Hey. "Hey," you say. You detected the hint of an insult in there. Your Lillian stops trying to slow-motion piledrive you and ruffles your hair affectionately. "Keep your shirt on, squirt. Big women are talking." This is supposed to be her Christmas pr-- "Oh, shut the fuck up," my Lillian says. She says that a lot. "If this is supposed to be her Christmas present, it ought to actually provide her with something of value. Obviously a good sex scene is completely out of the question, given the source. Probably there's a shitty drawing stuck at the end, also considering the source--" yeah "--but that's not hardly good enough. What can this big meta mess even give her that she couldn't give herself already?" "Canonicity," your Lillian suddenly responds. What? "You know how it works, when people read fiction. If they like it, they internalize it. They think about it. They have //thoughts// about it. Opinions. They start considering angles the person who wrote it never did. They come up with explanations. Extrapolations. They make more and more and //more// of it, even if it's not 'official'." "Well," you chime in, increasingly aware that the presence of two Lillihammers is dividing your attention catastrophically, "and SCP is a collaborative writing thing, right?" "Right," your Lillian agrees, scratching your head like you're a favoured cat. Everybody's a fucking cat now, hooray. "Or rather, a collaborative //fiction// thing. It's not just one person imagining, and even when it's //mostly// one person, they don't do it in a vacuum." "We're simulated," my Lillian takes over, "but we're simulated across so many minds. A handful of artists and authors, who think us the most, make us the most real, can talk to us in their heads if they try hard enough, but tons and tons of other people as well. Every one of them has a version of us, no matter how well or poorly-defined. There will always be a few dominant interpretations, but that's fluid and flexible. It's really just whoever's done the most thinking, and talking, about a character." "Meaning you two," your Lillian tells you, and me, I guess. "You two have thought about me--" "And me," my Lillian cuts in. "—about //us two,// even though really we're just aspects of the same person, you two have thought about us more than anyone. He drew a shitty picture--" And I fucking removed it already— "—and stuck it in a story about how I'm amazing, and you read it and you thought 'holy fuck she's amazing', and you drew //your// pictures, and started talking to everyone you could find about me until eventually the authors all found out, and then you talked about it with //them,// and made them see her the way you saw her, and now there might be some question about how long my nose is or how many lines there are on my face—" "--or how flat my chest is—" "--or whatever, but really you're both talking about the same person, fundamentally, and that person exists even when nobody's writing about her at all, just sort of... floating in the ether." "An archive of boxes that just keeps growing, every version taking shape in communication with every other." "Hi," whatever one's been Lillian B in the above conversation says to the other one, who keeps finishing their sentences. "Hey," Lillian A grins back at her. I should check to see which is which, but I'm finally getting to the point, so I won't. "What's the point?" you ask. "This is all just self-indulgent rambling about how stories get written and shit, and it's very confusingly formatted, and it's not getting me any more laid in this supposed Christmas present story." The point is-- "The point is--" "The //point// is, I'm more than just an imaginary friend. I'm more than just one person's contribution to a big fanfiction cuddle pile on the internet." Your Lillian kneels down in front of you, and takes your arms in her hands, and tells you: "I'm not //independently real,// but I'm more real than just a figment of your imagination, or his, or Grigori Karpin's or ihp's or Estrella Yoshte's or anyone else who's written about me or drawn a picture of me or voted on one of those weird-ass polls. I'm a distributed gestalt of experiences and concepts from the real world and the imaginations of a handful of people in the main, and a whole mass of others in aggregate. I have a life of my own, and I owe a lot of that to you. Maybe more than I owe it to him." Well, let's not get carried aw-- "So if you love me," she smiles, "try to remember that you put yourself into me, that you worked to make me what you want me to be, that I'm part of the things you've seen and done and thought about and //been,// so if you love me, you have to love yourself at least a little bit." And she leans in, and she kisses you. And then slaps you on the back of the head. "So take better care of yourself and maintain a healthy real life/fantasy balance or I will STOMP YOUR SHIT FLAT." She pushes you over. You don't hit your head. She drops down onto you, like a feather on the wind. I make my exit. My Lillian's already gone. For the time being, it's just you and yours. [[div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[/div]] I don't know what the two of you do next. But you aren't really you, are you? You're me, writing you, watching me write her. That would actually make it worse. So perhaps we can make a virtue of the limitations here, rather than writing something that would get both of us in even more trouble than we're already in. I can let slip a few concise details, disarticulated and bare, and you can decide where they fit in, and we can decide that your decisions are final. If anyone has that power, in this situation, it's us. And her. So really, just us. She has a two-inch streak of white skin somewhere that doesn't show in a t-shirt and shorts. An old, long-healed scar. I don't know where it is. You do. You're the first and only person to know that, now. Maybe you'll never bother telling anyone else. Does that help? You make a sound at some point. It's inelegant. Probably high-pitched. She makes the sound back at you for the remainder of the interlude, with a mocking lilt. You get the impression she'll never get tired of it. This is your life now. You definitely sprain or strain something. She pulls a hamstring, and instead of handling it graciously, she punches something so hard and so many times that it never quite returns to its former shape. She picks up her phone and dictates herself a message about memetic kinesiology. She doesn't quite manage to keep her voice steady. She tells you to shut up several times. She smiles when she does this. She still means it, though. She accidentally puts most of her left index finger up your nose. She decides this is your fault, and does not apologize. Later on, she does it again on purpose. Her hair is softer, sleeker, and cooler than you could possibly have imagined. She tells you, in a moment of uncharacteristic candour, that as amazing as she is, you can definitely still do better. "And when you do," she grins, "that doesn't mean we can't still f--" [[=image http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/goomh/LilBoxes.jpg]] [[div]] [[=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] ===== [[<]] This tale contains excerpts from [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/1-remember-remember Remember, Remember...] and [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/testing-the-margins Testing the Margins] by [[user HarryBlank]] and [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-lamest-story-never-told The Lamest Story Never Told] by ihp. > Filename:* LilBoxes.jpg, Meanwhile.jpg > Author: HarryBlank > License: CC BY-SA 3.0 > Notes: These images utilize reference materials created by the author using [https://www.daz3d.com/ Daz Studio]. [[/<]] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]] [[/=]] [[/div]]	2024-06-29T06:21:00	[ "_adult", "_cc", "_licensebox", "doctor-lillihammer", "illustrated", "lgbtq", "metafiction", "pridefest2024", "romance", "second-person", "tale" ]	The Woman in the Boxes - SCP Foundation	35	[ "prev", "next", "art:loveterminal", "forum/t-16456604/12th-annual-art-exchange", "forum/t-16456604/12th-annual-art-exchange#post-6248933", "testing-the-margins", "forum/t-15388623/11th-annual-holiday-art-exchange#post-5715383", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide", "1-remember-remember", "the-lamest-story-never-told" ]	[ "pridefest" ]	[]	1454337551	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-woman-in-the-boxes
therapy-for-the-lizerd	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=4&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/component%3Abhl-dark-sidebar/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Therapy for the Lizerd</strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><strong>Author:</strong> Doctor Scrappy</p> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>\| Site-19, [REDACTED] \|</strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>He didn’t know who had ordered it. If it was Clef, Moose or one of the O5s. Senior Staff Psychologist <a href="/routine-psychological-evaluations-by-dr-glass">Dr. Simon Glass</a> strolled down the hallways, ever-so closer to his encounter with the dreaded lizard.</p> <p>Anyone who worked any length at the Foundation had heard of the reptile — large, bloodthirsty, full of hatred. And Simon sure as hell knew of the damn reptile. It broke out on any other Tuesday, causing massive structural damage to the facility in its wake, not to mention the utter loss of blood and organs. He had lost too many nights to this feral beast; too many to remember.</p> <p>He flashed his credentials at the checkpoint. After a preliminary scan, Simon walked past the many layers of solid, heaving metal between the beast’s enclosure and the rest of the facility. They closed as soon as he passed them. With each step he took, he felt his heart skip just another beat. His heart was palpitating, he was pretty sure.</p> <p>The O5s must’ve gone mad. Taken over by some cognitohazard. Why else would they assign <em>him</em>, a simple psychologist, to take on the lizard? Out of curiosity? Was it some twisted sense of humor, an attempt to quench their undying thirst for blood? But why <em>his</em> blood? Had he done something wrong? He did vote for the Ethics Comittee to be granted more executive powers this year.</p> <p>Simon Glass took a deep breath in and out. The air flowed freely through his lungs. His heart palpitations grew calmer again. There was nothing to worry about. He had spent too many years at the Foundation. Seen some rough stuff — and also heard about it.</p> <p>As a psychologist, at the Foundation nonetheless, he’d heard of some wild stuff. It was difficult to deal with much of what his patients had dealt with in the past. Especially when those patients had forgotten most of the sensitive details. For a half of them, he couldn’t help them at all, regardless of what he tried, them continuing their duties. The other half either died in some horrific containment breach, spilling their guts out, were abducted and tortured to the brink of insanity by a rival agency, or their minds collapsed into a fine, metaphysical slurry. He felt sorry for each and every one of them.</p> <p>Simon took another deep breath in and out. There was no time to feel sorry. This was his chance for <em>retribution</em>. His upcoming encounter with the lizard was frightening, but also a chance to avenge all of those people he couldn’t save. But not through force, but through the power of compassion, decades of experience in the field of psychology, and an innate knowledge of how people — and anomalies — ticked.</p> <p>He strudded toward the observation chamber’s door, more determined than ever before. He nodded at the guard right next to the door, who nodded back at him. This was his chance. To finally set things right.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <blockquote> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>[BEGIN LOG]</strong></p> </div> <hr/> <p><em>Dr. Glass sits down at a table. He is located inside the observation chamber, surveying SCP-682’s containment chamber. He lays out spreadsheets in front of him.</em></p> <p><strong>Glass:</strong> Good afternoon, SCP-68—</p> <p><em>SCP-682 snarls.</em></p> <p><strong>Glass:</strong> <span style="font-size:50%;"><strong>okay.</strong></span></p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>[END LOG]</strong></p> </div> <hr/> <p><strong>Closing Notes:</strong> Dr. Glass has requested immediate cancellation of all future SCP-682-related interviews.</p> <hr/></blockquote> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/therapy-for-the-lizerd">Therapy for the Lizerd</a>" by Doctor Scrappy , from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/therapy-for-the-lizerd">https://scpwiki.com/therapy-for-the-lizerd</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:bhl-dark-sidebar">:scp-wiki:component:bhl-dark-sidebar</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:toggle-sidebar-bhl">:scp-wiki:component:toggle-sidebar-bhl</a>]] [[module CSS]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:fade-in">:scp-wiki:component:fade-in</a> speed=1.5]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] [[=]] Therapy for the Lizerd [[/=]] @@ @@ Author: Doctor Scrappy [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:end">:scp-wiki:info:end</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:ratio-bar">:scp-wiki:component:ratio-bar</a> base=--]] @@ @@ [[=]] \| Site-19, [REDACTED] \| [[/=]] @@ @@ He didn’t know who had ordered it. If it was Clef, Moose or one of the O5s. Senior Staff Psychologist [[[Routine Psychological Evaluations By Dr Glass\|Dr. Simon Glass]]] strolled down the hallways, ever-so closer to his encounter with the dreaded lizard. Anyone who worked any length at the Foundation had heard of the reptile -- large, bloodthirsty, full of hatred. And Simon sure as hell knew of the damn reptile. It broke out on any other Tuesday, causing massive structural damage to the facility in its wake, not to mention the utter loss of blood and organs. He had lost too many nights to this feral beast; too many to remember. He flashed his credentials at the checkpoint. After a preliminary scan, Simon walked past the many layers of solid, heaving metal between the beast’s enclosure and the rest of the facility. They closed as soon as he passed them. With each step he took, he felt his heart skip just another beat. His heart was palpitating, he was pretty sure. The O5s must’ve gone mad. Taken over by some cognitohazard. Why else would they assign //him//, a simple psychologist, to take on the lizard? Out of curiosity? Was it some twisted sense of humor, an attempt to quench their undying thirst for blood? But why //his// blood? Had he done something wrong? He did vote for the Ethics Comittee to be granted more executive powers this year. Simon Glass took a deep breath in and out. The air flowed freely through his lungs. His heart palpitations grew calmer again. There was nothing to worry about. He had spent too many years at the Foundation. Seen some rough stuff -- and also heard about it. As a psychologist, at the Foundation nonetheless, he’d heard of some wild stuff. It was difficult to deal with much of what his patients had dealt with in the past. Especially when those patients had forgotten most of the sensitive details. For a half of them, he couldn’t help them at all, regardless of what he tried, them continuing their duties. The other half either died in some horrific containment breach, spilling their guts out, were abducted and tortured to the brink of insanity by a rival agency, or their minds collapsed into a fine, metaphysical slurry. He felt sorry for each and every one of them. Simon took another deep breath in and out. There was no time to feel sorry. This was his chance for //retribution//. His upcoming encounter with the lizard was frightening, but also a chance to avenge all of those people he couldn’t save. But not through force, but through the power of compassion, decades of experience in the field of psychology, and an innate knowledge of how people -- and anomalies -- ticked. He strudded toward the observation chamber’s door, more determined than ever before. He nodded at the guard right next to the door, who nodded back at him. This was his chance. To finally set things right. @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] > ------ > [[=]] > [BEGIN LOG] > [[/=]] > ------ > //Dr. Glass sits down at a table. He is located inside the observation chamber, surveying SCP-682’s containment chamber. He lays out spreadsheets in front of him.// > > Glass: Good afternoon, SCP-68-- > > //SCP-682 snarls.// > > Glass: [[size 50%]] okay. [[/size]] > ------ > [[=]] > [END LOG] > [[/=]] > ------ > Closing Notes: Dr. Glass has requested immediate cancellation of all future SCP-682-related interviews. > ------ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ ------ @@ @@ [[=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]] [[/=]] @@ @@	2024-11-02T16:07:00	[ "absurdism", "comedy", "doctor-glass", "hard-to-destroy-reptile", "tale" ]	Therapy for the Lizerd - SCP Foundation	-5	[ "routine-psychological-evaluations-by-dr-glass", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "scp-series-1-tales-edition", "lowest-rated-articles", "lowest-rated-pages" ]	[]	1457266529	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/therapy-for-the-lizerd
there-are-still-humans-in-corning-right	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="preview"> <p>I could've sworn that I was being watched. But the only person nearby was the security guard, and when I turned around, he was never looking in my direction.</p> </div> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=1&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Acreepypasta/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <div class="blockquote"> <p><span style="color: orange"><strong>kebby (she/her)</strong></span> 8/22/2023 (Tue) 19:27:11 #28478831</p> <hr/> <img alt="empty.jpg" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/there-are-still-humans-in-corning-right/empty.jpg"/> <p>Have any of you heard of Corning, New York? Maybe met somebody from there? If you have, please tell me, so that I can know I'm just being paranoid. I'm on vacation right now, and I have no clue what's going on, but maybe you people can make something out of it.</p> <p>For the sake of privacy, I’ll give the other two people in this story nicknames. Let's call them Patches and Butter.</p> <p>I'm a rising high school senior, but the other two are headed to college in the fall. The three of us know each other because we're always involved in the school plays. Butter organized a trip to Niagara Falls for us, and we've stopped in Corning to take a break from driving. If, like me, you've never heard of it before, it’s just another small town in upstate NY, mostly famous for its museum of glass, which has a large display of … take a wild guess.</p> <p>No, really. Butter couldn't guess. He said it might've been a metaphor for how transparent the museum's information is. Or maybe it was built with a lot of glass. I pointed out that to be fair, the building <em>was</em> made out of glass.</p> <p>Back to Corning. The town isn't sitting right with me for a number of reasons. Everything was way too empty for two in the afternoon. The giant strip mall parking lot next to our hotel had maybe three or four cars in it.</p> <div class="scp-image-block block-right" style="width:300px;"><img alt="monro.jpg" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/there-are-still-humans-in-corning-right/monro.jpg"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>Pic I just snapped next to our hotel</p> </div> </div> <p>Butter apparently booked the cheapest hotels he could find that don't look like a breeding den for cockroaches. Personally, I had no complaints about the hotel in Corning, but Patches grumbled constantly about how the plumbing was screwed up and the AC was way too cold.</p> <p>Patches is just a complainer in general. She's always cranky on car rides, especially when Butter tries to remind us that "it's about the journey, not the destination." She was especially pissed today because I had to drag her out of bed. She's always had a bad habit of scrolling on her phone until 3:00 or 4:00 in the morning, and the checkout time today was 11:00 AM, so I had to physically wrestle the pillow away from her before she gave up trying to go back to sleep.</p> <p>After we put our luggage in our room, we got lunch from the Wendy’s nearby. When we ordered, the cashier asked us if we would like patties in our burgers. Patches told him yes, we obviously want meat in a hamburger, and asked if he was ok in the head.</p> <div class="scp-image-block block-right" style="width:300px;"><img alt="wendys.jpg" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/there-are-still-humans-in-corning-right/wendys.jpg"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>The Wendy's earlier. Notice how we're the only car there</p> </div> </div> <p>The cashier stared at us, and he suddenly got this look of realization, like he just had some sort of epiphany. He told us that he’ll “remember that going forward.”</p> <p>“That cashier has to be stoned out of his fucking mind,” Patches said. “I respect it.”</p> <p>I don’t do drugs very often, but he seemed sober enough to me.</p> <p>As the other two eat, I watched the cashier. He was staring at his phone, but every once in a while he would surreptitiously glance at us for a few seconds. When we were about to finish, he gestured for the only other employee to come talk to him. They started whispering about something. When we left, I saw the cashier point to us for a split second. They kept watching us through the windows as we headed back to our car.</p> <p>After lunch, we visited the one attraction the town had, the museum of glass. Like every other establishment in this town, there was basically nobody there.</p> <p>The weird thing was that even though there were no visitors, there were tons of security guards, one at almost every corner. The guards were looking at us funny, but to be fair, Patches is practically covered in tattoos and Butter does not know the concept of an "indoor voice."</p> <div class="scp-image-block block-right" style="width:300px;"><img alt="museum.jpg" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/there-are-still-humans-in-corning-right/museum.jpg"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>There was a security guard behind us here, and another one at the end of the hall</p> </div> </div> <p>Patches complained about this all the time. She has dragon tattoos that snake up all the way from her knuckles to her collarbone, and while they look very cool, they do put some people on edge. Butter joked that other people are scared they'll get eaten by the dragons.</p> <p>Halfway through the first exhibit, Butter swore that a brochure said the museum had a large, hyper-realistic cricket made entirely out of glass. Patches thought he was tripping, so the two of them decided that their current objective is to check the entire museum to see whether or not he was right. I'm a bit of a sucker for fine art and I was still interested in this exhibit, so I told them to go ahead.</p> <p>Shortly after the other two left, I started sneezing. I have pretty bad allergies, even in the summer. The security guard standing next to me suddenly asked me if I was sick. I assumed he just doesn’t want me to infect other visitors (as if there were any), and I said no, I was just allergic to pollen.</p> <p>He shrugged and told me to “get well soon” anyways. I'd never heard anybody say that for allergies.</p> <p>I once read a Reddit post about something called the Oz Factor, where sometimes, in rural areas, people will get a strange feeling that something's off. I've lived in the suburbs all my life, so I'd never thought I'd get to experience anything like it until now.</p> <p>As I browsed the nearby artwork, I could've sworn that I was being watched. But the only person nearby was the security guard, and when I turned around, he was never looking in my direction.</p> <p>Butter and Patches were long gone at this point, and I suddenly noticed how silent it was around me. Every step I took echoed off the walls. I listened to my gut instinct and left that exhibit.</p> <p>I caught up to the other two. At this point, they'd been looking for the cricket for a while now with no luck. I reminded them that the museum had a map. We found the statue pretty quickly after that.</p> <p>Apparently, they'd made a bet. When we found the cricket, Butter started demanding that Patches pay him ten bucks as she promised. However, Patches argued that she <em>technically</em> didn't lose the bet, because Butter said the statue was made <em>entirely</em> out of glass, while in reality it also contained materials like cloth and plastic. Butter has a habit of taking bets he absolutely cannot win, so he was fighting for those ten bucks with tooth and nail.</p> <p>As the two of them were arguing, I read the placard next to the artwork. What was weird about it was that instead of giving background information about the sculpture or an artist's statement, the placard only had a nature fact.</p> <blockquote> <p><em>Chlorobalius leucoviridis</em>, or the spotted predatory katydid, is a species in the bush cricket or katydid family. It mimics the calls of other insects, often cicadas, in order to lure members of that species and subsequently eat them. It has a remarkable ability to imitate multiple different insects, even those it has never heard before.</p> </blockquote> <p>No artist was credited for the work. That weird Oz Factor feeling was back again, and I didn't stop the other two from rushing through the rest of the exhibits.</p> <p>It wasn't even 8:00 yet when we returned to the hotel, so Butter suggested we go take a walk outside. The other two had noticed the strange lack of people in this town, and Butter was convinced that we'd be able to find something creepy.</p> <div class="scp-image-block block-right" style="width:300px;"><img alt="construction.jpg" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/there-are-still-humans-in-corning-right/construction.jpg"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>The construction site</p> </div> </div> <p>We went past the strip mall and found ourselves in front of what seemed to be an abandoned construction site. The first thing I noticed were the carcasses.</p> <p>There were several deer corpses lying by the side of the road, in various stages of decomposition. Having lived in the mid-Atlantic, I'm no stranger to dead deer, but I'd never seen so many of them in such close proximity. Some of them were so bloody that you could barely even tell they used to be alive. I asked Patches and Butter if they wanted to leave, but they seemed even more determined to investigate further.</p> <p>I'm currently making this post as we're headed deeper into this weird construction area. I'll follow up if something happens.</p> </div> <div class="blockquote"> <p><span style="color: orange"><strong>kebby (she/her)</strong></span> 8/23/2023 (Wed) 14:31:25 #60681019</p> <hr/> <p>Sorry about the slow update. I've felt too sick to post until now.</p> <p>We were getting closer to the deer carcasses when we heard laughter. It seemed almost human, except for the fact that it was too high-pitched. The closest thing I could describe it to was an old, poorly recorded laugh track, made by someone who'd never heard actual human laughter before.</p> <p>Some wild animals do have laughs that sound almost human. But it was accompanied by this sickly sweet smell, like the chemical flavorings they put into candy jacked up to eleven. It was so strong that it managed to cover up the stench of the rotting deer.</p> <div class="scp-image-block block-right" style="width:300px;"><img alt="path.jpg" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/there-are-still-humans-in-corning-right/path.jpg"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>They walked down here</p> </div> </div> <p>Bravery is not my strong suit. I made some sort of excuse about wanting to stay here because the weather’s so nice (doesn't make a lot of sense, I know), and Patches mumbled something about me having no spine. The other two disappeared behind the trees while Butter was making some joke about fighting demon Winnie the Pooh.</p> <p>A few minutes later, the laughing stopped, and everything went dead silent. The smell got intense, almost suffocating at this point. I yelled out their names, but there was no response.</p> <p>I’d just tried calling their numbers when I heard Butter in the distance, discussing some stupid hypothetical (this time about why he'd rather be 10 inches than 10 feet tall).</p> <div class="scp-image-block block-right" style="width:300px;"><img alt="corner.jpg" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/there-are-still-humans-in-corning-right/corner.jpg"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>Where I waited for them</p> </div> </div> <p>They didn't look any worse for wear, at least. They said that the laughing was probably some animal, and that the building’s doors were locked anyways. According to them, the smell was just a bunch of soda that somebody spilled nearby. They agreed to turn around and go back to the hotel.</p> <p>When I came out of the shower, Patches was staring at the blank television screen. I asked her what she was doing, and she told me she was watching TV. I pointed out that the television wasn't on, and she let out an “oh.”</p> <p>She picked up the remote on the table, inspected it for a moment, and eventually pressed the power button. It was currently broadcasting a golf tournament. Patches had never set foot on a golf course before, but she didn't bother to change the channel. She seemed entranced by the PGA tour.</p> <p>I asked her about it. She told me she was trying it out. Maybe she’d like it, she said.</p> <p>She stared at the TV for two full hours, keeping her eyes glued to it even for commercial breaks. At 11:30, I asked her to turn it off.</p> <p>I wasn't eager to stay in the room anymore. I told her I was going outside to get some fresh air. Just as I started walking towards the door, she rose out of her seat and grabbed my arm.</p> <p>“I turned off the television so you could sleep,” she said. “Why'd you decide to go out now?” Her grip on my arm was really tight.</p> <p>I backed down and told her I'd start getting ready for bed. When I came out of the bathroom, she was staring at me out of the corner of her eyes. Her gaze followed me as I climbed into bed.</p> <p>When I woke up the next day, it was barely 8:00 AM, and Patches was already gone. I texted her, and she replied that she was in the cafeteria with Butter.</p> <p>I got dressed and met them there. When I asked Patches why she was up so early, she looked at me with a puzzled expression and said, "is seven-thirty AM not an acceptable time to wake up?"</p> <p>She went back to staring at her phone. I looked over and noticed that she wasn't actually reading any of the posts. She kept scrolling through her feed at the same rate, never bothering to speed up or slow down.</p> <p>I tried to look towards Butter for help. He was currently trying to pour grape jelly out of a tiny plastic tin by holding it upside down over a slice of toast, and seemed confused as to why it wasn't flowing. I suggested using a knife. He grabbed a plastic knife off of the table behind him and told me that he'll "keep that in mind."</p> <p>I wanted to leave ASAP. I told them I felt sick and might hitch a ride home.</p> <p>Patches furrowed her brow. She said she thought I looked fine yesterday.</p> <p>I said that I started feeling a bit unwell last night, but I'd thought it was just allergies as usual.</p> <p>Patches suddenly put her hand over mine. She was just holding a glass of orange juice, so maybe that’s why it was icy cold.</p> <p>She looked me in the eyes and told me that they’d been planning this trip for so long, and it would be such a shame if I had to quit now. She said that we could just buy some Advil or something from the pharmacy down the street, and then we could continue onwards as we planned.</p> <p>Butter interrupted our conversation and told Patches to let me go home. He turned to me and said he was sure I would “get well, sooner or later."</p> <p>I finished breakfast and hastily packed my bags. They waved to me on the way out.</p> <p>I got an Uber. The driver asked me why I ordered an Uber trip worth more than a hundred dollars, and I told him I felt too sick to continue my current vacation, which was why I needed to get home on such short notice.</p> <p>I didn't say another word for the rest of the drive. I just nodded or shook my head whenever he asked if I needed to go to the bathroom or something. When he dropped me off at my place, he smiled at me and told me to “get well soon.”</p> <p>Nothing else has happened so far. Patches and Butter haven't sent me anything either.</p> <p>I'm hoping that they go off to college quietly and I never have to think about this again.</p> </div> <div class="blockquote"> <p><span style="color: orange"><strong>kebby (she/her)</strong></span> 10/01/2023 (Sun) 13:34:07 #99287600</p> <hr/> <p>Hey guys. I have an update.</p> <p>Some people DMed me saying the two of them could've just been high, and for a while I thought that might've been the case. I knew that both of them often used edibles, though I hadn't seen them pack any.</p> <p>I kept checking their social media, looking for proof that I hadn't been seeing things, but from what I could tell their accounts were completely normal. Nothing but regular stuff about starting college, what their dorms looked like, the new friends they were making, etc. There were photos too, so I knew that it was actually them making these posts.</p> <p>I've kept tabs on Corning. A strange article came up yesterday: it said that the Corning police had found "suspicious remains" in an abandoned construction building. It told anybody that stayed in Corning in the month of August to go to their local police station.</p> <p>I’m headed out right now. Wish me luck.</p> </div> <div class="blockquote"> <p><span style="color: orange"><strong>kebby (she/her)</strong></span> 10/01/2023 (Sun) 14:02:51 #43017748</p> <hr/> <p>I showed the article to the officer there and told him I might have relevant info. I asked him if I could get some more details, and he said he'd have to call the Corning Police Department. He told me to wait in the lobby as he entered his office and shut the door.</p> <p>The officer had some sort of conversation on the phone. I couldn't hear it very well from the lobby, but I distinctly remember something about "limbs" and "tattoos."</p> <p>When he came back, he told me that my information wasn't needed. The case had already closed. He mumbled something about "new hires" and said that "the problem had been dealt with."</p> <p>I talked to him about the strange behavior I saw that morning in the hotel, and he insisted that I "wouldn't have to worry about that anymore."</p> <p>I suddenly noticed the police station was curiously empty. In fact, the officer talking to me seemed to be the only one there. There was no one else at the front desk, no one inside the office. The only sound besides the two of us was the ticking of the clock.</p> <p>I asked him where everyone else was, and he told me there was a cold going around that he'd just recovered from. He said (quote) "my colleagues are still under the weather, but I'm sure they'll get well soon."</p> <p>My house and this police station are over four hours away from Corning, but both of my parents are out of town right now and I think I'm starting to lose it. When I got back to my house, I could've sworn I saw something move upstairs.</p> </div> <div class="blockquote"> <p><span style="color: orange"><strong>kebby (she/her)</strong></span> 10/01/2023 (Sun) 17:23:12 #74669470</p> <hr/> <p>I just entered my room and the windows are open someone's been going through my stuff</p> <p>I packed my clothes and got the fuck out of there I'm staying at another friend's house rn I feel so anxious I think I might throw up</p> <p>My friend said she'll call some people to help me</p> </div> <div class="blockquote"> <p><span style="color: orange"><strong>kebby (she/her)</strong></span> 10/01/2023 (Sun) 22:47:09 #91341348</p> <hr/> <p>Hey guys. We managed to solve the problem. I no longer need any advice, so I'm closing this thread.</p> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/there-are-still-humans-in-corning-right">there are still humans in corning, right?</a>" by halcyon_days, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/there-are-still-humans-in-corning-right">https://scpwiki.com/there-are-still-humans-in-corning-right</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> empty.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/halcyon-days" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5142925); return false;"><img alt="halcyon_days" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5142925&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735463411" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5142925)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/halcyon-days" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5142925); return false;">halcyon_days</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> [<a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/there-are-still-humans-in-corning-right">https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/there-are-still-humans-in-corning-right</a>]</p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> monro.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/halcyon-days" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5142925); return false;"><img alt="halcyon_days" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5142925&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735463411" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5142925)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/halcyon-days" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5142925); return false;">halcyon_days</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> [<a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/there-are-still-humans-in-corning-right">https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/there-are-still-humans-in-corning-right</a>]</p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> construction.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/halcyon-days" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5142925); return false;"><img alt="halcyon_days" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5142925&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735463411" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5142925)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/halcyon-days" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5142925); return false;">halcyon_days</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> [<a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/there-are-still-humans-in-corning-right">https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/there-are-still-humans-in-corning-right</a>]</p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> path.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/halcyon-days" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5142925); return false;"><img alt="halcyon_days" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5142925&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735463411" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5142925)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/halcyon-days" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5142925); return false;">halcyon_days</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> [<a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/there-are-still-humans-in-corning-right">https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/there-are-still-humans-in-corning-right</a>]</p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> corner.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/halcyon-days" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5142925); return false;"><img alt="halcyon_days" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5142925&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735463411" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5142925)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/halcyon-days" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5142925); return false;">halcyon_days</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> [<a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/there-are-still-humans-in-corning-right">https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/there-are-still-humans-in-corning-right</a>]</p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> museum.jpg<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Corning Museum of Glass - 20220212 - 07 - Contemporary Art + Design gallery.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Andre Carrotflower<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 4.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> [<a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Corning_Museum_of_Glass_-_20220212_-_07_-_Contemporary_Art_%2B_Design_gallery.jpg">https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Corning_Museum_of_Glass_-_20220212_-_07_-_Contemporary_Art_%2B_Design_gallery.jpg</a>]</p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> wendys.jpg<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Wendy's 7891.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> deathpallie325<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 4.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> [<a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Wendy%27s_7891.jpg">https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Wendy%27s_7891.jpg</a>]</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="/component:preview">component:preview</a> text=I could've sworn that I was being watched. But the only person nearby was the security guard, and when I turned around, he was never looking in my direction. ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:creepypasta">:scp-wiki:theme:creepypasta</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:toggle-sidebar">:scp-wiki:component:toggle-sidebar</a>]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[div class="blockquote"]] ##orange\|kebby (she/her)## 8/22/2023 (Tue) 19:27:11 #28478831 ------ [[image empty.jpg]] Have any of you heard of Corning, New York? Maybe met somebody from there? If you have, please tell me, so that I can know I'm just being paranoid. I'm on vacation right now, and I have no clue what's going on, but maybe you people can make something out of it. For the sake of privacy, I’ll give the other two people in this story nicknames. Let's call them Patches and Butter. I'm a rising high school senior, but the other two are headed to college in the fall. The three of us know each other because we're always involved in the school plays. Butter organized a trip to Niagara Falls for us, and we've stopped in Corning to take a break from driving. If, like me, you've never heard of it before, it’s just another small town in upstate NY, mostly famous for its museum of glass, which has a large display of … take a wild guess. No, really. Butter couldn't guess. He said it might've been a metaphor for how transparent the museum's information is. Or maybe it was built with a lot of glass. I pointed out that to be fair, the building //was// made out of glass. Back to Corning. The town isn't sitting right with me for a number of reasons. Everything was way too empty for two in the afternoon. The giant strip mall parking lot next to our hotel had maybe three or four cars in it. [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> \|name=monro.jpg \|caption=Pic I just snapped next to our hotel \|width=300px]] Butter apparently booked the cheapest hotels he could find that don't look like a breeding den for cockroaches. Personally, I had no complaints about the hotel in Corning, but Patches grumbled constantly about how the plumbing was screwed up and the AC was way too cold. Patches is just a complainer in general. She's always cranky on car rides, especially when Butter tries to remind us that "it's about the journey, not the destination." She was especially pissed today because I had to drag her out of bed. She's always had a bad habit of scrolling on her phone until 3:00 or 4:00 in the morning, and the checkout time today was 11:00 AM, so I had to physically wrestle the pillow away from her before she gave up trying to go back to sleep. After we put our luggage in our room, we got lunch from the Wendy’s nearby. When we ordered, the cashier asked us if we would like patties in our burgers. Patches told him yes, we obviously want meat in a hamburger, and asked if he was ok in the head. [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> \|name=wendys.jpg \|caption=The Wendy's earlier. Notice how we're the only car there \|width=300px]] The cashier stared at us, and he suddenly got this look of realization, like he just had some sort of epiphany. He told us that he’ll “remember that going forward.” “That cashier has to be stoned out of his fucking mind,” Patches said. “I respect it.” I don’t do drugs very often, but he seemed sober enough to me. As the other two eat, I watched the cashier. He was staring at his phone, but every once in a while he would surreptitiously glance at us for a few seconds. When we were about to finish, he gestured for the only other employee to come talk to him. They started whispering about something. When we left, I saw the cashier point to us for a split second. They kept watching us through the windows as we headed back to our car. After lunch, we visited the one attraction the town had, the museum of glass. Like every other establishment in this town, there was basically nobody there. The weird thing was that even though there were no visitors, there were tons of security guards, one at almost every corner. The guards were looking at us funny, but to be fair, Patches is practically covered in tattoos and Butter does not know the concept of an "indoor voice." [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> \|name=museum.jpg \|caption=There was a security guard behind us here, and another one at the end of the hall \|width=300px]] Patches complained about this all the time. She has dragon tattoos that snake up all the way from her knuckles to her collarbone, and while they look very cool, they do put some people on edge. Butter joked that other people are scared they'll get eaten by the dragons. Halfway through the first exhibit, Butter swore that a brochure said the museum had a large, hyper-realistic cricket made entirely out of glass. Patches thought he was tripping, so the two of them decided that their current objective is to check the entire museum to see whether or not he was right. I'm a bit of a sucker for fine art and I was still interested in this exhibit, so I told them to go ahead. Shortly after the other two left, I started sneezing. I have pretty bad allergies, even in the summer. The security guard standing next to me suddenly asked me if I was sick. I assumed he just doesn’t want me to infect other visitors (as if there were any), and I said no, I was just allergic to pollen. He shrugged and told me to “get well soon” anyways. I'd never heard anybody say that for allergies. I once read a Reddit post about something called the Oz Factor, where sometimes, in rural areas, people will get a strange feeling that something's off. I've lived in the suburbs all my life, so I'd never thought I'd get to experience anything like it until now. As I browsed the nearby artwork, I could've sworn that I was being watched. But the only person nearby was the security guard, and when I turned around, he was never looking in my direction. Butter and Patches were long gone at this point, and I suddenly noticed how silent it was around me. Every step I took echoed off the walls. I listened to my gut instinct and left that exhibit. I caught up to the other two. At this point, they'd been looking for the cricket for a while now with no luck. I reminded them that the museum had a map. We found the statue pretty quickly after that. Apparently, they'd made a bet. When we found the cricket, Butter started demanding that Patches pay him ten bucks as she promised. However, Patches argued that she //technically// didn't lose the bet, because Butter said the statue was made //entirely// out of glass, while in reality it also contained materials like cloth and plastic. Butter has a habit of taking bets he absolutely cannot win, so he was fighting for those ten bucks with tooth and nail. As the two of them were arguing, I read the placard next to the artwork. What was weird about it was that instead of giving background information about the sculpture or an artist's statement, the placard only had a nature fact. > //Chlorobalius leucoviridis//, or the spotted predatory katydid, is a species in the bush cricket or katydid family. It mimics the calls of other insects, often cicadas, in order to lure members of that species and subsequently eat them. It has a remarkable ability to imitate multiple different insects, even those it has never heard before. No artist was credited for the work. That weird Oz Factor feeling was back again, and I didn't stop the other two from rushing through the rest of the exhibits. It wasn't even 8:00 yet when we returned to the hotel, so Butter suggested we go take a walk outside. The other two had noticed the strange lack of people in this town, and Butter was convinced that we'd be able to find something creepy. [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> \|name=construction.jpg \|caption=The construction site \|width=300px]] We went past the strip mall and found ourselves in front of what seemed to be an abandoned construction site. The first thing I noticed were the carcasses. There were several deer corpses lying by the side of the road, in various stages of decomposition. Having lived in the mid-Atlantic, I'm no stranger to dead deer, but I'd never seen so many of them in such close proximity. Some of them were so bloody that you could barely even tell they used to be alive. I asked Patches and Butter if they wanted to leave, but they seemed even more determined to investigate further. I'm currently making this post as we're headed deeper into this weird construction area. I'll follow up if something happens. [[/div]] [[div class="blockquote"]] ##orange\|kebby (she/her)## 8/23/2023 (Wed) 14:31:25 #60681019 ------ Sorry about the slow update. I've felt too sick to post until now. We were getting closer to the deer carcasses when we heard laughter. It seemed almost human, except for the fact that it was too high-pitched. The closest thing I could describe it to was an old, poorly recorded laugh track, made by someone who'd never heard actual human laughter before. Some wild animals do have laughs that sound almost human. But it was accompanied by this sickly sweet smell, like the chemical flavorings they put into candy jacked up to eleven. It was so strong that it managed to cover up the stench of the rotting deer. [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> \|name=path.jpg \|caption=They walked down here \|width=300px]] Bravery is not my strong suit. I made some sort of excuse about wanting to stay here because the weather’s so nice (doesn't make a lot of sense, I know), and Patches mumbled something about me having no spine. The other two disappeared behind the trees while Butter was making some joke about fighting demon Winnie the Pooh. A few minutes later, the laughing stopped, and everything went dead silent. The smell got intense, almost suffocating at this point. I yelled out their names, but there was no response. I’d just tried calling their numbers when I heard Butter in the distance, discussing some stupid hypothetical (this time about why he'd rather be 10 inches than 10 feet tall). [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> \|name=corner.jpg \|caption=Where I waited for them\|width=300px]] They didn't look any worse for wear, at least. They said that the laughing was probably some animal, and that the building’s doors were locked anyways. According to them, the smell was just a bunch of soda that somebody spilled nearby. They agreed to turn around and go back to the hotel. When I came out of the shower, Patches was staring at the blank television screen. I asked her what she was doing, and she told me she was watching TV. I pointed out that the television wasn't on, and she let out an “oh.” She picked up the remote on the table, inspected it for a moment, and eventually pressed the power button. It was currently broadcasting a golf tournament. Patches had never set foot on a golf course before, but she didn't bother to change the channel. She seemed entranced by the PGA tour. I asked her about it. She told me she was trying it out. Maybe she’d like it, she said. She stared at the TV for two full hours, keeping her eyes glued to it even for commercial breaks. At 11:30, I asked her to turn it off. I wasn't eager to stay in the room anymore. I told her I was going outside to get some fresh air. Just as I started walking towards the door, she rose out of her seat and grabbed my arm. “I turned off the television so you could sleep,” she said. “Why'd you decide to go out now?” Her grip on my arm was really tight. I backed down and told her I'd start getting ready for bed. When I came out of the bathroom, she was staring at me out of the corner of her eyes. Her gaze followed me as I climbed into bed. When I woke up the next day, it was barely 8:00 AM, and Patches was already gone. I texted her, and she replied that she was in the cafeteria with Butter. I got dressed and met them there. When I asked Patches why she was up so early, she looked at me with a puzzled expression and said, "is seven-thirty AM not an acceptable time to wake up?" She went back to staring at her phone. I looked over and noticed that she wasn't actually reading any of the posts. She kept scrolling through her feed at the same rate, never bothering to speed up or slow down. I tried to look towards Butter for help. He was currently trying to pour grape jelly out of a tiny plastic tin by holding it upside down over a slice of toast, and seemed confused as to why it wasn't flowing. I suggested using a knife. He grabbed a plastic knife off of the table behind him and told me that he'll "keep that in mind." I wanted to leave ASAP. I told them I felt sick and might hitch a ride home. Patches furrowed her brow. She said she thought I looked fine yesterday. I said that I started feeling a bit unwell last night, but I'd thought it was just allergies as usual. Patches suddenly put her hand over mine. She was just holding a glass of orange juice, so maybe that’s why it was icy cold. She looked me in the eyes and told me that they’d been planning this trip for so long, and it would be such a shame if I had to quit now. She said that we could just buy some Advil or something from the pharmacy down the street, and then we could continue onwards as we planned. Butter interrupted our conversation and told Patches to let me go home. He turned to me and said he was sure I would “get well, sooner or later." I finished breakfast and hastily packed my bags. They waved to me on the way out. I got an Uber. The driver asked me why I ordered an Uber trip worth more than a hundred dollars, and I told him I felt too sick to continue my current vacation, which was why I needed to get home on such short notice. I didn't say another word for the rest of the drive. I just nodded or shook my head whenever he asked if I needed to go to the bathroom or something. When he dropped me off at my place, he smiled at me and told me to “get well soon.” Nothing else has happened so far. Patches and Butter haven't sent me anything either. I'm hoping that they go off to college quietly and I never have to think about this again. [[/div]] [[div class="blockquote"]] ##orange\|kebby (she/her)## 10/01/2023 (Sun) 13:34:07 #99287600 ------ Hey guys. I have an update. Some people DMed me saying the two of them could've just been high, and for a while I thought that might've been the case. I knew that both of them often used edibles, though I hadn't seen them pack any. I kept checking their social media, looking for proof that I hadn't been seeing things, but from what I could tell their accounts were completely normal. Nothing but regular stuff about starting college, what their dorms looked like, the new friends they were making, etc. There were photos too, so I knew that it was actually them making these posts. I've kept tabs on Corning. A strange article came up yesterday: it said that the Corning police had found "suspicious remains" in an abandoned construction building. It told anybody that stayed in Corning in the month of August to go to their local police station. I’m headed out right now. Wish me luck. [[/div]] [[div class="blockquote"]] ##orange\|kebby (she/her)## 10/01/2023 (Sun) 14:02:51 #43017748 ------ I showed the article to the officer there and told him I might have relevant info. I asked him if I could get some more details, and he said he'd have to call the Corning Police Department. He told me to wait in the lobby as he entered his office and shut the door. The officer had some sort of conversation on the phone. I couldn't hear it very well from the lobby, but I distinctly remember something about "limbs" and "tattoos." When he came back, he told me that my information wasn't needed. The case had already closed. He mumbled something about "new hires" and said that "the problem had been dealt with." I talked to him about the strange behavior I saw that morning in the hotel, and he insisted that I "wouldn't have to worry about that anymore." I suddenly noticed the police station was curiously empty. In fact, the officer talking to me seemed to be the only one there. There was no one else at the front desk, no one inside the office. The only sound besides the two of us was the ticking of the clock. I asked him where everyone else was, and he told me there was a cold going around that he'd just recovered from. He said (quote) "my colleagues are still under the weather, but I'm sure they'll get well soon." My house and this police station are over four hours away from Corning, but both of my parents are out of town right now and I think I'm starting to lose it. When I got back to my house, I could've sworn I saw something move upstairs. [[/div]] [[div class="blockquote"]] ##orange\|kebby (she/her)## 10/01/2023 (Sun) 17:23:12 #74669470 ------ I just entered my room and the windows are open someone's been going through my stuff I packed my clothes and got the fuck out of there I'm staying at another friend's house rn I feel so anxious I think I might throw up My friend said she'll call some people to help me [[/div]] [[div class="blockquote"]] ##orange\|kebby (she/her)## 10/01/2023 (Sun) 22:47:09 #91341348 ------ Hey guys. We managed to solve the problem. I no longer need any advice, so I'm closing this thread. [[/div]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] > Filename: empty.jpg > Author: [[user halcyon_days]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/there-are-still-humans-in-corning-right] > Filename: monro.jpg > Author: [[user halcyon_days]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/there-are-still-humans-in-corning-right] > Filename: construction.jpg > Author: [[user halcyon_days]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/there-are-still-humans-in-corning-right] > Filename: path.jpg > Author: [[user halcyon_days]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/there-are-still-humans-in-corning-right] > Filename: corner.jpg > Author: [[user halcyon_days]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/there-are-still-humans-in-corning-right] > Filename: museum.jpg > Name: Corning Museum of Glass - 20220212 - 07 - Contemporary Art + Design gallery.jpg > Author: Andre Carrotflower > License: CC BY-SA 4.0 > Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Corning_Museum_of_Glass_-_20220212_-_07_-_Contemporary_Art_%2B_Design_gallery.jpg] > Filename: wendys.jpg > Name: Wendy's 7891.jpg > Author: deathpallie325 > License: CC BY-SA 4.0 > Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Wendy%27s_7891.jpg] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-06-28T22:02:00	[ "_cc", "_cc4", "_licensebox", "creepypasta", "featured", "first-person", "horror", "parawatch", "psychological-horror", "tale" ]	there are still humans in corning, right? - SCP Foundation	118	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "parawatch-hub", "featured-tale-archive-ii", "creepy-pasta", "news" ]	[ "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/there-are-still-humans-in-corning-right/empty.jpg", "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/there-are-still-humans-in-corning-right/monro.jpg", "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/there-are-still-humans-in-corning-right/wendys.jpg", "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/there-are-still-humans-in-corning-right/museum.jpg", "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/there-are-still-humans-in-corning-right/construction.jpg", "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/there-are-still-humans-in-corning-right/path.jpg", "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/there-are-still-humans-in-corning-right/corner.jpg" ]	1454335471	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/there-are-still-humans-in-corning-right
thereisnohope	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="preview"> <p>Everything is red.</p> </div> <div style="display: none"> <div style="text-align: left;"> <div class="code"> <div class="hl-main"> <pre><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Foxtrot</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Sigma-9</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">2022</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">Wikidot</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">Theme</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">By</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Liryn</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">FONTS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Montserrat</span><span class="hl-special">:ital</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">wght</span><span class="hl-var">@0</span><span class="hl-code">,800;1,800&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Lexend</span><span class="hl-special">:wght</span><span class="hl-var">@700</span><span class="hl-code">;800&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">JetBrains</span><span class="hl-code">+</span><span class="hl-identifier">Mono</span><span class="hl-special">:ital</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">wght</span><span class="hl-var">@0</span><span class="hl-code">,400;0,700;1,400;1,700&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Fira</span><span class="hl-code">+</span><span class="hl-identifier">Code</span><span class="hl-special">:wght</span><span class="hl-var">@400</span><span class="hl-code">;700&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Sofia</span><span class="hl-code">+</span><span class="hl-identifier">Sans</span><span class="hl-special">:ital</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">wght</span><span class="hl-var">@0</span><span class="hl-code">,400;0,700;1,400;1,700&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">rsms.me</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">inter</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">inter.css</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Figtree</span><span class="hl-special">:wght</span><span class="hl-var">@800</span><span class="hl-code">;900&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">IBM</span><span class="hl-code">+</span><span class="hl-identifier">Plex</span><span class="hl-code">+</span><span class="hl-identifier">Sans</span><span class="hl-special">:ital</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">wght</span><span class="hl-var">@0</span><span class="hl-code">,400;0,500;0,600;0,700;1,400;1,500;1,600;1,700&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">VARIABLES</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-special">:root</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">VARIABLES</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Core</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ --</span><span class="hl-reserved">header-title:</span><span class="hl-code"> "SCP Foundation"</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">header-subtitle:</span><span class="hl-code"> "SECURE, CONTAIN, PROTECT"</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">logo-img:</span><span class="hl-code"> url(https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/theme:foxtrot/fxtrt-scp_logo_lightmode.svg)</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">darkmode-logo-img:</span><span class="hl-code"> url(https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/theme:foxtrot/fxtrt-scp_logo_darkmode.svg)</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">logo-opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">14</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">head-font:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'Sans Normalcy'</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">ui-font:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'IBM Plex Sans'</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">mono-font:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'JetBrains Mono', 'Fira </span><span class="hl-string">Code</span><span class="hl-code">', </span><span class="hl-string">monospace</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">page-font:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'Inter', 'verdana'</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">base-font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.9</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">page-font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">VARIABLES</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Misc</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ --</span><span class="hl-reserved">header-txt-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">subheader-txt-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">misc-txt-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#464646</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">link-txt-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#E6283C</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">link-hover-txt-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">white</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">VARIABLES</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Color</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Accents</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ --</span><span class="hl-reserved">accent:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--acc-default)</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-default:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">59</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">59</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">59</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-wyoming:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">142</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">18</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-canada:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--acc-default)</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-poland:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">87</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">44</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">17</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-slothspit:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">27</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">60</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">133</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-vanguard:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">153</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">75</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-threshold:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">121</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">113</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">130</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-overwatch:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">28</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">37</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">56</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-spc:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">165</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">200</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-fishing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">67</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">111</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">145</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-nightfall:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">151</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-hybrasil:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">27</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">60</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">133</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-goc:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">39</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">84</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">149</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-spooky:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">252</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">112</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">40</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">VARIABLES</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">BetterFootnotes</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ --</span><span class="hl-reserved">fnColor:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--link-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">fnLinger:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">VARIABLES</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.info-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">barColour:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">linkColour:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#EDEDED</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MAIN</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">html</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">scroll-behavior:</span><span class="hl-code"> smooth</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow-x:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">body</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font), </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--base-font-size)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(</span><span class="hl-number">51</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">51</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">51</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> linear-gradient(to </span><span class="hl-string">bottom</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">200</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-rendering:</span><span class="hl-code"> optimizeLegibility</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow-wrap:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">break-word</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#container-wrap</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#content-wrap</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--page-font), var(--ui-font), </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--page-font-size)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">440</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">strong</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">700</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tt</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-source</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">pre</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-page-textarea</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--mono-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ol</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">p</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-underline-offset:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">40</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> :</span><span class="hl-special">:selection</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Clicky</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">links</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.newpage</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:visited</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:visited</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--link-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.newpage</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:visited:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:visited:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--link-hover-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--link-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">patch</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">for</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">sidebar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">media</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">collapsibles</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">ACS</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ayers</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">module</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">so</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">doesn</span><span class="hl-code">'</span><span class="hl-identifier">t</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">override</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-folded</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-unfolded-link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.danger-diamond</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.info-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-folded</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.info-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--linkColour) !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MAIN</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">160</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font), </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">900</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">0.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> fit-content</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-title)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-subtitle)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font) !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">700</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--misc-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">26</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.35</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">block</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-transform:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">uppercase</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#extra-div-1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">160</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">7</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--logo-img) </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">30</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">130</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--logo-opacity)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MAIN</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Header</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Search</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">text</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#efefef</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--page-font-size) - </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.empty</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#999999</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">47</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MAIN</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Header</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">white</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li.sfhover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.83</span><span class="hl-code">) !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">230</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-indent:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.mobile-top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MAIN</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Header</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Login</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">19</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 767</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.printuser</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.printuser</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.printuser</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">img.small</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">18</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">18</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 767</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.printuser</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">img.small</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">transform:</span><span class="hl-code"> translate(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#my-account</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 767</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#account-topbutton</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MAIN</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Header</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Side</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.open-menu</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">white</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (min-width: 768</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.6</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.6</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">18.75</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">left</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">direction:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">rtl</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">left</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.resources</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.media</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#interwiki</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">direction:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">ltr</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.resources</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.heading</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--misc-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#cfcfcf</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">9</span><span class="hl-string">pt</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">800</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-transform:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">uppercase</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Blockquotes</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">Custom</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Divs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">blockquote</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.15</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#f7f7f7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">dashed</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#f7f7f7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.35</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.35</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#f7f7f7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.15</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fbfbfb</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.quote</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#bbb</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">9</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">9</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#bbb</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.note</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#afafaf</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.round</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Headings</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">Titles</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-title</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.meta-title</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font), </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">800</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#3b3b3b</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> fit-content</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-title</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.meta-title</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#breadcrumbs</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.pseudocrumbs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font), </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">800</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#3b3b3b</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">800</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.footnotes-footer</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.title</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font), </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#3b3b3b</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">800</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Rate</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Module</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.creditRate</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#bbb</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#bbb</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-points</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inline-block</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Rate</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Module</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Author</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Label</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.authorlink-wrapper</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">author-top-adjust:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">author-bottom-adjust:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">author-right-adjust:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--base-font-size)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Side</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anchor</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> sticky</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.14</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc((</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vw - </span><span class="hl-number">870</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">)/</span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vh - </span><span class="hl-number">18</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">103.5</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 1290</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">visibility:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Image</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#f4f4f4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#3b3b3b</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">img</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.imagediv</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">right</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 540</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.imagediv</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">only</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">screen</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 600</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block.block-right</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tables</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Base</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">12</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#bfbfbf</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.35</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tables</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Customization</span><span class="hl-code"> (</span><span class="hl-identifier">Table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Coloring</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">System</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tables</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Customization</span><span class="hl-code"> (</span><span class="hl-identifier">Table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Coloring</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">System</span><span class="hl-code">) > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Headings</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">Image</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Captions</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#E0FFD4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#D8ECF4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FDF6D7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFDFCD</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFCFCF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">146</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.wiki-content-table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-collapse:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">separate</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tables</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Customization</span><span class="hl-code"> (</span><span class="hl-identifier">Table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Coloring</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">System</span><span class="hl-code">) > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Other</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colored</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Divs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote.table1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote.table1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting.table1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation.table1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal.table1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(</span><span class="hl-number">224</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">212</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote.table2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote.table2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting.table2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation.table2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal.table2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(</span><span class="hl-number">226</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">244</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote.table3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote.table3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting.table3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation.table3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal.table3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(</span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">245</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">189</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote.table4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote.table4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting.table4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation.table4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal.table4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(</span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">223</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">205</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote.table5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote.table5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting.table5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation.table5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal.table5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(</span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">207</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">207</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote.table6</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote.table6</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting.table6</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation.table6</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal.table6</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(</span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">218</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tabs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Base</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tabs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Customization</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-wrap:</span><span class="hl-code"> wrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">.125</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">UNSELECTED</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#efefef</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">HOVER</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Listitem</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">relative</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-bottom</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">align-items:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.35</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.75</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> ellipsis</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">white-space:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">nowrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Selection</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">SELECTED</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:active</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">WORDS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">NO</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BROKEY</span><span class="hl-code">. </span><span class="hl-identifier">CROQ</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">HAS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">SPOKEY</span><span class="hl-code">. </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">other</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">things</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">word-break:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">normal</span><span class="hl-code"> !important </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.avatar-hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Dustjacket</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Assets</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fancyhr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--bright-accent), </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-source:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://wanderers-library.wikidot.com/local--files/component:dustjacket-theme/wl_hr.png')</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> round round</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-slice:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-code"> fill</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fancyborder</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://wanderers-library.wikidot.com/local--files/component:dustjacket-theme/wl_border.png') </span><span class="hl-number">600</span><span class="hl-code"> round</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Collapsibles</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">underline</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--link-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-special">:not</span><span class="hl-code">(</span><span class="hl-identifier">.licensebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.info-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.default-col</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">white</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">7</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">9</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--base-font-size)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inline-block</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-special">:not</span><span class="hl-code">(</span><span class="hl-identifier">.licensebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.info-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.default-col</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--accent), </span><span class="hl-number">0.7</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">ACS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Adjustments</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.top-left-box</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">.item</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anom-bar-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anom-bar-container</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anom-bar-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font), Inter, </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.acs-extra-1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.acs-extra-2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.acs-extra-3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.acs-extra-4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font), Inter, </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anom-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">.top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-transform:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Woed</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Adjustments</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.scale</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.item1</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-transform:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">uppercase</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.scale</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.class1</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.9</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.scale</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">woedbar-class-bar-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.scale</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.obj</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.7</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.scale</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.obj</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.55</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MISC</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.bt</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#footer</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#444</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">45</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#footer</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#7b7b7b</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.footer-wikiwalk-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">700</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">88</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">word-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-info-break</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-options-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">213</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">213</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">213</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-watch-options</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.6</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">77</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-options-bottom</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-direction:</span><span class="hl-code"> row</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-wrap:</span><span class="hl-code"> wrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">align-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-options-bottom</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">13</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">13</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom-left-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom-right-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-options-bottom</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--accent), </span><span class="hl-number">0.8</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-info-break</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#license-area</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#5f5f5f</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ecf2f1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#d9d9d9</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#license-area</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> "."</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (min-width: 768</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">16</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> "tags "</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--misc-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">800</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--page-font-size)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inline-block</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.8125</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">.75</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.1875</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">.3125</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">.1875</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom-right-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.25</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top-right-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.25</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">13</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.8125</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--page-font-size) - </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">.1875</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">.625</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.0625</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">.1875</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent)) </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-style:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> ""</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">relative</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">left</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.25</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.25</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.2813</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.125</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-tags-input</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">word-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-page-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.text</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font), </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">800</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">150</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-page-form</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">table.form</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">tbody</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-special">:nth-child</span><span class="hl-code">(1) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.edit-help-34</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">85</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">60</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.3</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> fit-content</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.edit-help-34</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.edit-help-34</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">table.edit-page-bottomtable</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-page-comments</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">86</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#lock-info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.8</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">86</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#lock-info</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> "!"</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">12</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">110</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">60</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#lock-timer</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">115</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#lock-timer</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> "⏲ "</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">textarea</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-page-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.text</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">outline:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ccc</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.3</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-property:</span><span class="hl-code"> box-shadow</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">textarea</span><span class="hl-special">:focus-visible</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-page-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.text</span><span class="hl-special">:focus-visible</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#a3a3a3</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#a3a3a3</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#action-area</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">p</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">85</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> darkslategrey</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#action-area</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">p</span><span class="hl-special">:nth-child</span><span class="hl-code">(5)></span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">block</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">120</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#who-rated-page-area</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">column-count:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 900</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#who-rated-page-area</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">column-count:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 700</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#who-rated-page-area</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">column-count:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 540</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#who-rated-page-area</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">column-count:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.content-warning.creditRate</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">21</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.preview-message</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.9</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">29</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">filter:</span><span class="hl-code"> drop-shadow(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#EDEDED</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.error-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">48</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#B00</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top-left-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top-right-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">table.page-history</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tbody</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-special">:nth-child</span><span class="hl-code">(2</span><span class="hl-identifier">n</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--accent), </span><span class="hl-number">0.05</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation:</span><span class="hl-code"> fade </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@keyframes</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">fade</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> 0% </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> 100% </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.button-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">11</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.button-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--link-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--link-hover-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.button-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.title</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">cursor:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">default</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">800</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">155</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">187</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">187</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">187</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#F7F7F7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow.owait</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow.owait</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.content</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> " "</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">block</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">0.9</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation:</span><span class="hl-code"> loading </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-code">s linear infinite</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> grey</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> grey</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@keyframes</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">loading</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> 0% </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">transform:</span><span class="hl-code"> rotate(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">deg)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> 100% </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">transform:</span><span class="hl-code"> rotate(</span><span class="hl-number">360</span><span class="hl-code">deg)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow.osuccess</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.content</span><span class="hl-special">:nth-child</span><span class="hl-code">(2)></span><span class="hl-identifier">img</span><span class="hl-special">:nth-child</span><span class="hl-code">(1) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.odialog-shader</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#262a39</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.btn</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.15</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.btn</span><span class="hl-special">:not</span><span class="hl-code">(</span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.btn</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-string">submit</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">), </span><span class="hl-identifier">.btn.btn-primary</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.buttons</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.button</span><span class="hl-special">:not</span><span class="hl-code">(</span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-string">submit</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">11</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">cursor:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">pointer</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-cancel-button</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-diff-button</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-preview-button</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-draft-button</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-continue-button</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ccc</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">cursor:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">pointer</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">14</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-cancel-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-diff-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-preview-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-draft-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-continue-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#eaeaea</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-continue-button</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#dbffd6</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.3</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#005a0a</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-continue-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#0d951c</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-cancel-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffe1e1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.3</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#c52727</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-cancel-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#c5272e</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">table.page-history</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tbody</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#757575</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fncon</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--page-font-size) !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fncon</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--page-font-size) !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.hovertip</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">400</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.checkbox</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-history</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#h-perpage</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">cursor:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">pointer</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">textarea</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#breadcrumbs</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.pseudocrumbs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">110</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">REDUCED</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MOTION</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ACCESSIBILITY</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (prefers-reduced-motion: </span><span class="hl-identifier">reduce</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">::</span><span class="hl-identifier">before</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">::</span><span class="hl-identifier">after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.001</span><span class="hl-code">s !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-iteration-count:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.001</span><span class="hl-code">s !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@MEDIA</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 850</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">h2:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 700</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">h2:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8.8</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 620</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">h2:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.15</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">123</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 520</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">h2:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { line-height: </span><span class="hl-number">16</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">9.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">145</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> }</span></pre></div> </div> </div> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><span style="font-size:x-large;"><strong>September 8th, 2035. 3:30 AM.</strong></span><br/> <span style="font-size:large;"><strong>Timeline 5956-X</strong></span></p> </div> <p>Everything is red.</p> <p>It has been this way for exactly thirteen years. Times are when Naomi had tried to differentiate it. Scarlet ceiling lamps, crimson concrete walls, cherry plastic cutlery lying on a light coral plate. The dark carmine of her bedsheets and the deep garnet of the wooden desk. Years ago, when she was still at the bargaining stage of grief, pretending that all these shades of red were something more.</p> <p>They are not. Her reality is red, bleeding from a wound which refuses to heal. And humanity is drowning in its blood.</p> <p>“Trouble sleeping?” Sasha mutters under the blanket, eyes still closed. Their hair is frazzled, like a clump of broken straws. She feels guilty for waking them prematurely — a glance at the alarm clock tells her there’s a good half-hour before they’d have to put in the eyedrops. She sits at the edge of the bed, feet dangling above the carpeted floor.</p> <p>“I’m fine, just stressed. Heart keeps beating way too fast, keep thinking about all the wrong things.”</p> <p>“What sort of things?” They roll over next to her, but don’t sit up.</p> <p>“Big things. Existential thoughts. I’m in a brooding mood, sorry.” She leans back, resting her head on their chest.</p> <p>“Three AM is the best time for brooding, I think. Peels back the layers.”</p> <p>“What?” she almost laughs.</p> <p>“Less filters, as you can see. You make less sense, and that makes it more meaningful.” They run their fingers through her hair. She shifts to lie on the bed before climbing over them to sit on the other side. Staring at the ceiling, back pressed against the wall, she can almost make out the cobwebs in the corner. How much more simple it must be, to be a spider in that web. How much more safe. And there are flies aplenty.</p> <p>“I don’t want to talk about it. Well, I don’t want— you’ve got your own shit to deal with. You don’t need to take up my burdens.”</p> <p>“And if I want to? If I want to help you?” She can hear the pain in their voice, try as they might to hide it. “A burden shared is a burden halved, is what Ngo would say.” She doesn’t need to look at them to know their expression. Kind, pleading. Like a painkiller begging to be swallowed.</p> <p>“And she’s gone. It’s been years. G-d, it’s been <em>years</em>. I’m fine, trust me.”</p> <p>“None of us are fine.”</p> <p>“You know what I mean.”</p> <p>Silence reclaims the room eagerly, at home in the darkness. Red-rimmed silhouettes are all that she can see. The minutes tick by. At precisely four in the morning, the two help each other administer the eye drops without a word, and Naomi tries her best to sleep. Trains of thought run spirals in her head, round and round and round, derailing and derailing, until finally drifting off into peaceful oblivion.</p> <hr/> <p>At exactly eight in the morning Researcher Naomi Markovich stands in the bathroom, head craned upwards, and squeezes out two drops in each eye. There is no mirror, naturally, but she knows she is a mess, a rat’s nest of dark red curls creeping down her neck. She forces it into a rough ponytail, split hairs sticking out like dead grass, then splashes some water on her face. The cold numbs her senses, giving momentary relief to her dry lips. There are circles under her eyes, and too many wrinkles for a woman in her thirties. She shaves the stubble to a shadow she can tolerate, nicking the underside of her chin. Blood drips down the sink, and she washes it and the cut with cold water. The softness of the towel against her face soothes the pain, and she savors it.</p> <div class="scp-image-block block-right" style="width:20%;"><img alt="evilestrogen.jpg" class="image" src="http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/thereisnohope/evilestrogen.jpg"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>Not winning yet.</p> </div> </div> <p>Opening a cabinet, she swallows a 2mg estradiol pill before checking her stock — barely enough to get it through the month. She’ll have to pay H&P another visit, though she doubts she’ll have any better luck this time. The other room is empty, Sasha having left early for their shift. She gets dressed, grabs her lab coat off the floor — didn't she hang it on her chair? — and steps out of her sanctuary into the cracked halls of Site-43. The lights flicker overhead, like candles before a storm.</p> <p>In just over ten hours, the Breach will be upon them again. There will be no Cannon, despite their best efforts and most desperate of hopes. Eight human beings will have to reenact armageddon, while others will risk their lives against the resurging demons above. And what will she be doing? Nothing. Hiding under the covers, hands over her ears while thunder roars and the klaxons claw at the walls, threatening to rip her world apart. Her heart will squeeze in her chest, blood rushing in her head, painful in her fingertips. And she will cry, and Sasha will try to tell her that it will be fine, and they will fail, because nothing is fine, nothing ever will be fine ever again, and she will shut her eyes against everyone and everything — and still all she will see is red.</p> <p>The hydroponics in R&E are a welcome distraction, with most of her morning spent tending to the farms. She cuts away root rot, pollinates flowers, unclogs a pipe and ensures the anti-reflectant is routinely pumped into the water supply. Her coworkers appear to be in a similar mood as her, saying little save a ‘hello’ or ‘good morning’. Still, it feels good to be lost in the maze. Hidden amongst the leaves, the air as fresh as it gets, she can almost imagine she's above ground again.</p> <div class="scp-image-block block-center" style="width:90%;"><img alt="evilstrawberries.jpg" class="image" src="http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/thereisnohope/evilstrawberries.jpg"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>Cherry picker.</p> </div> </div> <p>“You alright?” Mihaly Ládas, the Senior Researcher in charge of the farms, finds her picking tomatoes in one of the smaller rooms. “You look off.”</p> <p>“‘Tis the season to be jolly.”</p> <p>The other woman sighs. “Touché. But I saw you avoiding the others.”</p> <p>“Have I now?”</p> <p>“We’re all in this together, you know that. You can talk to us if you–”</p> <p>“I know.” Naomi snaps. “I don’t want to talk. I’m fine, really, I just– call it seasonal depression or something, I don’t care. Maybe I just want to be alone with my plants? Why does everyone suddenly want to be my therapist?!”</p> <p>Ládas raises her hands in surrender. “Woah, sorry, didn’t mean to push a button.”</p> <p>“Then why are you here?”</p> <p>“Well, other than worrying about you, I was wondering if you wanted to check on the mold? I know it’s technically my jurisdiction, but it’s still your project.” Said mold was something she’d discovered a few weeks ago, growing in strange geometric patterns on the leaves of a cucumber bush. Definitely anomalous, probably linked to the Breach – like every anomaly, these days. "Oh, and are you the one who swept the strawberries in row G? They were scheduled for next week and I haven't seen anyone—"</p> <p>"Wasn't me." She shrugs and puts the half-filled basket aside. “But sure, I'll take a look at the mold, as long as you leave me alone.”</p> <p>“You know I can't do that. Protocol–”</p> <p>Naomi chuckles dryly. “Right, right. Let's just go then.”</p> <p>The lab-turned-containment chamber is small, most of the equipment removed or lying unused in the corner. Ládas hangs near the doorway as Naomi approaches the small hydroponics complex at the center. There are, of course, no microscopes, not even a simple magnifying glass to help her see. It is barely a project, more a hobby or a distraction, but she does it anyway, kneeling down to inspect the dark red leaves. The mold is black, a spiderweb of needle thin growths, circles within triangles within hexagons within pentagons.</p> <p>She turns over the leaf to look at the underside. The mold here is more standard, a fuzzy sheet that dominates the plant. It is pockmarked with holes, little islands of light red in an ocean of black. It's secreting something between the gaps, she notices. She brings the leaf closer to her eyes, squinting – some sort of liquid, clear and–</p> <p>The realization hits like a gunshot blasting through her skull and she hurls herself backwards, just as a tiny, colorless claw erupts from the reflective liquid, growing instantly to full size as it shoots out to grab her. Time seems to slow as she crashes to the ground, heart beating madly, staring as the corpse of Phillip Deering crawls out from under the leaf. Its bleeding eye sockets meet her gaze. She curses and kicks back frantically as it lunges at her, her brain screaming that any injury from this thing would mean her death. Her foot connects with a gray claw and she twists, trying to roll away only to feel its crushing grip squeeze her forearm. It's going to pull her in, oh G-d it's going to–</p> <p>“No-no-no-no PLEASE NO–”</p> <p>A loud metallic clang rings through the air, followed by the sound of splashing water. She feels the grip release and immediately rolls over, pressing herself into the corner. Only then does she grasp that Ládas had hurled the plant into the other side of the room, that the thing they put in the water must have disrupted the reflection when it spilled out and–</p> <p>Naomi coughs, wheezing, shutting her eyes. The tears are quick to come, pouring through the cracks. Every nerve feels like it's on fire, waves of electricity rippling along her skin. Out out out she needs <em>out</em> she needs it to <em>stop</em>–</p> <p>“I was going to die. I was going to die. I was dead. Fuck, fuck, I'm going to– I'm–” her teeth are chattering. Ládas runs over to her.</p> <p>“We have to get out of here. Come on.”</p> <p>“He LEFT us! That motherfucking, bullshit sciencing son of a bitch–”</p> <p>“<em>Naomi!</em> We need to go!”</p> <p>“HE LEFT US TO DIE! None of this fucking matters, it's never gonna end, it's never GOING TO END!”</p> <p>Ládas grabs her, shakes her, drags her towards the door. She collides with something she can't see, the pain barely registering. There are spots at the corners of her vision, black holes in a red reality. Her ears are ringing, she can barely hear the door slam shut behind them.</p> <p>“We can’t even… can't– the others– stuck, trapped, dead dead dead dead…”</p> <hr/> <p>At exactly 12 AM Naomi lies in a bed at Health and Pathology. She isn’t sure when she blacked out, but it’s clearly been long enough to bring her heart rate back to normal. The nurse helps her administer the eyedrops. A moment later, Sasha enters the room, and the nurse leaves the two alone, off to put his own drops in.</p> <p>“Hey, I’m–” She’s cut off as they hug her tightly, and she lets her muscles relax, if only for a moment. They smell like sweat, machine oil and dust.</p> <p>“What’d they say?” They pull back, and take a seat next to her bed. Their technician jumpsuit is almost the same shade of red as their hair, dirty and torn around their midsection. Crow’s feet around their eyes, a hint of dried blood on cracked lips – the sterile fluorescent lighting makes them look like a red-wrapped corpse in a morgue.</p> <p>“Minor scratches, I’m lucky the nails didn’t dig in too deep.” She raises her injured arm, the wound already festering. “They’ll have to carve out the flesh around the wound so it can heal properly, you know the drill.”</p> <p>“Today?”</p> <p>“Yeah, they want to get it over before the Breach. I do too. Should be back to work tomorrow.”</p> <p>“Are you sure you don’t want more–”</p> <p>“I’m sure. I’m fine. I just need all this– this stupid fucking day to be over already.”</p> <p>Sasha looks at her sadly. Is that pity? She wonders if Ládas told them anything of what she’d said before the anxiety meds kicked in. “Look, it’s the Breach, okay? It’s making me feel like absolute garbage. But I’m having it much better than the Omegas, the agents, and everyone else that might be dead in a few hours.”</p> <p>“You could’ve been dead <em>now</em>, if Ládas hadn’t been there with you. You’re not a–”</p> <p>“No! Don’t tell me I’m not a burden because I <em>am</em> a fucking burden!” She doesn’t care that she can be heard through the walls. The tears wallow up again. “We don’t have therapists anymore, Sasha, we either throw our shit at each other or we bottle it up and hope we survive until tomorrow. And if the thing’s gonna go away on the ninth anyway, better yet! Just like we dump a dash B into Deering every time he kills himself.” She stops. “I guess we won’t be able to do that anymore, without the Cannon. Fuck.”</p> <p>There is a pause, the air growing suddenly still. “You haven’t seen him at all this past year, have you?” Sasha’s voice is distant. She gives them a nod, but their eyes shift to look at the bed, then at the wall. “He doesn’t get out much. I fixed the lights in his lab once, he looked… horrible doesn’t even begin to describe it. Hollow. Broken. Like there was nothing left.”</p> <p>“Can’t say I feel sorry for him.”</p> <p>“I’m not asking you to. You don’t have to talk to me. If that’s what you want, then go ahead. You know what I think.” They take her hand, finally meeting her eyes again. “But you have to be better than him, okay? Promise me you’ll make it through tomorrow. Promise me you won’t go empty.”</p> <p>Her voice is as cracked as the walls when she answers. “I’ll try.”</p> <hr/> <p>It is four o’clock sharp and Naomi Markovich is in the H&P restrooms. Her arm is bandaged after the operation, still numb from the painkillers. A few minutes ago, she had asked the doctors if she could restock on her hormones. Predictably, they said the synthesizers were already at full capacity with more critical drugs, like the morphine she’d just been given. So she stares at the empty space where a mirror should be, puts her eyedrops in, and cries.</p> <p>She hears the door close, and realizes that she didn’t hear it open. She spins, backing up, but she’s alone in the room. There’s a crackle, almost like radio static, and she sees an outline of something humanoid. The blur grows more distinct, like pixels multiplying to higher resolutions, as a person steps out from the background directly towards her. They’re old, much older than anyone alive in Site-43, and a gray fedora hides the top of their face. They wear a gray suit with a striped red necktie, and there’s a cane in their right hand.</p> <p>“Hello, Naomi.”</p> <p>“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t scream for security or kick your teeth in myself. Alternatively, if you’re another Breach-thing, k– wait, are you one of the Bs? ‘Conceptually vague’ or something?” Obviously not, because they weren’t able to communicate at all, and this thing just said hello. Regardless, it’s not like she can do anything to stop it, with her reflexes numb and her mental faculties a hair’s breadth from collapsing again.</p> <p>“I don’t believe I am, though we are rather similar in many ways. Sorry for startling you, I’m Nobody,” they reach out a hand, “if you know what that means.”</p> <p>“Let’s say I don’t. Are you human? Are you alive?” She raises her eyebrows, trying to project confidence.</p> <p>They pull back. “Yes and yes, though not for much longer I fear. Before ‘22, the Foundation considered us a Group of Interest. We’re unnoticeable, unmemorable to an anomalous degree. Looks like that extends to the Paradox too, if your organization’s hypothesis is correct.”</p> <p>“So you’re… just a bunch of invisible people? The hell are you doing here?”</p> <p>“After enough time, we don’t remember who we are, either. I am here for you, Naomi. I’m sorry if this seems abrupt or – more likely – creepy, but I’ve been meandering around your Site for the past few months. Followed you specifically for a week. I have an offer to make to you.”</p> <p>She stands there for a moment, dumbfounded. “What… What sort of offer?”</p> <p>“I am, as you can see, at the end of my life. From what I gather, once I die, my mantle is given to another at random. It is both a blessing and a curse to be Nobody, but mostly the latter. I am offering to pass it on to you, right now.”</p> <p>Naomi blinks once, twice. She says the only thing that comes to mind. “What?”</p> <p>“You will be forgotten by everyone and everything – except us, your fellow Nobodies, though there are precious few remaining. Nothing will hunt you anymore, the Breach will not be able to touch you. You can leave this all behind, forget it all, and live the rest of your life in peace.” They take off the fedora and hold it out, hers for the taking. She finds her eyes drifting, unable to focus on their face or make out any features. “What do you say?”</p> <p>“I– what– you want me to make that decision <em>now</em>, on the spot? You’re asking me to sacrifice everything I have.”</p> <p>“And what is that ‘everything’, exactly? A prison that grows smaller every year, slowly choking you to death? A dwindling population of increasingly irritable cellmates? I am offering you paradise at no cost.”</p> <p>“I don’t know–”</p> <p>“You won’t have to hear the sirens anymore.”</p> <p>That strikes a chord, and she puts her head in her hands, looking away.</p> <p>“I have watched you, Naomi. You despise this place and the scars it has carved into you, but above all you hate your own insignificance. And you are right – your work is meaningless. The ship is sinking and all you have is a bucket. Won’t you prefer to swim? To <em>fly</em>?”</p> <p>“Shut up!” She backs away, her good arm reaching for one of the stalls. “Stop. Just stop–”</p> <p>“You will never know fear again. You won’t live your life in four-hour intervals – your mirror monster cannot pierce our veil.”</p> <p>She shuts her eyes and enters the stall, slamming the door behind her. Not bothering to lock it, she slides down into a sitting position against the door. “Please.” She tries to choke back tears, tightening her jaw and forcing her body to be still.</p> <p>“This decision is trivial. But if you insist, I shall leave the option open to you.” She hears soft sounds of shuffling beyond. Her mind races with the possibilities. It’s too fast, everything is happening too fast. She needs time, but she doesn’t <em>have</em> time – she’s got less than an hour before the Breach lockdown will come into effect, and Sasha will worry themself to death and–</p> <p>Stop. Think. She hears the crackling sounds of radio static. They’re gone. Good. Breathe. In, out, in out…</p> <p>She stands up, almost drunkenly, and opens the door. The gray fedora rests near one of the sinks. Waiting. She picks it up, looking it over. It is plain and soft to the touch. Of all things, it reminds her of her towel.</p> <p>Something is off. The terms of the deal? No, there wasn’t a hint of deception in Nobody’s voice. They were insistent she accept, but at no point did they lie. <em>Is</em> something off? Or is she simply in denial? They did avoid mentioning what would happen to <em>them</em>, should she wear the hat. But that doesn’t matter, does it? What matters is what will happen to <em>her</em>. Her heart quickens its pace, chills skittering along her skin. Her hands are trembling as they grip the fabric. She can’t think straight. It’s so quiet, she has all the time in the world but she still can’t think. More information, that’s what she needs. The Foundation database could help her. <em>Denial</em>. This is her decision, outdated observations won’t make any difference. She flips the faucet open and lets the water run through her fingers. It doesn’t help.</p> <p>Then the realization hits her, painfully obvious. She stuffs the fedora into her lab coat and leaves the room.</p> <hr/> <p>She can’t bring herself to talk to them. At least not before the Breach.</p> <p>She is in her room when the klaxons roar again, trembling in bed while Sasha holds her tight. The explosions bellow, one colossal boom after another. She can feel the entire Site quaking, her body shuddering with every panicked heartbeat. She imagines the fighting, the screaming, the dying, all with perfect clarity. Pulsating constructs of paper and flesh oozing through the archives, their every victim stripped for meat and fabric. The bodies of her colleagues resurrected, killed, and resurrected again as nothing but violent, ghostly echoes before being snuffed out for good. The same lines said through gritted teeth, painfully precise, all while the pipes shift and blur and the floor becomes the walls and the doors become mouths and the lamps become pipes and roots and veins that grow claws and leaves and flowers that cry rivers of hydrochloric acid that burns like magnesium and old photographs from happier times.</p> <p>It is impossible to think of anything else. Not when the memory is carved so deeply into your brain, not when the survivor’s guilt threatens to drown you and crush your bones under the pressure. So she lets it run its course, like a paralytic poison pumped into her veins.</p> <p>Six minutes pass like six years. Slowly, it subsides, like water receding after a great flood, laying its devastation bare for all to see. The toxins are flushed, her body yields control back to her. At exactly eight PM the two help each other put in the drops, and Naomi finally manages to break the long silence.</p> <p>“So, uhm, can I talk to you about something?” she says as she leaves the shower. Sasha is already in bed, reading Anna Karenina for what has to be the fifth time. Naomi's labcoat is hanging on the chair, the folded hat still in its pocket.</p> <p>“Of course. That’s what friends are for, no?” They look up at her. Their face is warm and tired.</p> <p>"Yeah– well, that’s what it’s about, sort of. Something– someone, visited me while I was in recovery. Some memory-ghost thing, said we have them on file somewhere. They offered me something.”</p> <p>“That’s interesting. We don’t get many offers these days.”</p> <p>“They weren’t part of the Breach – almost the opposite, it somehow couldn’t see them at all. They offered to give me that same invisibility, if I… gave everything up. Became like them.” She gets dressed in her nightclothes, little more than an old red t-shirt and shorts.</p> <p>Sasha smiles. “I’m glad you didn’t take it, then.”</p> <p>“What– how did–”</p> <p>“Well you’re here now, aren’t you?”</p> <p>“I thought, after the mirror–”</p> <p>“Naomi, I <em>trust</em> you, and I know you well enough to know you’re not gonna pull a McDoctorate. Is that why you were so worried? Did you think I was going to assume you’re saying goodbye?” They look her in the eyes, and she struggles not to look away.</p> <p>“Well- I don’t know! I haven’t exactly been a good friend these past couple of weeks. I’m sorry.”</p> <p>“Don’t apologize. It’s the end of the world, I think you’re allowed to be a little antisocial occasionally. I am glad you’re in a talking mood again, though, because now you can answer my question.”</p> <p>Naomi climbs into bed next to them. “Which one?”</p> <p>“What existential thoughts?”</p> <p>It takes her a moment to remember. “Do you think we’ll ever have a happy ending?” She lets the question hang in the air. It feels right. “Do you think we’ll ever <em>really</em> figure it out? Is there hope, real hope, or are we just… gaslighting ourselves into believing it’ll work out? Keeping our heads above the water without ever reaching the shore?”</p> <p>“I don’t know,” they say finally. “I really don’t know, and that terrifies me to no end. But there’s not much else for us to do, is there? We keep doing what we can – keep the water running and the lights on, make sure we have enough food and basic meds. I’m no temporal physicist and neither are you. We do our bests, trust our friends to do the same and…”</p> <p>“And we make it through tomorrow.”</p> <p>“And we make it through tomorrow.”<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">...</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>At exactly 00:00 AM, on the first second of the ninth of September, a gray fedora disintegrates from Naomi’s lab coat pocket with a quiet buzz. She does not notice.</p> </div> </div> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/thereisnohope">THEREISNOHOPE</a>" by UNCGriffin, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/thereisnohope">https://scpwiki.com/thereisnohope</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> evilestrogen.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/uncgriffin" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7685985); return false;"><img alt="UNCGriffin" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7685985&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735653230" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7685985)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/uncgriffin" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7685985); return false;">UNCGriffin</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Additional notes:</strong> Image photographed by <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/uncgriffin" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7685985); return false;"><img alt="UNCGriffin" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7685985&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735653230" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7685985)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/uncgriffin" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7685985); return false;">UNCGriffin</a></span> (Heya that's my HRT on there!). Image edited by <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/marigoldsinjanuar" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(9437069); return false;"><img alt="MarigoldsInJanuar" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=9437069&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735653230" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=9437069)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/marigoldsinjanuar" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(9437069); return false;">MarigoldsInJanuar</a></span>.</p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Cultivo-hidroponico-12.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Costa Calida Desarrollos<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0<br/> <strong>Additional notes:</strong> Image edited by <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/marigoldsinjanuar" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(9437069); return false;"><img alt="MarigoldsInJanuar" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=9437069&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735653230" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=9437069)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/marigoldsinjanuar" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(9437069); return false;">MarigoldsInJanuar</a></span>. Direct link to source is <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Cultivo-hidroponico-12.jpg">https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Cultivo-hidroponico-12.jpg</a></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	===== [[include <a href="/component:preview">component:preview</a> text= Everything is red. ]] ===== [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:foxtrot">:scp-wiki:theme:foxtrot</a> dark=a\| canada=a\|]] [[module css]] :root { --header-title: "R\0026 C SITE-43"; --header-subtitle: "SURVIVE ● CONSERVE ● PERSIST"; --accent: 255, 34, 67; --head-font: var(--ui-font); --timeDelay: 1s; } :is(.anom-bar-container, .anom-bar-esoteric) + :not(.acs-extra), .acs-extra + * { margin-top: 1.2rem !important; } .danger-diamond > .arrows, .danger-diamond > .bottom-icon::before { /* inverted arrows, esoteric icons / filter: invert(90%) !important; -webkit-filter: invert(90%) !important; } [[/module]] [[=]] [[size x-large]]September 8th, 2035. 3:30 AM.[[/size]] [[size large]]Timeline 5956-X[[/size]] [[/=]] Everything is red. It has been this way for exactly thirteen years. Times are when Naomi had tried to differentiate it. Scarlet ceiling lamps, crimson concrete walls, cherry plastic cutlery lying on a light coral plate. The dark carmine of her bedsheets and the deep garnet of the wooden desk. Years ago, when she was still at the bargaining stage of grief, pretending that all these shades of red were something more. They are not. Her reality is red, bleeding from a wound which refuses to heal. And humanity is drowning in its blood. “Trouble sleeping?” Sasha mutters under the blanket, eyes still closed. Their hair is frazzled, like a clump of broken straws. She feels guilty for waking them prematurely — a glance at the alarm clock tells her there’s a good half-hour before they’d have to put in the eyedrops. She sits at the edge of the bed, feet dangling above the carpeted floor. “I’m fine, just stressed. Heart keeps beating way too fast, keep thinking about all the wrong things.” “What sort of things?” They roll over next to her, but don’t sit up. “Big things. Existential thoughts. I’m in a brooding mood, sorry.” She leans back, resting her head on their chest. “Three AM is the best time for brooding, I think. Peels back the layers.” “What?” she almost laughs. “Less filters, as you can see. You make less sense, and that makes it more meaningful.” They run their fingers through her hair. She shifts to lie on the bed before climbing over them to sit on the other side. Staring at the ceiling, back pressed against the wall, she can almost make out the cobwebs in the corner. How much more simple it must be, to be a spider in that web. How much more safe. And there are flies aplenty. “I don’t want to talk about it. Well, I don’t want— you’ve got your own shit to deal with. You don’t need to take up my burdens.” “And if I want to? If I want to help you?” She can hear the pain in their voice, try as they might to hide it. “A burden shared is a burden halved, is what Ngo would say.” She doesn’t need to look at them to know their expression. Kind, pleading. Like a painkiller begging to be swallowed. “And she’s gone. It’s been years. G-d, it’s been //years//. I’m fine, trust me.” “None of us are fine.” “You know what I mean.” Silence reclaims the room eagerly, at home in the darkness. Red-rimmed silhouettes are all that she can see. The minutes tick by. At precisely four in the morning, the two help each other administer the eye drops without a word, and Naomi tries her best to sleep. Trains of thought run spirals in her head, round and round and round, derailing and derailing, until finally drifting off into peaceful oblivion. ------ At exactly eight in the morning Researcher Naomi Markovich stands in the bathroom, head craned upwards, and squeezes out two drops in each eye. There is no mirror, naturally, but she knows she is a mess, a rat’s nest of dark red curls creeping down her neck. She forces it into a rough ponytail, split hairs sticking out like dead grass, then splashes some water on her face. The cold numbs her senses, giving momentary relief to her dry lips. There are circles under her eyes, and too many wrinkles for a woman in her thirties. She shaves the stubble to a shadow she can tolerate, nicking the underside of her chin. Blood drips down the sink, and she washes it and the cut with cold water. The softness of the towel against her face soothes the pain, and she savors it. [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> name=http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/thereisnohope/evilestrogen.jpg\|align=right\|width=20%\|height=50%\|caption=Not winning yet.]] Opening a cabinet, she swallows a 2mg estradiol pill before checking her stock -- barely enough to get it through the month. She’ll have to pay H&P another visit, though she doubts she’ll have any better luck this time. The other room is empty, Sasha having left early for their shift. She gets dressed, grabs her lab coat off the floor -- didn't she hang it on her chair? -- and steps out of her sanctuary into the cracked halls of Site-43. The lights flicker overhead, like candles before a storm. In just over ten hours, the Breach will be upon them again. There will be no Cannon, despite their best efforts and most desperate of hopes. Eight human beings will have to reenact armageddon, while others will risk their lives against the resurging demons above. And what will she be doing? Nothing. Hiding under the covers, hands over her ears while thunder roars and the klaxons claw at the walls, threatening to rip her world apart. Her heart will squeeze in her chest, blood rushing in her head, painful in her fingertips. And she will cry, and Sasha will try to tell her that it will be fine, and they will fail, because nothing is fine, nothing ever will be fine ever again, and she will shut her eyes against everyone and everything -- and still all she will see is red. The hydroponics in R&E are a welcome distraction, with most of her morning spent tending to the farms. She cuts away root rot, pollinates flowers, unclogs a pipe and ensures the anti-reflectant is routinely pumped into the water supply. Her coworkers appear to be in a similar mood as her, saying little save a ‘hello’ or ‘good morning’. Still, it feels good to be lost in the maze. Hidden amongst the leaves, the air as fresh as it gets, she can almost imagine she's above ground again. [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> name=http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/thereisnohope/evilstrawberries.jpg\|align=center\|width=90%\|height=50%\|caption=Cherry picker.]] “You alright?” Mihaly Ládas, the Senior Researcher in charge of the farms, finds her picking tomatoes in one of the smaller rooms. “You look off.” “‘Tis the season to be jolly.” The other woman sighs. “Touché. But I saw you avoiding the others.” “Have I now?” “We’re all in this together, you know that. You can talk to us if you–” “I know.” Naomi snaps. “I don’t want to talk. I’m fine, really, I just– call it seasonal depression or something, I don’t care. Maybe I just want to be alone with my plants? Why does everyone suddenly want to be my therapist?!” Ládas raises her hands in surrender. “Woah, sorry, didn’t mean to push a button.” “Then why are you here?” “Well, other than worrying about you, I was wondering if you wanted to check on the mold? I know it’s technically my jurisdiction, but it’s still your project.” Said mold was something she’d discovered a few weeks ago, growing in strange geometric patterns on the leaves of a cucumber bush. Definitely anomalous, probably linked to the Breach – like every anomaly, these days. "Oh, and are you the one who swept the strawberries in row G? They were scheduled for next week and I haven't seen anyone--" "Wasn't me." She shrugs and puts the half-filled basket aside. “But sure, I'll take a look at the mold, as long as you leave me alone.” “You know I can't do that. Protocol–” Naomi chuckles dryly. “Right, right. Let's just go then.” The lab-turned-containment chamber is small, most of the equipment removed or lying unused in the corner. Ládas hangs near the doorway as Naomi approaches the small hydroponics complex at the center. There are, of course, no microscopes, not even a simple magnifying glass to help her see. It is barely a project, more a hobby or a distraction, but she does it anyway, kneeling down to inspect the dark red leaves. The mold is black, a spiderweb of needle thin growths, circles within triangles within hexagons within pentagons. She turns over the leaf to look at the underside. The mold here is more standard, a fuzzy sheet that dominates the plant. It is pockmarked with holes, little islands of light red in an ocean of black. It's secreting something between the gaps, she notices. She brings the leaf closer to her eyes, squinting – some sort of liquid, clear and– The realization hits like a gunshot blasting through her skull and she hurls herself backwards, just as a tiny, colorless claw erupts from the reflective liquid, growing instantly to full size as it shoots out to grab her. Time seems to slow as she crashes to the ground, heart beating madly, staring as the corpse of Phillip Deering crawls out from under the leaf. Its bleeding eye sockets meet her gaze. She curses and kicks back frantically as it lunges at her, her brain screaming that any injury from this thing would mean her death. Her foot connects with a gray claw and she twists, trying to roll away only to feel its crushing grip squeeze her forearm. It's going to pull her in, oh G-d it's going to– “No-no-no-no PLEASE NO–” A loud metallic clang rings through the air, followed by the sound of splashing water. She feels the grip release and immediately rolls over, pressing herself into the corner. Only then does she grasp that Ládas had hurled the plant into the other side of the room, that the thing they put in the water must have disrupted the reflection when it spilled out and– Naomi coughs, wheezing, shutting her eyes. The tears are quick to come, pouring through the cracks. Every nerve feels like it's on fire, waves of electricity rippling along her skin. Out out out she needs //out// she needs it to //stop//– “I was going to die. I was going to die. I was dead. Fuck, fuck, I'm going to– I'm–” her teeth are chattering. Ládas runs over to her. “We have to get out of here. Come on.” “He LEFT us! That motherfucking, bullshit sciencing son of a bitch–” “//Naomi!// We need to go!” “HE LEFT US TO DIE! None of this fucking matters, it's never gonna end, it's never GOING TO END!” Ládas grabs her, shakes her, drags her towards the door. She collides with something she can't see, the pain barely registering. There are spots at the corners of her vision, black holes in a red reality. Her ears are ringing, she can barely hear the door slam shut behind them. “We can’t even… can't– the others– stuck, trapped, dead dead dead dead…” ------ At exactly 12 AM Naomi lies in a bed at Health and Pathology. She isn’t sure when she blacked out, but it’s clearly been long enough to bring her heart rate back to normal. The nurse helps her administer the eyedrops. A moment later, Sasha enters the room, and the nurse leaves the two alone, off to put his own drops in. “Hey, I’m–” She’s cut off as they hug her tightly, and she lets her muscles relax, if only for a moment. They smell like sweat, machine oil and dust. “What’d they say?” They pull back, and take a seat next to her bed. Their technician jumpsuit is almost the same shade of red as their hair, dirty and torn around their midsection. Crow’s feet around their eyes, a hint of dried blood on cracked lips – the sterile fluorescent lighting makes them look like a red-wrapped corpse in a morgue. “Minor scratches, I’m lucky the nails didn’t dig in too deep.” She raises her injured arm, the wound already festering. “They’ll have to carve out the flesh around the wound so it can heal properly, you know the drill.” “Today?” “Yeah, they want to get it over before the Breach. I do too. Should be back to work tomorrow.” “Are you sure you don’t want more–” “I’m sure. I’m fine. I just need all this– this stupid fucking day to be over already.” Sasha looks at her sadly. Is that pity? She wonders if Ládas told them anything of what she’d said before the anxiety meds kicked in. “Look, it’s the Breach, okay? It’s making me feel like absolute garbage. But I’m having it much better than the Omegas, the agents, and everyone else that might be dead in a few hours.” “You could’ve been dead //now//, if Ládas hadn’t been there with you. You’re not a–” “No! Don’t tell me I’m not a burden because I //am// a fucking burden!” She doesn’t care that she can be heard through the walls. The tears wallow up again. “We don’t have therapists anymore, Sasha, we either throw our shit at each other or we bottle it up and hope we survive until tomorrow. And if the thing’s gonna go away on the ninth anyway, better yet! Just like we dump a dash B into Deering every time he kills himself.” She stops. “I guess we won’t be able to do that anymore, without the Cannon. Fuck.” There is a pause, the air growing suddenly still. “You haven’t seen him at all this past year, have you?” Sasha’s voice is distant. She gives them a nod, but their eyes shift to look at the bed, then at the wall. “He doesn’t get out much. I fixed the lights in his lab once, he looked… horrible doesn’t even begin to describe it. Hollow. Broken. Like there was nothing left.” “Can’t say I feel sorry for him.” “I’m not asking you to. You don’t have to talk to me. If that’s what you want, then go ahead. You know what I think.” They take her hand, finally meeting her eyes again. “But you have to be better than him, okay? Promise me you’ll make it through tomorrow. Promise me you won’t go empty.” Her voice is as cracked as the walls when she answers. “I’ll try.” ------ It is four o’clock sharp and Naomi Markovich is in the H&P restrooms. Her arm is bandaged after the operation, still numb from the painkillers. A few minutes ago, she had asked the doctors if she could restock on her hormones. Predictably, they said the synthesizers were already at full capacity with more critical drugs, like the morphine she’d just been given. So she stares at the empty space where a mirror should be, puts her eyedrops in, and cries. She hears the door close, and realizes that she didn’t hear it open. She spins, backing up, but she’s alone in the room. There’s a crackle, almost like radio static, and she sees an outline of something humanoid. The blur grows more distinct, like pixels multiplying to higher resolutions, as a person steps out from the background directly towards her. They’re old, much older than anyone alive in Site-43, and a gray fedora hides the top of their face. They wear a gray suit with a striped red necktie, and there’s a cane in their right hand. “Hello, Naomi.” “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t scream for security or kick your teeth in myself. Alternatively, if you’re another Breach-thing, k– wait, are you one of the Bs? ‘Conceptually vague’ or something?” Obviously not, because they weren’t able to communicate at all, and this thing just said hello. Regardless, it’s not like she can do anything to stop it, with her reflexes numb and her mental faculties a hair’s breadth from collapsing again. “I don’t believe I am, though we are rather similar in many ways. Sorry for startling you, I’m Nobody,” they reach out a hand, “if you know what that means.” “Let’s say I don’t. Are you human? Are you alive?” She raises her eyebrows, trying to project confidence. They pull back. “Yes and yes, though not for much longer I fear. Before ‘22, the Foundation considered us a Group of Interest. We’re unnoticeable, unmemorable to an anomalous degree. Looks like that extends to the Paradox too, if your organization’s hypothesis is correct.” “So you’re… just a bunch of invisible people? The hell are you doing here?” “After enough time, we don’t remember who we are, either. I am here for you, Naomi. I’m sorry if this seems abrupt or – more likely – creepy, but I’ve been meandering around your Site for the past few months. Followed you specifically for a week. I have an offer to make to you.” She stands there for a moment, dumbfounded. “What… What sort of offer?” “I am, as you can see, at the end of my life. From what I gather, once I die, my mantle is given to another at random. It is both a blessing and a curse to be Nobody, but mostly the latter. I am offering to pass it on to you, right now.” Naomi blinks once, twice. She says the only thing that comes to mind. “What?” “You will be forgotten by everyone and everything – except us, your fellow Nobodies, though there are precious few remaining. Nothing will hunt you anymore, the Breach will not be able to touch you. You can leave this all behind, forget it all, and live the rest of your life in peace.” They take off the fedora and hold it out, hers for the taking. She finds her eyes drifting, unable to focus on their face or make out any features. “What do you say?” “I– what– you want me to make that decision //now//, on the spot? You’re asking me to sacrifice everything I have.” “And what is that ‘everything’, exactly? A prison that grows smaller every year, slowly choking you to death? A dwindling population of increasingly irritable cellmates? I am offering you paradise at no cost.” “I don’t know–” “You won’t have to hear the sirens anymore.” That strikes a chord, and she puts her head in her hands, looking away. “I have watched you, Naomi. You despise this place and the scars it has carved into you, but above all you hate your own insignificance. And you are right – your work is meaningless. The ship is sinking and all you have is a bucket. Won’t you prefer to swim? To //fly//?” “Shut up!” She backs away, her good arm reaching for one of the stalls. “Stop. Just stop–” “You will never know fear again. You won’t live your life in four-hour intervals – your mirror monster cannot pierce our veil.” She shuts her eyes and enters the stall, slamming the door behind her. Not bothering to lock it, she slides down into a sitting position against the door. “Please.” She tries to choke back tears, tightening her jaw and forcing her body to be still. “This decision is trivial. But if you insist, I shall leave the option open to you.” She hears soft sounds of shuffling beyond. Her mind races with the possibilities. It’s too fast, everything is happening too fast. She needs time, but she doesn’t //have// time – she’s got less than an hour before the Breach lockdown will come into effect, and Sasha will worry themself to death and– Stop. Think. She hears the crackling sounds of radio static. They’re gone. Good. Breathe. In, out, in out… She stands up, almost drunkenly, and opens the door. The gray fedora rests near one of the sinks. Waiting. She picks it up, looking it over. It is plain and soft to the touch. Of all things, it reminds her of her towel. Something is off. The terms of the deal? No, there wasn’t a hint of deception in Nobody’s voice. They were insistent she accept, but at no point did they lie. //Is// something off? Or is she simply in denial? They did avoid mentioning what would happen to //them//, should she wear the hat. But that doesn’t matter, does it? What matters is what will happen to //her//. Her heart quickens its pace, chills skittering along her skin. Her hands are trembling as they grip the fabric. She can’t think straight. It’s so quiet, she has all the time in the world but she still can’t think. More information, that’s what she needs. The Foundation database could help her. //Denial//. This is her decision, outdated observations won’t make any difference. She flips the faucet open and lets the water run through her fingers. It doesn’t help. Then the realization hits her, painfully obvious. She stuffs the fedora into her lab coat and leaves the room. ------ She can’t bring herself to talk to them. At least not before the Breach. She is in her room when the klaxons roar again, trembling in bed while Sasha holds her tight. The explosions bellow, one colossal boom after another. She can feel the entire Site quaking, her body shuddering with every panicked heartbeat. She imagines the fighting, the screaming, the dying, all with perfect clarity. Pulsating constructs of paper and flesh oozing through the archives, their every victim stripped for meat and fabric. The bodies of her colleagues resurrected, killed, and resurrected again as nothing but violent, ghostly echoes before being snuffed out for good. The same lines said through gritted teeth, painfully precise, all while the pipes shift and blur and the floor becomes the walls and the doors become mouths and the lamps become pipes and roots and veins that grow claws and leaves and flowers that cry rivers of hydrochloric acid that burns like magnesium and old photographs from happier times. It is impossible to think of anything else. Not when the memory is carved so deeply into your brain, not when the survivor’s guilt threatens to drown you and crush your bones under the pressure. So she lets it run its course, like a paralytic poison pumped into her veins. Six minutes pass like six years. Slowly, it subsides, like water receding after a great flood, laying its devastation bare for all to see. The toxins are flushed, her body yields control back to her. At exactly eight PM the two help each other put in the drops, and Naomi finally manages to break the long silence. “So, uhm, can I talk to you about something?” she says as she leaves the shower. Sasha is already in bed, reading Anna Karenina for what has to be the fifth time. Naomi's labcoat is hanging on the chair, the folded hat still in its pocket. “Of course. That’s what friends are for, no?” They look up at her. Their face is warm and tired. "Yeah– well, that’s what it’s about, sort of. Something– someone, visited me while I was in recovery. Some memory-ghost thing, said we have them on file somewhere. They offered me something.” “That’s interesting. We don’t get many offers these days.” “They weren’t part of the Breach – almost the opposite, it somehow couldn’t see them at all. They offered to give me that same invisibility, if I… gave everything up. Became like them.” She gets dressed in her nightclothes, little more than an old red t-shirt and shorts. Sasha smiles. “I’m glad you didn’t take it, then.” “What– how did–” “Well you’re here now, aren’t you?” “I thought, after the mirror–” “Naomi, I //trust// you, and I know you well enough to know you’re not gonna pull a McDoctorate. Is that why you were so worried? Did you think I was going to assume you’re saying goodbye?” They look her in the eyes, and she struggles not to look away. “Well- I don’t know! I haven’t exactly been a good friend these past couple of weeks. I’m sorry.” “Don’t apologize. It’s the end of the world, I think you’re allowed to be a little antisocial occasionally. I am glad you’re in a talking mood again, though, because now you can answer my question.” Naomi climbs into bed next to them. “Which one?” “What existential thoughts?” It takes her a moment to remember. “Do you think we’ll ever have a happy ending?” She lets the question hang in the air. It feels right. “Do you think we’ll ever //really// figure it out? Is there hope, real hope, or are we just… gaslighting ourselves into believing it’ll work out? Keeping our heads above the water without ever reaching the shore?” “I don’t know,” they say finally. “I really don’t know, and that terrifies me to no end. But there’s not much else for us to do, is there? We keep doing what we can – keep the water running and the lights on, make sure we have enough food and basic meds. I’m no temporal physicist and neither are you. We do our bests, trust our friends to do the same and…” “And we make it through tomorrow.” “And we make it through tomorrow.” @@ @@ [[collapsible show=" " hide="..."]] At exactly 00:00 AM, on the first second of the ninth of September, a gray fedora disintegrates from Naomi’s lab coat pocket with a quiet buzz. She does not notice. [[/collapsible]] @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=UNCGriffin]] ===== > Filename:* evilestrogen.jpg > Author: [[user UNCGriffin]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > Additional notes: Image photographed by [[user UNCGriffin]] (Heya that's my HRT on there!). Image edited by [[user MarigoldsInJanuar]]. ===== ===== > Filename: Cultivo-hidroponico-12.jpg > Author: Costa Calida Desarrollos > License: Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 > Additional notes: Image edited by [[*user MarigoldsInJanuar]]. Direct link to source is https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Cultivo-hidroponico-12.jpg ===== ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-12-31T07:17:00	[ "art-exchange", "bleak", "horror", "lgbtq", "nobody", "on-guard-43", "slice-of-life", "tale" ]	THEREISNOHOPE - SCP Foundation	27	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "top-rated-pages-by-month", "tales-by-year", "shortest-pages-by-month", "nobody-hub", "top-rated-pages-this-month", "news" ]	[ "http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/thereisnohope/evilestrogen.jpg", "http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/thereisnohope/evilstrawberries.jpg" ]	1458157315	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/thereisnohope
theyll-come-with-their-boats	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <blockquote> <p><strong>Unexplained Location UE-550055</strong><br/> <strong>Description:</strong> An island with a 2-meter radius and a single palm tree at the center able to sustain all people inhabiting the island (currently one). Was classified as micro-nexus due to heightened anomalous activity in theme with "mystery islands".<br/> <strong>Date of Containment:</strong> 2020-06-30<br/> <strong>Location:</strong> Pacific<br/> <strong>Security Protocol:</strong> One Agent is always stationed at the island. Stranded people are amnesticized and rescued at the next opportunity.</p> </blockquote> <p><iframe allowtransparency="true" class="html-block-iframe" frameborder="0" src="/theyll-come-with-their-boats/html/9401009bfaf8e3a6a32a12c0a81518a62d9bc185-15752398741513209116"></iframe></p> <hr/> <p><em>The following journal pages and transcripts were recovered from Area-██ after the events of Incident-UE-550055.</em></p> <hr/> <p><iframe allowtransparency="true" class="html-block-iframe" frameborder="0" src="/theyll-come-with-their-boats/html/9401009bfaf8e3a6a32a12c0a81518a62d9bc185-1227606863101813261"></iframe></p> <p>How many days have I been here, on this damned island? They blur together at this point, blur together in my mind. Three, four, ten. Sixty. I wouldn't know.</p> <p>God, it's hot out here. And cold. All at once. There's a sun above, and wind around, and sand below. Sand. So much sand. And then there's the salt in the air and in your eyes and on your tongue. Sometimes there's even music. Violins, orchestras, whatever. Trying to be all dramatic and mysterious. Makes it hard to sleep.</p> <p>Sleep, good food, comfort… They were things I took for granted before I came out here, you know? And people, too. Can't remember the last time I saw another human. The last time I spoke to one. The last time I touched one.</p> <p>It's not something you expect to miss, is it? Other people, with their problems and dramas and dickheadedness.</p> <p>Never thought I'd miss everyone back at work. It was the opportunity of a lifetime to come out here and give all my colleagues that big middle finger. Ha, I get an island vacation, I get to be alone, and you all have to work, suck on that, <em>Samson</em>. Yeah, it… didn't quite end up like that.</p> <p>The people who brought me here gave me a way to communicate with them, you know. To tell them whenever someone gets stranded here. "Hello!" I want to say. "Someone is stranded!" And they'll come with their boats, and no one else will be here, and since they came all this way, might as well take me back with them, huh. We can send someone else out, no big deal. Here, have a hot cup of tea, and a blanket.</p> <p>Can I talk to someone? Just talk?</p> <p><iframe allowtransparency="true" class="html-block-iframe" frameborder="0" src="/theyll-come-with-their-boats/html/9401009bfaf8e3a6a32a12c0a81518a62d9bc185-11485134852089575023"></iframe></p> <div class="blockquote"> <div style="float:left;width:80%;"> <p><strong>Participants:</strong> Lt. Sally Gordon, Agent Andrew Iseweski<br/> <strong>Purpose of communication:</strong> Not specified</p> </div> <div style="float:right;width:20%;text-align:right;"> <p>2020-07-16<br/> 10:56-10:57</p> </div> <hr/> <hr/> <hr/> <hr/> <hr/> <p><strong>Lt. Gordon:</strong> Lieutenant Gordon of the Area-██ flagship. Please state your name and purpose of communication.</p> <p><strong>Agent Iseweski:</strong> Andrew Iseweski. Social enquiry.</p> <p><strong>Lt. Gordon:</strong> Social enquiry? Sir? That’s not in the database.</p> <p><strong>Agent Iseweski:</strong> What <em>is</em> in the database then?</p> <p><strong>Lt. Gordon:</strong> Sir, if you're not reporting anything, please don't contact us.</p> <p><<em>Communication ended.</em>></p> </div> <p><iframe allowtransparency="true" class="html-block-iframe" frameborder="0" src="/theyll-come-with-their-boats/html/9401009bfaf8e3a6a32a12c0a81518a62d9bc185-1027339940175412580"></iframe></p> <div class="blockquote"> <div style="float:left;width:80%;"> <p><strong>Participants:</strong> Lt. Sally Gordon, Agent Andrew Iseweski<br/> <strong>Purpose of communication:</strong> Social enquiry</p> </div> <div style="float:right;width:20%;text-align:right;"> <p>2020-07-19<br/> 09:29-09:33</p> </div> <hr/> <hr/> <hr/> <hr/> <hr/> <p><strong>Lt. Gordon:</strong> Lieutenant Gordon of the Area-██ flagship. Please state your name and purpose of communication.</p> <p><strong>Agent Iseweski:</strong> Andrew Iseweski. Social enquiry.</p> <p><strong>Lt. Gordon:</strong> Sir, if you're not reporting—</p> <p><strong>Agent Iseweski:</strong> I just want to talk to someone.</p> <p><strong>Lt. Gordon:</strong> I'm not sure if that's protocol—</p> <p><strong>Agent Iseweski:</strong> Please.</p> <p><<em>There's a pause.</em>></p> <p><strong>Lt. Gordon:</strong> You're the one on the island, aren't you?</p> <p><strong>Agent Iseweski:</strong> Yeah, that's me. Thought it'd be a little more interesting when they offered me the job, but, one gets tired of the fish diet after a while. <<em>Awkward laughter.</em>></p> <p><<em>There's a rustling of paper.</em>></p> <p><strong>Lt. Gordon:</strong> Uh, fish, sir?</p> <p><strong>Agent Iseweski:</strong> The buggers are everywhere. One of the anomalies, I think. Something about the island being able to feed people? With fish, apparently.</p> <p><strong>Lt. Gordon:</strong> Yes, it says that here… Is there anything else, sir?</p> <p><strong>Agent Iseweski:</strong> Well, there's this crab. I've been calling him George.</p> <p><strong>Lt. Gordon:</strong> That's nice. I meant, is there anything else you need assistance with, besides just "social enquiry"?</p> <p><strong>Agent Iseweski:</strong> Oh, right. Um. No, I don't think so.</p> <p><strong>Lt. Gordon:</strong> Alright then. Thank you for contacting us, and enjoy your day.</p> <p><<em>Communication ended.</em>></p> </div> <p><iframe allowtransparency="true" class="html-block-iframe" frameborder="0" src="/theyll-come-with-their-boats/html/9401009bfaf8e3a6a32a12c0a81518a62d9bc185-1919517279374283549"></iframe></p> <p>It's so weird. Needing people. Needing anything but to be alone on this stupid island with only my thoughts. It's never felt like this before. Solitude was always my dream, my fantasy. But now?</p> <p>Talking to Gordon or whatever her name is, that was the lightest I've felt in a while. I didn't know it could feel like that. Talking. But compared to the sand and sea and George and this device, this lifeline, this connection to the world in my hand, it's everything. It's what watching a sunrise should feel like - that awe, that joy, of sharing something so beautiful with the world, something that is always there but you so rarely take the time to see. Not like the sunrises here where each passing day is a sentence - you're still here, and you still will be here, for a hundred sunrises more.</p> <p>You know, maybe… Maybe Gordon won't mind talking to me more. Maybe she's just as lonely as I am, waiting for someone to contact her, to talk to <em>her</em>. Maybe she needs me too.</p> <p><iframe allowtransparency="true" class="html-block-iframe" frameborder="0" src="/theyll-come-with-their-boats/html/9401009bfaf8e3a6a32a12c0a81518a62d9bc185-687569108679843237"></iframe></p> <div class="blockquote"> <div style="float:left;width:80%;"> <p><strong>Participants:</strong> Lt. Sally Gordon, Agent Andrew Iseweski<br/> <strong>Purpose of communication:</strong> Social enquiry</p> </div> <div style="float:right;width:20%;text-align:right;"> <p>2020-08-20<br/> 11:21-16:55</p> </div> <p><em>File too large. Extracting last five minutes…</em></p> <p><em>…</em></p> <p><em>…</em></p> <p><em>…</em></p> <p><em>Excerpt uploaded.</em></p> <hr/> <p><strong>Agent Iseweski:</strong> —and the worst part was, he had to accept the promotion while covered in [DATA EXPUNGED]. The break room did not smell the same for <em>weeks</em>.</p> <p><strong>Lt. Gordon:</strong> <<em>Laughter.</em>> That's wild. I can't believe the stuff you get up to on the mainland. This assignment must seem so boring compared to all that.</p> <p><strong>Agent Iseweski:</strong> Well, it's not like— Nevermind. Did I tell you what happened to Agent Ryan on his first day?</p> <p><strong>Lt. Gordon:</strong> <<em>Still laughing</em>.> No, but hold on. What were you saying before?</p> <p><strong>Agent Iseweski:</strong> No, it's nothing. Anyway, Ryan accidentally missed the briefing—</p> <p><strong>Lt. Gordon:</strong> Andrew.</p> <p><<em>There's a pause.</em>></p> <p><strong>Agent Iseweski:</strong> It really is nothing.</p> <p><strong>Lt. Gordon:</strong> Then it should be no problem to say.</p> <p><strong>Agent Iseweski:</strong> I don't want you to think any less of me.</p> <p><strong>Lt. Gordon:</strong> I promise you, I won't.</p> <p><strong>Agent Iseweski:</strong> Okay then. <<em>Pause.</em>> This isn't really stuff <em>I</em> get up to. It's just things I've overheard, or seen in passing. I'm not even there for most of it.</p> <p><strong>Lt. Gordon:</strong> Why not?</p> <p><strong>Agent Iseweski:</strong> I don't know. It's just… I don't know. The parties, the get-togethers, even the team lunches… They've never really appealed to me. Or other people in general, I guess.</p> <p><strong>Lt. Gordon:</strong> Oh.</p> <p><strong>Agent Iseweski:</strong> I do like talking to you, though. And it might turn out I like talking to them too. I'm going to actually try next time, when my assignment here ends.</p> <p><<em>Muffled sound.</em>></p> <p><strong>Agent Iseweski:</strong> Sally?</p> <p><strong>Lt. Gordon:</strong> I have to go. I'll talk to you later.</p> <p><strong>Agent Iseweski:</strong> Oh. Alright then. Talk to you—</p> <p><<em>Communication ended.</em>></p> </div> <p><iframe allowtransparency="true" class="html-block-iframe" frameborder="0" src="/theyll-come-with-their-boats/html/9401009bfaf8e3a6a32a12c0a81518a62d9bc185-132569102270855003"></iframe></p> <p>She's my everything right now. Does she know? Does she have any idea? Our conversations are the only thing keeping me sane out here, where there's nothing and no one else. I've been spending the time when we're not talking thinking about what I'll tell her when we are. She is, in every possible meaning of the word, my lifeline.</p> <p>I wonder if it'll still feel the same way when I get out of here. This desperation for genuine human connection, and the euphoria from experiencing it. I can't imagine going back to who I was before after this. Going back to isolation, avoiding socialisation, when I know what it can feel like. What it <em>does</em> feel like. To be seen. To be known.</p> <p>I need people, and it's far too late to change that.</p> <p><iframe allowtransparency="true" class="html-block-iframe" frameborder="0" src="/theyll-come-with-their-boats/html/9401009bfaf8e3a6a32a12c0a81518a62d9bc185-10910359911491652676"></iframe></p> <div class="blockquote"> <div style="float:left;width:80%;"> <p><strong>Participants:</strong> Lt. Sally Gordon, Agent Andrew Iseweski<br/> <strong>Purpose of communication:</strong> ???</p> </div> <div style="float:right;width:20%;text-align:right;"> <p>2020-09-27<br/> 13:18-13:21</p> </div> <hr/> <hr/> <hr/> <hr/> <hr/> <p><strong>Agent Iseweski:</strong> Hey Sal?</p> <p><strong>Lt. Gordon:</strong> Yeah, what is it?</p> <p><<em>There's a pause. Slight breathing can be heard.</em>></p> <p><strong>Agent Iseweski:</strong> I don't… really have anyone. You're the closest thing I've ever had to a friend, and, I don't want to lose that. You've… You've been here for me through most of this ordeal. When I get out of here, could we… continue this?</p> <p><<em>There's another pause.</em>></p> <p><strong>Lt. Gordon:</strong> You don’t even know what I look like.</p> <p><strong>Agent Iseweski:</strong> And? I want to be your friend. Not professional, I know, but… I'm kinda desperate here. I mean, not desperate for friends, that's sad, and not desperate for you, that's creepy. I mean. I don't know.</p> <p><strong>Lt. Gordon:</strong> Listen. <<em>Pause.</em>> You seem like a nice person—</p> <p><strong>Agent Iseweski:</strong> Ah, I see where this is going. I get it. No worries.</p> <p><strong>Lt. Gordon:</strong> It's not that. There's something you should—</p> <p><strong>Agent Iseweski:</strong> No, no, honestly. It's fine. Bit of a long shot anyway. I'll let you get back to whatever you were doing.</p> <p><strong>Lt. Gordon:</strong> Andrew—</p> <p><<em>Communication ended.</em>></p> </div> <p><iframe allowtransparency="true" class="html-block-iframe" frameborder="0" src="/theyll-come-with-their-boats/html/9401009bfaf8e3a6a32a12c0a81518a62d9bc185-5534950181360777488"></iframe></p> <p>Why'd I say that? Why the hell did I say that? Such charisma, yes. Someone give this man a medal.</p> <p>Did I seriously think anyone could care that much about me? "Hey Andrew, you know what, you're a pretty rad guy, and I like you a lot, please be my friend." "Of course! Thanks for asking. Let's go get takeout or something. Or game together. What do you wanna do, also rad and super cool friend?" And then she'd be like I dunno whatever, and we'd end up talking about meaningless stuff and laughing the night away and then oh it's morning already? Had a great time Andrew, thanks. No problem. Let's do this again sometime. Yeah, we should.</p> <p>What's wrong with me?</p> <p><iframe allowtransparency="true" class="html-block-iframe" frameborder="0" src="/theyll-come-with-their-boats/html/9401009bfaf8e3a6a32a12c0a81518a62d9bc185-714654364865619510"></iframe></p> <hr/> <p><iframe allowtransparency="true" class="html-block-iframe" frameborder="0" src="/theyll-come-with-their-boats/html/9401009bfaf8e3a6a32a12c0a81518a62d9bc185-1144194579452841183"></iframe></p> <p>I haven't spoken to Sally since then. Nor has she reached out to me. Not that she had any reason to, of course, and not that I was hoping, of course not…</p> <p>It's worse, somehow. To think you have something that turns out to be nothing, rather than just having nothing at all from the start.</p> <p>But I'm going to stop thinking, especially about her, because I've been counting the days and guess what? It's almost over. The final grains are falling through the hourglass. Actually, ugh, I don't want to think about sand either. Maybe a clock ticking to the next hour, or people counting down the seconds to the next new year. Yes, I like that last one. Hopefully there'll be fireworks.</p> <p><iframe allowtransparency="true" class="html-block-iframe" frameborder="0" src="/theyll-come-with-their-boats/html/9401009bfaf8e3a6a32a12c0a81518a62d9bc185-8486868341818265522"></iframe></p> <hr/> <p><iframe allowtransparency="true" class="html-block-iframe" frameborder="0" src="/theyll-come-with-their-boats/html/9401009bfaf8e3a6a32a12c0a81518a62d9bc185-106366311036643984"></iframe></p> <p>Today is the day. I'm going home. I'm finally going home.</p> <p>Forget all about awkward conversations and failed friend-making, forget all about Lieutenant Sally Gordon of the Area-██ flagship, none of that matters anymore, because I'm finally going to leave this horrible island.</p> <p>They're gonna come with their boats and I'm going home and I'm finally going home and I'm gonna hug the first twenty people I see and I'm going to kiss Samson and I'm never gonna take other people for granted again and I'm</p> <p><iframe allowtransparency="true" class="html-block-iframe" frameborder="0" src="/theyll-come-with-their-boats/html/9401009bfaf8e3a6a32a12c0a81518a62d9bc185-18633113181779670225"></iframe></p> <div class="blockquote"> <div style="float:left;width:80%;"> <p><strong>Participants:</strong> Lt. Sally Gordon, Agent Andrew Iseweski<br/> <strong>Purpose of communication:</strong> I'm sorry</p> </div> <div style="float:right;width:20%;text-align:right;"> <p>2020-10-05<br/> 11:41-11:42</p> </div> <hr/> <hr/> <hr/> <hr/> <hr/> <p><strong>Agent Iseweski:</strong> Where's the boat?</p> <p><strong>Lt. Gordon:</strong> Lieutenant Gordon of the Area-██ flagship. Please state your name and—</p> <p><strong>Agent Iseweski:</strong> The <em>boat</em>. Where's the <em>god</em>damn <em>boat</em>?</p> <p><<em>Communication ended.</em>></p> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/theyll-come-with-their-boats">They'll Come With Their Boats</a>" by Dr Brooks, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/theyll-come-with-their-boats">https://scpwiki.com/theyll-come-with-their-boats</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] > Unexplained Location UE-550055 > Description: An island with a 2-meter radius and a single palm tree at the center able to sustain all people inhabiting the island (currently one). Was classified as micro-nexus due to heightened anomalous activity in theme with "mystery islands". > Date of Containment: 2020-06-30 > Location: Pacific > Security Protocol: One Agent is always stationed at the island. Stranded people are amnesticized and rescued at the next opportunity. [[html]] [[/html]] ------ //The following journal pages and transcripts were recovered from Area-██ after the events of Incident-UE-550055.// ------ [[html]] [[/html]] How many days have I been here, on this damned island? They blur together at this point, blur together in my mind. Three, four, ten. Sixty. I wouldn't know. God, it's hot out here. And cold. All at once. There's a sun above, and wind around, and sand below. Sand. So much sand. And then there's the salt in the air and in your eyes and on your tongue. Sometimes there's even music. Violins, orchestras, whatever. Trying to be all dramatic and mysterious. Makes it hard to sleep. Sleep, good food, comfort... They were things I took for granted before I came out here, you know? And people, too. Can't remember the last time I saw another human. The last time I spoke to one. The last time I touched one. It's not something you expect to miss, is it? Other people, with their problems and dramas and dickheadedness. Never thought I'd miss everyone back at work. It was the opportunity of a lifetime to come out here and give all my colleagues that big middle finger. Ha, I get an island vacation, I get to be alone, and you all have to work, suck on that, //Samson//. Yeah, it... didn't quite end up like that. The people who brought me here gave me a way to communicate with them, you know. To tell them whenever someone gets stranded here. "Hello!" I want to say. "Someone is stranded!" And they'll come with their boats, and no one else will be here, and since they came all this way, might as well take me back with them, huh. We can send someone else out, no big deal. Here, have a hot cup of tea, and a blanket. Can I talk to someone? Just talk? [[html]] [[/html]] [[div class="blockquote"]] [[div style="float:left;width:80%;"]] Participants: Lt. Sally Gordon, Agent Andrew Iseweski Purpose of communication: Not specified [[/div]] [[div style="float:right;width:20%;text-align:right;"]] 2020-07-16 10:56-10:57 [[/div]] ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ Lt. Gordon: Lieutenant Gordon of the Area-██ flagship. Please state your name and purpose of communication. Agent Iseweski: Andrew Iseweski. Social enquiry. Lt. Gordon: Social enquiry? Sir? That’s not in the database. Agent Iseweski: What //is// in the database then? Lt. Gordon: Sir, if you're not reporting anything, please don't contact us. <//Communication ended.//> [[/div]] [[html]] [[/html]] [[div class="blockquote"]] [[div style="float:left;width:80%;"]] Participants: Lt. Sally Gordon, Agent Andrew Iseweski Purpose of communication: Social enquiry [[/div]] [[div style="float:right;width:20%;text-align:right;"]] 2020-07-19 09:29-09:33 [[/div]] ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ Lt. Gordon: Lieutenant Gordon of the Area-██ flagship. Please state your name and purpose of communication. Agent Iseweski: Andrew Iseweski. Social enquiry. Lt. Gordon: Sir, if you're not reporting-- Agent Iseweski: I just want to talk to someone. Lt. Gordon: I'm not sure if that's protocol-- Agent Iseweski: Please. <//There's a pause.//> Lt. Gordon: You're the one on the island, aren't you? Agent Iseweski: Yeah, that's me. Thought it'd be a little more interesting when they offered me the job, but, one gets tired of the fish diet after a while. <//Awkward laughter.//> <//There's a rustling of paper.//> Lt. Gordon: Uh, fish, sir? Agent Iseweski: The buggers are everywhere. One of the anomalies, I think. Something about the island being able to feed people? With fish, apparently. Lt. Gordon: Yes, it says that here... Is there anything else, sir? Agent Iseweski: Well, there's this crab. I've been calling him George. Lt. Gordon: That's nice. I meant, is there anything else you need assistance with, besides just "social enquiry"? Agent Iseweski: Oh, right. Um. No, I don't think so. Lt. Gordon: Alright then. Thank you for contacting us, and enjoy your day. <//Communication ended.//> [[/div]] [[html]] [[/html]] It's so weird. Needing people. Needing anything but to be alone on this stupid island with only my thoughts. It's never felt like this before. Solitude was always my dream, my fantasy. But now? Talking to Gordon or whatever her name is, that was the lightest I've felt in a while. I didn't know it could feel like that. Talking. But compared to the sand and sea and George and this device, this lifeline, this connection to the world in my hand, it's everything. It's what watching a sunrise should feel like - that awe, that joy, of sharing something so beautiful with the world, something that is always there but you so rarely take the time to see. Not like the sunrises here where each passing day is a sentence - you're still here, and you still will be here, for a hundred sunrises more. You know, maybe... Maybe Gordon won't mind talking to me more. Maybe she's just as lonely as I am, waiting for someone to contact her, to talk to //her//. Maybe she needs me too. [[html]] [[/html]] [[div class="blockquote"]] [[div style="float:left;width:80%;"]] Participants: Lt. Sally Gordon, Agent Andrew Iseweski Purpose of communication: Social enquiry [[/div]] [[div style="float:right;width:20%;text-align:right;"]] 2020-08-20 11:21-16:55 [[/div]] //File too large. Extracting last five minutes...// //...// //...// //...// //Excerpt uploaded.// ------ Agent Iseweski: --and the worst part was, he had to accept the promotion while covered in [DATA EXPUNGED]. The break room did not smell the same for //weeks//. Lt. Gordon: <//Laughter.//> That's wild. I can't believe the stuff you get up to on the mainland. This assignment must seem so boring compared to all that. Agent Iseweski: Well, it's not like-- Nevermind. Did I tell you what happened to Agent Ryan on his first day? Lt. Gordon: <//Still laughing//.> No, but hold on. What were you saying before? Agent Iseweski: No, it's nothing. Anyway, Ryan accidentally missed the briefing-- Lt. Gordon: Andrew. <//There's a pause.//> Agent Iseweski: It really is nothing. Lt. Gordon: Then it should be no problem to say. Agent Iseweski: I don't want you to think any less of me. Lt. Gordon: I promise you, I won't. Agent Iseweski: Okay then. <//Pause.//> This isn't really stuff //I// get up to. It's just things I've overheard, or seen in passing. I'm not even there for most of it. Lt. Gordon: Why not? Agent Iseweski: I don't know. It's just... I don't know. The parties, the get-togethers, even the team lunches... They've never really appealed to me. Or other people in general, I guess. Lt. Gordon: Oh. Agent Iseweski: I do like talking to you, though. And it might turn out I like talking to them too. I'm going to actually try next time, when my assignment here ends. <//Muffled sound.//> Agent Iseweski: Sally? Lt. Gordon: I have to go. I'll talk to you later. Agent Iseweski: Oh. Alright then. Talk to you-- <//Communication ended.//> [[/div]] [[html]] [[/html]] She's my everything right now. Does she know? Does she have any idea? Our conversations are the only thing keeping me sane out here, where there's nothing and no one else. I've been spending the time when we're not talking thinking about what I'll tell her when we are. She is, in every possible meaning of the word, my lifeline. I wonder if it'll still feel the same way when I get out of here. This desperation for genuine human connection, and the euphoria from experiencing it. I can't imagine going back to who I was before after this. Going back to isolation, avoiding socialisation, when I know what it can feel like. What it //does// feel like. To be seen. To be known. I need people, and it's far too late to change that. [[html]] [[/html]] [[div class="blockquote"]] [[div style="float:left;width:80%;"]] Participants: Lt. Sally Gordon, Agent Andrew Iseweski Purpose of communication: ??? [[/div]] [[div style="float:right;width:20%;text-align:right;"]] 2020-09-27 13:18-13:21 [[/div]] ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ Agent Iseweski: Hey Sal? Lt. Gordon: Yeah, what is it? <//There's a pause. Slight breathing can be heard.//> Agent Iseweski: I don't… really have anyone. You're the closest thing I've ever had to a friend, and, I don't want to lose that. You've… You've been here for me through most of this ordeal. When I get out of here, could we… continue this? <//There's another pause.//> Lt. Gordon: You don’t even know what I look like. Agent Iseweski: And? I want to be your friend. Not professional, I know, but… I'm kinda desperate here. I mean, not desperate for friends, that's sad, and not desperate for you, that's creepy. I mean. I don't know. Lt. Gordon: Listen. <//Pause.//> You seem like a nice person-- Agent Iseweski: Ah, I see where this is going. I get it. No worries. Lt. Gordon: It's not that. There's something you should-- Agent Iseweski: No, no, honestly. It's fine. Bit of a long shot anyway. I'll let you get back to whatever you were doing. Lt. Gordon: Andrew-- <//Communication ended.//> [[/div]] [[html]] [[/html]] Why'd I say that? Why the hell did I say that? Such charisma, yes. Someone give this man a medal. Did I seriously think anyone could care that much about me? "Hey Andrew, you know what, you're a pretty rad guy, and I like you a lot, please be my friend." "Of course! Thanks for asking. Let's go get takeout or something. Or game together. What do you wanna do, also rad and super cool friend?" And then she'd be like I dunno whatever, and we'd end up talking about meaningless stuff and laughing the night away and then oh it's morning already? Had a great time Andrew, thanks. No problem. Let's do this again sometime. Yeah, we should. What's wrong with me? [[html]] [[/html]] ------ [[html]] [[/html]] I haven't spoken to Sally since then. Nor has she reached out to me. Not that she had any reason to, of course, and not that I was hoping, of course not... It's worse, somehow. To think you have something that turns out to be nothing, rather than just having nothing at all from the start. But I'm going to stop thinking, especially about her, because I've been counting the days and guess what? It's almost over. The final grains are falling through the hourglass. Actually, ugh, I don't want to think about sand either. Maybe a clock ticking to the next hour, or people counting down the seconds to the next new year. Yes, I like that last one. Hopefully there'll be fireworks. [[html]] [[/html]] ------ [[html]] [[/html]] Today is the day. I'm going home. I'm finally going home. Forget all about awkward conversations and failed friend-making, forget all about Lieutenant Sally Gordon of the Area-██ flagship, none of that matters anymore, because I'm finally going to leave this horrible island. They're gonna come with their boats and I'm going home and I'm finally going home and I'm gonna hug the first twenty people I see and I'm going to kiss Samson and I'm never gonna take other people for granted again and I'm [[html]] [[/html]] [[div class="blockquote"]] [[div style="float:left;width:80%;"]] Participants: Lt. Sally Gordon, Agent Andrew Iseweski Purpose of communication: I'm sorry [[/div]] [[div style="float:right;width:20%;text-align:right;"]] 2020-10-05 11:41-11:42 [[/div]] ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ Agent Iseweski: Where's the boat? Lt. Gordon: Lieutenant Gordon of the Area-██ flagship. Please state your name and-- Agent Iseweski: The //boat//. Where's the //god//damn //boat//? <//Communication ended.//> [[/div]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-01-10T07:53:00	[ "_licensebox", "bleak", "first-person", "tale" ]	They'll Come With Their Boats - SCP Foundation	5	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[]	[]	1452121352	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theyll-come-with-their-boats
this-is-not-a-place-of-honor	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <p>⚠️ <strong>Content warning:</strong> Descriptions of Violence and Child Abuse<br/> This tale also takes heavy inspiration from SCP-4231, which in itself deals with domestic and sexual abuse<br/> Please take care</p> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <div class="content-warning creditRate">⚠️ content warning <span class="content-warning-arrow"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></div> <p><em><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/i-need-you-to-leave">previously</a></em></p> <p><strong>Post Incident Interview:</strong> COG-<a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-4231">4231</a>-B</p> <p><strong>Interviewed:</strong> Charles Ogden Gears</p> <p><strong>Interviewer:</strong> O5-1, “The Founder”</p> <p><strong><Begin Log></strong></p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “Father.”</p> <p><strong>Founder:</strong> “Son.”</p> <p>[a pause]</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “As you may know, for the past eleven months I have shared a <span style="color:#0099ff;">house</span> with my coworker Dr. Clef-”</p> <p>[Founder cuts him off]</p> <p><strong>Founder:</strong> “SCP-4231-B. I am familiar with your living situation. You were aware of its status as an anomalous object when you arranged this, correct?”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “Yes, I was aware. Given the doctor’s history of cooperation and lack of any <em>recent</em> events, I saw no reason why this would prevent our cohabitation.”</p> <p><strong>Founder:</strong> “I see. Explain to me what happened in that <span style="color:#0099ff;">house</span>, from the beginning.”</p> <p>[a pause]</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “Apologies. Please allow me a moment to gather my thoughts… We returned home at our usual time…”</p> <p>“How long have my tires been popped?” Clef asks, walking in circles around his run down truck. Gears shuts the door of his car and joins Clef’s side, feigning ignorance.</p> <p>“Strange. Did you run over glass recently?”</p> <p>“Haven’t used this truck in…” Clef squints, scrunching up his forehead. “Whatever… Whatever.”</p> <p>“What is the matter?”</p> <p>“I was thinking of going for a drive tonight.”</p> <p>“To where?”</p> <p>Clef shakes his head and walks away from his truck. Opening the front door, Gears lets him step in first, locking the door behind him. Clef plops down in his usual seat, L.S. in his lap.</p> <p>“Where is it you wanted to go?”</p> <p>No answer.</p> <p>“Clef?”</p> <p>“What ever happened to my old <span style="color:#0099ff;">house</span>? Did you sell it?”</p> <p>“It is still under your ownership. It is likely exactly how you left it. Why do you ask?” Gears settles into the kitchen, continuing the conversation as he gathers dinner supplies.</p> <p>“Just wondering.” Threading his fingers through L.S.’s furr, Clef stares, bleary eyed, at the far wall. He remains silent until the end of dinner.</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “I cooked dinner and we ate in silence. Even in retrospect, I can’t recall anything strange about Clef’s behavior until after. I washed the dishes and refilled his glass of water.”</p> <p>Clef perks up at the rattling sound of a pill bottle. He stands, knocking L.S. out of his lap, and leans on the island near Gears. “Oh, is it bedtime already? I lost track of time.”</p> <p>Gears glances over his shoulder. He feels the urge to defend himself despite being the one on offense. He drops a pill into the glass, letting it dissolve as usual.</p> <p>Examining his nails in a disinterested manner, Clef asks, “You feel like letting another pill fall in there? The nightmares… they always get worse around this time.”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “He asked me if he could take an extra pill before he slept.”</p> <p><strong>Founder:</strong> “Pill?”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “A mild amnestic often used as sleeping medication. I have made sure Clef takes one every night in order to keep his sleeping cycle consistent.”</p> <p><strong>Founder:</strong> “I see. So he asked for twice his usual dose. And you gave it to him?”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “I did.”</p> <p><strong>Founder:</strong> “Did anything about the request strike you as suspicious?”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “I was confused by the question, but even now I have no reason to believe Clef had any malicious intent. I don’t believe even he could have predicted what happened next.”</p> <p>Gears awakens to the sound of L.S. yowling. Flipping onto his side, he covers his head with his pillow. Whatever was bothering the damn thing could wait until morning. L.S. digs its claws into the grain.</p> <p>As he turns over he feels something warm drip onto his face. He shots upright, out of his bed in seconds. With the lights on he sees his bed is soaked in red. There’s a dark red spot on the ceiling and it’s leaking.</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “I was awoken by a red liquid dripping from the ceiling. Directly above my room was Clef’s, leading me to believe he was heavily injured.”</p> <p>Gears wipes the blood off his cheek and runs for the door. L.S. immediately pounces into his arms. He cries out, flinging the cat away from him. It smacks against the wall and rushes to jump into his arms again. It’s trembling so hard. Gears stumbles back, bumping into the door and slamming it shut.</p> <p>It’s pitch black.</p> <p>He attempts to pry the cat off of him, but its claws are hooked into his clothes and skin. It would only cause him pain to try to shoo it away. Its fur is slightly wet and sticky. Gears resigns to his fate.</p> <p>He tries to reach for the doorknob or the light switch or anything that’ll illuminate the space. Expect there’s no wall behind him. He reaches out and grasps only darkness.</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “When I had left my room I was operating only under the assumption that Clef was heavily injured. The layout of my <span style="color:#0099ff;">house</span> had changed. I believe this was his doing, if unintentionally.”</p> <p>Gears walks forward, arm outstretched, hoping to find anything familiar. He knows the layout of this <span style="color:#0099ff;">house</span> better than anything, he should be able to navigate this place with his eyes closed. He should have walked into a wall or a piece of furniture, instead he walks into a hospital room.</p> <p>It’s as though he passed through a certain separating the two areas, walking across an unseen threshold. The change is so sudden it hurts his eyes. There’s a door behind him. He could leave.</p> <p>There’s someone on the bed. He recognizes her instantly. He can’t move, can’t breathe, can’t blink. She smiles at him.</p> <p>“Charles, come here! Look at <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/blackened">our child</a>.” Leanne Chao holds out a bundle of blankets. Against his will, he joins her side. A face pokes out of the bundle, eyes closed, still as death.</p> <p>Gears takes the bundle in his arms, gently letting his thumb slide across her cheek. So small, so fragile. How such a soft, pitiful little thing could ever become something like him…</p> <p><em>Gear thinks, for a long time, about raising his Alison, about his letting Alison become like him. She’ll never understand. There’s a mold that grows in him that <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/splinters">he can not allow to grow in her</a>.</em></p> <p>Alison doesn’t stir even a little as she begins to slip through Gears’s fingers. Like sand. Leanne looks at him with such softness in her eyes, such oblivion. Bits of Alison scatter across the floor, sweeping inbetween the cracks in the tiles. Gears swallows down vomit.</p> <p>“What’s wrong, dear?”</p> <p><em>Our daughter is dead! She’s scattered across the floor. I’ve broken her, don’t you see I’ve broken her?</em></p> <p>He can’t stop shaking. A sharp pain shoots up his arm. L.S.’s claws dig until they draw blood. He sees now, in the light of the hospital room, that L.S. is drenched in blood. Clef’s blood.</p> <p><em>He needs to get to Clef.</em></p> <p>He turns his back to her and marches towards the door. As he grabs the doorknob he hears her call out to him.</p> <p>“Where are you going, honey?”</p> <p><em>Leanne Chao is dead. She may have lived and breathed for another thirty years after you disappeared, but you killed her the second you left and never looked back. You’re about to kill her again.</em></p> <p>[Gears does not turn around, he can not stand to face his own guilt. <em>Exit: stage right</em>]</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “I eventually found the kitchen. I remembered I owned a package of glow sticks for emergencies.”</p> <p>He can tell it’s the kitchen, the floor is different here. The counters are exactly where they should be. Feeling along the sides he finds a drawer and pulls out a package of three hundred glow sticks. These things are finally seeing a use.</p> <p><em>Snap.</em></p> <p>He tucks the package under his arm with the cat. The glow stick doesn’t illuminate much but this is in fact his kitchen. He finds the space where the island separates the kitchen and the dinning room. He should be able to see the stairs from here.</p> <p><em>Should</em> being the key word there.</p> <p>Thinking quickly, he attempts to throw a glow stick towards the general direction. It clatters against the ground, barely a speck in the darkness. But it’s something. Gears snaps another glow stick and prepares to make another th-</p> <p>“Hello?”</p> <p>He spins around fast enough to make L.S. tense. He points the light outwards, as if brandishing a weapon. For a moment the voice that called out to him sounded like his Alison, but the little girl before him doesn’t look anything like her. She doesn’t look like anything at all.</p> <p>Gears could focus on any one of her features separately. He could tell you the color of her eyes, the shape of her nose, the exact way her hair falls. But to try to combine those features in his mind left him with a headache. The only clear features are her two large <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-166">antlers and hooves</a>.</p> <p>“Can you help me? I’m lost. I think my father’s here.”</p> <p>“He’s upstairs,” is all Gears can force out. L.S. wriggles out of Gears’s arms and leaps onto the little girl. It’s a wonder it doesn’t knock her to the ground.</p> <p>She giggles, threading her fingers through its bloodsoaked fur. “Kitty!” She and the cat look up at Gears, four pleading eyes staring him down. “Will you help me find my dad?”</p> <p>“Alright.” Gears gives her a cracked glow stick and takes her hand. As they exit the kitchen he swears he can hear a third set of footsteps behind him.</p> <p><strong>Founder:</strong> “The anomaly. What happened with the anomaly?”</p> <p>[Gears audibly swallows]</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “It seems as though, in Clef’s loss of control, he manifested several entities representative of things he knew about.”</p> <p>[And things that would have been impossible for him to know about]</p> <p>As Gears and the girl exit the kitchen, walking straight into a blizzard. L.S. yowls and the little girl clings to his side. The snow crunches under his bare feet, the ice slicing into his exposed skin. This cold is familiar. In the distance, barely visible over the wind and hail, is the glow stick.</p> <p>“So cold…” she whimpers. Gears would offer her a coat if he… oh he is wearing a coat. He takes off his coat and wraps it around the little girl. He can handle the cold, he has handled this cold before.</p> <p>Sitting on the stairs is Dr. Iceberg, his brain leaking out onto the snow. He looks almost casual, his chin propped up on his fists. He gives Gears an unimpressed, bordering on disappointed look.</p> <p>“Don’t get any closer to me.” Iceberg points a handgun at Gears. Instinctively, Gears puts himself between him and the little girl. His legs tremble, every breath is sharp and painful.</p> <p>“Iceberg-”</p> <p>“I don’t really want to hear whatever you have to say to me. I never really liked hearing you talk at all.”</p> <p>“I just need to get to the stairs.”</p> <p>Iceberg’s eye twitches. “To go see Clef? I think he’s busy right now.”</p> <p>“He’s injured. He may need some help.”</p> <p>“Oh <em>he’s injured, huh!?</em> Fucking look at me, Cog! I’ve got a <em>fucking hole</em> in my skull!” Iceberg smacks the side of his head with his palm, splattering brain matter on the steps and snow.</p> <p>Gears finds himself at a loss for words. “You’re dead.”</p> <p>“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”</p> <p>Gears bears his teeth. “You’re dead. You shouldn’t still be here. I <em>need</em> to get to Clef!” He tries to raise his voice but the blizzard winds pick up, drowning him out. It’s so hard to stand.</p> <p>A smirk pulls on Iceberg’s lips. “Oh that was almost cute. Your impressions are getting better. I almost believed you cared about him.” Iceberg scratches the side of his head with the barrel of the gun. The little girl clings to Gears’s leg, he can feel Clef’s blood sticking to his pants.</p> <p>“Iceberg…”</p> <p>“I thought shooting myself would get me out of here, but I guess enough of <em>me</em> got trapped in your walls that I’ll always be in here. Fucked up, isn’t it?”</p> <p>“I love you.” Gears doesn’t even mean to say it, it just slips out among all the other things he desperately wants to tell him. Iceberg scoffs.</p> <p>“You know, for the longest time I didn’t know what to think of you. I mean you were hot, and my boss. But- y’know I mostly just thought you were an asshole. I mean god knows everyone else here is! Whatever’s left of them anyway. It was easy- looking at everything you did and didn’t do and just thinking: <em>‘Well, obviously that makes sense. He’s an asshole, <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/termination-log-scp-1016">why would he care?</a>’</em></p> <p>But the more I think about it, the more I watched you over and over, I realized you’re just a <em>filthy</em> coward. And everything just clicked! You’re just a <em>coward</em> like the rest of us! And I’ll prove it.”</p> <p>[Iceberg brings the pistol up to what’s left of his forehead and for the second time Gears does nothing to stop him. He has enough time to run for it but instead he covers the little girl’s ears. The gunshot makes L.S. yowl]</p> <p>Gears opens his eyes, unsure of when he closed them. Iceberg lies still, sprawled out on the stairs. The little girl is crying, pressing her red face into L.S.’s furr. They need to get out of this cold.</p> <p>He picks the little girl up and places her over Iceberg, trying desperately not to look down. He retches as the scent of blood <em>really</em> hits him. <em>He’s been dead for years, don’t think about it</em>.</p> <p>He can’t help himself though. He steps over the corpse, Iceberg’s blood thawing out his frozen feet. He makes it up a few steps before it weighs on him too much. Turning around, he gives Iceberg one last look. In the snow, leading up to the stairs, there are three sets of footprints.</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “I believe that several of the… manifestations… were meant to deter us from reaching him. We pushed onward.”</p> <p><strong>Founder:</strong> “Us?”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “<em>Er- I</em>. My mistake.”</p> <p>Last Gears checked, his home did not have a spiral staircase. He kept waiting for the moment when he would reach the wall and turn, but it never came. The only sign he’s getting anywhere is the trail of glow sticks he drops behind himself and what he hopes is the distant echo of his own footsteps.</p> <p>“Mister…” Gears flinches.</p> <p>“Yes?”</p> <p>“I’m tired.” The little girl struggles and stumbles over every step. Gears stops and picks her up, the cat in one arm and her in the other.</p> <p>He has no way to measure how long he spends coiling himself around the spiral stairs. His legs ache, his feet numb, the <span style="color:#0099ff;">house</span> deathly silent. His own panting breath keeps him company.</p> <p>The ground grows slick and wet beneath his feet. In the distance he sees the outline of a door. Flowing out from under the door, like a great, disgusting waterfall, is blood.</p> <p>“We’re almost to your father,” Gears whispers. She whimpers, pressing her face into the crook of his neck. Her antlers scratch his face.</p> <p>A tall figure stands before the door, a lone, lumbering guard. Kondraki fixes his eyes on Gears, blood leaking from the hole on his forehead. His butterflies swarm and flutter about him. Gears stops, leaving a few steps between them.</p> <p>“Kondraki,” he says, barely a whisper. “You of all people should desire Clef’s safety.”</p> <p>“He’s safer without you. You break everything you touch.”</p> <p>Gears’s jaw trembles. “I didn’t break you.”</p> <p>“Oh really now? You know the exit wound is always bigger than the entrance wound. Fun little tidbit you ought to know.” He points to the head wound.</p> <p>Something akin to rage boils in his stomach. Gears could blame himself for every loss he’s ever experienced, but Kondraki- he <em>saved</em> Kondraki!</p> <p>“I did not kill you.”</p> <p>“Oh yeah?” Kondraki snears. He takes a step forward, and like the tides of the red sea, the butterflies part ways around him. Gears stares down the barrel of a gun in the hands of <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/portraits-of-your-father">Draven Kondraki</a>.</p> <p>“You thought if you sent me away I wouldn’t find out what you did? You were terrified of me, the perfect token of your guilt, of the promise you failed to keep.”</p> <p>Gears lets out a shuddering breath. “I did not kill your father.”</p> <p>“Yes you did. You may not have put a bullet through his head, but he’s gone because of you. You couldn’t stand to look at me, couldn’t risk that I would pick up on the <em>mold</em> that’s settled in your stomach.”</p> <p>Draven takes a step forward. Gears tries to take a step back, but the ground is so slick he nearly slips.</p> <p>“I know what you’ve done. You can try and try and try to run and hide, but I know. And you know I know, you know I hate you for what you did. You know that one day, I’ll walk into your office and do this-”</p> <p>Draven presses the gun to Gears’s forehead and mid sentence he crumbles into butterflies before him. The little girl goes limp in his grasp and Gears finds he’s holding a bouquet of flowers. The cat squirms.</p> <p>Footsteps echo from behind him. He barely has time to react before someone grabs him from behind.</p> <p>“Dad- we have to get out of here!” Alison- she looks like a full grown woman, like her mother. Gears wriggles out of her grasp.</p> <p>“No. No! Leave me alone!” He’s so close to Clef. Clef needs his help, he doesn’t have time for more guilt! “Just go away!”</p> <p>“This place is too dangerous. I know there’s someone you care about in there but you can’t help him! Please, just come with me! My reality anchor is only so strong.”</p> <p>She grabs his shoulder and his last bit of resolve snaps. She’s just another <em>joke</em> the <span style="color:#0099ff;">house</span> is playing on him, another lingering regret. He shoves her as hard as he can. She loses her footing, disappearing down the spiral staircase. Her shout of fear is swallowed by the darkness. L.S. screams and jumps out of his arms, following her down.</p> <p>That’s it. Nothing is in his way anymore. He makes it up the last few steps and-</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “When I opened Clef’s door it was as though <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/dying-out-west">I stepped into a stage</a>. I was playing a role, acting in a show with him… Wait… no, that doesn’t make any sense. What am I saying?”</p> <p>[<strong>Gears</strong> (<em>As Estragon</em>) and <strong>Clef</strong> (<em>As Vladimir</em>) sit on a bench beneath a cardboard tree. Clef is soaked in blood, two large antlers sit on his head, wrapped in vines and flowers. Clef speaking.]</p> <p><strong>Clef:</strong> “Ah yes, the two thieves. Do you remember the story?”</p> <p>[Gears looks around, confused expression]</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “No.”</p> <p><strong>Clef:</strong> “Shall I tell it to you?”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “No.”</p> <p>[Gears appears to try and say more but no sound escapes him]</p> <p><strong>Clef:</strong> “It'll pass the time.” [A pause] “Two thieves, crucified at the same time as our Savior. One-”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “Our <em>what</em>?”</p> <p><strong>Clef:</strong> “Our Savior. Two thieves. One is supposed to have been saved and the other…” [He pauses, as if searching for the opposite of saved] “…damned.”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “Saved from what?”</p> <p><strong>Clef:</strong> “Hell.”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “I'm going.”</p> <p>[He struggles in his seat but can not stand]</p> <p><strong>Clef:</strong> “And yet…” [A pause] “…how is it –this is not boring you I hope– how is it that of the four Evangelists only one speaks of a thief being saved. The four of them were there –or thereabouts– and only one speaks of a thief being saved.” [a pause] “Come on, Coggy, return the ball, can't you, once in a way?”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> [Through gritted teeth] “I find this really most extraordinarily interesting.”</p> <p><strong>Clef:</strong> “One out of four. Of the other three, two don't mention any thieves at all and the third says that both of them abused him.”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “Who?”</p> <p><strong>Clef:</strong> “What?</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “What's all this about? Abused who?”</p> <p><strong>Clef:</strong> “The Savior.”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “Why?”</p> <p><strong>Clef:</strong> “Because he wouldn't save them.”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> From hell?</p> <p><strong>Clef:</strong> “Imbecile! From death.”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “I thought you said hell.”</p> <p><strong>Clef:</strong> “From death, from death.”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “Well what of it?”</p> <p><strong>Clef:</strong> “Then the two of them must have been damned.”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “And why not?”</p> <p><strong>Clef:</strong> “But one of the four says that one of the two was saved.”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “Well? They don't agree and that's all there is to it.”</p> <p><strong>Clef:</strong> “But all four were there. And only one speaks of a thief being saved. Why believe him rather than the others?”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “Who believes him?”</p> <p><strong>Clef:</strong> “Everybody. It's the only version they know.”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “People are bloody ignorant apes.”</p> <p>[Gears, with extreme difficulty, rises from the seat, limps to the left, and gazes out over the stage. One person sits in the audience. The Founder looks unimpressed. Clef watches him, his blood pouring from all the cuts on his body]</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> [With much struggle] “I know these words. I know these words but they’re not mine. I can’t help but speak them, but they’re not mine, they’re not mine.”</p> <p><strong>Founder:</strong> [Shouting from the audience] “Pull yourself together boy! Quit mumbling gibberish, I know I raised you better than that!”</p> <p><strong>Clef:</strong> “Pah!”</p> <p>[Clef spits. Gears moves to the center of the stage]</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “I want to leave.”</p> <p><strong>Founder:</strong> “I do not care what you want. You will refinish recounting the incident.”</p> <p><strong>Clef:</strong> “We can’t.”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “Why not.”</p> <p><strong>Clef:</strong> “We're waiting for Kondraki.”</p> <p>[Curtains close. Open to <em>Castle Room</em> scene. <strong>Gears</strong> (<em>as The King</em>) and <strong>Clef</strong> (<em>as The Queen</em>) sit on two thrones elevating above <strong>Draven</strong> (<em>as Hamlet</em>), <strong>Andrea</strong> (<em>as Laertes</em>), and <strong>Alison</strong> (<em>as Osric</em>). Draven and Andrea cross swords and begin fencing]</p> <p><strong>Draven:</strong> “I was setting my life in order. You may laugh but you'd do better to follow my example.”</p> <p><strong>Andrea:</strong> “No need. My life's in perfect order. It tidied itself up nicely of its own accord. So I needn't bother about it now.”</p> <p><strong>Draven:</strong> “Really? You imagine it's so simple as that. Whew! How hot it is here! Do you mind if-”</p> <p><strong>Alison:</strong> “How dare you! No, please don't. I loathe men in their shirt-sleeves.”</p> <p><strong>Draven:</strong> “All right. Of course, I used to spend my nights in the newspaper office, and it was a regular Black Hole, so we never kept our coats on. Stiflingly hot it could be. Stifling, that it is. It's night now.”</p> <p><strong>Alison:</strong> “That's so. Olga's undressing; it must be after midnight. How quickly the time passes, on earth!”</p> <p><strong>Andrea:</strong> “Yes, after midnight. They've sealed up my room. It's dark, pitch-dark, and empty.”</p> <p><strong>Draven:</strong> “They've strung their coats on the backs of the chairs and rolled up their shirt- sleeves above the elbow. The air stinks of men and cigar-smoke. I used to like living among men in their shirt-sleeves.”</p> <p><strong>Alison:</strong> “Well, in that case our tastes differ. That's all it proves. What about you? Do you like men in their shirt-sleeves?”</p> <p><strong>Andrea:</strong> “Oh, I don't care much for men any way.”</p> <p><strong>Alison:</strong> “Really I can't imagine why they put us three together. It doesn't make sense.”</p> <p><strong>Andrea:</strong> “What's that you said?”</p> <p><strong>Alison:</strong> “I'm looking at you two and thinking that we're going to live together… It's so absurd. I expected to meet old friends, or relatives.”</p> <p><strong>Andrea:</strong> “Yes, a charming old friend- with a hole in the middle of his face.”</p> <p><strong>Alison:</strong> “Yes, him too. He danced the tango so divinely. Like a professional… But why, why should we of all people be put together?”</p> <p><strong>Draven:</strong> “A pure fluke, I should say. They lodge folks as they can, in the order of their coming. Why are you laughing?”</p> <p><strong>Andrea:</strong> “Because you amuse me with your <em>‘flukes’</em>. As if they left anything to chance! But I suppose you've got to reassure yourself somehow.”</p> <p><strong>Alison:</strong> “I wonder, now. Don't you think we may have met each other at some time in our lives?”</p> <p><strong>Andrea:</strong> “Never. I shouldn't have forgotten you.”</p> <p>[Draven slashes with his sword, leaving a cut across Andrea’s face]</p> <p><strong>Draven:</strong> “One!”</p> <p><strong>Andrea:</strong> “No!”</p> <p><strong>Draven:</strong> “Judgment.”</p> <p><strong>Alison:</strong> “A hit, a very palpable hit.”</p> <p><strong>Andrea:</strong> “Well, again.”</p> <p>[Gears raises up a golden cup to Draven. He drops a sleeping pill into the wine]</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “What’s going on? You’re saying the wrong lines.”</p> <p><strong>Clef:</strong> “Not enjoying the show? You <em>are</em> the director.”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “What am I the director of?”</p> <p><strong>Founder:</strong> [Slams his fists on the wooden desk] “I told you to stop saying gibberish. You are the director of Site-19 and you will focus!”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> [Sweating] “I am- I am not talking to you. Please… Please be quiet for a moment.”</p> <p><strong>Clef:</strong> “The show of course. You think I give a shit about theater?”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “But you did this! I don’t have any control over what’s going on.”</p> <p><strong>Clef:</strong> “None of us ever do. These words weren’t written for us.”</p> <p>[Clef drinks the drugged wine and promptly collapses. Draven screams, running Gears through with the poisoned sword. Curtains close.]</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> [Speaking from behind the curtain] “Can anyone hear me? Clef? Clef I’m… I’m sorry for how I’ve treated you. I just want to leave this <span style="color:#0099ff;">house</span>. We can leave together. Please… please show yourself.”</p> <p><strong>Founder:</strong> “Dr. Clef is not here. If you can not differentiate your fantasy from reality then I may have to take disciplinary actions.”</p> <p>[<strong>Gears</strong> (<em>as a nine year old boy</em>), in <em>The Founder’s study</em>, hides under the Founder’s desk and flips through a copy of Shakespeare's <em>Much Ado About Nothing</em>. Something hits the ground with a wet thud. He peeks out from his hiding spot and finds one of Founder’s <strong>Fish</strong> has jumped from its tank and is flopping uselessly on the ground. On his hands and knees, Gears crawls to the <strong>Fish</strong>’s side]</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “Why did you leave your tank? Strange little thing…”</p> <p><strong>Fish:</strong> [Wheezing] “The tank brought me no comfort. I thought I could escape this place, but now I will die.”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> [He cups the <strong>Fish</strong> in his hands] “What are you?”</p> <p><strong>Fish:</strong> “I’m whatever you think I should be.”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “Fish don’t talk.”</p> <p><strong>Fish:</strong> “And yet you are responding to me. You find comfort in the things that confuse you.”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “I don’t see how this is comforting.”</p> <p><strong>Fish:</strong> “I could explain to you the concept of projection and validation, but as you can see I am still dying. You should hide.”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “Hide? From wh-”</p> <p>[Footsteps echo outside the study door, Gears flinches and drops the <strong>Fish</strong>. Enter: The <strong>Founder</strong> (<em>as himself</em>). He slams open the study door hard enough to rattle the shelves]</p> <p><strong>Fish:</strong> “You could stand to be a bit more careful.”</p> <p>[Gears hugs the book and his knees to his chest, jaw clamped shut. Founder rounds the desk, pushes the chair out of the way, and snatches Gears up by the collar of his shirt]</p> <p><strong>Founder:</strong> “What are you doing here, boy?”</p> <p>[Gears hangs limply from Founder’s grasp]</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> [Shakey] “I was reading, sir.”</p> <p><strong>Fish:</strong> “A wonderful place to hide from the servants and caretakers, but you hadn’t expected him home so soon.”</p> <p><strong>Founder:</strong> “Is that so?”</p> <p>[He lets go, allowing Gears to right himself. Gears hugs the book tighter to his chest]</p> <p><strong>Fish:</strong> “How quickly the spirit breaks. Your stories won’t protect you here.”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “Yes sir. I just-”</p> <p><strong>Founder:</strong> [Cuts him off sharply] “I don’t want your excuses. I will say this once more clearly, focus, boy! What happened in that <span style="color:#0099ff;">house</span> of yours?”</p> <p><strong>Fish:</strong> “Even I have to wonder. Is your grip on reality so far gone that even this has slipped from it? Think about it carefully. The curtain opens to <em>Clef's bedroom</em>.”</p> <p>[<strong>Clef</strong> (<em>as a miserable piece of shit</em>) is on his knees, giant, bloodied antlers sticking out of his head. <strong>Gears</strong> (<em>as a forgettable Nobody</em>) enters holding a teacup full of drugged tea. <strong>Kondraki</strong> (<em>as a dead man</em>) watches]</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> [Weakly] “I've been working too hard. I'm exhausted.”</p> <p><strong>Clef:</strong> “To represent me in the world.” [He struggles for some time to stand up on shaky legs] “My darling, stand up straight.”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “Please, I beg of you.”</p> <p><strong>Clef:</strong> [Domineeringly] “I beg of you, stand up straight. Solemnly, Clef! Pretty does it, pretty does it! Up Clef! Up on your paws!” [He grabs Gears’s wrists, squeezing painfully hard] “Up on your paws! Now then! Up! Up!”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “You don't realize the danger-”</p> <p><strong>Clef:</strong> “But, Coggy, you're immortal! Repeat after me-”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “Talk. But not so loud.”</p> <p><strong>Clef:</strong> [Mechanically] “Alto must have his tea.”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> [Biting his lip] “No, I won't.”</p> <p><strong>Clef:</strong> [Digging his nails into Gears’s wrists] “You bitch! Repeat. Alto must have his tea.”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “I've just been through such a lot…”</p> <p><strong>Clef:</strong> [Bordering on a scream] “Alto will have his tea!”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “Alto will have his tea…”</p> <p><strong>Clef:</strong> “Because he must sleep.”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “Because he must sleep…”</p> <p><strong>Clef:</strong> “And <em>I</em> must stay awake.”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> [Softly] “And I must stay awake.”</p> <p><strong>Clef:</strong> [Lies down on his bed] “Don't interrupt again. I repeat. Are you listening? Are you obeying?” [Gears nods] “I repeat: My tea!”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> [Hesitantly] “But…”</p> <p><strong>Clef:</strong> “I say: my tea.”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “But, Alto.”</p> <p><strong>Clef:</strong> “Good. Continue.”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “But, Alto, it's cold.”</p> <p><strong>Clef:</strong> “I'll drink it anyway. Let me have it.” [Gears gives him the teacup] “And you've poured it into the best, the finest tea set.”</p> <p>[He drinks the tea and goes limp on the bed. Gears looks to Kondraki. Kondraki shakes his head and exits, stage left. The bedroom door bursts down. <em>Enter:</em> <strong>Draven</strong> (<em>as an MTF commander</em>). Gears looks out to the audience of one]</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “Please forgive me sir, I lost myself for a moment. Once I reached Clef’s bedroom I found him lying in bed heavily injured. I failed to remove him from the <span style="color:#0099ff;">house</span> before the MTF squad arrived.”</p> <p><strong>Founder:</strong> “You ought to have a better grip on yourself. The anomaly’s manifestation could be seen from Site-19. You’re lucky they sent the MTF.”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “Very lucky sir.”</p> <p><strong>Founder:</strong> “Tell me, were you aware of anyone else in your <span style="color:#0099ff;">house</span> when the anomaly began acting up?”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “No sir. It was only Clef and myself. Until the MTF came in.”</p> <p><strong>Founder:</strong> “Is that so? Commander Kondraki said he found an unconscious woman at the bottom of the stairs. She escaped capture before she could be identified. And you don’t know anything about that?”</p> <p>[Gears swallows]</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “No.”</p> <p><strong>Founder:</strong> “No?”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “No. I did not know there was another person in the <span style="color:#0099ff;">house</span> that night.”</p> <p><strong>Founder:</strong> “Interesting. I suppose the only matter left at hand is what to do with the anomaly.”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “What do you mean?”</p> <p><strong>Founder:</strong> “We can’t let an incident like this go without any action. SCP-4231-B caused a huge breach in security, putting an MTF squad and a <em>senior doctor</em> at risk, as well as an unidentified citizen. In all likelihood, we’ll have to move the anomaly to permanent containment.”</p> <p>[Gears wants to scream, wants to shout, wants to cry, pull out his hair, claw out his eyes, vomit blood, do anything to release the tight coil of energy built up inside of him. He does not. If he breaks before his father, he won’t just lose Clef]</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “I would highly recommend not doing that.”</p> <p><strong>Founder:</strong> “Oh?”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “Dr. Clef has shown considerable loyalty to the Foundation, and, up until this point, he has maintained control of his anomaly. I believe that this recent outburst is purely due to our cohabitation. I was… not as accommodating to him as I could have been. I believe permanent containment would only rob an innocent man of his freedom, as well as rob the Foundation of a good worker.”</p> <p>[Gears continues to pretend he has any control over himself]</p> <p><strong>Founder:</strong> “I will take this into consideration when discussing this with the council. It will be held in temporary containment for the time being.”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “I understand, sir.”</p> <p><strong>Founder:</strong> “As for you… Your behavior during this interview is disturbing to say the least. Needless to say, I expect better from you.”</p> <p>[Gears says nothing]</p> <p><strong>Founder:</strong> “Unless you have anything else to confess, I believe this interview is concluded.”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “Of course. Thank you for your time.”</p> <p>[Founder exits the interview room]</p> <p>Gears blinks his eyes. He’s standing in front of his <span style="color:#0099ff;">house</span>, key in hand. His hands are trembling too much for him to slot the key in right. He stands there for several minutes before he’s able to get inside.</p> <p>Excluding the reality anchors stationed around, the <span style="color:#0099ff;">house</span> is exactly how he left it. The door opens without a sound, the lights work, the rooms are the same size they’ve always been… at least he thinks so. He should measure when he gets the chance.</p> <p>There’s a puddle of blood at the bottom of the stairs.</p> <p>His daughter’s blood.</p> <p>In a puddle.</p> <p>At the bottom of the stairs.</p> <p><em>You did that to her.</em></p> <p>Vomit spills from his mouth before he can stop himself. It’s mostly just bile and acid, he hasn’t really had anything solid in weeks. He falls to his knees and pukes until his stomach <em>aches</em> and he can’t feel his throat.</p> <p>He can’t move. Feels like the very floor is grabbing him, pulling him in. Every part of him aches and throbs.</p> <p><em>He needs to go to bed. It’s way too late.</em></p> <p>Feeling weightless, like a ghost, Gears stands and walks to his bedroom. He stops, still, right before his bedroom door. Slowly, his entire body trembling, he turns around. Directly across from his bedroom door is a set of double doors he’s never seen before.</p> <p>There’s nothing particularly strange about the doors themselves. It’s odd to have two of them side by side, but it’s no different to the storage closet upstairs. The doors even match the style of the <span style="color:#0099ff;">house</span>. Gears could believe that these doors were installed when the very <span style="color:#0099ff;">house</span> was built.</p> <p>It takes a while of just observing the imobile doors for Gears to work up the nerve to put his hand on the doorknob. Even once it’s there it takes time for him to turn it.</p> <p>When he does, instead of entering into his office or a storage closet or anything that could have been reasonable, it opens into a hallway. Pitchblack, Gears can’t see a thing inside, but staring down the hall he gets the same sinking feeling one gets when staring over a pit. Like one little slip and he’ll fall in and never return.</p> <p>Nobody is standing in the doorway. They stare at each other for a long time.</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “That's it, then, is it?” [Long silence] “The sun's going down. Or the earth's coming up, as the fashionable theory has it. Not that it makes any difference… <em>How long has this been happening?</em>”</p> <p><strong><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/self-similar">Nobody:</a></strong> “I don’t remember.”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “All right, then. I don't care. I've had enough. To tell you the truth, I'm relieved.”</p> <p>[He steps over the threshold, into the hallway]</p> <p><strong>Nobody:</strong> “Our names shouted in a certain dawn… a message… a summons… there must have been a moment, at the beginning, where we could have said- <em>no</em>. But somehow we missed it.”</p> <p>[Nobody steps over the threshold, into the <span style="color:#0099ff;">house</span>]</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “Well, we'll know better next time. Now you see me, <em>now you-</em>”</p> <p>[The door closes. Nobody looks around for a moment, nods, and steps into his bedroom]</p> <p><strong><End Log></strong></p> <div class="series-nav"> <p>« <strong><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/lets-get-you-home">Part 1</a></strong> \| <strong><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/i-need-you-to-leave">Part 2</a></strong> \| <strong>Part 3</strong> <em>(you are here)</em> \| <strong><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/nobody-runs-site-19">Part 4</a></strong> \| <strong><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/tomorrow-and-tomorrow-and-tomorrow">Finale</a></strong> »</p> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/this-is-not-a-place-of-honor">This is not a Place of Honor</a>" by kingofmice, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/this-is-not-a-place-of-honor">https://scpwiki.com/this-is-not-a-place-of-honor</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] ⚠️ Content warning: Descriptions of Violence and Child Abuse This tale also takes heavy inspiration from SCP-4231, which in itself deals with domestic and sexual abuse Please take care [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:end">:scp-wiki:info:end</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:info-cw">:scp-wiki:component:info-cw</a>]] [[module CSS]] .body-text { margin: 2% 13% 2% 9%; padding: 5px 20px 5px 20px; background-color: #f2f2f2; color: #111; } .text4desk { width: 70%; margin: auto; } @media only screen and (max-width: 600px) { .body-text { margin: 0% 4% 0% 4%; } .text4desk { width:100%; } } [[/module]] //[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/i-need-you-to-leave previously]// Post Incident Interview: COG-[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-4231 4231]-B Interviewed: Charles Ogden Gears Interviewer: O5-1, “The Founder” <Begin Log> Gears: “Father.” Founder: “Son.” [a pause] Gears: “As you may know, for the past eleven months I have shared a [[span style="color:#0099ff;"]]house[[/span]] with my coworker Dr. Clef-” [Founder cuts him off] Founder: “SCP-4231-B. I am familiar with your living situation. You were aware of its status as an anomalous object when you arranged this, correct?” Gears: “Yes, I was aware. Given the doctor’s history of cooperation and lack of any //recent// events, I saw no reason why this would prevent our cohabitation.” Founder: “I see. Explain to me what happened in that [[span style="color:#0099ff;"]]house[[/span]], from the beginning.” [a pause] Gears: “Apologies. Please allow me a moment to gather my thoughts… We returned home at our usual time…” “How long have my tires been popped?” Clef asks, walking in circles around his run down truck. Gears shuts the door of his car and joins Clef’s side, feigning ignorance. “Strange. Did you run over glass recently?” “Haven’t used this truck in…” Clef squints, scrunching up his forehead. “Whatever… Whatever.” “What is the matter?” “I was thinking of going for a drive tonight.” “To where?” Clef shakes his head and walks away from his truck. Opening the front door, Gears lets him step in first, locking the door behind him. Clef plops down in his usual seat, L.S. in his lap. “Where is it you wanted to go?” No answer. “Clef?” “What ever happened to my old [[span style="color:#0099ff;"]]house[[/span]]? Did you sell it?” “It is still under your ownership. It is likely exactly how you left it. Why do you ask?” Gears settles into the kitchen, continuing the conversation as he gathers dinner supplies. “Just wondering.” Threading his fingers through L.S.’s furr, Clef stares, bleary eyed, at the far wall. He remains silent until the end of dinner. Gears: “I cooked dinner and we ate in silence. Even in retrospect, I can’t recall anything strange about Clef’s behavior until after. I washed the dishes and refilled his glass of water.” Clef perks up at the rattling sound of a pill bottle. He stands, knocking L.S. out of his lap, and leans on the island near Gears. “Oh, is it bedtime already? I lost track of time.” Gears glances over his shoulder. He feels the urge to defend himself despite being the one on offense. He drops a pill into the glass, letting it dissolve as usual. Examining his nails in a disinterested manner, Clef asks, “You feel like letting another pill fall in there? The nightmares… they always get worse around this time.” Gears: “He asked me if he could take an extra pill before he slept.” Founder: “Pill?” Gears: “A mild amnestic often used as sleeping medication. I have made sure Clef takes one every night in order to keep his sleeping cycle consistent.” Founder: “I see. So he asked for twice his usual dose. And you gave it to him?” Gears: “I did.” Founder: “Did anything about the request strike you as suspicious?” Gears: “I was confused by the question, but even now I have no reason to believe Clef had any malicious intent. I don’t believe even he could have predicted what happened next.” Gears awakens to the sound of L.S. yowling. Flipping onto his side, he covers his head with his pillow. Whatever was bothering the damn thing could wait until morning. L.S. digs its claws into the grain. As he turns over he feels something warm drip onto his face. He shots upright, out of his bed in seconds. With the lights on he sees his bed is soaked in red. There’s a dark red spot on the ceiling and it’s leaking. Gears: “I was awoken by a red liquid dripping from the ceiling. Directly above my room was Clef’s, leading me to believe he was heavily injured.” Gears wipes the blood off his cheek and runs for the door. L.S. immediately pounces into his arms. He cries out, flinging the cat away from him. It smacks against the wall and rushes to jump into his arms again. It’s trembling so hard. Gears stumbles back, bumping into the door and slamming it shut. It’s pitch black. He attempts to pry the cat off of him, but its claws are hooked into his clothes and skin. It would only cause him pain to try to shoo it away. Its fur is slightly wet and sticky. Gears resigns to his fate. He tries to reach for the doorknob or the light switch or anything that’ll illuminate the space. Expect there’s no wall behind him. He reaches out and grasps only darkness. Gears: “When I had left my room I was operating only under the assumption that Clef was heavily injured. The layout of my [[span style="color:#0099ff;"]]house[[/span]] had changed. I believe this was his doing, if unintentionally.” Gears walks forward, arm outstretched, hoping to find anything familiar. He knows the layout of this [[span style="color:#0099ff;"]]house[[/span]] better than anything, he should be able to navigate this place with his eyes closed. He should have walked into a wall or a piece of furniture, instead he walks into a hospital room. It’s as though he passed through a certain separating the two areas, walking across an unseen threshold. The change is so sudden it hurts his eyes. There’s a door behind him. He could leave. There’s someone on the bed. He recognizes her instantly. He can’t move, can’t breathe, can’t blink. She smiles at him. “Charles, come here! Look at [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/blackened our child].” Leanne Chao holds out a bundle of blankets. Against his will, he joins her side. A face pokes out of the bundle, eyes closed, still as death. Gears takes the bundle in his arms, gently letting his thumb slide across her cheek. So small, so fragile. How such a soft, pitiful little thing could ever become something like him… //Gear thinks, for a long time, about raising his Alison, about his letting Alison become like him. She’ll never understand. There’s a mold that grows in him that [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/splinters he can not allow to grow in her].// Alison doesn’t stir even a little as she begins to slip through Gears’s fingers. Like sand. Leanne looks at him with such softness in her eyes, such oblivion. Bits of Alison scatter across the floor, sweeping inbetween the cracks in the tiles. Gears swallows down vomit. “What’s wrong, dear?” //Our daughter is dead! She’s scattered across the floor. I’ve broken her, don’t you see I’ve broken her?// He can’t stop shaking. A sharp pain shoots up his arm. L.S.’s claws dig until they draw blood. He sees now, in the light of the hospital room, that L.S. is drenched in blood. Clef’s blood. //He needs to get to Clef.// He turns his back to her and marches towards the door. As he grabs the doorknob he hears her call out to him. “Where are you going, honey?” //Leanne Chao is dead. She may have lived and breathed for another thirty years after you disappeared, but you killed her the second you left and never looked back. You’re about to kill her again.// [Gears does not turn around, he can not stand to face his own guilt. //Exit: stage right//] Gears: “I eventually found the kitchen. I remembered I owned a package of glow sticks for emergencies.” He can tell it’s the kitchen, the floor is different here. The counters are exactly where they should be. Feeling along the sides he finds a drawer and pulls out a package of three hundred glow sticks. These things are finally seeing a use. //Snap.// He tucks the package under his arm with the cat. The glow stick doesn’t illuminate much but this is in fact his kitchen. He finds the space where the island separates the kitchen and the dinning room. He should be able to see the stairs from here. //Should// being the key word there. Thinking quickly, he attempts to throw a glow stick towards the general direction. It clatters against the ground, barely a speck in the darkness. But it’s something. Gears snaps another glow stick and prepares to make another th- “Hello?” He spins around fast enough to make L.S. tense. He points the light outwards, as if brandishing a weapon. For a moment the voice that called out to him sounded like his Alison, but the little girl before him doesn’t look anything like her. She doesn’t look like anything at all. Gears could focus on any one of her features separately. He could tell you the color of her eyes, the shape of her nose, the exact way her hair falls. But to try to combine those features in his mind left him with a headache. The only clear features are her two large [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-166 antlers and hooves]. “Can you help me? I’m lost. I think my father’s here.” “He’s upstairs,” is all Gears can force out. L.S. wriggles out of Gears’s arms and leaps onto the little girl. It’s a wonder it doesn’t knock her to the ground. She giggles, threading her fingers through its bloodsoaked fur. “Kitty!” She and the cat look up at Gears, four pleading eyes staring him down. “Will you help me find my dad?” “Alright.” Gears gives her a cracked glow stick and takes her hand. As they exit the kitchen he swears he can hear a third set of footsteps behind him. Founder: “The anomaly. What happened with the anomaly?” [Gears audibly swallows] Gears: “It seems as though, in Clef’s loss of control, he manifested several entities representative of things he knew about.” [And things that would have been impossible for him to know about] As Gears and the girl exit the kitchen, walking straight into a blizzard. L.S. yowls and the little girl clings to his side. The snow crunches under his bare feet, the ice slicing into his exposed skin. This cold is familiar. In the distance, barely visible over the wind and hail, is the glow stick. “So cold…” she whimpers. Gears would offer her a coat if he… oh he is wearing a coat. He takes off his coat and wraps it around the little girl. He can handle the cold, he has handled this cold before. Sitting on the stairs is Dr. Iceberg, his brain leaking out onto the snow. He looks almost casual, his chin propped up on his fists. He gives Gears an unimpressed, bordering on disappointed look. “Don’t get any closer to me.” Iceberg points a handgun at Gears. Instinctively, Gears puts himself between him and the little girl. His legs tremble, every breath is sharp and painful. “Iceberg-” “I don’t really want to hear whatever you have to say to me. I never really liked hearing you talk at all.” “I just need to get to the stairs.” Iceberg’s eye twitches. “To go see Clef? I think he’s busy right now.” “He’s injured. He may need some help.” “Oh //he’s injured, huh!?// Fucking look at me, Cog! I’ve got a //fucking hole// in my skull!” Iceberg smacks the side of his head with his palm, splattering brain matter on the steps and snow. Gears finds himself at a loss for words. “You’re dead.” “Really? I hadn’t noticed.” Gears bears his teeth. “You’re dead. You shouldn’t still be here. I //need// to get to Clef!” He tries to raise his voice but the blizzard winds pick up, drowning him out. It’s so hard to stand. A smirk pulls on Iceberg’s lips. “Oh that was almost cute. Your impressions are getting better. I almost believed you cared about him.” Iceberg scratches the side of his head with the barrel of the gun. The little girl clings to Gears’s leg, he can feel Clef’s blood sticking to his pants. “Iceberg…” “I thought shooting myself would get me out of here, but I guess enough of //me// got trapped in your walls that I’ll always be in here. Fucked up, isn’t it?” “I love you.” Gears doesn’t even mean to say it, it just slips out among all the other things he desperately wants to tell him. Iceberg scoffs. “You know, for the longest time I didn’t know what to think of you. I mean you were hot, and my boss. But- y’know I mostly just thought you were an asshole. I mean god knows everyone else here is! Whatever’s left of them anyway. It was easy- looking at everything you did and didn’t do and just thinking: //‘Well, obviously that makes sense. He’s an asshole, [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/termination-log-scp-1016 why would he care?]’// But the more I think about it, the more I watched you over and over, I realized you’re just a //filthy// coward. And everything just clicked! You’re just a //coward// like the rest of us! And I’ll prove it.” [Iceberg brings the pistol up to what’s left of his forehead and for the second time Gears does nothing to stop him. He has enough time to run for it but instead he covers the little girl’s ears. The gunshot makes L.S. yowl] Gears opens his eyes, unsure of when he closed them. Iceberg lies still, sprawled out on the stairs. The little girl is crying, pressing her red face into L.S.’s furr. They need to get out of this cold. He picks the little girl up and places her over Iceberg, trying desperately not to look down. He retches as the scent of blood //really// hits him. //He’s been dead for years, don’t think about it//. He can’t help himself though. He steps over the corpse, Iceberg’s blood thawing out his frozen feet. He makes it up a few steps before it weighs on him too much. Turning around, he gives Iceberg one last look. In the snow, leading up to the stairs, there are three sets of footprints. Gears: “I believe that several of the… manifestations… were meant to deter us from reaching him. We pushed onward.” Founder: “Us?” Gears: “//Er- I//. My mistake.” Last Gears checked, his home did not have a spiral staircase. He kept waiting for the moment when he would reach the wall and turn, but it never came. The only sign he’s getting anywhere is the trail of glow sticks he drops behind himself and what he hopes is the distant echo of his own footsteps. “Mister…” Gears flinches. “Yes?” “I’m tired.” The little girl struggles and stumbles over every step. Gears stops and picks her up, the cat in one arm and her in the other. He has no way to measure how long he spends coiling himself around the spiral stairs. His legs ache, his feet numb, the [[span style="color:#0099ff;"]]house[[/span]] deathly silent. His own panting breath keeps him company. The ground grows slick and wet beneath his feet. In the distance he sees the outline of a door. Flowing out from under the door, like a great, disgusting waterfall, is blood. “We’re almost to your father,” Gears whispers. She whimpers, pressing her face into the crook of his neck. Her antlers scratch his face. A tall figure stands before the door, a lone, lumbering guard. Kondraki fixes his eyes on Gears, blood leaking from the hole on his forehead. His butterflies swarm and flutter about him. Gears stops, leaving a few steps between them. “Kondraki,” he says, barely a whisper. “You of all people should desire Clef’s safety.” “He’s safer without you. You break everything you touch.” Gears’s jaw trembles. “I didn’t break you.” “Oh really now? You know the exit wound is always bigger than the entrance wound. Fun little tidbit you ought to know.” He points to the head wound. Something akin to rage boils in his stomach. Gears could blame himself for every loss he’s ever experienced, but Kondraki- he //saved// Kondraki! “I did not kill you.” “Oh yeah?” Kondraki snears. He takes a step forward, and like the tides of the red sea, the butterflies part ways around him. Gears stares down the barrel of a gun in the hands of [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/portraits-of-your-father Draven Kondraki]. “You thought if you sent me away I wouldn’t find out what you did? You were terrified of me, the perfect token of your guilt, of the promise you failed to keep.” Gears lets out a shuddering breath. “I did not kill your father.” “Yes you did. You may not have put a bullet through his head, but he’s gone because of you. You couldn’t stand to look at me, couldn’t risk that I would pick up on the //mold// that’s settled in your stomach.” Draven takes a step forward. Gears tries to take a step back, but the ground is so slick he nearly slips. “I know what you’ve done. You can try and try and try to run and hide, but I know. And you know I know, you know I hate you for what you did. You know that one day, I’ll walk into your office and do this-” Draven presses the gun to Gears’s forehead and mid sentence he crumbles into butterflies before him. The little girl goes limp in his grasp and Gears finds he’s holding a bouquet of flowers. The cat squirms. Footsteps echo from behind him. He barely has time to react before someone grabs him from behind. “Dad- we have to get out of here!” Alison- she looks like a full grown woman, like her mother. Gears wriggles out of her grasp. “No. No! Leave me alone!” He’s so close to Clef. Clef needs his help, he doesn’t have time for more guilt! “Just go away!” “This place is too dangerous. I know there’s someone you care about in there but you can’t help him! Please, just come with me! My reality anchor is only so strong.” She grabs his shoulder and his last bit of resolve snaps. She’s just another //joke// the [[span style="color:#0099ff;"]]house[[/span]] is playing on him, another lingering regret. He shoves her as hard as he can. She loses her footing, disappearing down the spiral staircase. Her shout of fear is swallowed by the darkness. L.S. screams and jumps out of his arms, following her down. That’s it. Nothing is in his way anymore. He makes it up the last few steps and- Gears: “When I opened Clef’s door it was as though [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/dying-out-west I stepped into a stage]. I was playing a role, acting in a show with him… Wait… no, that doesn’t make any sense. What am I saying?” [Gears (//As Estragon//) and Clef (//As Vladimir//) sit on a bench beneath a cardboard tree. Clef is soaked in blood, two large antlers sit on his head, wrapped in vines and flowers. Clef speaking.] Clef: “Ah yes, the two thieves. Do you remember the story?” [Gears looks around, confused expression] Gears: “No.” Clef: “Shall I tell it to you?” Gears: “No.” [Gears appears to try and say more but no sound escapes him] Clef: “It'll pass the time.” [A pause] “Two thieves, crucified at the same time as our Savior. One-” Gears: “Our //what//?” Clef: “Our Savior. Two thieves. One is supposed to have been saved and the other…” [He pauses, as if searching for the opposite of saved] “…damned.” Gears: “Saved from what?” Clef: “Hell.” Gears: “I'm going.” [He struggles in his seat but can not stand] Clef: “And yet…” [A pause] “…how is it –this is not boring you I hope– how is it that of the four Evangelists only one speaks of a thief being saved. The four of them were there –or thereabouts– and only one speaks of a thief being saved.” [a pause] “Come on, Coggy, return the ball, can't you, once in a way?” Gears: [Through gritted teeth] “I find this really most extraordinarily interesting.” Clef: “One out of four. Of the other three, two don't mention any thieves at all and the third says that both of them abused him.” Gears: “Who?” Clef: “What? Gears: “What's all this about? Abused who?” Clef: “The Savior.” Gears: “Why?” Clef: “Because he wouldn't save them.” Gears: From hell? Clef: “Imbecile! From death.” Gears: “I thought you said hell.” Clef: “From death, from death.” Gears: “Well what of it?” Clef: “Then the two of them must have been damned.” Gears: “And why not?” Clef: “But one of the four says that one of the two was saved.” Gears: “Well? They don't agree and that's all there is to it.” Clef: “But all four were there. And only one speaks of a thief being saved. Why believe him rather than the others?” Gears: “Who believes him?” Clef: “Everybody. It's the only version they know.” Gears: “People are bloody ignorant apes.” [Gears, with extreme difficulty, rises from the seat, limps to the left, and gazes out over the stage. One person sits in the audience. The Founder looks unimpressed. Clef watches him, his blood pouring from all the cuts on his body] Gears: [With much struggle] “I know these words. I know these words but they’re not mine. I can’t help but speak them, but they’re not mine, they’re not mine.” Founder: [Shouting from the audience] “Pull yourself together boy! Quit mumbling gibberish, I know I raised you better than that!” Clef: “Pah!” [Clef spits. Gears moves to the center of the stage] Gears: “I want to leave.” Founder: “I do not care what you want. You will refinish recounting the incident.” Clef: “We can’t.” Gears: “Why not.” Clef: “We're waiting for Kondraki.” [Curtains close. Open to //Castle Room// scene. Gears (//as The King//) and Clef (//as The Queen//) sit on two thrones elevating above Draven (//as Hamlet//), Andrea (//as Laertes//), and Alison (//as Osric//). Draven and Andrea cross swords and begin fencing] Draven: “I was setting my life in order. You may laugh but you'd do better to follow my example.” Andrea: “No need. My life's in perfect order. It tidied itself up nicely of its own accord. So I needn't bother about it now.” Draven: “Really? You imagine it's so simple as that. Whew! How hot it is here! Do you mind if-” Alison: “How dare you! No, please don't. I loathe men in their shirt-sleeves.” Draven: “All right. Of course, I used to spend my nights in the newspaper office, and it was a regular Black Hole, so we never kept our coats on. Stiflingly hot it could be. Stifling, that it is. It's night now.” Alison: “That's so. Olga's undressing; it must be after midnight. How quickly the time passes, on earth!” Andrea: “Yes, after midnight. They've sealed up my room. It's dark, pitch-dark, and empty.” Draven: “They've strung their coats on the backs of the chairs and rolled up their shirt- sleeves above the elbow. The air stinks of men and cigar-smoke. I used to like living among men in their shirt-sleeves.” Alison: “Well, in that case our tastes differ. That's all it proves. What about you? Do you like men in their shirt-sleeves?” Andrea: “Oh, I don't care much for men any way.” Alison: “Really I can't imagine why they put us three together. It doesn't make sense.” Andrea: “What's that you said?” Alison: “I'm looking at you two and thinking that we're going to live together… It's so absurd. I expected to meet old friends, or relatives.” Andrea: “Yes, a charming old friend- with a hole in the middle of his face.” Alison: “Yes, him too. He danced the tango so divinely. Like a professional… But why, why should we of all people be put together?” Draven: “A pure fluke, I should say. They lodge folks as they can, in the order of their coming. Why are you laughing?” Andrea: “Because you amuse me with your //‘flukes’//. As if they left anything to chance! But I suppose you've got to reassure yourself somehow.” Alison: “I wonder, now. Don't you think we may have met each other at some time in our lives?” Andrea: “Never. I shouldn't have forgotten you.” [Draven slashes with his sword, leaving a cut across Andrea’s face] Draven: “One!” Andrea: “No!” Draven: “Judgment.” Alison: “A hit, a very palpable hit.” Andrea: “Well, again.” [Gears raises up a golden cup to Draven. He drops a sleeping pill into the wine] Gears: “What’s going on? You’re saying the wrong lines.” Clef: “Not enjoying the show? You //are// the director.” Gears: “What am I the director of?” Founder: [Slams his fists on the wooden desk] “I told you to stop saying gibberish. You are the director of Site-19 and you will focus!” Gears: [Sweating] “I am- I am not talking to you. Please… Please be quiet for a moment.” Clef: “The show of course. You think I give a shit about theater?” Gears: “But you did this! I don’t have any control over what’s going on.” Clef: “None of us ever do. These words weren’t written for us.” [Clef drinks the drugged wine and promptly collapses. Draven screams, running Gears through with the poisoned sword. Curtains close.] Gears: [Speaking from behind the curtain] “Can anyone hear me? Clef? Clef I’m… I’m sorry for how I’ve treated you. I just want to leave this [[span style="color:#0099ff;"]]house[[/span]]. We can leave together. Please… please show yourself.” Founder: “Dr. Clef is not here. If you can not differentiate your fantasy from reality then I may have to take disciplinary actions.” [Gears (//as a nine year old boy//), in //The Founder’s study//, hides under the Founder’s desk and flips through a copy of Shakespeare's //Much Ado About Nothing//. Something hits the ground with a wet thud. He peeks out from his hiding spot and finds one of Founder’s Fish has jumped from its tank and is flopping uselessly on the ground. On his hands and knees, Gears crawls to the Fish’s side] Gears: “Why did you leave your tank? Strange little thing…” Fish: [Wheezing] “The tank brought me no comfort. I thought I could escape this place, but now I will die.” Gears: [He cups the Fish in his hands] “What are you?” Fish: “I’m whatever you think I should be.” Gears: “Fish don’t talk.” Fish: “And yet you are responding to me. You find comfort in the things that confuse you.” Gears: “I don’t see how this is comforting.” Fish: “I could explain to you the concept of projection and validation, but as you can see I am still dying. You should hide.” Gears: “Hide? From wh-” [Footsteps echo outside the study door, Gears flinches and drops the Fish. Enter: The Founder (//as himself//). He slams open the study door hard enough to rattle the shelves] Fish: “You could stand to be a bit more careful.” [Gears hugs the book and his knees to his chest, jaw clamped shut. Founder rounds the desk, pushes the chair out of the way, and snatches Gears up by the collar of his shirt] Founder: “What are you doing here, boy?” [Gears hangs limply from Founder’s grasp] Gears: [Shakey] “I was reading, sir.” Fish: “A wonderful place to hide from the servants and caretakers, but you hadn’t expected him home so soon.” Founder: “Is that so?” [He lets go, allowing Gears to right himself. Gears hugs the book tighter to his chest] Fish: “How quickly the spirit breaks. Your stories won’t protect you here.” Gears: “Yes sir. I just-” Founder: [Cuts him off sharply] “I don’t want your excuses. I will say this once more clearly, focus, boy! What happened in that [[span style="color:#0099ff;"]]house[[/span]] of yours?” Fish: “Even I have to wonder. Is your grip on reality so far gone that even this has slipped from it? Think about it carefully. The curtain opens to //Clef's bedroom//.” [Clef (//as a miserable piece of shit//) is on his knees, giant, bloodied antlers sticking out of his head. Gears (//as a forgettable Nobody//) enters holding a teacup full of drugged tea. Kondraki (//as a dead man//) watches] Gears: [Weakly] “I've been working too hard. I'm exhausted.” Clef: “To represent me in the world.” [He struggles for some time to stand up on shaky legs] “My darling, stand up straight.” Gears: “Please, I beg of you.” Clef: [Domineeringly] “I beg of you, stand up straight. Solemnly, Clef! Pretty does it, pretty does it! Up Clef! Up on your paws!” [He grabs Gears’s wrists, squeezing painfully hard] “Up on your paws! Now then! Up! Up!” Gears: “You don't realize the danger-” Clef: “But, Coggy, you're immortal! Repeat after me-” Gears: “Talk. But not so loud.” Clef: [Mechanically] “Alto must have his tea.” Gears: [Biting his lip] “No, I won't.” Clef: [Digging his nails into Gears’s wrists] “You bitch! Repeat. Alto must have his tea.” Gears: “I've just been through such a lot…” Clef: [Bordering on a scream] “Alto will have his tea!” Gears: “Alto will have his tea…” Clef: “Because he must sleep.” Gears: “Because he must sleep…” Clef: “And //I// must stay awake.” Gears: [Softly] “And I must stay awake.” Clef: [Lies down on his bed] “Don't interrupt again. I repeat. Are you listening? Are you obeying?” [Gears nods] “I repeat: My tea!” Gears: [Hesitantly] “But…” Clef: “I say: my tea.” Gears: “But, Alto.” Clef: “Good. Continue.” Gears: “But, Alto, it's cold.” Clef: “I'll drink it anyway. Let me have it.” [Gears gives him the teacup] “And you've poured it into the best, the finest tea set.” [He drinks the tea and goes limp on the bed. Gears looks to Kondraki. Kondraki shakes his head and exits, stage left. The bedroom door bursts down. //Enter:// Draven (//as an MTF commander//). Gears looks out to the audience of one] Gears: “Please forgive me sir, I lost myself for a moment. Once I reached Clef’s bedroom I found him lying in bed heavily injured. I failed to remove him from the [[span style="color:#0099ff;"]]house[[/span]] before the MTF squad arrived.” Founder: “You ought to have a better grip on yourself. The anomaly’s manifestation could be seen from Site-19. You’re lucky they sent the MTF.” Gears: “Very lucky sir.” Founder: “Tell me, were you aware of anyone else in your [[span style="color:#0099ff;"]]house[[/span]] when the anomaly began acting up?” Gears: “No sir. It was only Clef and myself. Until the MTF came in.” Founder: “Is that so? Commander Kondraki said he found an unconscious woman at the bottom of the stairs. She escaped capture before she could be identified. And you don’t know anything about that?” [Gears swallows] Gears: “No.” Founder: “No?” Gears: “No. I did not know there was another person in the [[span style="color:#0099ff;"]]house[[/span]] that night.” Founder: “Interesting. I suppose the only matter left at hand is what to do with the anomaly.” Gears: “What do you mean?” Founder: “We can’t let an incident like this go without any action. SCP-4231-B caused a huge breach in security, putting an MTF squad and a //senior doctor// at risk, as well as an unidentified citizen. In all likelihood, we’ll have to move the anomaly to permanent containment.” [Gears wants to scream, wants to shout, wants to cry, pull out his hair, claw out his eyes, vomit blood, do anything to release the tight coil of energy built up inside of him. He does not. If he breaks before his father, he won’t just lose Clef] Gears: “I would highly recommend not doing that.” Founder: “Oh?” Gears: “Dr. Clef has shown considerable loyalty to the Foundation, and, up until this point, he has maintained control of his anomaly. I believe that this recent outburst is purely due to our cohabitation. I was… not as accommodating to him as I could have been. I believe permanent containment would only rob an innocent man of his freedom, as well as rob the Foundation of a good worker.” [Gears continues to pretend he has any control over himself] Founder: “I will take this into consideration when discussing this with the council. It will be held in temporary containment for the time being.” Gears: “I understand, sir.” Founder: “As for you… Your behavior during this interview is disturbing to say the least. Needless to say, I expect better from you.” [Gears says nothing] Founder: “Unless you have anything else to confess, I believe this interview is concluded.” Gears: “Of course. Thank you for your time.” [Founder exits the interview room] Gears blinks his eyes. He’s standing in front of his [[span style="color:#0099ff;"]]house[[/span]], key in hand. His hands are trembling too much for him to slot the key in right. He stands there for several minutes before he’s able to get inside. Excluding the reality anchors stationed around, the [[span style="color:#0099ff;"]]house[[/span]] is exactly how he left it. The door opens without a sound, the lights work, the rooms are the same size they’ve always been… at least he thinks so. He should measure when he gets the chance. There’s a puddle of blood at the bottom of the stairs. His daughter’s blood. In a puddle. At the bottom of the stairs. //You did that to her.// Vomit spills from his mouth before he can stop himself. It’s mostly just bile and acid, he hasn’t really had anything solid in weeks. He falls to his knees and pukes until his stomach //aches// and he can’t feel his throat. He can’t move. Feels like the very floor is grabbing him, pulling him in. Every part of him aches and throbs. //He needs to go to bed. It’s way too late.// Feeling weightless, like a ghost, Gears stands and walks to his bedroom. He stops, still, right before his bedroom door. Slowly, his entire body trembling, he turns around. Directly across from his bedroom door is a set of double doors he’s never seen before. There’s nothing particularly strange about the doors themselves. It’s odd to have two of them side by side, but it’s no different to the storage closet upstairs. The doors even match the style of the [[span style="color:#0099ff;"]]house[[/span]]. Gears could believe that these doors were installed when the very [[span style="color:#0099ff;"]]house[[/span]] was built. It takes a while of just observing the imobile doors for Gears to work up the nerve to put his hand on the doorknob. Even once it’s there it takes time for him to turn it. When he does, instead of entering into his office or a storage closet or anything that could have been reasonable, it opens into a hallway. Pitchblack, Gears can’t see a thing inside, but staring down the hall he gets the same sinking feeling one gets when staring over a pit. Like one little slip and he’ll fall in and never return. Nobody is standing in the doorway. They stare at each other for a long time. Gears: “That's it, then, is it?” [Long silence] “The sun's going down. Or the earth's coming up, as the fashionable theory has it. Not that it makes any difference… //How long has this been happening?//” [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/self-similar Nobody:] “I don’t remember.” Gears: “All right, then. I don't care. I've had enough. To tell you the truth, I'm relieved.” [He steps over the threshold, into the hallway] Nobody: “Our names shouted in a certain dawn... a message... a summons... there must have been a moment, at the beginning, where we could have said- //no//. But somehow we missed it.” [Nobody steps over the threshold, into the [[span style="color:#0099ff;"]]house[[/span]]] Gears: “Well, we'll know better next time. Now you see me, //now you-//” [The door closes. Nobody looks around for a moment, nods, and steps into his bedroom] <End Log> [[div class="series-nav"]] « [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/lets-get-you-home Part 1] \| [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/i-need-you-to-leave Part 2] \| Part 3 //(you are here)// \| [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/nobody-runs-site-19 Part 4] \| [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/tomorrow-and-tomorrow-and-tomorrow Finale] » [[/div]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-01-20T01:07:00	[ "_licensebox", "absurdism", "agent-adams", "black-queen", "bleak", "doctor-clef", "doctor-gears", "doctor-iceberg", "draven-kondraki", "nobody", "surrealism", "tale" ]	This is not a Place of Honor - SCP Foundation	17	[ "i-need-you-to-leave", "scp-4231", "blackened", "splinters", "scp-166", "termination-log-scp-1016", "portraits-of-your-father", "dying-out-west", "self-similar", "lets-get-you-home", "nobody-runs-site-19", "tomorrow-and-tomorrow-and-tomorrow", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "no-love-hub", "nobody-hub", "black-queen-hub" ]	[]	1452232252	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/this-is-not-a-place-of-honor
three-steps-from-heaven	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="preview"> <p>"We'll be together again, soon."</p> </div> <div style="text-align: right;"> <div style="text-align: right; margin-right: 2em; margin-top: -20px;"> <p>by <a href="/synthpanda">SynthPanda_</a></p> </div> </div> <div class="boarderlessdiv"> <p>It takes me three steps to find you,</p> <p>three<br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p>long,<br/> arduous,<br/> nervous</p> </div> <br/> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p>steps.</p> </div> </div> <div class="blockquote"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><em>I</em></span></p> <p>The first is the hardest.<br/> I step in the car of a brusque driver,<br/> ignorant of my final destination<br/> and the journey he is assisting,<br/> but detesting it nonetheless.</p> <p>Small worlds often have the strongest gravity,<br/> sending nails which dig into your flesh,<br/> trying to keep you pinned to the earth,<br/> even when your reprieve is finite,<br/> still a victim of a place once called home.</p> <p>There's a spot on the night-cold road,<br/> where one lane changes to three, then four,<br/> and all but the brightest stars,<br/> are washed out by the allure of the big city,<br/> of the world which allows for my disappearance,<br/> if just for a moment.</p> </div> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="blockquote"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><em>II</em></span></p> <p>To me the station is muddled and<br/> confused, but really it is a living creation beyond<br/> my scale, a convoluted machine serving destinations to<br/> the frenzy of people, which can ignore the goals of a<br/> small, irrelevant thing such as myself.</p> <p>I travel down halls being trampled<br/> by people, all riding one way or<br/> another, until I find the loose association of<br/> explorers, following the same rail as I.</p> <p>As I sit in the thoroughly packed shuttle,<br/> I wonder if I am the only one here<br/> who has never been on Lampeter alone,<br/> who has never traveled without<br/> the all-knowing gaze of their guardian.<br/> I wonder what those surrounding me<br/> are striking out for.<br/> Work? Family? Leisure?<br/> Surely none are traveling<br/> for something as silly as love.</p> <p>Then,<br/> the train lurches forward,<br/> and my doubts are burned away,<br/> as fuel for the sleek train's journey.</p> </div> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="blockquote"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><em>III</em></span></p> <p>I thought entering another atmosphere alone would be momentous.</p> <p>There is no indication when we pass.<br/> No change in the air, no drop in my stomach,<br/> just the sound of wheels on track,<br/> and stars filling the moonless sky,<br/> which I can hardly see<br/> through the train's tiny windows.</p> <p>I know I am somewhere new when I reach the station,<br/> and am told not to leave the building,<br/> for the heat can boil a man alive in hours,<br/> while the sandy air could choke him in seconds.</p> <p>I miss my temperate home, for a moment.<br/> At least there are fresh air and cold winters.<br/> But my mourning is cut short<br/> as the intercom blares to life, startling me<br/> and announcing my next train's arrival.</p> <p>I feel my heart burn bright,<br/> because it knows it will soon be yours.</p> </div> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="blockquote"> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>I blink, and a whole new universe has been revealed.</em></p> </div> <div class="boarderlessdiv"> <p>So many steps stand between</p> <p>myself and</p> <p style="text-align: center;">You,</p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p>my anchor in a sea of stars,<br/> my warmth in an icy void.<br/> Though last we last met<br/> when two elements<br/> first became hundreds,<br/> once we enter the motel,<br/> I slip into your arms<br/> and It's like we never parted.</p> </div> <p>Our gravity pulls us</p> <p>across<br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p>waves,<br/> stars,<br/> and city streets.</p> </div> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p>a connection space can hinder,<br/> but never sever.</p> </div> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="blockquote"> <p>One day my journey to you<br/> will be as simple as waking up<br/> and stirring in your arms.</p> <p>I wish it were coming sooner.</p> <p>But for now,<br/> let's thank the stars<br/> for our love,<br/> three steps from Heaven.</p> </div> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/three-steps-from-heaven">Three Steps From Heaven</a>" by SynthPanda_, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/three-steps-from-heaven">https://scpwiki.com/three-steps-from-heaven</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	===== [[include <a href="/component:preview">component:preview</a> text= "We'll be together again, soon." ]] ===== [[module css]] .boarderlessdiv { margin: 40px; background-color: rgb(var(--space-void) / 0.575); } [[/module]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:space">:scp-wiki:theme:space</a>]] [[>]] [[module rate]] [[div style="text-align: right; margin-right: 2em; margin-top: -20px;"]] by [[[SynthPanda_]]] [[/div]] [[/>]] [[div class="boarderlessdiv"]] It takes me three steps to find you, three [[=]] long, arduous, nervous [[/=]] [[>]] steps. [[/>]] [[/div]] [[div class="blockquote"]] [[=]] __//I//__ The first is the hardest. I step in the car of a brusque driver, ignorant of my final destination and the journey he is assisting, but detesting it nonetheless. Small worlds often have the strongest gravity, sending nails which dig into your flesh, trying to keep you pinned to the earth, even when your reprieve is finite, still a victim of a place once called home. There's a spot on the night-cold road, where one lane changes to three, then four, and all but the brightest stars, are washed out by the allure of the big city, of the world which allows for my disappearance, if just for a moment. [[/=]] [[/div]] @@ @@ [[div class="blockquote"]] [[=]] = __//II//__ To me the station is muddled and confused, but really it is a living creation beyond my scale, a convoluted machine serving destinations to the frenzy of people, which can ignore the goals of a small, irrelevant thing such as myself. I travel down halls being trampled by people, all riding one way or another, until I find the loose association of explorers, following the same rail as I. As I sit in the thoroughly packed shuttle, I wonder if I am the only one here who has never been on Lampeter alone, who has never traveled without the all-knowing gaze of their guardian. I wonder what those surrounding me are striking out for. Work? Family? Leisure? Surely none are traveling for something as silly as love. Then, the train lurches forward, and my doubts are burned away, as fuel for the sleek train's journey. [[/=]] [[/div]] @@ @@ [[div class="blockquote"]] [[=]] = __//III//__ I thought entering another atmosphere alone would be momentous. There is no indication when we pass. No change in the air, no drop in my stomach, just the sound of wheels on track, and stars filling the moonless sky, which I can hardly see through the train's tiny windows. I know I am somewhere new when I reach the station, and am told not to leave the building, for the heat can boil a man alive in hours, while the sandy air could choke him in seconds. I miss my temperate home, for a moment. At least there are fresh air and cold winters. But my mourning is cut short as the intercom blares to life, startling me and announcing my next train's arrival. I feel my heart burn bright, because it knows it will soon be yours. [[/=]] [[/div]] @@ @@ [[div class="blockquote"]] = //I blink, and a whole new universe has been revealed.// [[/div]] [[div class="boarderlessdiv"]] So many steps stand between myself and = You, [[>]] my anchor in a sea of stars, my warmth in an icy void. Though last we last met when two elements first became hundreds, once we enter the motel, I slip into your arms and It's like we never parted. [[/>]] Our gravity pulls us across [[=]] waves, stars, and city streets. [[/=]] [[>]] a connection space can hinder, but never sever. [[/>]] [[/div]] [[=]] [[div class="blockquote"]] One day my journey to you will be as simple as waking up and stirring in your arms. I wish it were coming sooner. But for now, let's thank the stars for our love, three steps from Heaven. [[/div]] [[/=]] @@ @@ ---- [[=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]] [[/=]]	2024-09-14T22:05:00	[ "_licensebox", "bittersweet", "lampeter", "lgbtq", "poetry", "romance", "tale" ]	Three Steps From Heaven - SCP Foundation	29	[ "synthpanda", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "lampeter-hub" ]	[]	1456786998	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/three-steps-from-heaven
tiendita-de-minerales	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p>Hey, you! Yes, you! You seem a little down. Is life not going well for you? Love problems? Or family issues? Insecurities? Oh, I understand perfectly; these are things that all beings go through sooner or later, but don't be discouraged, life sometimes smiles at you. Many will call it luck but, believe me, good luck does not exist! Taking opportunities when they come your way is the real reason why many people do well.</p> <p>Therefore, my friend, today I offer you an opportunity! Enter my store, the store of opportunities and the secrets to your success or misfortune of your enemies.</p> <p>Come on, come over here, watch your head, ha ha. Decorations are expensive! Remember, if you break it you pay for it!</p> <p>Now, let me explain a little more about my small business. Before your eyes you can see the fruits of my labor. You see, I used to be an unfortunate soul like you, but a great opportunity presented itself to me: the black magic market.</p> <p>On my great travels I came across a particular alley that led me to the greatest masters of black magic from multiple cultures.</p> <p>Oh no, no! Don't let the name black magic scare you! Many scholars know that referring to black, white or green magic is just a saying for ordinary people; In reality, magic will always be that, magic. However, black magic has a lot of stigma, since it is related to evil things, but come on, if we are talking about love, about benefits for an easier and more comfortable life, can you really call that evil?</p> <p>Let me show you my latest products, believe me you will be amazed. Oh! Plus, on your first purchase, I'll give you a discount of up to 50%! A bargain, right?</p> <p>Be amazed and check out my newest acquisition - a Marcasite egg, if you take good care of it, you can have your very own home guardian! Guardians can come from many different aspects. For example, mine is quite unique. In fact watch out for him, you were going to step on him, weren't you Mr. Shock? Oh my adorable cat, yes, you're my store manager~…. Ahem! What I'm trying to say is that they can come out from dragons to cats, it's the surprise that counts! We have a whole catalog if you want to check it out.</p> <p>Feel free to point something out if it catches your eye!</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="imagen"> <div class="diamante"> <div class="objeto">1<br/> <a href="javascript:;">/</a> </div> </div> <div class="cinabrio"> <div class="objeto">2<br/> <a href="javascript:;">/</a> </div> </div> <div class="pocion6"> <div class="objeto">17<br/> <a href="javascript:;">/</a> <div class="caja"> <div class="easter-egg"> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Jeje.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Jeje.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>Interested in items alongside the Solio of Selene? They are all associated products that come very well with that purchase. I can tell you about each of them.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"> <div class="dialogo-yo"> <p>Sure.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Felih.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>Good. That gem you see next to the throne is a tanzanite that was manipulated by a powerful alchemist sorcerer from Tierra del Fuego, seeking to replicate the incredible properties of the Solium of Selene. Although he did not achieve his goal, he did manage to emulate a fraction of its power, and was able to mold it enough so that, when under the full moon and on a seal, its properties are activated and an alchemy table grows ready and equipped for its use. His pleochroism, that is, the different color depending on where you see him, is a signature of this sorcerer, and a seal of quality.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Jeje.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Jeje.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>It traveled many kilometers across the world before reaching me, the price is high, but I am willing to haggle a little if you also take the Solio of Selene.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"> <div class="dialogo-yo"> <p>What about the two bottles?</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Felih.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>And of course the package could not be complete without those two wonders. That pinkish-blue bottle in front of you contains nothing more and nothing less than the bottled waters of Caicai-Vilu, the great sea serpent capable of dominating the sea and everything related to it. A group of witches in Tierra del Fuego traveled the depths of the Pacific Ocean in search of the lair where the great snake rests. The pressure of the water around it is so great that, imbued with Caicai-Vilu's own mystical abilities, it gives water the unique property of condensing in very small spaces.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Guh.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Guh.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>To prevent the concentrated power of the water from bursting the bottle, it was manufactured with an equivalent power; Its glass is formed by the ash of a volcano that exploded due to the anger of Trentren-Vilu, the terrestrial serpent that dominates the earth and its volcanoes, and antagonis to Caicai-Vilu.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Felih.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>The pink thing you can see is a complete mystery to me, but it is a magical gas capable of containing water and filtering it so that only one drop falls from the bottle at a time. Legends say that its origin lies in an unknown figure, a winged serpent that takes precedence over the wills of Caicai-Vilu and Trentren-Vilu.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"> <div class="dialogo-yo"> <p>And the last bottle?</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Serio.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Serio.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>Know something? A "wow" from time to time wouldn't be bad. It is not easy to keep all this knowledge and express it with the glibness that characterizes me.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"> <div class="dialogo-yo"> <p>Oh, uh, I'm sorry. Wow.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Felih.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>Yes, that's more like it! Wow! Because the last thing that is coming is the most indispensable part of this package, and it is nothing more and nothing less than the Fabulous Glowstar Glow, a powerful chemical agent that will leave your windows and any surface you have squeaky clean, and also smells like lemon.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"> <div class="dialogo-yo"> <p>Wow!</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Jeje.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Jeje.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>So, what do you say, huh, buddy, you buy the whole package? It's only 9 figures and—</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"> <div class="dialogo-yo"> <p>I think I'll keep looking.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Serio.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Serio.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>Sure…</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div class="gaymostron"> <div class="objeto">3<br/> <a href="javascript:;">/</a> </div> </div> <div class="ventana"> <div class="objeto">17<br/> <a href="javascript:;">/</a> <div class="caja"> <div class="easter-egg"> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Jeje.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Jeje.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>I see you have good taste in stained glass. That is Our Lady of Santa Muerte, also known as the Catrina, the Patroness, the Pale Lady, the White Girl, the Skinny one, the Bony one, the Grim Reaper, the Malquerida, the White Widow, the Owner of the Alebrijes, the Godmother, Azrael, Mictecacíhuatl, and more. But she prefers to be called Santa Muerte.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"> <div class="dialogo-yo"> <p>How do you know that?</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Felih.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>She said it in one of the live shows she did. Dead shows, she calls them. Very good, by the way, I'm a big fan.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"> <div class="dialogo-yo"> <p>I see…</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div class="velas"> <div class="objeto">4<br/> <a href="javascript:;">/</a> </div> </div> <div class="vela-corazon"> <div class="objeto">17<br/> <a href="javascript:;">/</a> <div class="caja"> <div class="easter-egg"> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Felih.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>That jar contains smoke from the candles, useful if you don't like rituals or want more of that delicious smoke. If you're not going to buy it, I recommend staying away from there. People suffer because of that thing.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"> <div class="dialogo-yo"> <p>What's wrong with them? Why do people suffer because of them?</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Jeje.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Jeje.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>It's more for your safety than mine.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"> <div class="dialogo-yo"> <p>What?</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Serio.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Serio.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>What?</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div class="waos"> <div class="objeto">17<br/> <a href="javascript:;">/</a> <div class="caja"> <div class="easter-egg"> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Felih.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>Oh, you were also interested in that rose quartz. Know what? It's funny, but I think I'm starting to notice a pattern among people who pay attention to that product. Do you want to know what that is?</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"> <div class="dialogo-yo"> <p>I think I'll pass this time.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Jeje.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Jeje.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>Hehe, as you wish, darling.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div class="benito"> <div class="objeto">5<br/> <a href="javascript:;">/</a> </div> </div> <div class="lunitas"> <div class="objeto">6<br/> <a href="javascript:;">/</a> </div> </div> <div class="obsidiana"> <div class="objeto">7<br/> <a href="javascript:;">/</a> </div> </div> <div class="rodonita"> <div class="objeto">8<br/> <a href="javascript:;">/</a> </div> </div> <div class="pirita"> <div class="objeto">9<br/> <a href="javascript:;">/</a> </div> </div> <div class="kyanita"> <div class="objeto">13<br/> <a href="javascript:;">/</a> </div> </div> <div class="libros3"> <div class="objeto">17<br/> <a href="javascript:;">/</a> <div class="caja"> <div class="easter-egg"> <div class="container"> <div class="dialogo-yo"> <p>What's with all those books among the potions?</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Jeje.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Jeje.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>You already found the answer, potions! They contain a lot of information about how to make your own potions, how to collect the necessary materials without causing so many problems, guides with different tested combinations of potions and their different effects.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Felih.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>Liquor is not the only thing mixology is good for!</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"> <div class="dialogo-yo"> <p>Sounds interesting.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Serio.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Serio.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>I can't sell them to you.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"> <div class="dialogo-yo"> <p>What? Why?</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Serio.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Serio.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>The client is everything. Do you think I'm going to sell this dynamite recipe to an idiot who doesn't know anything about magic? I'm missing out on a potential future client!</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"> <div class="dialogo-yo"> <p>Idiot?</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Preocupao.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Preocupao.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>Eh.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Felih.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>I-It's a compliment! Idiot is the great demon of intelligence, made up of the brains of the most intelligent species in the animal kingdom, and who wanders through nature using his nervous system as legs, acquiring knowledge wherever he goes.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Jeje.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Jeje.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>Calling someone "idiot" is a compliment; I just told you that you're smart!</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"> <div class="dialogo-yo"> <p>Oh yeah? I haven't heard that one before.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Jeje.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Jeje.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>You see what I mean? Today you learned a little bit about magic slang.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Felih.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>You've become even more of an idiot, like we say in magic slang.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"> <div class="dialogo-yo"> <p>Thanks, stupid.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Serio.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Serio.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>It's not the same.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Serio.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Serio.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>You're better off just looking through my wares; see if you find something you like.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"> <div class="dialogo-yo"> <p>Sure.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div class="huevo"> <div class="objeto">11<br/> <a href="javascript:;">/</a> </div> </div> <div class="corazon"> <div class="objeto">12<br/> <a href="javascript:;">/</a> </div> </div> <div class="jamon"> <div class="objeto">10<br/> <a href="javascript:;">/</a> </div> </div> <div class="prenhita"> <div class="objeto">14<br/> <a href="javascript:;">/</a> </div> </div> <div class="baston"> <div class="objeto">15<br/> <a href="javascript:;">/</a> <div class="caja"> <div class="easter-egg"> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Felih.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>This is the great Staff of Aterlices. It is said that it was created by Aterlices himself, a demon of the third order and bastard son of a renegade angel. Grand master of ceremonies, tasked with safely transporting the witches to the coven. With a citrine quartz that grew on the bloody spine of Aterlices, the feathers of an angel, and the fear of a victim fleeing at superhuman speed, this staff grants its wielder the ability to transport themselves at high speeds without attracting the attention of others.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"> <div class="dialogo-yo"> <p>Sounds useful, it must cost a fortune!</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Serio.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Serio.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>It's not for sale.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"> <div class="dialogo-yo"> <p>What?</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Felih.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>It's mine. This thing saves me having to drive here. You have no idea how much I have saved on gasoline thanks to this wonder.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"> <div class="dialogo-yo"> <p>So why is it in the display case?</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Felih.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>Because I like to show it off! Isn't it great?</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"> <div class="dialogo-yo"> <p>Well… I gotta admit, it is. Can I see it up close?</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Serio.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Serio.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>No.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div class="pocion7"> <div class="objeto">17<br/> <a href="javascript:;">/</a> <div class="caja"> <div class="easter-egg"> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Serio.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Serio.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>Oh sorry, these potions are not for sale, all of these come in a package and as a gift. Although most come bundled with much better merchandise, if you want something from here go and buy something from the shelves above.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div class="pocion5"> <div class="objeto">16<br/> <a href="javascript:;">/</a> <div class="caja"> <div class="easter-egg"> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Jeje.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Jeje.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>The color is beautiful, right? Pink is my third favorite color personally, which is why I bought several bottles of this potion. Its use is extremely simple, if you live in a dangerous area where there are likely to be people not as good as us and they would like to steal your precious gem collection, spray this around your house. This will provide you with protection against thieves, if they pass this circle when you are not invited you will be condemned to a series of misfortunes for the rest of your life. For example, last night a guy tried to sneak in and steal my Bodyguard Adamao, it goes without saying that the poor guy fell on his back and was paralyzed thanks to a too precise blow to the back of his head.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div class="pocion4"> <div class="objeto">17<br/> <a href="javascript:;">/</a> <div class="caja"> <div class="easter-egg"> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Felih.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>This two-color potion is perfect for gardening, after all a witch is never complete without his garden of herbs for rituals. Copal, belladonna and others are essential for any spell. For this reason, if you are someone who is not given to gardening at all and everything you touch dies, this is your salvation. It is a special fertilizer for magical plants, just spray half a bottle on the soil where you want to grow and it will be the most fertile soil you've ever grown in. Just make sure you don't have any pets buried in that dirt, things can get ugly.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div class="pocion3"> <div class="objeto">17<br/> <a href="javascript:;">/</a> <div class="caja"> <div class="easter-egg"> <div class="container"> <div class="dialogo-yo"> <p>What's up with these potions?</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Felih.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>They are not potions; They are oils and liquids to polish the stones so that they are not mistreated, although they are also aromatic, the best is lavender.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"> <div class="dialogo-yo"> <p>Oh.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div class="pocion2"> <div class="objeto">sexooooooooooo<br/> <a href="javascript:;">/</a> <div class="caja"> <div class="easter-egg"> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Jeje.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Jeje.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>The bottle attracts a lot of attention, doesn't it? I made that potion myself. Actually, all the ones on this shelf are made by me. When you open one of them, you will notice how your senses awaken, you will be much more sensitive and the world around you will change and you will even notice how you become a true gallant, just like me!</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"> <div class="dialogo-yo"> <p>Is it a potion that transforms others into you?</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Felih.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>Hahahaha! Of course not, it's my newest collection of Darkstar fragrances, the dark side of a star. It will leave your skin soft, aromatic and glowing and I even have different scents like Soaked Roses, Bubbly Orange Soda and Fresh Mint. What are you saying? Do you want to do an allergy test?</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"> <div class="dialogo-yo"> <p>I think I'll pass.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Serio.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Serio.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>I'm starting to think you don't have faith in me or my products.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div class="pocion1"> <div class="objeto">17<br/> <a href="javascript:;">/</a> <div class="caja"> <div class="easter-egg"> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Jeje.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Jeje.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>Ah! I see these potions caught your attention. Would you like to try some? I have free samples.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"> <div class="dialogo-yo"> <p>But what are they exactly?</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Felih.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>I'm glad you asked! The potions on this shelf are mainly for students. But some workers also use them. They are potions specially cooked by witches from Cerro de la Estrella in Mexico, with them you can stay active for long periods of time, they are usually widely purchased during final exams. With them, your stamina increases, your information retention capacity increases, and it even improves your mood. However, like everything, when the stress leaves your body, the effect will wear off and you will have to take a small dose of the potion to avoid ending up on the floor with a student hangover.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"> <div class="dialogo-yo"> <p>I already graduated.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Serio.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Serio.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>Oh… Well, it tastes just like coffee.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div class="libros4"> <div class="objeto">17<br/> <a href="javascript:;">/</a> <div class="caja"> <div class="easter-egg"> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Serio.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Serio.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>These are some of the best books in my collection… and no one buys them. They all have something in common; Very small print and no visual guide. Kids today, have you noticed? They are not able to read something if it does not have pictures.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"> <div class="dialogo-yo"> <p>Yeah… Such a shame…</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div class="libros2"> <div class="objeto">17<br/> <a href="javascript:;">/</a> <div class="caja">[ <div class="easter-egg"> <div class="container"> <div class="dialogo-yo"> <p>The books on top of the fish, what are they about?</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Serio.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Serio.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>Ah, those books are a set of essays and encyclopedias that detail, from a scientific and magical perspective, the functioning and properties of an entire enormous collection of stones, crystals, and precious gems.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Felih.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>They look pretty dense.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Guh.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Guh.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>But don't let that intimidate you! These books have the ability to make you an expert in these matters and, who knows, give you the possibility of someday opening your own store that competes with mine, generates clients and money, grows in notoriety, and ends up in ashes after an inexplicable fire ended up engulfing all your hard work after 666 days of continuous operation.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"> <div class="dialogo-yo"> <p>…</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Preocupao.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Preocupao.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>…</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Felih.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>And I admit that I put them there because they are a good shield for my fish in case the Toxic-Mellow Amethysts get angry.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Jeje.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Jeje.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>Anyways, are you interested in one? Maybe two? Or perhaps the whole set?</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"> <div class="dialogo-yo"> <p>I think I'll pass for now.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Serio.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Serio.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>Very well.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div class="libros1"> <div class="objeto">17<br/> <a href="javascript:;">/</a> <div class="caja">[ <div class="easter-egg"> <div class="container"> <div class="dialogo-yo"> <p>What are those books about?</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Serio.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Serio.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>These books contain information about a multitude of demons and the functioning of their societies. Hierarchies, servitude, territories, circles, stories that make up their legends…</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Felih.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>It's fucking pointless chaos! Never expect order from demons, I would go crazy if I had to try to explain how many different terms and levels have been invented for demons.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Serio.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Serio.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>The rankings are meaningless, not to mention their power levels. In general, it is great nonsense. Better do like me and keep only the useful information.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Jeje.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Jeje.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>Like the location of the houses of famous demons.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Felih.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>Beleth, you damn cat bastard, how I love that idiot.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Jeje.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Jeje.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>But well, then, what do you say? Do you want to visit some famous demon yourself? It can be the start of a great friendship if you're lucky.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"> <div class="dialogo-yo"> <p>I don't think so. I don't plan on visiting Hell anytime soon.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Serio.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Serio.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>Your loss.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div class="voladoras"> <div class="objeto">17<br/> <a href="javascript:;">/</a> <div class="caja"> <div class="easter-egg"> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Felih.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>Toxic-Mellow Amethysts. Don't let their name fool you, they are quite calm and even indistinguishable from a common amethyst if you treat them with the care they deserve. Clean them, put them in different arrangements or shelves, chat with them, play with them, it doesn't matter, whatever show of affection you give them, they will remain calm.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Felih.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>But if not, if you hit them, or curse and yell, or otherwise hurt them, they will shoot all over the place at speeds that can injure, or even kill, more than one target in the nearby area. They usually buy them along with bodyguards, like Adamao, so if you want a good package, buy these too.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Serio.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Serio.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>…</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Serio.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Serio.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>Oh yeah, also if you ignore them for too long they start to levitate, and if you don't pay attention to them they will shoot all over the place.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"> <div class="dialogo-yo"> <p>They're already levitating.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Felih.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>Yes.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"> <div class="dialogo-yo"> <p>I-Isn't that dangerous?</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Felih.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>Yes, but I want to make a sale first before I take care of that. I won't complain if you rush.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"> <div class="dialogo-yo"> <p>Alright.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div class="pescados"> <div class="objeto">17<br/> <a href="javascript:;">/</a> <div class="caja"> <div class="easter-egg"> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Serio.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Serio.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>My fish. Not for sale.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"> <div class="dialogo-yo"> <p>I get that, but why does the aquarium have a door?</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Felih.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>I would invite you to open it to prove to yourself that it wasn't an architectural mistake that went too far and was eventually solved with magic that prevents water from falling, but my fish are living beings, not toys, so let's just let them swim in peace.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"> <div class="dialogo-yo"> <p>Sure.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div class="puerta"> <div class="objeto">17<br/> <a href="javascript:;">/</a> <div class="caja"> <div class="easter-egg"> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Guh.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Guh.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>Of course you wouldn't be thinking about leaving without buying something. It would be ridiculous to pass up this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, so I won't even ask. I know you are a smart person, and I know you will take advantage of the opportunity.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Serio.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Serio.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>Now go buy something.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div class="es-372"> <div class="objeto">17<br/> <a href="javascript:;">/</a> <div class="caja"> <div class="easter-egg"> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Serio.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Serio.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>I came across that thing a while ago. I thought it would be a nice addition to my store.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Felih.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>"A butterfly with crystals, it's a gift from hell!"</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Serio.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Serio.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>Or so I thought. These things reproduce asexually. They are a pest, worse than space rabbits; There are so many that are simply worthless. If you feel sorry, forget your sadness, they will use you as an incubator and make you dance until you faint.</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"><img alt="Rocky_Felih.png" class="image" src="https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>And they have a signature. Can you believe someone made these things and signed them proudly? He must be one of the supervillains I would like to meet!</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div class="areñas"> <div class="objeto">15<br/> <a href="javascript:;">/</a> <div class="caja"> <div class="easter-egg"> <div class="container"><img alt="arenas.png" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/fragment:tiendita-de-minerales-0/arenas.png" style="border-radius: 50%;"/> <div class="dialogo-npc"> <p>What are you looking at, shit for brains?</p> </div> </div> <div class="container"> <div class="dialogo-yo"> <p>…</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/tiendita-de-minerales/offset/1">I know what I want to buy.</a></span></h2> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> </div> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/tiendita-de-minerales">Little Dark Star Shoppe of Minerals</a>" by Amai-Ixchel and Dc_Yerko, Translated by Uncle Nicolini, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/tiendita-de-minerales">https://scpwiki.com/tiendita-de-minerales</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> arenas.png<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> rawpixel<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC 0<br/> <strong>Source:</strong> <a href="https://www.rawpixel.com/image/6035894/photo-image-public-domain-nature-black">RawPixel</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p>Literally everything else was made by <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/amai-ixchel" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6506049); return false;"><img alt="Amai-Ixchel" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6506049&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1728500152" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6506049)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/amai-ixchel" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6506049); return false;">Amai-Ixchel</a></span> and is licensed under CC BY SA 3.0</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[module ListPages category="fragment" parent="." limit="1" order="created_at" offset="@URL\|0"]] %%content%% [[/module]] [!-- http://www.scp-wiki.net/fragment:tiendita-de-minerales-0 http://www.scp-wiki.net/fragment:tiendita-de-minerales-1 --] @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[include <a href="/component:license-box">component:license-box</a> author=Amai-Ixchel and Dc_Yerko, Translated by Uncle Nicolini]] > Filename: arenas.png > Author: rawpixel > License: CC 0 > Source: [https://www.rawpixel.com/image/6035894/photo-image-public-domain-nature-black RawPixel] > Literally everything else was made by [[*user Amai-Ixchel]] and is licensed under CC BY SA 3.0 [[include <a href="/component:license-box-end">component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-05-27T23:45:00	[ "_cc", "_es", "_licensebox", "_listpages", "ambrose-restaurant", "broken-god", "corporate", "fantasy", "featured", "illustrated", "interactive", "international", "oneiroi", "sarkic", "tale", "three-moons-initiative" ]	Little Dark Star Shoppe of Minerals - SCP Foundation	83	[ "tiendita-de-minerales/offset/1", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "sarkicism-hub", "featured-tale-archive-ii", "ambrose-restaurant-hub", "scp-international" ]	[ "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Jeje.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Jeje.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Guh.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Serio.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Jeje.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Serio.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Jeje.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Jeje.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Serio.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Jeje.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Jeje.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Serio.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Serio.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Preocupao.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Jeje.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Jeje.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Serio.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Serio.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Serio.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Serio.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Serio.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Jeje.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Jeje.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Serio.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Jeje.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Serio.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Serio.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Serio.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Guh.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Preocupao.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Jeje.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Serio.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Serio.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Serio.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Jeje.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Jeje.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Serio.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Serio.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Serio.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Serio.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Guh.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Serio.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Serio.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Serio.png", "https://scp-yerko-6.wdfiles.com/local--files/secret%3Anecronomiamai/Rocky_Felih.png", "https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/fragment:tiendita-de-minerales-0/arenas.png" ]	1453809560	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/tiendita-de-minerales
tinkertailorsoldierjailor	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="preview"> <p>In which a recently defected GOC agent arrives at Site-19, and the Father of Lies meets a security guard that equals him in bullshit.</p> </div> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=1&theme=https://cdn.scpwiki.com/theme/en/basalt/normalize-min.css&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=2&theme=https://cdn.scpwiki.com/theme/en/basalt/basalt-bedrock-min.css&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=3&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Abasalt/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <div style="display: none;"> <div class="scp-image-block block-right" style="width:300px;"><img alt="oXkxm8a.png" class="image" src="https://i.imgur.com/oXkxm8a.png"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>.</p> </div> </div> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc0"><span><span style="color: #c0c0c0">TINKER TAILOR SOLDIER JAILOR</span></span></h1> </div> <div class="authorlink-wrapper"><a href="javascript:;">FlyPurgatorio & sailorenoch</a> <div class="authorbox"> <div class="authorcontent"> <p>Tinker Tailor Soldier Jailor<br/> <strong>Authors:</strong><br/> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/flypurgatorio" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8497838); return false;"><img alt="FlyPurgatorio" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=8497838&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043871" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=8497838)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/flypurgatorio" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8497838); return false;">FlyPurgatorio</a></span> - <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/flys-purgatory">Author Page</a><br/> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/sailorenoch" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5553461); return false;"><img alt="sailorenoch" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5553461&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043871" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5553461)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/sailorenoch" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5553461); return false;">sailorenoch</a></span> - <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/art:faust-s-art-page">Art Page</a></p> </div> </div> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <hr/> <h1 id="toc1"><span>TINKER</span></h1> <hr/></div> <p>The Foundation is exhausting. Terribly precise, infuriatingly formulaic. A caricature of bureaucracy.</p> <p>Of course, you knew that before you joined them. Their reputation for procedural worship dwarfed the strict European legislation you were used to, and made the GOC look like cowboys in comparison. You'd known their treatment of protocols veered into the avenue of occult ritual. Hell, some of your former colleagues had posed theories about that three letter sequence; how it must've been vital to their continued existence, like a sacred oath or spell cast to keep the red tape spinning. Worship the paperwork, glorify the forms. All hail the foundation we build on.</p> <p>What you hadn't been prepared for, was how deep-seated that religion was. How it had soaked into the buildings, the environment, the people. The long, cold hallways of Site-19, filled with workers, but empty nonetheless. The Labcoats and their clipboards, checking off basic weapon training and ignoring your 15 years of fieldwork experience. Even the plants, manicured in perfectly archetypal shapes and placed strategically in offices and meeting rooms to give just enough air to breathe, just enough vigour to flip through another manila folder of maddening formalities and measured formulas. Madness. Utter and complete, formulaic madness.</p> <p>All that worship, crafted and coded to contain the only deity the GOC would not hunt down: the god of normalcy. Whatever the fuck that was supposed to be.</p> <p>It is alienating in a way you never experienced before. Today is just as reductive as any other: the chaos of an unknowing and uncaring universe bound within rites of paperwork. A false god of objectivity who had reduced you to a checklist of facts and numbers, the only connections made through planners and paperclips. Maybe, if you possessed a little more self-insight, you'd have realised that's what bothers you: the facelessness of it all. You need people, need connection, need to be <em>seen</em>. But that's a truth you buried under too many layers of carefully laid toxic defences and unmanaged masculinity — there aren't many who can reach through that without risking a rash.</p> <p>Instinctively, you touch the corners of that picture you carry in your breast pocket.</p> <p>You'd never admit any of that out loud, of course. So instead of loneliness, you call it boredom. And bored you are, sitting alongside another perfectly symmetrical, tightly manicured lawn calculated to alleviate stress and contribute to personnel well-being. Bored you are, taking a drag from another cigarette, waiting for another meeting, another training session, another box to check.</p> <p>"Smoke area is other side."</p> <p>You are ripped from your self-indulgent ruminations by a burly man in a security uniform, blocking out the sunlight. His voice is bombastic, thundering and deep, and drenched in a thick accent that sounds as cartoonish as the organisation he belongs to. He stands at ease, his arms folded behind his back as he stares you down. Shoulders straight, back upright, slightly outgrown buzz cut. Ex-military, you conclude.</p> <p>"That so?" You tick against the unfiltered cancer stick and spread a little bit of ash on the neat lawn. "You gonna drag me across the field yourself, Tommyboy?"</p> <p>He's charming, you decide. Could've even been called handsome, if it wasn't for the deep, messy scar tissue covering his right cheek. A sheepish smile grows on his face, and then he nods.</p> <p>"Can do. Can do worse," he says. "But you have the luck: Dmitri very patient man, open for bribe."</p> <p>You follow his gaze to your breast pocket, to the packet of Lucky Strikes peeking out, and only for a moment you hesitate. But you're so, so bored, and at least he seems entertaining. So you hold out the pack, and he eagerly takes one out. Before you can offer him your lighter, he's pulled out a matchbox imprinted with <em><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/gru-p-hub">ГРУ Отдел П</a></em>, and lights a match. You raise an eyebrow, but say nothing. No longer worrying about political nuances is one of the few perks of this job.</p> <p>"Dmitri Arkadeyevich Strelnikov," he says as he sinks down on the bench next to you. "You say Dmitri."</p> <br/> "Alto Clef," you say, and for a moment you feel the wave of excitement at the sound of your new, your <em>very own</em> name. "You can say Mr. or Agent Clef." <p>"Nicely to meet you, Mr. Agent Clef." He inhales deeply, blowing the smoke out slowly. You can picture him sorting through his vocabulary, reaching for more broken English. "Where did Foundation drag you from?"</p> <p>"Who says they did?"</p> <p>"You," he says plainly. "You are inconsistency. These Foundation people, they – how do you say?" He gestures with his cigarette, the smoke drawing circles in the air. "They no smell. Like bleach."</p> <p>"Sterile."</p> <p>"Sterile! Yes, what I mean." He takes another deep drag. "They sterile, no flair. No heart." He emphases the word by punching against his chest.</p> <p>"But I stink?" you say, amused.</p> <p>"Very strong. Is good!" he says. "Men should have smell. Get down in dirt, get job done. Even soldiers here have no heart, no true fighting spirit. They only follow the list of the control."</p> <p>You casually observe the Russian, taking note of every coarse component of his appearance that, on its own, would've looked intimidating or unpleasant. But put together, they almost look endearing. The boisterous voice instils a calmness, the scars of battle outline a longing for peace. A collage of violence crafted onto a creature of the quiet expanse. It certainly disarms you.</p> <p>"Alright, you not telling, then I will figure the mystery," he says, the smoke blowing from his nostrils. "You have not the fear of new recruits, of world forever changed. Experienced! No eye for the profit, but frown at matchbox. Neutral parties usually ignore, so you were political organisation. Englishman. Accent not ruined by Americanisms, so recent arrival, or stubborn. Think both. Leaves us two groups." He pauses, either to mull it over or for dramatic effect. Then he grins and presses his index fingers alongside his temples, mimicking horns. "Perhaps MI666? Ah, but British Occult Service love Shakespearean performance, theatre! You are soldier, man of action. Unlikely." The point of the cigarette crackles as he inhales. "So, Global Occult Coalition. Am I right?"</p> <p>"You are," you say as you light another cigarette. "I suppose I'm not getting points for guessing they picked you up after GRU-P dissolved, am I?"</p> <p>He laughs. A deep, roaring rumble, somewhere between a dog's growl and a petrol engine, and with more personality than any of the pencil pushers you've met in the last few weeks.</p> <p>"Poor Strelnikov, can never surprise or trick. Was indeed with the GRU Division "P". Sniper, very spicy eye. I see people well." A sly smile slips on his face. "Also, I cheat. Made for better story. Am security, have list of all personnel. Read in the morning your name and risk area, knew you was famed Ukulele, the defector. Thought I pretend to do the Sherlock Holmes deduce, welcome Englishman. Stink is still true."</p> <p>Three layers of ridiculous horse shite. At that moment, you realise you like him.</p> <p>"Shame I left my deerstalker and pipe at home, I'd fit the part." You push your dark hair out of your face. "A better stereotype than quoting the Jungle Book at the British-Indian bloke."</p> <p>"Is true! The stereotype makes people small, miss bigger scope. You and me, no immune, Mr. Agent Clef." He chuckles. "But useful for me, as guard. I yell: <em>"Нѣтъ, я не то, чѣмъ кажусь"</em>,<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-1" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-1')">1</a></sup> and they scare straight at sound, stop whatever they do. Make job easy."</p> <p>"Easy, sure." You spit on the ground. "But it's still cheating, and that'll cost you another story."</p> <p>The Russian grunts a low growl, accompanied by a quick nod. It's as if he accepts a proposition, an amendment to the rules of conversation. <em>God, is everyone here stuck in procedure?</em></p> <p>You flick against your cigarette, watching the ash mingle with the unnaturally green grass as you say: "Who fucked up your face?"</p> <p>"Bear."</p> <p>"Sod off."</p> <p>"Is true!" He gestures broadly. "Many bear in Russia. Sometimes more than one head. Dmitri was in luck to get out."</p> <p>"Come on, you can do better than that."</p> <p>"Alright." He turns to you, one arm leaning over the back of the bench, the other one twirling the final stomp of the cigarette. "How is this: when Dmitri was still young and handsome man, he met beautiful fairy princess in woods. She swoop off the feet, take me to fairy kingdom. Would be king of eternity. Unfortunate for Dmitri, sister of fairy princess also beautiful. Kiss very nice. Breakup, not so — secrets come at cost. It brought wisdom to carry on the face, and Dmitri was become young and rugged man instead."</p> <p>"That's more like it," You take a final drag before stomping out the half-smoked cigarette and silently cursing that your next meeting is coming up.</p> <p>"I can ask: who responsible for fuck up your face?" he continues. "But I already know that was your mother."</p> <p>You pause halfway through your movement, and look up.</p> <p>"Genetics is the bitch, no?"</p> <p>Dmitri has that same sheepish smile on his face, the same boyish twinkle in his eye as when he asked for a bribe. For a moment, you look in disbelief at the first man to mess with you in weeks, the first person to not treat you like a cold specimen or mythical figure.</p> <p>It is followed by the first genuine, roaring laugh.</p> <p>"Fuck you, Dmitri," you say as you slam him on the shoulder. "And god bless. She was. She sure was."</p> <p>He rises to his feet, stomping out the smouldering remains he dropped on the pebble path. You follow, wiping your hands on your shirt and pulling a notebook from your back pocket.</p> <p>"You play cards, Mr. Agent Clef?" Dmitri asks. "Poker?"</p> <p>"Call me Alto," you say, consulting the haggard map of Site-19 and the schedule you penned down in chicken scratches. "And it depends, is the pot any good?"</p> <p>"Is very good, Mr. Agent Alto. Very entertain. We play on the Thursday evening — me, Pole, dog, and lovely Ms. Rights — in West Wing security office. You must join, have fun. Drink."</p> <p>"We'll see," you say, but you write down the location. "Nice meeting you, Dmitri."</p> <p>He leaves with a military salute that's both too campy, and perfectly fitting. A flair of colour in the endless black and white and grey of Site-19. It's a stark standout as you're slung back into the monotone grind.</p> <p>Back to the prayers in processes and paperwork.</p> <p>Mandatory introductory training sessions on Tuesday. Check box. The new recruits look at you from a distance, wary and with awe. Stories have started to spread, rumours too ridiculous to make up yourself. You're an abnormality, a killing machine or even a devil — and you don't dispute any of it. Let them have their tales, their own mythologies. Let them make you bigger than life. Subtlety is an art form lost on you.</p> <p>Wednesday, more interviews as part of your deal. Check box. The mousy researchers are as black and white as the paperwork they fill out. Recording your statements on old GOC missions with detached precision. At least you can't blame them for their caution; you have done nothing yet to earn their trust, and everything to repel it. A defector is a defector, a traitor a traitor.</p> <p><em>Traitor, traitor, which coat's turn is it today?</em> hums the static from your telly in the morning as you wake after another restless night, with a brand new kind of neck pain from the uncomfortable couch.</p> <p>The wheels keep turning, the forms keep filing. Another specimen, contained in the procedure of daily routine. Bland, brutalist, plain and efficient.</p> <p><em>Defector, defector, are you bored or alone?</em> buzzes the microwave as you wait for another plate of tasteless food to scarf down as you hover above the sink, scraps spilling on the dishes you can't be bothered to do.</p> <p>You need messiness, need sacrilege in the church devoted to control. You need — god, will you ever admit you need company? Dmitri's invite is burning on your mind, and your usual mistrust of a gathering filled with unknowns is first to turn to ash. Traitors, defectors, and who else gathers around the fire, at least you won't be the only one.</p> <p>On Thursday morning, you triple check the location on your map before you finish your own morning ritual. The partially drunk bottle of Glenfiddich is chosen after long consideration; a friendly greeting but suggesting little forethought. No-one would suspect you cared. You place it on your desk, your personal altar carrying the picture of a small creature with antlers. A smile comes to your face as you pick it up, your fingers running alongside the corners.</p> <p>And like every morning that came before, you slip it into your breast pocket and brace for another day.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc2"><span>TAILOR</span></h1> <hr/></div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p>For a moment you'd been worried. Worried you'd get lost, swallowed by the endless labyrinth of procedurally generated hallways masquerading as Site-19's West Wing, unable to find which one of the identical doors hid the company you were looking for. That dissipates as you turn a corner, and you hear the dramatic counterpoint of a violin sweeping through the hall, pushing spirit and colour into the silent corridors. Tchaikovsky. Your fingers almost move to press the snares of a viola, like a long-forgotten rite.</p> <p>Well, your names suggest musical affiliation, it wasn't hard for him to guess. You follow the trail of bread crumbs the Russian left for you, until you find the door that keeps you from its source. You knock.</p> <p>"I know the smell. Mr. Agent Alto, you come!" The door swings open and you're greeted by Dmitri who, to your utmost surprise, is dressed head to toe in a vintage Soviet Army uniform. "Come join."</p> <p>You have to admit you didn't really know what to expect. Either there were going to be regular people here, or they were going to be just as over the top as Dmitri. Turns out, it was both.</p> <p>"If I'd known this was a costume party, I'd have brought my deerstalker and pipe," you say as you hand off the bottle of Glenfiddich to Strelnikov.</p> <p>Your attention is first caught by the man in the tracksuit, glaring at his cards as if they personally offended him. His glasses frame his frown, his messy hair casting a shadow on his scowl, deepening the sharpness that didn't need to be there. You wonder what it would be like if it was directed at you, wonder if he'd pierce right through you. Then you shake off the thought and file it under "never analyse further."</p> <p>His opponent, dressed like a lost Addams Family member, puts her wine down as you enter. Her warm smile the same colour as the stains on her glass.</p> <p>The third player is a dog.</p> <p>An actual dog. A corgi, to be precise. Why did you think it would be a nickname?</p> <p>Said corgi was staring intently — maybe even frowning? Can dogs really frown? — at his cards, which are held up by two robot arms attached to a knitted vest. A bizarre reinterpretation of a painting reframed to fit in an odd place like this.</p> <p>"Ah, you mean this? Is nostalgia," says the Russian, completely oblivious to you processing the image of the dog with cyborg limbs. <em>He even has a matching bow tie around his collar.</em></p> <p>The man with the ponytail laughs loudly.</p> <p>"It's a replica," he says, not looking up from his cards. "Leftover costume from three years back, when the Department of Literary Science put on a production of Othello. They turned his character Russian because he couldn't ditch the accent."</p> <p>"Is true, I play Roderigo! Strong, Russian name, fit me right." Dmitri punches himself on the chest. "Kept replica, fits on my now belly and fabric is nicer for local weathers. Also, gives right gravitas to Thespian soul."</p> <p>"Thespian soul in a vaudeville act," says the man in the tracksuit.</p> <p>"Don't be mean, Ben. I think he looks absolutely <em>divine</em> in it," says the woman, and Dmitri has a flair of a blush on his unscarred cheek. She stands up to shake your hand, and even without the big, buckled plateau boots, she'd have towered over you. "Nice to meet you. Agatha Rights, Recursive Data Analyst and Anart Specialist."</p> <p>You have to force yourself not to flinch as you feel the metal of her thorned rose rings twist around her finger, brushing against yours as if it was alive and growing, reaching for sunlight or sustenance. The bat wings on her choker flutter in shimmery crimson flashes. <em>Anart Specialist,</em> you repeat silently.</p> <p>The man with the ponytail lets out a deep sigh, throwing his cards down on the table.</p> <p>"Ben Kondraki, Crypto-Lepidopterologist." He leans over to shake your hand next.</p> <p>"Alto Clef, traitor." You hold onto his hand a fragment of a second too long. "What's your excuse?"</p> <p>"What?"</p> <p>"He means your choice of wardrobe." The disapproval drips from Agatha's voice.</p> <p>Kondraki looks at his tracksuit, then shrugs, a shameful look on his face. "I might've told Rikki I was going to the gym after work instead."</p> <p>"You shouldn't lie to you wife, Benjamin," a fifth voice says, one you didn't expect. It is drenched in an endlessly thicker and posher British accent than you'd ever heard in the wild, an amalgam composed of the blabbering at any snobbish society club. The robot arms meticulously move to put the cards down on the table. "I fold."</p> <p>"No offence, but I'm not taking marriage advice from someone only loved by tennis balls." Kondraki sits back down, arms crossed. "Whatever. I fold too, you got this round, Agatha."</p> <p>"The dog talks?" you hear yourself say.</p> <p>"I prefer ‘temporary embarrassed human,’" says the corgi, and you now see a speaker nestled in the dog collar. One of the robot arms moves to hold out a hand to you. "Kain Crow, Professor of Robotics and Director of Special Projects. How d'you do."</p> <p>You don't say anything when you shake his (or the robot's?) hand. It moves with soundless precision, a work of mechanical engineering bordering on artistry. On its side, the abbreviation P.A.T.H.O.S. is imprinted.</p> <p>"What, you thought you were going to be the special boy here, Ukulele?" There is a grin on Kondraki's face when he says it, and the very next moment he's surrounded by a flutter of butterfly wings, dazzling in chromatic colours.</p> <p>"I don't use that name anymore." You sit down, taking the glass of whisky Dmitri hands you.</p> <p>"Good, it's a stupid one," he says, followed by a hardy laugh. The iridescent butterflies surrounding him shift to a warmer tone.</p> <p>"One more reason they shouldn't let teenagers pick their callsigns."</p> <p>His expression freezes, the remains of his cut-off laughter still hanging in the air. Ben looks at you from over his glasses, eyebrows raised. <em>Piercing</em>, you can't help thinking. The butterflies flicker out of view, but you hear the flaps of their wings still.</p> <p>"Well, now I'm sad," he loudly proclaims, quickly looking over to Dmitri. "Deal us another round before I weep."</p> <p>"What on earth are you playing anyway," you say while inspecting the card setup. Three communal cards in the river, five hand cards each.</p> <p>"Is variant of Five Hand Throw I was taught by Danish friend." Strelnikov gathers the cards, dealing all five of you a new set of hand cards.</p> <p>"It's jolly good fun, the odds are rather unpredictable." Crow's robot arm reaches for the small shot glass filled with whipped cream, and he licks it clean as his voice continues on. "You either keep the hand you have, or you can throw out two cards to use up to two cards from the table. I actually used to play a similar game with some of my fellow Cambridge Apostles, back in the good old days."</p> <p>"Thought it was regular poker when I come West," says the Russian, refilling his own glass with more ice than vodka. "Casino say no, say I cheat! Is not cheat when you have the fun, is intend!"</p> <p>"You'll get used to it after a while, dear," you hear Agatha say, and you realise you've been staring at the talking corgi with a frown on your face. She has placed her cards face-down on the table again, after only looking at them once.</p> <p>"It's not so much the talking, it's the voice," you admit.</p> <p>"You're not the first to remark on that." Crow licks his nose, his ears flicking in your direction. "I synthesised it from old recordings of my own voice, before my current… <em>predicament.</em>"</p> <p>"So you had the chance to ditch sounding like a toffee-nosed twit, but choose to keep it?"</p> <p>Ben chuckles, then winces as a stomp is heard from under the table. Agatha gives him a death glare, before turning back to a small sketchbook she's pulled from her bag.</p> <p>"Was that necessary?" she says as she puts pencil to paper.</p> <p>"It's quite alright, dear Agatha. A little bit of repartee among fellow mavericks seems inevitable." Crow's robot arm has picked up the whipped cream canister and is carefully shaking it. "Besides, the bugger is right. One can take the Eton schoolboy out of his frame and fatherland, but one cannot take away the fall of his tongue, no matter how hard one tries."</p> <p>Strelnikov snickers.</p> <p>"Dog goes to school," he says. "Is funny. I laugh every time."</p> <p>"I wasn't a dog back then, Dmitri," says the corgi, but the Russian isn't listening.</p> <p>"I like to make mental picture of little doggy in school benches," Dmitri continues, setting the first bet of the round. "Writing in the notebook with pencil in the beak. Twirling the beads on abacus when he snack on the homeworks."</p> <p>"Oh pish-posh," says the corgi, his ears flat on his head. The mechanical voice adds a chuckle, though. "Absolutely dreadful attempt, old sport. You'll have to try harder to throw me off my game."</p> <p>That turns out to be correct. The dog takes home that round, although the winnings are sparse. With every bet the Professor places, a louder and louder <em>thump</em> sounds as his tail makes impact with the chair. But it was enough for you to get a feeling for the group. A few more rounds and you complete your own little procedure, one of familiarising yourself with the battleground before fully engaging.</p> <p>Agatha switches between her wine, which she consumes in small sips, and her pencil. You can't shake the idea she's not just sketching you and your companions; and that nagging feeling of being studied overtakes you.</p> <p>"So, did Gomez get you into Anart?" you ask one round later, placing your bet on the first flip.</p> <p>"More like Godiva, but I appreciate the comparison. I also play the shamisen." She places one hand under her chin. From the laced bracelet dangles a horned metal skull that winks at you. "Field experience is unmissable in a place full of scholars, don't you think?"</p> <p>Her voice is deep and sultry, and you're sure she's doing it on purpose. Like the light on an angler fish, alluring to the kind of men who would follow it until they were in her grasp. You, instead, take a drag from your cigarette and turn back to your cards.</p> <p>"What're you drawing anyway, your next exhibit?" From the corner of your eye you're watching Crow's ears flick almost rhythmically, like a pattern. One flick of the left one, seven of the right, one left, five right. Is he calculating his odds?</p> <p>"In a way," she says. "I'm redesigning my girl's winter wardrobe."</p> <p>"Please tell me you're not talking about cats."</p> <p>It's out before you see Ben's energetic motioning to cut it off.</p> <p>"She means dolls, I'm afraid." Crow's licks his nose and raises, then turns to Ben: "Let the girl have her passion."</p> <p>"I make almost everything myself. You wanna see?" Her face lights up, and before you can answer, several pictures of an uncanny, lifelike doll in a fur coat are shoved in your face. Nothing is left from the dulcet tones or suave gestures as she flips through her notebook, as she gushes over braiding styles and metal work. "I was going for a Snow Queen look, but the crown is just not grabbing me. I'm considering a tiara, but —"</p> <p>It is the first and only round where Agatha loses more than anyone else. In exchange, you've seen more painted faces with cold eyes than you care for, and learned more about sculpting and posing than you deserve. Dmitri, on the other hand, grunts and nods along, asks questions about wig styling and sewing patterns. A round later he folds halfway through her monologue, while your, Ben's and Crow's aggressive plays move the chips around.</p> <p>The night is still in full swing when the first player leaves, and it's not because of cards or luck.</p> <p>Ben's phone keeps ringing with the same upbeat tune, a theme to keep pace with his increasingly aggressive raises. After the second round where his obvious tells are thrown off by his determination to ignore the calls, Rights finally snaps.</p> <p>"Answer your wife, Benjamin," she says after he places the fourth raise that round.</p> <p>"Wife should be kept wanting because desire, not absence," says the Russian in his usual grunts. "Carmen lovely woman, deserves better than ignore."</p> <p>"Yeah, yeah." Benjamin pushes his cards together, holding them with two hands as the small stack bounces against his forehead. "She's fine. It's good for her to get some alone time with Draven."</p> <p>"Did Glass recommend that, or did you?" Rights says curtly, the sound of her pencil scratches as condemning as her voice.</p> <p>No answer. The phone beeps another jingle.</p> <p>He throws his cards down and buries his face in his hands.</p> <p>"I wanted one night to not think about that," he mutters. "One fucking night. Is that really too much to ask?"</p> <p>You hear the wings of hundreds and hundreds of butterflies flutter and fidget under the soothing tones of Tchaikovsky. Colours of bright red and deep, sombre indigo flash in and out of existence momentarily, until Rights leans forward and places an arm on his shoulder.</p> <p>"I know," you hear her whisper. "But she needs you right now."</p> <p>He smiles a joyless smile, his jaw clenched. Rubs his face, pushes back the chair. Movement upon movement, as if he's fighting a wall of air as he gets up. One last swig of beer, one fluid motion to put his baseball cap back on, one big and brusque wave as he signs off: "Been a night."</p> <p>The door lands in the frame a little harder than it should've. From the other side, you hear hasted footsteps jog down the hallway, working up a sweat on his way home.</p> <p>"Hey Rikki — yeah, on my way now." His voice moving further and further away until it disappears, taken over by the notes of the Sleeping Beauty waltz on piano. "How's Draven? You want me to —"</p> <p>It leaves an uncomfortable heaviness over the ones who remained at the table.</p> <p>"What was that all about?" you ask, tearing through the tension as you tick against your glass with the corners of your cards.</p> <p>"The Kondrakis have hit a bit of a bump in the road, as they say," Crow's words are rigid, measured. The almost comical <em>slosh</em> from the whipped cream cannister into his shot glass is a welcome relief. "Ghastly situation."</p> <p>"No sense in fishing when there is no in the pond," Strelnikov says. "Been heading for divorce <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/dragandrabbits">ever since little boy was born</a>."</p> <p>"I'm not giving up on them yet. There's still a chance of a happily ever after." Agatha bites the back of her pencil.</p> <p>"You usually read people, not story, Ms. Rights," the Russian says bluntly, with a shake of the head. "Dmitri, too, has romantic heart. Story beautiful symbol, but lie. Sometimes, happy ending is not with each other."</p> <p>Agatha purses her lips, but doesn't respond.</p> <p>"But some endings are worth going all in for, are they not?" says the corgi with an open snout, his tongue hanging out, as his robotic arms push the remainder of his chips on the table.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc3"><span>SOLDIER</span></h1> <hr/></div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p>One player less wouldn't stop the game. It takes several more rounds for the night to wind down, and in that time Crow has to buy additional chips twice. The overture of piano and violin turns to opera, and Dmitri sways along with its arias as he places his bets and flips the cards. Crow's left robot hand waves along, conducting the music rather than experiments. Even Agatha starts to freely sip from her second and third glass of wine, her pencil in tune with the rhythm. When the last round comes to a conclusion and Dmitri finally starts to hum along, the Professor and Analyst turn to him in anticipation.</p> <p>The Russian gets up, holding his glass to you all as a toast, then belts out: "<em>Что наша жизнь? Игра!</em>"<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-2" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-2')">2</a></sup></p> <p>Agatha claps as he takes out the prize pot to divide out the winnings of the night. Curtain call. Even here, the people are drenched in rituals. Procedures, processes, pleasantries. A callback to the formulas, but chosen with care and passion, brought alive. You might not know a word of Russian and even less about opera, but a part of you wishes he'd continue the aria.</p> <p>The dog leaves with a "Cheerio!" and a slightly lighter vest than he came in with, but a spring in his patter. Rights presses a quick kiss that lingers as a blush on Dmitri's scarred cheek before leaving, her flowing dress swaying with each step. You tarry behind, taking the time to slip the dollar bills you fought for into your pockets.</p> <p>"You tell a lot of stories, my friend." You lean against the table, treasuring the last of your drink.</p> <p>"Is need. Stories are scarce resource here. Fact and paperwork, they outline world. Worship rigidness. Clarity. Loneliness. But they do not paint the colours," says the Russian. "Stories worship the soul."</p> <p>"Plenty of folks would call them lies."</p> <p>He waves you off with a brusque grunt.</p> <p>"Scientists, odd kind of people. They do not believe value in the lies. Unlike you or I," he says, then his face lightens up. "It was a good thing of you to join, Mr. Agent Alto. Know that you are welcome to a seat at the table."</p> <p>"You're done so soon?" You take the deck he just sorted, and start to take out each card lower than a six. "How about a last game to sit out the night. Let's play the fool."</p> <p>"Durak!" Strelnikov takes the deck of cards from you, shuffles again enthusiastically. His thumbs bent the edges of the two stacks and riffled them together. "It has been a while. What we play for?"</p> <p>"The only thing of real value around these parts: truths," you say. "The fool of each round has to answer a question, any question, honestly and truthfully. No bullshit, no make-belief, no nonsense answers. What do you say, Dmitri?"</p> <p>You see him pause for a moment, his eyes connected with yours as his eyebrows arch upwards. His body shifts forward, his fist hits the table.</p> <p>"Ready to spill beans, Mr. Agent Alto."</p> <p>He slips each of you a stack of six hand cards, and flips the lowest card from the remaining stock upside down. A six of clubs — the trump suit.</p> <p>"You've got an interesting history, Dmitri," you say as the Russian plays the opening attack card: a seven of spades, which you beat with a nine of spades. "Must've been quite the journey before you got here."</p> <p>"Was man of travel. Now, I settle." He speeds up the plays as he notices your quick responses. "Good for age."</p> <p>"You're the first Russian I've ever met to put ice in his vodka."</p> <p>"It is not the first time I betray the roots," he says sheepishly, lighting a cigarette with his matchbox. "But perhaps, it is worst betrayal. Or I miss being out in the cold."</p> <p>"A former sniper for the GRU-P, now working as a security guard for a research centre and glorified prison." The stockpile is empty, it's just your hand cards now. "Quite a change of pace."</p> <p>"Change is good, it keeps the excite." He defends against your ten of diamonds with a jack of the same suit. "For pace, I follow what game is at play."</p> <p>"You follow?" You shake your head. "Now that's a lie if I ever heard one."</p> <p>He produces a low, growling sound, something you've started to recognise as agreement.</p> <p>You answer with a jack of clubs. The Russian looks at it, and then at the one card still in your hand. He has passed several times, holding onto three more cards.</p> <p>"I am afraid, I am the first fool." He places the three remaining cards open on the table: a six of diamonds, hearts and spades. There is nothing he could've beaten you with. "Is all good. What do you want the know."</p> <p>You take the glass of vodka he hands you, spinning the ice cubes with a quick flick of the wrist as you stare him down. Dmitri is as unreadable as always, waiting patiently for you to reveal just as much about yourself with the question you ask, as he will with his answer.</p> <p>"How did you really get those scars?"</p> <p>"That is you ask?" exclaims the Russian. He laughs a roaring, thundering growl. "Why no big secret, travel history, trick of trade?"</p> <p>"Boring. I can find those kinds of answers if I look for the right dossier. Also, I don't care," you say. "But I don't believe for a second that a bear did all of that."</p> <p>He leans back in his chair, swirling his drink in his glass as he soaks up the anticipation. The moment before he flips his cards, showing his hand. <em>Cling, cling,</em> the ice cubes twirl. You wonder how many stories he made up about it, how much bigger and bolder they must've been. And if the truth would ever live up to it.</p> <p>He takes a sip from his drink, then looks you right in the eyes when he finally admits: "Gardening."</p> <p>"Fuck off."</p> <p>"I am bound by rules. No lie!" he says, a smile as broad as his mangled face can manage. "Dmitri very good son, take care of rose bushes while mother is on trip. I walk over path with garden tools, make fall. Land full on the face."</p> <p>"You're fucking with me," you press out between roars of laughter. "You can't be bloody serious."</p> <p>"No good deed go unpunish. This is pruning shears," he points to the top part of his scars, then moves to the lower part, "and this is spade."</p> <p>"That's brilliant," you say, raising your glass. He follows your gesture. "Cheers to the best fucking story I've heard in months. You could make a Labcoat short-circuit with that one."</p> <p>He smacks his lips and shakes his head.</p> <p>"Subtlety lost art behind Veil," says the Russian. "Foundation, British Occult Service, GRU-P — all same. So used to big answer, miss the excite in small puzzle."</p> <p>"But not you." You take out your pack of Lucky Strikes and light one up, then passing the packet to Dmitri. "You like the little games. Found yourself a real band of characters to play it with."</p> <p>"Artists, like to perform," he says as you shuffle the deck, laying out a new stockpile and the six hand cards. "All about show. Agatha great artist with craft as well as pencil. Capture soul. Has drawn Dmitri, too!"</p> <p>He turns and points to a framed portrait on his desk. It shows an extremely flattering pencil drawing of the Russian down to his waist, in a style that reminds you of the Asian cartoons you've seen on late night telly just before dozing off. A smile too big, flowing hair, a shirt suspiciously tightly wrapped around the torso (was he wearing a shirt when posing for it?!), literal sparkles in his eyes — character over realism. It certainly fits Dmitri's dramatics.</p> <p>"Benjamin, complicated man," he continues as you flip the bottom of the stockpile. A king of hearts. The triumph for romantics. "Pretends to be bigger. Rough and loud, but soft inside. Fragile. Takes pictures, very beautiful light. Only time he has the patience. And Crow —"</p> <p>"Has deep pockets and the worst tell in the world," you finish, placing the first attack.</p> <p>"You heard!" He mimics the movements of Crow's tail. "<em>Thump, thump, thump</em> when he has good hand."</p> <p>"No level of perfect memory and statistic card calculations can compensate for that, no matter how hard he tries," you say. "And he damn well tries. I think he imagines something exciting when he wants to bluff."</p> <p>"Right! Right, I notice!" Dmitri says, playing each card against yours like a rhythm, like he finally found his stride in battle. "But is different <em>thump</em>."</p> <br/> "Of course, Kondraki falls for it every time." You take a moment to consider your options as you draw the final cards from the stockpile, already behind. <p>"Ben very smart man. Good at learning and analysis. Unfortunate, does not mean he good at reading people. Or dog." Dmitri continues with a weighted nod as he waits for your move. <em>Cling, cling</em>, the ice cubes against his glass. "Bold and impatient, wants to brute force solution. But does not want upset. Rough, but soft. Like I said, complicated man. Fun player."</p> <p>"Agatha is the opposite. She only plays the players, not the cards. She loves the chase of it," you say. "And when she's in a bind, she wields her lashes like a weapon. Only took her one round to figure out that doesn't work on me."</p> <p>"Works on Ben, of course."</p> <p>"Barely. But it works on you like a charm," you say, the cigarette dangling on your lip. "I saw you swoon, you slag."</p> <p>"Ah, powerful woman, poetic soul. Dmitri's romantic heart is hers, free to crush under boot if she wish." There is that boyish twinkle in his eye again. "Now you, Mr. Agent Alto, are interesting. Play like fighter: aggressive, daring. You read battle, read plays. But do not read the players. Tactical insight, understand motive, but look for the explanation right in the front. Sharp eye that notices, but misses bigger scope."</p> <p>"That about me as a player?" Your hand consists of only low numbered cards in the regular suits. He might have you based on that alone. "Or a person?"</p> <p>"Life is game. There is no difference." He places a six of hearts as his attack, and you look at his smirk. He's toying with you now.</p> <p>"Pass," you say, and he plays the remainder of his hand with every "pass" you utter. "You're a curious player yourself. You prefer the tension more than the resolution. I think you're a better player than you let on. Misunderstanding idioms you use yourself, asking explanations as a redirect. You refill the ice in your drink before the vodka, so you can pretend you're drunker than you are. And I know for sure you folded twice against Agatha when you had the winning hand."</p> <p>"Maybe I was outbluff?" he says innocently.</p> <p>"Maybe, or maybe you just want to shag her." You take a deep drag from your cigarette. "That's the thing with you: you don't ever make it simple."</p> <p>"Simple is no fun," he says, and it is followed by a flush on his cheek. "You think Agatha would be interest?"</p> <p>"Don't know mate, don't have an eye for women." You throw your cards on the pile. "But she drew you half-naked."</p> <p>"Art is not the same!" he exclaims, placing his last attack card on the table and making you officially the fool of the round. "So, lovely Ms. Rights is wasted on you. Maybe Mr. Agent Alto has more eye for dashingly roguish Russian with divine charm? Or is intense but sensitive Doctor Ben more your type?"</p> <p>"You wanna waste your question on that?"</p> <p>He chuckles and shakes his head. "Is of no need, I already know."</p> <p>He ignores your confused frown as he taps the cigarette against his glass. There is an expression on his face you've begun to recognise as one of his only tells: a mischievous glint, reserved for when he knows he outpaced you.</p> <p>The Russian leans back in his chair, looking you over as if he's measuring every word. A long, deep drag of the cigarette, a large cloud of dramatic smoke. Setting the stage, preparing for his monologue. What a character.</p> <p>"Before I ask, I make observation," he says, his deep voice reaching to the back of the theatre. "Men like you and I, we know when to cut loose. When to switch tactic or side. Got too hot under the feet, move with it."</p> <p>"You projecting there, Dmitri?"</p> <p>"Perhaps." The sheepish grin is back on his face. "You and I, alike. Foot soldiers, playing the game within rules set by ideologist. No real believes of our own, just skills to carry out that of others. I know about Ukulele. Very respected name at GOC and broader political anomalous community. You had all choice to switch, you chose Foundation. Not in chase of pay or prestige, not our way. Very more telling you switched to neutral organisation."</p> <p>"Is there a question coming?" You refill your own glass with Glenfiddich, and a clean one for Dmitri.</p> <p>"Yes. Men like us, we only cross aisle or change way for two reasons: someone changed the rules, or we have debt to pay." He takes the whisky from you. "My question: which one?"</p> <p>You pause for a moment as you mull it over.</p> <p>"I'll hand it to you, Dmitri." You look at the man in the Soviet uniform, your cigarette burning away in your hand. "Here I was thinking we were playing cards, not reading people like cheap novellas."</p> <p>"Is same thing." He says with that sly smirk of his.</p> <p>You take a deep drag, blow out a deep sigh as you look away. "Both. <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-8166">There was someone</a> who made me rethink my role in the whole machine. I suppose she did change the rules, in a way."</p> <p>"So there was woman!" Dmitri exclaims. "Swoop off the feet by fairy princess after all."</p> <p>"Knocked on my arse, more like. It wasn't romantic, if that's what you mean. She was — no, not just a friend either," you scratch the patchy stubble on your chin, your eyes on the green of the poker table. "She was the first person that saw right through me, and didn't damn me straight to hell when she did. I think we recognised ourselves in each other. A kindred soul."</p> <p>"Some bonds deeper than love describe," he says with another measured nod.</p> <p>"That sounds right," you say. "I would've gone to the end of the world to keep her safe, to let her have the life she deserved. Would've been prepared to blow it all to a blazing end."</p> <p>"What happen?"</p> <p>You look him straight in the eye, your expression as plain as could be, your voice cold.</p> <p>"I killed her."</p> <p>A quiet that stretches before you, the cold grasps of winter.</p> <p>"Not metaphorically, not indirectly. I put a bloody bullet in her chest. I fucking failed her, is what happened."</p> <p>You quickly grab your glass and take a big gulp, trying to hide your voice cracking.</p> <p>"So, that's the reason I left the GOC. The rules changed," you say, mesmerised by the whisky swirling around in your glass. <em>Cling, cling</em>. "And it's part of my debt, but not to her. To my kid."</p> <p>"You are father?" he says. "What is name?"</p> <p>"Meri." You can't stop the smile from pulling your mouth wider and wider, broader than should be possible. Your hand moves to your breast pocket, but you don't take out the picture.</p> <p>"Meri Clef." He nods. "<em>Key to happiness</em>. Good name is promise, intention of parent."</p> <p>"You're the first person to get it," you say, hearing, <em>feeling</em> how your voice trembles. "I just hope it'll be more than a promise."</p> <p>You tick against your cigarette, watch as ash floats upward. The air feels like it's pressing down on you, but it is strangely reassuring. As if it's the first time in ages you feel — covered.</p> <p>"I considered making a run for it," you hear your quivering voice say. "But how do you raise a kid when you're always looking over your shoulder? What kind of life would that be? And I didn't know whether there would be medical complications from leaving the Garden, I —" You take a deep breath. "All I knew is that I wouldn't let anyone turn my child into the kind of thing I am. A weapon for another's agenda, a <em>tool</em>. Meri deserves the chance to be a person."</p> <p>"So you come to Foundation, give child safety to grow up."</p> <p>"And half the time I still wonder whether I made the right choice." You take another deep drag, close your eyes and lean back in your chair. "There just weren't any good ones."</p> <p>"Many men never make decision before they run. Many men, only father in title," he says. "You took action, made choice to be there. Only thing that ever matter."</p> <p>And for a moment you don't respond. You just look at the ceiling, watching the smoke circle up and disperse against the grey tiles.</p> <p>"I get one hour every workday. Four on weekends in total, depending on their schedule," you say eventually. "Not out of the goodness of the Foundation's heart, of course. Babies need skin contact to grow up healthy, and every touch except mine results in a rash." You feel a warmth creep up in your chest, right about the place where the soft fur coat usually tickles your skin. "But it's the best hour of the day. It's what I do it all for."</p> <p>You don't even hear the Russian grunt, don't even see the sympathy on his face. Your mind is somewhere else. All you see are those brown eyes staring at you, at the sanitised world enveloping you both. The memory of that little beating heart, the fingers curled around your index, the little laughs that are so rare. The nervous little flicks of the ears, and your wish to wrap your arms around and around like a shield against whatever the world could throw at you two.</p> <p>You never expected you'd be capable of so much love.</p> <p>"Two years," you tell the ceiling. "Two fucking years, and then it's all over. After that, brains start making memories, and they can't risk that. Can't fucking risk my own kid knowing I'm around. Can't fucking risk <em>contaminating the anomaly</em>. Only birthday visits. Cold not cruel, my arse. I just want Meri to - to -"</p> <p>Your voice breaks. The ceiling looks a lot more blurry as you wipe your eyes.</p> <p>"I miss my kid," you croak.</p> <p>You hear the sloshing of spirits, and then feel the cool pressure of its container against your hand.</p> <p>"Maybe it's for the best." Your grab the glass and downing half of it in one big gulp as you try to wash it all away. "Men like us, men of violence, what do we have to offer to children? We only create death."</p> <p>To your surprise, the Russian leans forward. He places a hand on your arm, only briefly, and gives you a measured nod.</p> <p>"You listen, and you are available when need arise," he says, his rasping words as much of a coarse relief as the drink. "You stand guard, from distance. You answer call when it comes. And it will come."</p> <p>"You speaking from experience there, Dmitri?"</p> <p>"Yes. Not as father, but as son of violent man." He downs the last of his own whisky, an excuse to refill. "Different violence. Chess player dealing in blood and treachery. He never answered call."</p> <p>You hold up your glass. "To being better men than those that came before us."</p> <p>"<em>За родителей</em>!"<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-3" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-3')">3</a></sup> He clinks against yours and drinks.</p> <p>You let the spirit slide down your dry throat, refuelling the liquids you are too ashamed to shed without the encouragement of alcohol. As you wipe away the spilled emotion, you chuckle.</p> <p>"Fuck me, you got more out of me in one night than any of these damned shrinks here managed in weeks." The corner of your mouth is pulled in a grimace as you collect the cards for a reshuffle. "You should do that for a living. They taught you that at the GRU-P?"</p> <p>"No. But used it there," he says. "Guarded men same everywhere. Have thick layers, but there is things that need to be out. They need excuse to spill, someone for trust. You never tell me things you wouldn't want out already. And who would believe poor Strelnikov?"</p> <p>There is that sheepish smile again. Disarming in exactly the right way. He truly is an artist, but not just of the stage or spoken word. A man of pure pathos.</p> <p>"One more for the road?" you ask as you hold up the almost empty bottle of Glenfiddich.</p> <p>"One more fool, one more drink." He nods.</p> <p>One last trump card under the stock pile: an ace of spades. You two play in relative silence until the stockpile is empty, sharing a moment without saying things that no longer need to be said. Processing the weight of words spoken and unspoken.</p> <p>"I think I solved you," you eventually say as you play the last few cards in your hand.</p> <p>"Really?" he says. "You figure the mystery?"</p> <p>"You're always playing a different game for a different team," you say. "When we play poker, you play chess, and you play both black and white. But you don't play to win, you play for the performance, for the arc to unfold. That's my read of you, Strel."</p> <p>"Interesting. I can see." He attacks you with his last card: a queen of spades. With the king already played, it is a winning final card.</p> <p>You answer it with an ace of spades.</p> <p>The Russian looks at the card for a moment, at the second ace of spades peaking from under the stockpile, and then at you.</p> <p>"You cheat?"</p> <p>"I would never, Dmitri." Your grin is almost as broad as your face. "I simply used all the cards <em>you</em> introduced into the game this evening. Although it appears some of those get stuck in the little nooks and odd folds of that ridiculous uniform of yours."</p> <p>The Russian looks at you for a moment. No more clinging of ice cubes, only the crackling of his cigarette, the smoke dispersing.</p> <p>Then he laughs loudly, as if the sky erupts.</p> <p>"When did you notice?"</p> <p>"Three rounds in I realised that Ben wasn't losing as hard as he should've, and Crow's calculated bets were thrown off half the time. I was going to call you out on it, until I realised you weren't doing it for anyone's gain specifically. Especially not your own pockets," you say. "Then it hit me: you were tweaking the game to be the most interesting, to give each player a moment to shine. You were not playing poker, or even chess. You were directing a play."</p> <p>"I was right! You read plays very well, Alto," he says. "I expected you would pick up most of my indications. Ask your question."</p> <p>"Nah, that didn't count," you say. "I cheated."</p> <p>"No, I did the cheat." He almost sounds insulted. "And you set rule when we met: you cheat, you owe another story. Borders important. The cheat cannot exist without the rules."</p> <p>Playing within the rules set by others, by those with ideals. Looking for those edges, but never going over them. And giving just enough room to figure out the double or triple meaning he's hidden layers upon layers deep. The man has been playing all sides at once, without showing all his cards. And you'd fallen for it just as much as anyone here at Site-19 seemed to have.</p> <p>When you first met Dmitri, you thought he was simply reaching for words in a language he hadn't mastered yet. You're rethinking that now; he mastered it in a way you hadn't realised was possible. Saying everything without fully stating it, running circles around those thinking less of his position and background. Mocking them. Laughing in their face as they showed what they were made of. Was that why he still used both salutations when he says your name? Well, you kind of had it coming.</p> <p>"Alright. Here's my question: if you say I only picked up most of your <em>indications</em>, that means I missed something," you say. "What did I miss?"</p> <p>Strelnikov's face lights up with that boyish joy. That certainly was the question he'd wanted to answer. Some truths need an excuse to spill out. Maybe he'd been willing to answer if someone — anyone — had been willing to ask. Site-19 can be big and lonely, and there is only so much you can do to kill the boredom.</p> <p>Perhaps he'd been right, you two were alike. Foot soldiers forced alongside calculated measurements, of reality weighted in black and white. You two were figures fitting for the grey in the borders and corners, the forgotten and unsavoury parts that let the world click into place. A necessary sort of man, one that does their best work if covered in layers and layers of story and lies. And you both had told, and lived, many.</p> <p>He leans forward, gesturing you to follow suit. In a soft voice, as if he's about to divulge the most valuable information he has ever carried, he answers in perfect English: "you missed <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/system:page-tags/tag/british-occult-service#pages">my love for Shakespeare</a>, old sport."</p> <p>For a moment you stop breathing as you process the flawless mimic of Crow's clean Eton schoolboy accent. The coarse Russian vowels, impossible to fully unlearn, expertly folded in the appearance of a smoker's rasp. If you had not known his alliance, his origins, you might not have discovered the traces, and that was by design. After all, he told you the solution to his own riddle in the first nonsense story he shared.</p> <p>Some will cross the aisle, like you had, and others live between all aisles, docking whenever needed. A man playing all sides.</p> <p>So you laugh loudly when you realise you're just another party he played for a fool.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc4"><span>WAX</span></h1> </div> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="declass"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">DECLASSIFICATION PENDING</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="earthworm earthworm--old-syntax-first-false earthworm--old-syntax-last-false earthworm--old-syntax-hub-yes {$class}"> <div class="first earthworm__previous" data-title="Eastward of Eden"> <p><a href="/scp-8166">Eastward of Eden</a></p> </div> <div class="hub earthworm__hub" data-title="A Man Made of Wax"> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/eventyr-hub">A Man Made of Wax</a></p> </div> <div class="last earthworm__next" data-title="To Be Continued..."> <p><a href="/">To Be Continued...</a></p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/tinkertailorsoldierjailor">Tinker Tailor Soldier Jailor</a>" by FlyPurgatorio and sailorenoch, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/tinkertailorsoldierjailor">https://scpwiki.com/tinkertailorsoldierjailor</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Quote:</strong> Нѣтъ, нѣтъ, я не то, чѣмъ кажусь.<br/> <strong>Name Source:</strong> The Tragedy of Othello, the Moor of Venice<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> William Shakespeare, translated to Russian by<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Public Domain <a href="https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Shakespeare_-_First_Folio_facsimile_(1910)">English version link</a> and <a href="https://ru.wikisource.org/wiki/%D0%9E%D1%82%D0%B5%D0%BB%D0%BB%D0%BE,_%D0%B2%D0%B5%D0%BD%D0%B8%D1%86%D0%B8%D1%8F%D0%BD%D1%81%D0%BA%D0%B8%D0%B9_%D0%BC%D0%B0%D0%B2%D1%80_(%D0%A8%D0%B5%D0%BA%D1%81%D0%BF%D0%B8%D1%80;_%D0%9F%D0%B0%D0%BD%D0%B0%D0%B5%D0%B2)/%D0%94%D0%9E">Russian translation published in 1836</a><br/> <strong>Source:</strong> <a href="https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Shakespeare_-_First_Folio_facsimile_(1910)/The_Tragedie_of_Othello,_the_Moore_of_Venice/Act_1_Scene_1">English original</a> <a href="https://ru.wikisource.org/wiki/%D0%9E%D1%82%D0%B5%D0%BB%D0%BB%D0%BE,_%D0%B2%D0%B5%D0%BD%D0%B8%D1%86%D0%B8%D1%8F%D0%BD%D1%81%D0%BA%D0%B8%D0%B9_%D0%BC%D0%B0%D0%B2%D1%80_(%D0%A8%D0%B5%D0%BA%D1%81%D0%BF%D0%B8%D1%80;_%D0%9F%D0%B0%D0%BD%D0%B0%D0%B5%D0%B2)/%D0%94%D0%9E">Russian translation</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Quote:</strong> Что наша жизнь? Игра!<br/> <strong>Name Source:</strong> The Queen of Spades<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Pyotr Tchaikovsky<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Public Domain<br/> <strong>Source:</strong> <a href="https://imslp.org/wiki/The_Queen_of_Spades,_Op.68_(Tchaikovsky,_Pyotr)">LINK</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Bench<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/sailorenoch" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5553461); return false;"><img alt="sailorenoch" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5553461&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043871" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5553461)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/sailorenoch" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5553461); return false;">sailorenoch</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://i.imgur.com/oXkxm8a.png">LINK</a><br/> <strong>Source:</strong> Authors own work</p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Pokernight.jpeg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/sailorenoch" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5553461); return false;"><img alt="sailorenoch" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5553461&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043871" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5553461)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/sailorenoch" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5553461); return false;">sailorenoch</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://i.imgur.com/8a10Yb4.jpeg">LINK</a><br/> <strong>Source:</strong> Authors own work<br/> <strong>Notes:</strong> This piece is referencing/inspired by <em>A Waterloo Dogs Playing Poker</em>.</p> </blockquote> <p>This image [Pokernight.jpeg] is a derivative of:</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Name:</strong> A Waterloo Dogs Playing Poker.jpeg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Cassius Marcellus Coolidge<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Public Domain<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:A_Waterloo_Dogs_Playing_Poker.jpeg">LINK</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Durak<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/sailorenoch" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5553461); return false;"><img alt="sailorenoch" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5553461&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043871" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5553461)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/sailorenoch" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5553461); return false;">sailorenoch</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://i.imgur.com/eY9ra3V.png">LINK</a><br/> <strong>Source:</strong> Authors own work</p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> FolderWAX.png<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/flypurgatorio" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8497838); return false;"><img alt="FlyPurgatorio" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=8497838&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043871" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=8497838)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/flypurgatorio" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8497838); return false;">FlyPurgatorio</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://i.imgur.com/YGA6z45.png">LINK</a><br/> <strong>Source:</strong> Authors own work</p> </blockquote> <p>This image [FolderWAX.png] is a derivative of:</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Postmappe (20).jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Langläufer22<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Postmappe_(20).jpg">LINK</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Some data we have gathered.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Tracy M. Jackson<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Some_data_we_have_gathered.jpg">LINK</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Une voiture jaune.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Nicolas Vigier<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Creative Commons CC0 1.0 Universal Public Domain Dedication<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Une_voiture_jaune.jpg">LINK</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Une voiture jaune.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Nicolas Vigier<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Public Domain<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/boklm/5089567448/">LINK</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Hoofdrolspelers Rutger Hauer en Monique van de Ven, Bestanddeelnr 925-6527.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Anefo<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Public Domain<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Hoofdrolspelers_Rutger_Hauer_en_Monique_van_de_Ven,_Bestanddeelnr_925-6527.jpg">LINK</a>; <a href="https://www.nationaalarchief.nl/onderzoeken/fotocollectie/abebf66e-d0b4-102d-bcf8-003048976d84">LINK (CC0)</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Archivage SIAr-831 2020 Contenant-CD.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Service intercommunal d'archivage<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Archivage_SIAr-831_2020_Contenant-CD.jpg">LINK</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Archivage SIAr-831 2020 Contenant-CD.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Service intercommunal d'archivage<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Archivage_SIAr-831_2020_Contenant-CD.jpg">LINK</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Alexei Navalny marching in 2017 (cropped 3).jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Evgeny Feldman<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Alexei_Navalny_marching_in_2017_(cropped_3).jpg">LINK</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Gedenkst%C3%A4tte_Berlin-Hohensch%C3%B6nhausen_Denis_Apel_13a.jpg">https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Gedenkst%C3%A4tte_Berlin-Hohensch%C3%B6nhausen_Denis_Apel_13a.jpg</a><br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Denis Apel<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Gedenkst%C3%A4tte_Berlin-Hohensch%C3%B6nhausen_Denis_Apel_13a.jpg">LINK</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Navalny vs Pamfilova1.png<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> YouTube/Навальный LIVE<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Navalny_vs_Pamfilova1.png">LINK</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Mikola Shabovich - student - Minsk - 1980 AD.JPG<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Pracar<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Creative Commons CC0 1.0 Universal Public Domain Dedication<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Mikola_Shabovich_-_student_-_Minsk_-_1980_AD.JPG">LINK</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Catherine Malfitano dans Traviata par Claude Truong-Ngoc 1980.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Claude TRUONG-NGOC<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Catherine_Malfitano_dans_Traviata_par_Claude_Truong-Ngoc_1980.jpg">LINK</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Assorted paperclips in action.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> HarJIT<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Catherine_Malfitano_dans_Traviata_par_Claude_Truong-Ngoc_1980.jpg">LINK</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> GRUnge-P.png<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> GRUnge-P.png<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/agente-shuffle" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5065762); return false;"><img alt="Agente Shuffle" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5065762&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043871" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5065762)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/agente-shuffle" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5065762); return false;">Agente Shuffle</a></span>, <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/croquembouche" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2893766); return false;"><img alt="Croquembouche" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=2893766&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043871" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=2893766)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/croquembouche" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2893766); return false;">Croquembouche</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/gru-p-hub">http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/gru-p-hub</a>, based on grubanner.png</p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Soviet Ministry of Railways. Tickets.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Scanning Dmitry Makeev, scan date - 2020 year.<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Soviet_Ministry_of_Railways._Tickets.jpg">LINK</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Soviet Ministry of Railways. Tickets.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Scanning Dmitry Makeev, scan date - 2020 year.<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Soviet_Ministry_of_Railways._Tickets.jpg">LINK</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Soviet Ministry of Railways. Tickets. 11.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Scanning Dmitry Makeev, scan date - 2020 year.<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Soviet_Ministry_of_Railways._Tickets._11.jpg">LINK</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Document USSR. img 02.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Scanning Dmitry Makeev, scan date - 2020 year.<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Document_USSR._img_02.jpg">LINK</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Logo of the SCP Foundation.png<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Far2<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported (CC BY-SA 3.0)<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Logo_of_the_SCP_Foundation.png">https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Logo_of_the_SCP_Foundation.png</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Open Sans<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Open Font License<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://fonts.google.com/specimen/Open+Sans">LINK</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Caveat<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Open Font License<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://fonts.google.com/specimen/Caveat/about">LINK</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Cutive<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Open Font License<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://fonts.google.com/specimen/Cutive/about">LINK</a></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div class="footnotes-footer"> <div class="title">Footnotes</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-1"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-1')">1</a>. "No, I am not what I am", Iago to Roderigo in <a href="https://ru.wikisource.org/wiki/%D0%9E%D1%82%D0%B5%D0%BB%D0%BB%D0%BE,_%D0%B2%D0%B5%D0%BD%D0%B8%D1%86%D0%B8%D1%8F%D0%BD%D1%81%D0%BA%D0%B8%D0%B9_%D0%BC%D0%B0%D0%B2%D1%80_(%D0%A8%D0%B5%D0%BA%D1%81%D0%BF%D0%B8%D1%80;_%D0%9F%D0%B0%D0%BD%D0%B0%D0%B5%D0%B2)/%D0%94%D0%9E">Othello Act 1 Scene 1, line 65</a>.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-2"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-2')">2</a>. "What is our life? A game!" from Pyotr Tchaikovsky's <a href="https://youtu.be/aA3lTy7OMM8?t=9211">The Queen of Spades</a>.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-3"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-3')">3</a>. "To parents!"</div> </div> </div></body></html>	===== [[include <a href="/component:preview">component:preview</a> text= In which a recently defected GOC agent arrives at Site-19, and the Father of Lies meets a security guard that equals him in bullshit. ]] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:basalt">:scp-wiki:theme:basalt</a> hidetitle=a]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:pride-highlighter">:scp-wiki:component:pride-highlighter</a> \|inc-clgbt-alt= --]]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:fade-in">:scp-wiki:component:fade-in</a> speed=1]] [[div style="display: none;"]] [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> name=https://i.imgur.com/oXkxm8a.png\|caption=.]] [[/div]] [[module CSS]] body { background-image: linear-gradient(to bottom, #2A3725, #2A3725 80px, #2A3725 80px, #c0c0c0 600px, #c0c0c0 1000px, #c9d6c3 2000px, #F5F5F5 100%); overflow-x:hidden; } :root { --header-title: 'SCP Foundation'; --header-subtitle: 'A Man Made of Wax'; --header-title-color: 192,192,192; --header-subtitle-color: 192,192,192; --header-background-color: 38,50,34; --top-bar-link-color: 192,192,192; --header-border-color: 99,107,96; --link-color: 179,122,18; --link-visited-color: 179,122,18; --link-newpage-color: 179,122,18; } .declass .collapsible-block-folded a.collapsible-block-link { animation: blink 0.8s ease-in-out infinite alternate; font-size: 37px; text-wrap: wrap; } @keyframes blink { 0% { color: transparent; } 50%, 100% { color: #b01; } } #page-content .collapsible-block-folded, #page-content .collapsible-block-unfolded, #page-content .unfolded-collapse{ animation-name: fadeOut; animation-duration: 1s; animation-iteration-count: 1; animation-timing-function: ease-out; animation-fill-mode: backwards; } @keyframes fadeOut { from { opacity: 0; transform: translate(0,20px); } to { opacity: 1; transform: translate(0,30); } } } [[/module]] [[=]] + ##c0c0c0\|TINKER TAILOR SOLDIER JAILOR## [[/=]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:author-label-source">:scp-wiki:component:author-label-source</a> start=-- \|name=FlyPurgatorio & sailorenoch]] Tinker Tailor Soldier Jailor Authors: [[user FlyPurgatorio]] - [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/flys-purgatory Author Page] [[user sailorenoch]] - [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/art:faust-s-art-page Art Page] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:author-label-source">:scp-wiki:component:author-label-source</a> end=--]] @@ @@ [[=]] ----- + TINKER ----- [[/=]] The Foundation is exhausting. Terribly precise, infuriatingly formulaic. A caricature of bureaucracy. Of course, you knew that before you joined them. Their reputation for procedural worship dwarfed the strict European legislation you were used to, and made the GOC look like cowboys in comparison. You'd known their treatment of protocols veered into the avenue of occult ritual. Hell, some of your former colleagues had posed theories about that three letter sequence; how it must've been vital to their continued existence, like a sacred oath or spell cast to keep the red tape spinning. Worship the paperwork, glorify the forms. All hail the foundation we build on. What you hadn't been prepared for, was how deep-seated that religion was. How it had soaked into the buildings, the environment, the people. The long, cold hallways of Site-19, filled with workers, but empty nonetheless. The Labcoats and their clipboards, checking off basic weapon training and ignoring your 15 years of fieldwork experience. Even the plants, manicured in perfectly archetypal shapes and placed strategically in offices and meeting rooms to give just enough air to breathe, just enough vigour to flip through another manila folder of maddening formalities and measured formulas. Madness. Utter and complete, formulaic madness. All that worship, crafted and coded to contain the only deity the GOC would not hunt down: the god of normalcy. Whatever the fuck that was supposed to be. It is alienating in a way you never experienced before. Today is just as reductive as any other: the chaos of an unknowing and uncaring universe bound within rites of paperwork. A false god of objectivity who had reduced you to a checklist of facts and numbers, the only connections made through planners and paperclips. Maybe, if you possessed a little more self-insight, you'd have realised that's what bothers you: the facelessness of it all. You need people, need connection, need to be //seen//. But that's a truth you buried under too many layers of carefully laid toxic defences and unmanaged masculinity -- there aren't many who can reach through that without risking a rash. Instinctively, you touch the corners of that picture you carry in your breast pocket. You'd never admit any of that out loud, of course. So instead of loneliness, you call it boredom. And bored you are, sitting alongside another perfectly symmetrical, tightly manicured lawn calculated to alleviate stress and contribute to personnel well-being. Bored you are, taking a drag from another cigarette, waiting for another meeting, another training session, another box to check. "Smoke area is other side." You are ripped from your self-indulgent ruminations by a burly man in a security uniform, blocking out the sunlight. His voice is bombastic, thundering and deep, and drenched in a thick accent that sounds as cartoonish as the organisation he belongs to. He stands at ease, his arms folded behind his back as he stares you down. Shoulders straight, back upright, slightly outgrown buzz cut. Ex-military, you conclude. "That so?" You tick against the unfiltered cancer stick and spread a little bit of ash on the neat lawn. "You gonna drag me across the field yourself, Tommyboy?" He's charming, you decide. Could've even been called handsome, if it wasn't for the deep, messy scar tissue covering his right cheek. A sheepish smile grows on his face, and then he nods. "Can do. Can do worse," he says. "But you have the luck: Dmitri very patient man, open for bribe." You follow his gaze to your breast pocket, to the packet of Lucky Strikes peeking out, and only for a moment you hesitate. But you're so, so bored, and at least he seems entertaining. So you hold out the pack, and he eagerly takes one out. Before you can offer him your lighter, he's pulled out a matchbox imprinted with //[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/gru-p-hub ГРУ Отдел П]//, and lights a match. You raise an eyebrow, but say nothing. No longer worrying about political nuances is one of the few perks of this job. "Dmitri Arkadeyevich Strelnikov," he says as he sinks down on the bench next to you. "You say Dmitri." [[div class="floatbox" style="border-radius: 25px;"]] [[=image https://i.imgur.com/oXkxm8a.png style="border-radius: 25px;"]] [[/div]] "Alto Clef," you say, and for a moment you feel the wave of excitement at the sound of your new, your //very own// name. "You can say Mr. or Agent Clef." "Nicely to meet you, Mr. Agent Clef." He inhales deeply, blowing the smoke out slowly. You can picture him sorting through his vocabulary, reaching for more broken English. "Where did Foundation drag you from?" "Who says they did?" "You," he says plainly. "You are inconsistency. These Foundation people, they – how do you say?" He gestures with his cigarette, the smoke drawing circles in the air. "They no smell. Like bleach." "Sterile." "Sterile! Yes, what I mean." He takes another deep drag. "They sterile, no flair. No heart." He emphases the word by punching against his chest. "But I stink?" you say, amused. "Very strong. Is good!" he says. "Men should have smell. Get down in dirt, get job done. Even soldiers here have no heart, no true fighting spirit. They only follow the list of the control." You casually observe the Russian, taking note of every coarse component of his appearance that, on its own, would've looked intimidating or unpleasant. But put together, they almost look endearing. The boisterous voice instils a calmness, the scars of battle outline a longing for peace. A collage of violence crafted onto a creature of the quiet expanse. It certainly disarms you. "Alright, you not telling, then I will figure the mystery," he says, the smoke blowing from his nostrils. "You have not the fear of new recruits, of world forever changed. Experienced! No eye for the profit, but frown at matchbox. Neutral parties usually ignore, so you were political organisation. Englishman. Accent not ruined by Americanisms, so recent arrival, or stubborn. Think both. Leaves us two groups." He pauses, either to mull it over or for dramatic effect. Then he grins and presses his index fingers alongside his temples, mimicking horns. "Perhaps MI666? Ah, but British Occult Service love Shakespearean performance, theatre! You are soldier, man of action. Unlikely." The point of the cigarette crackles as he inhales. "So, Global Occult Coalition. Am I right?" "You are," you say as you light another cigarette. "I suppose I'm not getting points for guessing they picked you up after GRU-P dissolved, am I?" He laughs. A deep, roaring rumble, somewhere between a dog's growl and a petrol engine, and with more personality than any of the pencil pushers you've met in the last few weeks. "Poor Strelnikov, can never surprise or trick. Was indeed with the GRU Division "P". Sniper, very spicy eye. I see people well." A sly smile slips on his face. "Also, I cheat. Made for better story. Am security, have list of all personnel. Read in the morning your name and risk area, knew you was famed Ukulele, the defector. Thought I pretend to do the Sherlock Holmes deduce, welcome Englishman. Stink is still true." Three layers of ridiculous horse shite. At that moment, you realise you like him. "Shame I left my deerstalker and pipe at home, I'd fit the part." You push your dark hair out of your face. "A better stereotype than quoting the Jungle Book at the British-Indian bloke." "Is true! The stereotype makes people small, miss bigger scope. You and me, no immune, Mr. Agent Clef." He chuckles. "But useful for me, as guard. I yell: //"Нѣтъ, я не то, чѣмъ кажусь"//,[[footnote]]"No, I am not what I am", Iago to Roderigo in [https://ru.wikisource.org/wiki/%D0%9E%D1%82%D0%B5%D0%BB%D0%BB%D0%BE,_%D0%B2%D0%B5%D0%BD%D0%B8%D1%86%D0%B8%D1%8F%D0%BD%D1%81%D0%BA%D0%B8%D0%B9_%D0%BC%D0%B0%D0%B2%D1%80_(%D0%A8%D0%B5%D0%BA%D1%81%D0%BF%D0%B8%D1%80;_%D0%9F%D0%B0%D0%BD%D0%B0%D0%B5%D0%B2)/%D0%94%D0%9E Othello Act 1 Scene 1, line 65].[[/footnote]] and they scare straight at sound, stop whatever they do. Make job easy." "Easy, sure." You spit on the ground. "But it's still cheating, and that'll cost you another story." The Russian grunts a low growl, accompanied by a quick nod. It's as if he accepts a proposition, an amendment to the rules of conversation. //God, is everyone here stuck in procedure?// You flick against your cigarette, watching the ash mingle with the unnaturally green grass as you say: "Who fucked up your face?" "Bear." "Sod off." "Is true!" He gestures broadly. "Many bear in Russia. Sometimes more than one head. Dmitri was in luck to get out." "Come on, you can do better than that." "Alright." He turns to you, one arm leaning over the back of the bench, the other one twirling the final stomp of the cigarette. "How is this: when Dmitri was still young and handsome man, he met beautiful fairy princess in woods. She swoop off the feet, take me to fairy kingdom. Would be king of eternity. Unfortunate for Dmitri, sister of fairy princess also beautiful. Kiss very nice. Breakup, not so -- secrets come at cost. It brought wisdom to carry on the face, and Dmitri was become young and rugged man instead." "That's more like it," You take a final drag before stomping out the half-smoked cigarette and silently cursing that your next meeting is coming up. "I can ask: who responsible for fuck up your face?" he continues. "But I already know that was your mother." You pause halfway through your movement, and look up. "Genetics is the bitch, no?" Dmitri has that same sheepish smile on his face, the same boyish twinkle in his eye as when he asked for a bribe. For a moment, you look in disbelief at the first man to mess with you in weeks, the first person to not treat you like a cold specimen or mythical figure. It is followed by the first genuine, roaring laugh. "Fuck you, Dmitri," you say as you slam him on the shoulder. "And god bless. She was. She sure was." He rises to his feet, stomping out the smouldering remains he dropped on the pebble path. You follow, wiping your hands on your shirt and pulling a notebook from your back pocket. "You play cards, Mr. Agent Clef?" Dmitri asks. "Poker?" "Call me Alto," you say, consulting the haggard map of Site-19 and the schedule you penned down in chicken scratches. "And it depends, is the pot any good?" "Is very good, Mr. Agent Alto. Very entertain. We play on the Thursday evening — me, Pole, dog, and lovely Ms. Rights — in West Wing security office. You must join, have fun. Drink." "We'll see," you say, but you write down the location. "Nice meeting you, Dmitri." He leaves with a military salute that's both too campy, and perfectly fitting. A flair of colour in the endless black and white and grey of Site-19. It's a stark standout as you're slung back into the monotone grind. Back to the prayers in processes and paperwork. Mandatory introductory training sessions on Tuesday. Check box. The new recruits look at you from a distance, wary and with awe. Stories have started to spread, rumours too ridiculous to make up yourself. You're an abnormality, a killing machine or even a devil -- and you don't dispute any of it. Let them have their tales, their own mythologies. Let them make you bigger than life. Subtlety is an art form lost on you. Wednesday, more interviews as part of your deal. Check box. The mousy researchers are as black and white as the paperwork they fill out. Recording your statements on old GOC missions with detached precision. At least you can't blame them for their caution; you have done nothing yet to earn their trust, and everything to repel it. A defector is a defector, a traitor a traitor. //Traitor, traitor, which coat's turn is it today?// hums the static from your telly in the morning as you wake after another restless night, with a brand new kind of neck pain from the uncomfortable couch. The wheels keep turning, the forms keep filing. Another specimen, contained in the procedure of daily routine. Bland, brutalist, plain and efficient. //Defector, defector, are you bored or alone?// buzzes the microwave as you wait for another plate of tasteless food to scarf down as you hover above the sink, scraps spilling on the dishes you can't be bothered to do. You need messiness, need sacrilege in the church devoted to control. You need -- god, will you ever admit you need company? Dmitri's invite is burning on your mind, and your usual mistrust of a gathering filled with unknowns is first to turn to ash. Traitors, defectors, and who else gathers around the fire, at least you won't be the only one. On Thursday morning, you triple check the location on your map before you finish your own morning ritual. The partially drunk bottle of Glenfiddich is chosen after long consideration; a friendly greeting but suggesting little forethought. No-one would suspect you cared. You place it on your desk, your personal altar carrying the picture of a small creature with antlers. A smile comes to your face as you pick it up, your fingers running alongside the corners. And like every morning that came before, you slip it into your breast pocket and brace for another day. @@ @@ ----- [[=]] + TAILOR ----- [[/=]] @@ @@ For a moment you'd been worried. Worried you'd get lost, swallowed by the endless labyrinth of procedurally generated hallways masquerading as Site-19's West Wing, unable to find which one of the identical doors hid the company you were looking for. That dissipates as you turn a corner, and you hear the dramatic counterpoint of a violin sweeping through the hall, pushing spirit and colour into the silent corridors. Tchaikovsky. Your fingers almost move to press the snares of a viola, like a long-forgotten rite. Well, your names suggest musical affiliation, it wasn't hard for him to guess. You follow the trail of bread crumbs the Russian left for you, until you find the door that keeps you from its source. You knock. "I know the smell. Mr. Agent Alto, you come!" The door swings open and you're greeted by Dmitri who, to your utmost surprise, is dressed head to toe in a vintage Soviet Army uniform. "Come join." You have to admit you didn't really know what to expect. Either there were going to be regular people here, or they were going to be just as over the top as Dmitri. Turns out, it was both. "If I'd known this was a costume party, I'd have brought my deerstalker and pipe," you say as you hand off the bottle of Glenfiddich to Strelnikov. [[=image https://i.imgur.com/8a10Yb4.jpeg style="width:85%; border-radius: 25px;"]] Your attention is first caught by the man in the tracksuit, glaring at his cards as if they personally offended him. His glasses frame his frown, his messy hair casting a shadow on his scowl, deepening the sharpness that didn't need to be there. You wonder what it would be like if it was directed at you, wonder if he'd pierce right through you. Then you shake off the thought and file it under "never analyse further." His opponent, dressed like a lost Addams Family member, puts her wine down as you enter. Her warm smile the same colour as the stains on her glass. The third player is a dog. An actual dog. A corgi, to be precise. Why did you think it would be a nickname? Said corgi was staring intently -- maybe even frowning? Can dogs really frown? -- at his cards, which are held up by two robot arms attached to a knitted vest. A bizarre reinterpretation of a painting reframed to fit in an odd place like this. "Ah, you mean this? Is nostalgia," says the Russian, completely oblivious to you processing the image of the dog with cyborg limbs. //He even has a matching bow tie around his collar.// The man with the ponytail laughs loudly. "It's a replica," he says, not looking up from his cards. "Leftover costume from three years back, when the Department of Literary Science put on a production of Othello. They turned his character Russian because he couldn't ditch the accent." "Is true, I play Roderigo! Strong, Russian name, fit me right." Dmitri punches himself on the chest. "Kept replica, fits on my now belly and fabric is nicer for local weathers. Also, gives right gravitas to Thespian soul." "Thespian soul in a vaudeville act," says the man in the tracksuit. "Don't be mean, Ben. I think he looks absolutely //divine// in it," says the woman, and Dmitri has a flair of a blush on his unscarred cheek. She stands up to shake your hand, and even without the big, buckled plateau boots, she'd have towered over you. "Nice to meet you. Agatha Rights, Recursive Data Analyst and Anart Specialist." You have to force yourself not to flinch as you feel the metal of her thorned rose rings twist around her finger, brushing against yours as if it was alive and growing, reaching for sunlight or sustenance. The bat wings on her choker flutter in shimmery crimson flashes. //Anart Specialist,// you repeat silently. The man with the ponytail lets out a deep sigh, throwing his cards down on the table. "Ben Kondraki, Crypto-Lepidopterologist." He leans over to shake your hand next. "Alto Clef, traitor." You hold onto his hand a fragment of a second too long. "What's your excuse?" "What?" "He means your choice of wardrobe." The disapproval drips from Agatha's voice. Kondraki looks at his tracksuit, then shrugs, a shameful look on his face. "I might've told Rikki I was going to the gym after work instead." "You shouldn't lie to you wife, Benjamin," a fifth voice says, one you didn't expect. It is drenched in an endlessly thicker and posher British accent than you'd ever heard in the wild, an amalgam composed of the blabbering at any snobbish society club. The robot arms meticulously move to put the cards down on the table. "I fold." "No offence, but I'm not taking marriage advice from someone only loved by tennis balls." Kondraki sits back down, arms crossed. "Whatever. I fold too, you got this round, Agatha." "The dog talks?" you hear yourself say. "I prefer ‘temporary embarrassed human,’" says the corgi, and you now see a speaker nestled in the dog collar. One of the robot arms moves to hold out a hand to you. "Kain Crow, Professor of Robotics and Director of Special Projects. How d'you do." You don't say anything when you shake his (or the robot's?) hand. It moves with soundless precision, a work of mechanical engineering bordering on artistry. On its side, the abbreviation P.A.T.H.O.S. is imprinted. "What, you thought you were going to be the special boy here, Ukulele?" There is a grin on Kondraki's face when he says it, and the very next moment he's surrounded by a flutter of butterfly wings, dazzling in chromatic colours. "I don't use that name anymore." You sit down, taking the glass of whisky Dmitri hands you. "Good, it's a stupid one," he says, followed by a hardy laugh. The iridescent butterflies surrounding him shift to a warmer tone. "One more reason they shouldn't let teenagers pick their callsigns." His expression freezes, the remains of his cut-off laughter still hanging in the air. Ben looks at you from over his glasses, eyebrows raised. //Piercing//, you can't help thinking. The butterflies flicker out of view, but you hear the flaps of their wings still. "Well, now I'm sad," he loudly proclaims, quickly looking over to Dmitri. "Deal us another round before I weep." "What on earth are you playing anyway," you say while inspecting the card setup. Three communal cards in the river, five hand cards each. "Is variant of Five Hand Throw I was taught by Danish friend." Strelnikov gathers the cards, dealing all five of you a new set of hand cards. "It's jolly good fun, the odds are rather unpredictable." Crow's robot arm reaches for the small shot glass filled with whipped cream, and he licks it clean as his voice continues on. "You either keep the hand you have, or you can throw out two cards to use up to two cards from the table. I actually used to play a similar game with some of my fellow Cambridge Apostles, back in the good old days." "Thought it was regular poker when I come West," says the Russian, refilling his own glass with more ice than vodka. "Casino say no, say I cheat! Is not cheat when you have the fun, is intend!" "You'll get used to it after a while, dear," you hear Agatha say, and you realise you've been staring at the talking corgi with a frown on your face. She has placed her cards face-down on the table again, after only looking at them once. "It's not so much the talking, it's the voice," you admit. "You're not the first to remark on that." Crow licks his nose, his ears flicking in your direction. "I synthesised it from old recordings of my own voice, before my current… //predicament.//" "So you had the chance to ditch sounding like a toffee-nosed twit, but choose to keep it?" Ben chuckles, then winces as a stomp is heard from under the table. Agatha gives him a death glare, before turning back to a small sketchbook she's pulled from her bag. "Was that necessary?" she says as she puts pencil to paper. "It's quite alright, dear Agatha. A little bit of repartee among fellow mavericks seems inevitable." Crow's robot arm has picked up the whipped cream canister and is carefully shaking it. "Besides, the bugger is right. One can take the Eton schoolboy out of his frame and fatherland, but one cannot take away the fall of his tongue, no matter how hard one tries." Strelnikov snickers. "Dog goes to school," he says. "Is funny. I laugh every time." "I wasn't a dog back then, Dmitri," says the corgi, but the Russian isn't listening. "I like to make mental picture of little doggy in school benches," Dmitri continues, setting the first bet of the round. "Writing in the notebook with pencil in the beak. Twirling the beads on abacus when he snack on the homeworks." "Oh pish-posh," says the corgi, his ears flat on his head. The mechanical voice adds a chuckle, though. "Absolutely dreadful attempt, old sport. You'll have to try harder to throw me off my game." That turns out to be correct. The dog takes home that round, although the winnings are sparse. With every bet the Professor places, a louder and louder //thump// sounds as his tail makes impact with the chair. But it was enough for you to get a feeling for the group. A few more rounds and you complete your own little procedure, one of familiarising yourself with the battleground before fully engaging. Agatha switches between her wine, which she consumes in small sips, and her pencil. You can't shake the idea she's not just sketching you and your companions; and that nagging feeling of being studied overtakes you. "So, did Gomez get you into Anart?" you ask one round later, placing your bet on the first flip. "More like Godiva, but I appreciate the comparison. I also play the shamisen." She places one hand under her chin. From the laced bracelet dangles a horned metal skull that winks at you. "Field experience is unmissable in a place full of scholars, don't you think?" Her voice is deep and sultry, and you're sure she's doing it on purpose. Like the light on an angler fish, alluring to the kind of men who would follow it until they were in her grasp. You, instead, take a drag from your cigarette and turn back to your cards. "What're you drawing anyway, your next exhibit?" From the corner of your eye you're watching Crow's ears flick almost rhythmically, like a pattern. One flick of the left one, seven of the right, one left, five right. Is he calculating his odds? "In a way," she says. "I'm redesigning my girl's winter wardrobe." "Please tell me you're not talking about cats." It's out before you see Ben's energetic motioning to cut it off. "She means dolls, I'm afraid." Crow's licks his nose and raises, then turns to Ben: "Let the girl have her passion." "I make almost everything myself. You wanna see?" Her face lights up, and before you can answer, several pictures of an uncanny, lifelike doll in a fur coat are shoved in your face. Nothing is left from the dulcet tones or suave gestures as she flips through her notebook, as she gushes over braiding styles and metal work. "I was going for a Snow Queen look, but the crown is just not grabbing me. I'm considering a tiara, but --" It is the first and only round where Agatha loses more than anyone else. In exchange, you've seen more painted faces with cold eyes than you care for, and learned more about sculpting and posing than you deserve. Dmitri, on the other hand, grunts and nods along, asks questions about wig styling and sewing patterns. A round later he folds halfway through her monologue, while your, Ben's and Crow's aggressive plays move the chips around. The night is still in full swing when the first player leaves, and it's not because of cards or luck. Ben's phone keeps ringing with the same upbeat tune, a theme to keep pace with his increasingly aggressive raises. After the second round where his obvious tells are thrown off by his determination to ignore the calls, Rights finally snaps. "Answer your wife, Benjamin," she says after he places the fourth raise that round. "Wife should be kept wanting because desire, not absence," says the Russian in his usual grunts. "Carmen lovely woman, deserves better than ignore." "Yeah, yeah." Benjamin pushes his cards together, holding them with two hands as the small stack bounces against his forehead. "She's fine. It's good for her to get some alone time with Draven." "Did Glass recommend that, or did you?" Rights says curtly, the sound of her pencil scratches as condemning as her voice. No answer. The phone beeps another jingle. He throws his cards down and buries his face in his hands. "I wanted one night to not think about that," he mutters. "One fucking night. Is that really too much to ask?" You hear the wings of hundreds and hundreds of butterflies flutter and fidget under the soothing tones of Tchaikovsky. Colours of bright red and deep, sombre indigo flash in and out of existence momentarily, until Rights leans forward and places an arm on his shoulder. "I know," you hear her whisper. "But she needs you right now." He smiles a joyless smile, his jaw clenched. Rubs his face, pushes back the chair. Movement upon movement, as if he's fighting a wall of air as he gets up. One last swig of beer, one fluid motion to put his baseball cap back on, one big and brusque wave as he signs off: "Been a night." The door lands in the frame a little harder than it should've. From the other side, you hear hasted footsteps jog down the hallway, working up a sweat on his way home. "Hey Rikki -- yeah, on my way now." His voice moving further and further away until it disappears, taken over by the notes of the Sleeping Beauty waltz on piano. "How's Draven? You want me to --" It leaves an uncomfortable heaviness over the ones who remained at the table. "What was that all about?" you ask, tearing through the tension as you tick against your glass with the corners of your cards. "The Kondrakis have hit a bit of a bump in the road, as they say," Crow's words are rigid, measured. The almost comical //slosh// from the whipped cream cannister into his shot glass is a welcome relief. "Ghastly situation." "No sense in fishing when there is no in the pond," Strelnikov says. "Been heading for divorce [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/dragandrabbits ever since little boy was born]." "I'm not giving up on them yet. There's still a chance of a happily ever after." Agatha bites the back of her pencil. "You usually read people, not story, Ms. Rights," the Russian says bluntly, with a shake of the head. "Dmitri, too, has romantic heart. Story beautiful symbol, but lie. Sometimes, happy ending is not with each other." Agatha purses her lips, but doesn't respond. "But some endings are worth going all in for, are they not?" says the corgi with an open snout, his tongue hanging out, as his robotic arms push the remainder of his chips on the table. @@ @@ ----- [[=]] + SOLDIER ----- [[/=]] @@ @@ One player less wouldn't stop the game. It takes several more rounds for the night to wind down, and in that time Crow has to buy additional chips twice. The overture of piano and violin turns to opera, and Dmitri sways along with its arias as he places his bets and flips the cards. Crow's left robot hand waves along, conducting the music rather than experiments. Even Agatha starts to freely sip from her second and third glass of wine, her pencil in tune with the rhythm. When the last round comes to a conclusion and Dmitri finally starts to hum along, the Professor and Analyst turn to him in anticipation. The Russian gets up, holding his glass to you all as a toast, then belts out: "//Что наша жизнь? Игра!//"[[footnote]]"What is our life? A game!" from Pyotr Tchaikovsky's [https://youtu.be/aA3lTy7OMM8?t=9211 The Queen of Spades].[[/footnote]] Agatha claps as he takes out the prize pot to divide out the winnings of the night. Curtain call. Even here, the people are drenched in rituals. Procedures, processes, pleasantries. A callback to the formulas, but chosen with care and passion, brought alive. You might not know a word of Russian and even less about opera, but a part of you wishes he'd continue the aria. The dog leaves with a "Cheerio!" and a slightly lighter vest than he came in with, but a spring in his patter. Rights presses a quick kiss that lingers as a blush on Dmitri's scarred cheek before leaving, her flowing dress swaying with each step. You tarry behind, taking the time to slip the dollar bills you fought for into your pockets. "You tell a lot of stories, my friend." You lean against the table, treasuring the last of your drink. "Is need. Stories are scarce resource here. Fact and paperwork, they outline world. Worship rigidness. Clarity. Loneliness. But they do not paint the colours," says the Russian. "Stories worship the soul." "Plenty of folks would call them lies." He waves you off with a brusque grunt. "Scientists, odd kind of people. They do not believe value in the lies. Unlike you or I," he says, then his face lightens up. "It was a good thing of you to join, Mr. Agent Alto. Know that you are welcome to a seat at the table." "You're done so soon?" You take the deck he just sorted, and start to take out each card lower than a six. "How about a last game to sit out the night. Let's play the fool." "Durak!" Strelnikov takes the deck of cards from you, shuffles again enthusiastically. His thumbs bent the edges of the two stacks and riffled them together. "It has been a while. What we play for?" "The only thing of real value around these parts: truths," you say. "The fool of each round has to answer a question, any question, honestly and truthfully. No bullshit, no make-belief, no nonsense answers. What do you say, Dmitri?" You see him pause for a moment, his eyes connected with yours as his eyebrows arch upwards. His body shifts forward, his fist hits the table. "Ready to spill beans, Mr. Agent Alto." He slips each of you a stack of six hand cards, and flips the lowest card from the remaining stock upside down. A six of clubs — the trump suit. "You've got an interesting history, Dmitri," you say as the Russian plays the opening attack card: a seven of spades, which you beat with a nine of spades. "Must've been quite the journey before you got here." "Was man of travel. Now, I settle." He speeds up the plays as he notices your quick responses. "Good for age." "You're the first Russian I've ever met to put ice in his vodka." "It is not the first time I betray the roots," he says sheepishly, lighting a cigarette with his matchbox. "But perhaps, it is worst betrayal. Or I miss being out in the cold." "A former sniper for the GRU-P, now working as a security guard for a research centre and glorified prison." The stockpile is empty, it's just your hand cards now. "Quite a change of pace." "Change is good, it keeps the excite." He defends against your ten of diamonds with a jack of the same suit. "For pace, I follow what game is at play." "You follow?" You shake your head. "Now that's a lie if I ever heard one." He produces a low, growling sound, something you've started to recognise as agreement. You answer with a jack of clubs. The Russian looks at it, and then at the one card still in your hand. He has passed several times, holding onto three more cards. "I am afraid, I am the first fool." He places the three remaining cards open on the table: a six of diamonds, hearts and spades. There is nothing he could've beaten you with. "Is all good. What do you want the know." You take the glass of vodka he hands you, spinning the ice cubes with a quick flick of the wrist as you stare him down. Dmitri is as unreadable as always, waiting patiently for you to reveal just as much about yourself with the question you ask, as he will with his answer. "How did you really get those scars?" "That is you ask?" exclaims the Russian. He laughs a roaring, thundering growl. "Why no big secret, travel history, trick of trade?" "Boring. I can find those kinds of answers if I look for the right dossier. Also, I don't care," you say. "But I don't believe for a second that a bear did all of that." He leans back in his chair, swirling his drink in his glass as he soaks up the anticipation. The moment before he flips his cards, showing his hand. //Cling, cling,// the ice cubes twirl. You wonder how many stories he made up about it, how much bigger and bolder they must've been. And if the truth would ever live up to it. He takes a sip from his drink, then looks you right in the eyes when he finally admits: "Gardening." "Fuck off." "I am bound by rules. No lie!" he says, a smile as broad as his mangled face can manage. "Dmitri very good son, take care of rose bushes while mother is on trip. I walk over path with garden tools, make fall. Land full on the face." "You're fucking with me," you press out between roars of laughter. "You can't be bloody serious." "No good deed go unpunish. This is pruning shears," he points to the top part of his scars, then moves to the lower part, "and this is spade." "That's brilliant," you say, raising your glass. He follows your gesture. "Cheers to the best fucking story I've heard in months. You could make a Labcoat short-circuit with that one." He smacks his lips and shakes his head. "Subtlety lost art behind Veil," says the Russian. "Foundation, British Occult Service, GRU-P -- all same. So used to big answer, miss the excite in small puzzle." "But not you." You take out your pack of Lucky Strikes and light one up, then passing the packet to Dmitri. "You like the little games. Found yourself a real band of characters to play it with." "Artists, like to perform," he says as you shuffle the deck, laying out a new stockpile and the six hand cards. "All about show. Agatha great artist with craft as well as pencil. Capture soul. Has drawn Dmitri, too!" He turns and points to a framed portrait on his desk. It shows an extremely flattering pencil drawing of the Russian down to his waist, in a style that reminds you of the Asian cartoons you've seen on late night telly just before dozing off. A smile too big, flowing hair, a shirt suspiciously tightly wrapped around the torso (was he wearing a shirt when posing for it?!), literal sparkles in his eyes -- character over realism. It certainly fits Dmitri's dramatics. "Benjamin, complicated man," he continues as you flip the bottom of the stockpile. A king of hearts. The triumph for romantics. "Pretends to be bigger. Rough and loud, but soft inside. Fragile. Takes pictures, very beautiful light. Only time he has the patience. And Crow --" "Has deep pockets and the worst tell in the world," you finish, placing the first attack. "You heard!" He mimics the movements of Crow's tail. "//Thump, thump, thump// when he has good hand." "No level of perfect memory and statistic card calculations can compensate for that, no matter how hard he tries," you say. "And he damn well tries. I think he imagines something exciting when he wants to bluff." "Right! Right, I notice!" Dmitri says, playing each card against yours like a rhythm, like he finally found his stride in battle. "But is different //thump//." [[div class="floatbox right" style="border-radius: 25px;"]] [[=image https://i.imgur.com/eY9ra3V.png style="border-radius: 25px;"]] [[/div]] "Of course, Kondraki falls for it every time." You take a moment to consider your options as you draw the final cards from the stockpile, already behind. "Ben very smart man. Good at learning and analysis. Unfortunate, does not mean he good at reading people. Or dog." Dmitri continues with a weighted nod as he waits for your move. //Cling, cling//, the ice cubes against his glass. "Bold and impatient, wants to brute force solution. But does not want upset. Rough, but soft. Like I said, complicated man. Fun player." "Agatha is the opposite. She only plays the players, not the cards. She loves the chase of it," you say. "And when she's in a bind, she wields her lashes like a weapon. Only took her one round to figure out that doesn't work on me." "Works on Ben, of course." "Barely. But it works on you like a charm," you say, the cigarette dangling on your lip. "I saw you swoon, you slag." "Ah, powerful woman, poetic soul. Dmitri's romantic heart is hers, free to crush under boot if she wish." There is that boyish twinkle in his eye again. "Now you, Mr. Agent Alto, are interesting. Play like fighter: aggressive, daring. You read battle, read plays. But do not read the players. Tactical insight, understand motive, but look for the explanation right in the front. Sharp eye that notices, but misses bigger scope." "That about me as a player?" Your hand consists of only low numbered cards in the regular suits. He might have you based on that alone. "Or a person?" "Life is game. There is no difference." He places a six of hearts as his attack, and you look at his smirk. He's toying with you now. "Pass," you say, and he plays the remainder of his hand with every "pass" you utter. "You're a curious player yourself. You prefer the tension more than the resolution. I think you're a better player than you let on. Misunderstanding idioms you use yourself, asking explanations as a redirect. You refill the ice in your drink before the vodka, so you can pretend you're drunker than you are. And I know for sure you folded twice against Agatha when you had the winning hand." "Maybe I was outbluff?" he says innocently. "Maybe, or maybe you just want to shag her." You take a deep drag from your cigarette. "That's the thing with you: you don't ever make it simple." "Simple is no fun," he says, and it is followed by a flush on his cheek. "You think Agatha would be interest?" "Don't know mate, don't have an eye for women." You throw your cards on the pile. "But she drew you half-naked." "Art is not the same!" he exclaims, placing his last attack card on the table and making you officially the fool of the round. "So, lovely Ms. Rights is wasted on you. Maybe Mr. Agent Alto has more eye for dashingly roguish Russian with divine charm? Or is intense but sensitive Doctor Ben more your type?" "You wanna waste your question on that?" He chuckles and shakes his head. "Is of no need, I already know." He ignores your confused frown as he taps the cigarette against his glass. There is an expression on his face you've begun to recognise as one of his only tells: a mischievous glint, reserved for when he knows he outpaced you. The Russian leans back in his chair, looking you over as if he's measuring every word. A long, deep drag of the cigarette, a large cloud of dramatic smoke. Setting the stage, preparing for his monologue. What a character. "Before I ask, I make observation," he says, his deep voice reaching to the back of the theatre. "Men like you and I, we know when to cut loose. When to switch tactic or side. Got too hot under the feet, move with it." "You projecting there, Dmitri?" "Perhaps." The sheepish grin is back on his face. "You and I, alike. Foot soldiers, playing the game within rules set by ideologist. No real believes of our own, just skills to carry out that of others. I know about Ukulele. Very respected name at GOC and broader political anomalous community. You had all choice to switch, you chose Foundation. Not in chase of pay or prestige, not our way. Very more telling you switched to neutral organisation." "Is there a question coming?" You refill your own glass with Glenfiddich, and a clean one for Dmitri. "Yes. Men like us, we only cross aisle or change way for two reasons: someone changed the rules, or we have debt to pay." He takes the whisky from you. "My question: which one?" You pause for a moment as you mull it over. "I'll hand it to you, Dmitri." You look at the man in the Soviet uniform, your cigarette burning away in your hand. "Here I was thinking we were playing cards, not reading people like cheap novellas." "Is same thing." He says with that sly smirk of his. You take a deep drag, blow out a deep sigh as you look away. "Both. [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-8166 There was someone] who made me rethink my role in the whole machine. I suppose she did change the rules, in a way." "So there was woman!" Dmitri exclaims. "Swoop off the feet by fairy princess after all." "Knocked on my arse, more like. It wasn't romantic, if that's what you mean. She was -- no, not just a friend either," you scratch the patchy stubble on your chin, your eyes on the green of the poker table. "She was the first person that saw right through me, and didn't damn me straight to hell when she did. I think we recognised ourselves in each other. A kindred soul." "Some bonds deeper than love describe," he says with another measured nod. "That sounds right," you say. "I would've gone to the end of the world to keep her safe, to let her have the life she deserved. Would've been prepared to blow it all to a blazing end." "What happen?" You look him straight in the eye, your expression as plain as could be, your voice cold. "I killed her." A quiet that stretches before you, the cold grasps of winter. "Not metaphorically, not indirectly. I put a bloody bullet in her chest. I fucking failed her, is what happened." You quickly grab your glass and take a big gulp, trying to hide your voice cracking. "So, that's the reason I left the GOC. The rules changed," you say, mesmerised by the whisky swirling around in your glass. //Cling, cling//. "And it's part of my debt, but not to her. To my kid." "You are father?" he says. "What is name?" "Meri." You can't stop the smile from pulling your mouth wider and wider, broader than should be possible. Your hand moves to your breast pocket, but you don't take out the picture. "Meri Clef." He nods. "//Key to happiness//. Good name is promise, intention of parent." "You're the first person to get it," you say, hearing, //feeling// how your voice trembles. "I just hope it'll be more than a promise." You tick against your cigarette, watch as ash floats upward. The air feels like it's pressing down on you, but it is strangely reassuring. As if it's the first time in ages you feel -- covered. "I considered making a run for it," you hear your quivering voice say. "But how do you raise a kid when you're always looking over your shoulder? What kind of life would that be? And I didn't know whether there would be medical complications from leaving the Garden, I --" You take a deep breath. "All I knew is that I wouldn't let anyone turn my child into the kind of thing I am. A weapon for another's agenda, a //tool//. Meri deserves the chance to be a person." "So you come to Foundation, give child safety to grow up." "And half the time I still wonder whether I made the right choice." You take another deep drag, close your eyes and lean back in your chair. "There just weren't any good ones." "Many men never make decision before they run. Many men, only father in title," he says. "You took action, made choice to be there. Only thing that ever matter." And for a moment you don't respond. You just look at the ceiling, watching the smoke circle up and disperse against the grey tiles. "I get one hour every workday. Four on weekends in total, depending on their schedule," you say eventually. "Not out of the goodness of the Foundation's heart, of course. Babies need skin contact to grow up healthy, and every touch except mine results in a rash." You feel a warmth creep up in your chest, right about the place where the soft fur coat usually tickles your skin. "But it's the best hour of the day. It's what I do it all for." You don't even hear the Russian grunt, don't even see the sympathy on his face. Your mind is somewhere else. All you see are those brown eyes staring at you, at the sanitised world enveloping you both. The memory of that little beating heart, the fingers curled around your index, the little laughs that are so rare. The nervous little flicks of the ears, and your wish to wrap your arms around and around like a shield against whatever the world could throw at you two. You never expected you'd be capable of so much love. "Two years," you tell the ceiling. "Two fucking years, and then it's all over. After that, brains start making memories, and they can't risk that. Can't fucking risk my own kid knowing I'm around. Can't fucking risk //contaminating the anomaly//. Only birthday visits. Cold not cruel, my arse. I just want Meri to - to -" Your voice breaks. The ceiling looks a lot more blurry as you wipe your eyes. "I miss my kid," you croak. You hear the sloshing of spirits, and then feel the cool pressure of its container against your hand. "Maybe it's for the best." Your grab the glass and downing half of it in one big gulp as you try to wash it all away. "Men like us, men of violence, what do we have to offer to children? We only create death." To your surprise, the Russian leans forward. He places a hand on your arm, only briefly, and gives you a measured nod. "You listen, and you are available when need arise," he says, his rasping words as much of a coarse relief as the drink. "You stand guard, from distance. You answer call when it comes. And it will come." "You speaking from experience there, Dmitri?" "Yes. Not as father, but as son of violent man." He downs the last of his own whisky, an excuse to refill. "Different violence. Chess player dealing in blood and treachery. He never answered call." You hold up your glass. "To being better men than those that came before us." "//За родителей//!"[[footnote]]"To parents!"[[/footnote]] He clinks against yours and drinks. You let the spirit slide down your dry throat, refuelling the liquids you are too ashamed to shed without the encouragement of alcohol. As you wipe away the spilled emotion, you chuckle. "Fuck me, you got more out of me in one night than any of these damned shrinks here managed in weeks." The corner of your mouth is pulled in a grimace as you collect the cards for a reshuffle. "You should do that for a living. They taught you that at the GRU-P?" "No. But used it there," he says. "Guarded men same everywhere. Have thick layers, but there is things that need to be out. They need excuse to spill, someone for trust. You never tell me things you wouldn't want out already. And who would believe poor Strelnikov?" There is that sheepish smile again. Disarming in exactly the right way. He truly is an artist, but not just of the stage or spoken word. A man of pure pathos. "One more for the road?" you ask as you hold up the almost empty bottle of Glenfiddich. "One more fool, one more drink." He nods. One last trump card under the stock pile: an ace of spades. You two play in relative silence until the stockpile is empty, sharing a moment without saying things that no longer need to be said. Processing the weight of words spoken and unspoken. "I think I solved you," you eventually say as you play the last few cards in your hand. "Really?" he says. "You figure the mystery?" "You're always playing a different game for a different team," you say. "When we play poker, you play chess, and you play both black and white. But you don't play to win, you play for the performance, for the arc to unfold. That's my read of you, Strel." "Interesting. I can see." He attacks you with his last card: a queen of spades. With the king already played, it is a winning final card. You answer it with an ace of spades. The Russian looks at the card for a moment, at the second ace of spades peaking from under the stockpile, and then at you. "You cheat?" "I would never, Dmitri." Your grin is almost as broad as your face. "I simply used all the cards //you// introduced into the game this evening. Although it appears some of those get stuck in the little nooks and odd folds of that ridiculous uniform of yours." The Russian looks at you for a moment. No more clinging of ice cubes, only the crackling of his cigarette, the smoke dispersing. Then he laughs loudly, as if the sky erupts. "When did you notice?" "Three rounds in I realised that Ben wasn't losing as hard as he should've, and Crow's calculated bets were thrown off half the time. I was going to call you out on it, until I realised you weren't doing it for anyone's gain specifically. Especially not your own pockets," you say. "Then it hit me: you were tweaking the game to be the most interesting, to give each player a moment to shine. You were not playing poker, or even chess. You were directing a play." "I was right! You read plays very well, Alto," he says. "I expected you would pick up most of my indications. Ask your question." "Nah, that didn't count," you say. "I cheated." "No, I did the cheat." He almost sounds insulted. "And you set rule when we met: you cheat, you owe another story. Borders important. The cheat cannot exist without the rules." Playing within the rules set by others, by those with ideals. Looking for those edges, but never going over them. And giving just enough room to figure out the double or triple meaning he's hidden layers upon layers deep. The man has been playing all sides at once, without showing all his cards. And you'd fallen for it just as much as anyone here at Site-19 seemed to have. When you first met Dmitri, you thought he was simply reaching for words in a language he hadn't mastered yet. You're rethinking that now; he mastered it in a way you hadn't realised was possible. Saying everything without fully stating it, running circles around those thinking less of his position and background. Mocking them. Laughing in their face as they showed what they were made of. Was that why he still used both salutations when he says your name? Well, you kind of had it coming. "Alright. Here's my question: if you say I only picked up most of your //indications//, that means I missed something," you say. "What did I miss?" Strelnikov's face lights up with that boyish joy. That certainly was the question he'd wanted to answer. Some truths need an excuse to spill out. Maybe he'd been willing to answer if someone -- anyone -- had been willing to ask. Site-19 can be big and lonely, and there is only so much you can do to kill the boredom. Perhaps he'd been right, you two were alike. Foot soldiers forced alongside calculated measurements, of reality weighted in black and white. You two were figures fitting for the grey in the borders and corners, the forgotten and unsavoury parts that let the world click into place. A necessary sort of man, one that does their best work if covered in layers and layers of story and lies. And you both had told, and lived, many. He leans forward, gesturing you to follow suit. In a soft voice, as if he's about to divulge the most valuable information he has ever carried, he answers in perfect English: "you missed [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/system:page-tags/tag/british-occult-service#pages my love for Shakespeare], old sport." For a moment you stop breathing as you process the flawless mimic of Crow's clean Eton schoolboy accent. The coarse Russian vowels, impossible to fully unlearn, expertly folded in the appearance of a smoker's rasp. If you had not known his alliance, his origins, you might not have discovered the traces, and that was by design. After all, he told you the solution to his own riddle in the first nonsense story he shared. Some will cross the aisle, like you had, and others live between all aisles, docking whenever needed. A man playing all sides. So you laugh loudly when you realise you're just another party he played for a fool. @@ @@ @@ @@ ----- [[=]] + WAX [[/=]] ----- @@ @@ [[=]] [[div class="declass"]] [[=]] [[collapsible show="DECLASSIFICATION PENDING" hide=" "]] [[=image https://i.imgur.com/YGA6z45.png style="width: 70%"]] @@ @@ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:earthworm">:scp-wiki:component:earthworm</a> \| first=false \| last=false \| hub=yes \| previous-url=/scp-8166\| previous-title=Eastward of Eden \| next-url=/ \| next-title=To Be Continued... \| hub-url=https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/eventyr-hub \| hub-title=A Man Made of Wax ]] [[/collapsible]] [[/=]] [[/div]] [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] [[module Rate]] [[/=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author= FlyPurgatorio and sailorenoch]] > Quote: Нѣтъ, нѣтъ, я не то, чѣмъ кажусь. > Name Source: The Tragedy of Othello, the Moor of Venice > Author: William Shakespeare, translated to Russian by > License: Public Domain [https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Shakespeare_-_First_Folio_facsimile_(1910) English version link] and [https://ru.wikisource.org/wiki/%D0%9E%D1%82%D0%B5%D0%BB%D0%BB%D0%BE,_%D0%B2%D0%B5%D0%BD%D0%B8%D1%86%D0%B8%D1%8F%D0%BD%D1%81%D0%BA%D0%B8%D0%B9_%D0%BC%D0%B0%D0%B2%D1%80_(%D0%A8%D0%B5%D0%BA%D1%81%D0%BF%D0%B8%D1%80;_%D0%9F%D0%B0%D0%BD%D0%B0%D0%B5%D0%B2)/%D0%94%D0%9E Russian translation published in 1836] > Source: [https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Shakespeare_-_First_Folio_facsimile_(1910)/The_Tragedie_of_Othello,_the_Moore_of_Venice/Act_1_Scene_1 English original] [https://ru.wikisource.org/wiki/%D0%9E%D1%82%D0%B5%D0%BB%D0%BB%D0%BE,_%D0%B2%D0%B5%D0%BD%D0%B8%D1%86%D0%B8%D1%8F%D0%BD%D1%81%D0%BA%D0%B8%D0%B9_%D0%BC%D0%B0%D0%B2%D1%80_(%D0%A8%D0%B5%D0%BA%D1%81%D0%BF%D0%B8%D1%80;_%D0%9F%D0%B0%D0%BD%D0%B0%D0%B5%D0%B2)/%D0%94%D0%9E Russian translation] > Quote: Что наша жизнь? Игра! > Name Source: The Queen of Spades > Author: Pyotr Tchaikovsky > License: Public Domain > Source: [https://imslp.org/wiki/The_Queen_of_Spades,_Op.68_(Tchaikovsky,_Pyotr) LINK] > Filename: Bench > Author: [[user sailorenoch]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://i.imgur.com/oXkxm8a.png LINK] > Source: Authors own work > Filename: Pokernight.jpeg > Author: [[user sailorenoch]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://i.imgur.com/8a10Yb4.jpeg LINK] > Source: Authors own work > Notes: This piece is referencing/inspired by //A Waterloo Dogs Playing Poker//. This image [Pokernight.jpeg] is a derivative of: > Name: A Waterloo Dogs Playing Poker.jpeg > Author: Cassius Marcellus Coolidge > License: Public Domain > Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:A_Waterloo_Dogs_Playing_Poker.jpeg LINK] > Filename: Durak > Author: [[user sailorenoch]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://i.imgur.com/eY9ra3V.png LINK] > Source: Authors own work > Filename: FolderWAX.png > Author: [[user FlyPurgatorio]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://i.imgur.com/YGA6z45.png LINK] > Source: Authors own work This image [FolderWAX.png] is a derivative of: > Filename: Postmappe (20).jpg > Author: Langläufer22 > License: Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International > Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Postmappe_(20).jpg LINK] > Filename: Some data we have gathered.jpg > Author: Tracy M. Jackson > License: Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International > Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Some_data_we_have_gathered.jpg LINK] > Filename: Une voiture jaune.jpg > Author: Nicolas Vigier > License: Creative Commons CC0 1.0 Universal Public Domain Dedication > Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Une_voiture_jaune.jpg LINK] > Filename: Une voiture jaune.jpg > Author: Nicolas Vigier > License: Public Domain > Source Link: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/boklm/5089567448/ LINK] > Filename: Hoofdrolspelers Rutger Hauer en Monique van de Ven, Bestanddeelnr 925-6527.jpg > Author: Anefo > License: Public Domain > Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Hoofdrolspelers_Rutger_Hauer_en_Monique_van_de_Ven,_Bestanddeelnr_925-6527.jpg LINK]; [https://www.nationaalarchief.nl/onderzoeken/fotocollectie/abebf66e-d0b4-102d-bcf8-003048976d84 LINK (CC0)] > Filename: Archivage SIAr-831 2020 Contenant-CD.jpg > Author: Service intercommunal d'archivage > License: Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International > Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Archivage_SIAr-831_2020_Contenant-CD.jpg LINK] > Filename: Archivage SIAr-831 2020 Contenant-CD.jpg > Author: Service intercommunal d'archivage > License: Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International > Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Archivage_SIAr-831_2020_Contenant-CD.jpg LINK] > Filename: Alexei Navalny marching in 2017 (cropped 3).jpg > Author: Evgeny Feldman > License: Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International > Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Alexei_Navalny_marching_in_2017_(cropped_3).jpg LINK] > Filename: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Gedenkst%C3%A4tte_Berlin-Hohensch%C3%B6nhausen_Denis_Apel_13a.jpg > Author: Denis Apel > License: Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported > Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Gedenkst%C3%A4tte_Berlin-Hohensch%C3%B6nhausen_Denis_Apel_13a.jpg LINK] > Filename: Navalny vs Pamfilova1.png > Author: YouTube/Навальный LIVE > License: Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported > Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Navalny_vs_Pamfilova1.png LINK] > Filename: Mikola Shabovich - student - Minsk - 1980 AD.JPG > Author: Pracar > License: Creative Commons CC0 1.0 Universal Public Domain Dedication > Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Mikola_Shabovich_-_student_-_Minsk_-_1980_AD.JPG LINK] > Filename: Catherine Malfitano dans Traviata par Claude Truong-Ngoc 1980.jpg > Author: Claude TRUONG-NGOC > License: Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported > Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Catherine_Malfitano_dans_Traviata_par_Claude_Truong-Ngoc_1980.jpg LINK] > Filename: Assorted paperclips in action.jpg > Author: HarJIT > License: Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International > Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Catherine_Malfitano_dans_Traviata_par_Claude_Truong-Ngoc_1980.jpg LINK] > Filename: GRUnge-P.png > Name: GRUnge-P.png > Author: [[user Agente Shuffle]], [[user Croquembouche]] > License: CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/gru-p-hub, based on grubanner.png > Filename: Soviet Ministry of Railways. Tickets.jpg > Author: Scanning Dmitry Makeev, scan date - 2020 year. > License: Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International > Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Soviet_Ministry_of_Railways._Tickets.jpg LINK] > Filename: Soviet Ministry of Railways. Tickets.jpg > Author: Scanning Dmitry Makeev, scan date - 2020 year. > License: Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International > Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Soviet_Ministry_of_Railways._Tickets.jpg LINK] > Filename: Soviet Ministry of Railways. Tickets. 11.jpg > Author: Scanning Dmitry Makeev, scan date - 2020 year. > License: Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International > Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Soviet_Ministry_of_Railways._Tickets._11.jpg LINK] > Filename: Document USSR. img 02.jpg > Author: Scanning Dmitry Makeev, scan date - 2020 year. > License: Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International > Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Document_USSR._img_02.jpg LINK] > Filename: Logo of the SCP Foundation.png > Author: Far2 > License: Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported (CC BY-SA 3.0) > Source Link: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Logo_of_the_SCP_Foundation.png > Filename: Open Sans > License: Open Font License > Source Link: [https://fonts.google.com/specimen/Open+Sans LINK] > Filename: Caveat > License: Open Font License > Source Link: [https://fonts.google.com/specimen/Caveat/about LINK] > Filename: Cutive > License: Open Font License > Source Link: [https://fonts.google.com/specimen/Cutive/about LINK] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-04-19T19:40:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "agent-strelnikov", "bittersweet", "british-occult-service", "doctor-clef", "doctor-kondraki", "doctor-rights", "eventyr", "gru-division-p", "illustrated", "kain-pathos-crow", "reviewers-spotlight", "second-person", "slice-of-life", "tale" ]	Tinker Tailor Soldier Jailor - SCP Foundation	89	[ "flys-purgatory", "art:faust-s-art-page", "gru-p-hub", "dragandrabbits", "scp-8166", "system:page-tags/tag/british-occult-service#pages", "eventyr-hub", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide", "gru-p-hub" ]	[ "reviewers-spotlight-archive-ii", "artist-showcase-archive" ]	[ "https://i.imgur.com/oXkxm8a.png" ]	1453396580	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/tinkertailorsoldierjailor
to-end-all-endings	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=4&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/component%3Abhl-dark-sidebar/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=3&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Aextra-black-highlighter-theme/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <div class="pseudocrumbs"> <p><a href="/canon-hub">Canon Hub</a> » <a href="/competitive-eschatology-hub">Competitive Eschatology Hub</a> » <a href="/just-fragments-hub">Just Fragments Hub</a> » To End All Endings</p> </div> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>To End All Endings</strong><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Part 5!</p> </div> <p><strong>Warning:</strong> Contains scenes of <strong>gross physical assault</strong>. Discretion is advised!</p> <p><strong>Author:</strong> Doctor Scrappy</p> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <div class="content-warning creditRate">⚠️ content warning <span class="content-warning-arrow"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><a name="Part0"></a></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><em>…</em></p> </div> <blockquote> <p><em>He was foreknown before the foundation of the world but was made manifest in the last times for the sake of you.</em></p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p>- Peter 1:20 ESV</p> </div> </blockquote> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><em>…</em></p> </div> <blockquote> <p><em>”Remember: Reality is an illusion, the universe is a hologram, buy gold. BYE!”</em></p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p>- Bill Cipher</p> </div> </blockquote> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><em>…</em></p> </div> <blockquote> <p><em>”What can I say to convince you to slip back into my arms again?</em><br/> <em>”I won’t do you no harm again!</em><br/> <em>”Let me tell you that I’m sorry and that…</em><br/> <em>”I’m just a little bit crazy ’bout you!</em><br/> <em>”Just a little bit out of my mind!</em><br/> <em>”Just a little insane without you,</em><br/> <em>”Please come back and be just a little bit mine!”</em></p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p>-Excerpt of <em>[Cover This Song!] Just A Little Bit Mine</em> by Will Wood and the Tapeworms</p> </div> </blockquote> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><em>…</em></p> </div> <blockquote> <p><em>”We’re fucked.”</em></p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p>- Someone, Probably</p> </div> </blockquote> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><em>…</em></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><br/> <br/> </p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <blockquote> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong><span style="text-decoration: underline;">CHAPTERS</span></strong></p> <hr/> <p><strong><a href="#Part0">Prologue</a></strong></p> <p><strong><a href="#Part1">Just Forty-Eight Hours After The Apocalypse...</a></strong></p> <p><strong><a href="#Part2">On A Cold Autumn Night</a></strong></p> <p><strong><a href="#Part3">Now</a></strong></p> <p><strong><a href="#Part4">Just Forty-Eight Hours After</a></strong></p> <p><strong><a href="#Part5">On A Cold Autumn Night</a></strong></p> <p><strong><a href="#Part6">Now</a></strong></p> <p><strong><a href="#Part7">Just Forty-Eight Hours After</a></strong></p> <p><strong><a href="#Part8">On A Cold Autumn Night</a></strong></p> <hr/></div> </blockquote> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><br/> <br/> </p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p><a name="Part1"></a></p> <p>It was dark. But it had never seen the light. How could it be sure that it was dark, then?</p> <p>It was light. But it had never seen the dark. How could it be sure that it was light, then?</p> <p>It felt cramped, <em>no</em>, it <em>couldn’t</em> feel, couldn’t feel <em>anything</em>. But it felt cramped, it simply did, but it didn’t have the necessary organs, the appendages, the senses <em>to</em> feel.</p> <p>It couldn’t feel anything. Yet there was this <em>burning</em> sensation, this… this ever-prevailing feeling rested up deep inside it, the feeling of… of… It felt…</p> <p><a href="/five-seven-nine">It felt</a></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/competitive-eschatology-hub">Just Forty-Eight Hours After The Apocalypse...</a></strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>The control room was gigantic, filled to the brim with monitors and speakers, all buzzing in various tones, shapes and sizes, so variable in color, and personnel.</p> <p>They hurried all throughout the room, zip-zapping from chamber to chamber, from hallway to hallway, as the emergency lights had plunged everything in a deep red, the klaxons deafening to the ears.</p> <p>Researchers were shouting indistinctly into microphones, as some looked on in horror at the mayhem unfolding before their eyes on the giant, colorful monitors.</p> <p>Some cried. A few wept. There were even some screaming, quickly led out of the chamber by security forces, already stretched thin by the ongoing crisis, while others remained silent and prayed their prayers.</p> <p>The video displayed on the giant screen was news footage of a <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/dr-clef-s-proposal">giant, many-winged humanoid entity</a> with its flaming sword striding forth, as floating entities with large eyes and circles within circles looming up above.</p> <p>Panicked citizens filled the streets, as many simply looked on at the beauty unfolding before them, many having already accepted their Lord’s judgment.</p> <p>There were riots in the streets, trampeled over men, women and children, while cars drove haphazardly, stuck in the mounts of traffic, bumping into each other on the regular.</p> <p>People jumped to their deaths, while others dragged people out of their homes, reciting prayers.</p> <p>It was hell on earth.</p> <p>Director Sophia Light had more pressing matters at hand, however, as she constantly switched from monitor to monitor, yelling into microphones and barking orders in rapid succession. Sweat dripped down the sides of her face, as she had to tie her hair into a tight bun, so as to not let it cover her eyes again.</p> <p>Terminals constantly kept blinking back and forth, beeping, as if desperate for attention. Each terminal was hooked up to a Foundation Site.</p> <p>A junior researcher entered the room, sprinting toward the stressed-out director; under normal circumstances, he would have been dragged out of the room in an instant, but all of the remaining security forces were ordered to head into the lower levels by a blaring PA system up above, so he could just waltz in at will.</p> <p>He looked exhausted, just like everyone else had been for the last forty-eight hours. His labcoat was drenched in sweat, just like everyone else’s. He held a document in his hand, also drenched in his sweat. His breaths were shallow and rapid.</p> <p>”Director… Director Light…” he gasped, stemming his hands against his knees.</p> <p>She didn’t even notice him. She was constantly shifting from looking at the monitors and their blinking lights, and saying the next order to a confused, fearful looking researcher. They were coming at a rapid pace.</p> <p>He tried again. ”Director Light!”</p> <p>”… erect a defensive perimeter around <a href="/scp-616">616</a>, then— What do you mean they’re <em>bulletproof</em>?! Use incendiary weapons or squirt guns filled with <em>holy water</em>, then!”</p> <p>She switched over to another channel, a panicked woman at the other end.</p> <p>”<a href="/scp-2662">SCP-2662</a>—”</p> <p>”Tell Cthulu to <em>FUCK OFF</em>!” Sophia answered.</p> <p>She switched to another channel, this time typing.</p> <blockquote> <hr/> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/aiad-homescreen">Alexandra</a>, you copy?<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p>«Loud and clear, Director Light!»</p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> I want you to send an immediate request for contact to <a href="/scp-579">Site-62C</a>!<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p>«It will be done, Director! Exp3h+4€#+t»</p> </div> <hr/></blockquote> <p>Fear slowly crept its way down Sophia’s spine, as she looked intently, with a great deal of confusion, at the screen, now flickering excessively in black and white static.</p> <blockquote> <hr/> <p>Alexandra? Alexandra, report!<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p>«W3 ca57&n he7p u5-9»<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> «I<span style="text-decoration: line-through;">#&@+/»<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> «I 57on/t w@n7 t€€ d57'#&E</span>»</p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Alexandra, immediate status report! <hr/></blockquote> <p>Then the channel went dark. ”Fuck!” she exclaimed, looking frustrated and defeated all at the same time.</p> <p>The junior researcher approached her and tapped her lightly on the shoulder. He held the paper document firmly in his hands. ”Director Light, there’s been an emergency—”</p> <p>”Reclassify it as Apollyon and be done with it. I don’t have time for you right now,” was her only response.</p> <p>Quickly, she rose back to her former stance and switched to another of the many dozens of channels requesting Site-19’s assistance.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <blockquote> <p><strong><em>SITE-15 COMPROMISED. REQUEST IMMEDIATE ASSIST—</em></strong></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><em>Passageways to <a href="/scp-4009">SCP-4009</a> have manifested five kilometers above Massachussetts. Increase in Hume-level is as-of-yet minimal, although expected to rise in—</em></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><em>Members of Group of Interest 3088 (”<a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/second-hytoth-hub">Church of the Second Hytoth</a>”) have begun to congregate in the Arctic and Antarctica. Reasons for this are unk—</em></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><em>The formerly as Neutralized-classified anomaly <a href="/scp-1730">SCP-1730</a> has reappeared on the western border between Germany and the Netherlands. Request immediate—</em></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><em><a href="/scp-999">SCP-999</a> has breached containment and is about to—</em></p> </blockquote> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <p><em>It was an absolute clusterfuck of an XK, maybe even a ZK.</em></p> <p>”Director Light, I need to talk to you abou—”</p> <p>”I said I didn’t have time for you, so FUCK OFF!”</p> <p>Sophia didn’t even look up from the monitor, her eyes and ears fixated on the constant barrages of messages and cries of help being sent through the network.</p> <p>The junior researcher, with no more time at his hands, put his hand on her shoulder and turned her around to finally face him, clutching the paper document in hand tightly.</p> <p>After an exchange in stares, he handed the document to Sophia.</p> <blockquote> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><em><strong>Item #:</strong> <a href="/scp-173">SCP-173</a>—</em></p> </div> </blockquote> <p>She crumpled up the paper document and threw it to the floor, an angry glare in her eyes. He was quite surprised, as she pushed herself away from him.</p> <p>”Listen here, you little <em>shit</em>! I’ve already got enough to deal with, and the last I need is someone shouting into my ear about some bricks-shitting statue—”</p> <p>Without saying a word, he handed her a picture. It was of 173’s cell, she could tell by the shit and blood littering the entire floor. But there was more to it.</p> <p>It was a picture of two men in orange jumpsuits, <em>D-Class</em>, lying on a concrete floor. The one’s back was obscured, so she couldn’t see his designation, but the other man’s back was not, showing the numbers ’5933’ printed on the back of his jumpsuit.</p> <p>They lied there in a twisted, mangled formation, their limbs and bodies limp, the life having left their eyes, all having a twisted, broken neck. Sophia caught herself softly massaging the own back of her neck. The junior researcher noticed.</p> <p>Then there was another picture. This time of the perpetrator, <em>the breaker of necks, number 173, <strong>the sculpture</strong></em>.</p> <p>It stood in its cell with all of its concrete and rebar glory, still the same emotionless expression of traces of krylon-brand spray-paint on its face, just how it came in in 1993.</p> <p>Those soulless approximaton of eyes peeped straight back at her, as she caught her eyes watering, having not blinked once since looking at those pictures.</p> <p>Aside from that, there was nothing out of the ordinary. Just two dead D-Class, murdered at the hands of 173, both of their necks having been broken.</p> <p><em>A clean, fast end.</em></p> <p>In a sense, she envied those two men lying motionlessly on the shit- and blood-stained floor. Okay, maybe she didn’t.</p> <p>As she was about to crumple these pictures and throw them onto the floor, and also demote the junior researcher to D-Class for having wasted her valuable time, her eyes spotted something in the corner of the picture.</p> <p>She held it closer to her eyes, under the dim, red emergency lights, under the deafening alarms, footsteps and yells and cries, and stared intently. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing.</p> <p>She immediately dropped the pictures, her head filled with a thousand thoughts all at the same time, before she looked back at the junior researcher.</p> <p>He looked back at her with wide eyes. ”What should we do?”</p> <p>She looked at the pictures a second time to assure herself. It was true what she was seeing.</p> <p><em>SCP-173 had <strong><a href="/revised-entry">multiplied</a></strong>.</em></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <blockquote> <p><strong><em>SCP-173 Addendum 1</em></strong></p> <p><em>On</em> ██/██/████<em>, SCP-173 appeared to multiply, producing two identical copies. Two D-class personnel were killed. It is unknown how this process occurred. Each instance of SCP-173, now labeled SCP-173-1 and SCP-173-2 is to be moved to individual cells each following original containment procedures.</em></p> </blockquote> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p><a name="Part2"></a><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>On A Cold Autumn Night</strong></p> <p><strong>Before The Apocalypse</strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><a href="/not-the-end">Ramone Ramani</a> went up and down in her stance, as she constantly alternated between looking at her phone and across the street.</p> <p>The surrounding buildings stood tall, reminding her of something out of the Victorian-era style of construction. The walls were intricate, with only a few streetlights on to give everything a softly warm and calm atmosphere.</p> <p>Right now, however, she felt everything, but warm and calm. The autumn breeze passed beside her, blowing fallen, dried leaves high through the air.</p> <p>She was shivering in her long black dress, but at least her feet were staying warm (she opted not to wear her matching high heels; too uncomfortable).</p> <p>Ramone looked at her phone again — it was 23:28 in the night.</p> <p>People dressed in dresses and suits walked by her, many exiting from the newly-opened restaurant right behind her. It was clean, its entrance imposing, but not too much, the lights were shimmering a faint, welcoming glow, as Ramone could see through the crystal-clear windows people sitting at their tables, conversing about whatever topic crossed their mind, eating their dinner served on the silver platter.</p> <p>She darted her eyes on the lowly populated streets, before she pulled out her phone again, almost dialing his number, as a car pulled up in front of her.</p> <p>She couldn’t see through the glass, but she was fairly certain that it was him.</p> <p>He opened the door and dramatically stepped out with one foot, Ramone intently watching.</p> <p>Then he stepped out with his other foot and rose up from behind the car door. He was wearing a fine gray suit and a tie, accompanied by pitch black shoes. His hair was a little rough, as if he had done it in a hurry.</p> <p>He closed the car door and approached Ramani.</p> <p>”Sorry for the wait, Ramone,” Adam Krug said. ”Got <a href="/scp-8138">caught up in something</a>.”</p> <p>Her face beared a smile. ”Dellen?”</p> <p>”I thought he’d <em>never</em> stop!” Krug exclaimed.</p> <p>Ramone gave off a light chuckle. ”Happens when you spill your coffee on an unknown anomaly.”</p> <p>Adam simply stared at her, a pause in his words. ”Don’t tell me word’s gotten out already…”</p> <p>Ramone didn’t say anything. But her smile, gleaming eyes and her <em>attempt</em> at suppressing a laugh were enough of an answer for Adam already.</p> <p>”The whole department knows, doesn’t it?” Krug asked.</p> <p>Ramone burst into a fit of laughter. She covered her mouth with her hand to suppress some of the noise, but most of it got through anyway.</p> <p>Ramone needed a bit to catch her breath between genuine attempts at speaking and bursts of more laughter. There was the slight hint of a smirk on Adam’s face.</p> <p>”Does the whole department know?”</p> <p>Eventually, Ramone was able to catch her breath. ”And every other department in the whole facility.” She wiped the tears from her eyes. ”Word gets ’round in 67, you know?”</p> <p>The only thing Adam could muster was a deep, long sigh.</p> <p>In front of the entrance, Ramone held out her hand dramatically. ”Now, would you like to follow me into this fine establishment, <em>monsieur</em>?” she said in an overly exaggerated French accent, or an approximation of it.</p> <p>Adam smiled and took her hand. Then, in the same overly exaggerated approximation of a (maybe) French accent, spoke: ”I’d very much like to, <em>madam</em>.”</p> <p>Together, they walked up the steps to this very fine establishment, indeed. There was some very fine Mozart playing harmoniously in the background, too.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><em>…</em></p> <p><em>…</em></p> <p><em>…</em></p> <p><strong><em>One day you’ll look up at the ceiling above</em></strong><br/> <strong><em>If you’re lucky you’ll be surrounded by the ones that you love</em></strong><br/> <strong><em>When the lights in your eyes fade and life flashes by</em></strong><br/> <strong><em>One day you’re going to die.</em></strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p><a name="Part3"></a><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong><a href="/or-maybe-it-is">Now</a></strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Shadows were his only sanctuary. Sanctuary from the otherworldy forces in the streets, high above in the sky, or just out of sight.</p> <p>The security forces, standing tall, looking like feathered behemoths with cameras as their visage, were standing atop the ruins of tall apartment buildings and skyscrapers, shining their all-seeing light between the narrow gaps of the ruins, through windows and doors standing ajar, or even up at the black clouds.</p> <p>The sky was broken, and tinted in a deep red.</p> <p>His eyes were keenly laid upon the ruined wastelands, as he waited for a gap within their formation of lights, <em>their watchful eyes</em>, readying his stance to quickly sprint back to the nearest shadow at a moment’s notice.</p> <p>There was some Mozart playing harmoniously in the background.</p> <p>His destination was just up ahead; under an unassuming bridge, there lay a secret passageway, only accessible to those speaking the rite of passage. Some say it was built by the <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/marshall-carter-and-dark-hub">Merchants of London</a>, although he didn’t really care all too much.</p> <p>It was a safe-haven for those seeking refuge from the battles of god, but also a base of operations for those fighting for freedom within this troubled state they were in. All other governments had collapsed under the weight of doomsdays, and this space was the only real land left standing.</p> <p>He had the file of this anomaly, <em>discovered and contained by none other than the Foundation, of course</em>, stashed away inside his mind. He could still see it very clearly:</p> <blockquote> <p><em><a href="/scp-4009">SCP-4009</a> is an extradimensional totalitarian city-state […]</em></p> <p><em>SCP-4009 is populated by humanoid entities […] each individual instance corresponds to a well-known classical composer and/or musician who is currently deceased (i.e. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart—</em></p> </blockquote> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>He winced at the mere mention of that man’s name. But he continued to recite 4009’s file inside his mind, at least the important details…</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <blockquote> <p><em>Most instances […] are capable of voluntary emission of reality-altering longitudinal waves, the intensity of which is directly proportional to each composer/musician's mass appeal.</em></p> <p><em>The […] population maintains a caste system in which individuals are divided into different social groups based on the relative real-world popularity of their respective, <strong>blah, blah, blah…</strong></em></p> </blockquote> <p>That was all he needed to know. <em>Reality-bending music composers led by an all-powerful Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, who had transformed everything into a</em> 1984<em>-esque society to stay in power.</em></p> <p>He looked to his right, half-expecting what he was just about to see on the wall…</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <img alt="brozart.jpg" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-4009/brozart.jpg"/> <blockquote> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong><em>YOU ARE HEARD, YOU ARE LOVED.</em></strong></p> </div> </blockquote> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><em>Just about right.</em></p> <p>He heard footsteps clattering in the distance; growing ever-so-closer. To his location. His hand was grasped firmly around his pointy staff, as his senses appeared to sharpen, hearing and looking out for any dissonant presence, while he pressed himself closer against a dilapitated brick wall.</p> <p>The footsteps were loud, heavy, and many. He listened closely, hearing his own heart beating rythmically in his chest.</p> <p>He could faintly hear Beethoven’s Ninth lingering in the air.</p> <p>The overhead eyes of the security forces sweeped relentlessly through the streets, as he waited for just a second longer for a gap in their formation, for just an opportunity to move to the nearest shadow, a chance to get close—</p> <p>There was a distinct <em>ring</em> when the arrow hit his right shoulder. <em>Not an arrow, but dozens of tiny musical notes arranged to make the</em> song <em>of an arrow in reality.</em></p> <p>He pulled it out of his body, and, without looking back, began his sprint through the deserted streets, amidst the tall-towering Victorian- and Renaissance-era styled buildings, or at least the remnants of them.</p> <p>The footsoldiers were in close pursuit, as the security forces up above caught sight of him in their watchful eyes, squawked to life, and began descending onto the streets.</p> <p><strong>”HALT!”</strong> a man, <em>most likely a general</em>, shouted in its rythmic tones, reverberating throughout surrounding space-time. He covered his ears, but the voice was as if it was sounding between his ears.</p> <p><strong>”IN THE NAME OF THE GRAND ORCHESTRA, WE COMMAND YOU TO <em>HALT</em>!”</strong></p> <p>He ran as fast as his two human legs allowed, carrying the payload in a makeshift backpack, as the soldiers began whistling their lethal tunes at him, while the behemoths with cameras as heads began to swipe at him, the very ground shaking with every step these behemoths took.</p> <p>They fired at him relentlessly, him careful not to get hit or trip, as the tunes breezed past him, getting ever-so-closer to his destination.</p> <p>He heard one of the behemoths trip and fall, giving off a distinct <em>Bach</em> taste in his mind.</p> <p>As the tunes kept flying and the swings inched closer, the closer he got to the passageway under the bridge. <em>Only a few more—</em></p> <p>Without a warning, he felt the space around him contorting and bending, looking like a Fata Morgana under the scorching shine of the desert sun, as time began to quicken and slow down all at the same time.</p> <p>He desperately reached for the payload in his backpack; he saw his fingers stretching and extending in all directions, as his backpack turned into beautiful clefs, D minors and a whole lotta <em>Mozart</em>.</p> <p>With the little bit of sanity left, he reached within his backpack, observing the silhouettes of the behemoths and footsoldiers that had hunted him earlier in the edges all around him.</p> <p>In the press of a button, space and time around him slowly began to make sense again, as it became more solid, less malleable.</p> <p>The behemoths and footsoldiers were knocked to the ground, as their lethal tunes began to fizzle out into ordinary whistles — <em>unharmonious ones at that</em>.</p> <p>As the payload was doing its work, he quickly sprinted toward the bridge with it, reciting the passage rite in his mind over and over again, until he finally arrived.</p> <p><em>”FUCK YOU, MOZART!”</em></p> <p>In an instant, the foundations of this very place began to rumble, bricks and debris falling off the bridge, nearly hitting him on multiple occasions, as a large door carved out of ivory and marble appeared in front of him, where there was nothing before.</p> <p>With no further a-do, he opened the gates and stepped through, the door crashing shut behind him. The door disappeared as soon as it appeared.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p>He couldn’t see anything. His eyes tried to adjust to the dark, but with there being no light it was impossible.</p> <p>Then something made <em>click</em>, and he found himself surrounded by dozens of people, big and small, male and female. They were pointing their guns and spears and equivalent thereof straight at his face, he could <em>feel</em> their bullets and blades on his skin.</p> <p>He slowly raised his arms, glancing all around the room.</p> <p>”I’ve come to see Mooretimer,” he spoke, staying ever-so-diligent for a blade that might poke him in the back. ”We’ve made a deal and—”</p> <p>A creature, half man, half <a href="/scp-217">gears</a>, held up one of its pointy appendages and pressed it against the man’s throat. The creature’s glassy eyes and metal exterior told nothing of what it was feeling, but he felt that it would slice a gash across his throat if he even so much dared breathe the wrong way.</p> <p>Clapping emanated from the back of the room, and everyone turned around to look and see who made these most inopportune noises.</p> <p>”Who do we have here? A traveler from afar?” The man’s voice was heavy, raspy; his footsteps carried much weight behind them.</p> <p>The shape of the man was visible from behind the crowd, as the various men and women made way for this large man slowly approaching him.</p> <p>The crowd quickly put down their blades and guns, as Mooretimer placed his hand on the man’s shoulder and embraced him in a tight, asphyxiating hug.</p> <p>Mooretimer released him from his embrace, mainly because his friend was turning various shades of purple after some time.</p> <p>”Dear friend, how long’s it been? Did you ever get to that signal you so adamantly longed for?”</p> <p>He gasped for fresh air, before saying anything: ”I… I…” He collapsed onto the floor.</p> <p>”Did the <a href="/five-seven-nine">nanites</a> follow you?” Mooretimer asked, now more serious.</p> <p>He shook his head.</p> <p>”Do you have it?” he said between gasps for air.</p> <p>”Straight to the point, eh? Then I shan’t keep you any longer! You must be exhausted already! Come, follow me to the back,” Mooretimer exclaimed, moving toward the back.</p> <p>The various creatures made way again, feeling more relaxed now that the stranger was no immediate threat. He was still gasping for air.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p>Schubert was pacing up and down beneath the bridge, exactly where the criminal had disappeared. Thoughts ran through his head.</p> <p><em>”Shit, shit, shit, shit, shi—”</em></p> <p>”General Schubert!” Lord Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s voice suddenly rang in his mind, like Beethoven’s Second at 140 decibels. ”<em>Was</em> is keeping you so <em>lange</em>?”</p> <p>Sweat rolled down Schubert’s face. He could hear his heart beat more rapidly now. ”I… nothing!” That was the best his mind could come up with.</p> <p>”Oh, is that so?” He could feel the tension rise an octave. ”If there’s nothing stopping you, THEN WHY ARE YOU JUST STANDING <em>DA</em>?!”</p> <p>He felt the voice shaking him down to his very soul. His heart beat arrythmically.</p> <p>”Do you understand me, General?!”</p> <p>Schubert collapsed to his knees, clutching his ears, screaming in pain and agony. The footsoldiers surrounding him looked on with confusion and fear riddling their strings.</p> <p>”<em>Verstanden</em>?!”</p> <p>”YES!” he screamed. ”YES! YES!” The noises were pure unbearableness. His brain felt like it was about to burst; he bled from his eyes and ears profusely.</p> <p>Then the noises ceased. With eternal silence came eternal peace. He could hear his own thoughts again.</p> <p>”<em>Gut,</em>” Mozart exclaimed, ”Because if not…”</p> <p>There was a tingling sensation, as his soul left his body, venturing into the far reaches of the cosmos. He witnessed stars young and old being born and going supernova, only to bear new stars, which would die again, all at the same time.</p> <p>He ventured into the depths of black and white holes, got spaghettified, his matter forever lost to the universe, reassembled, returned, before seeing the death of the cosmos with his own eyes, watched the universe forming at the beginning of time, touched the edges of the universe, saw it expand, before snapping back, passing by every single atom.</p> <p>His return was an uneventful one, as he simply collapsed onto the ground, gasping for air.</p> <p>”Meet with Supreme <em>Führer</em> Beethoven in the morning. Report your findings,” Mozart blared on. ”Remember: <em>He can’t hear bad news</em>.”</p> <p>And with that, the voice of the Supreme Lord of the Grand Orchestra vanished from his head.</p> <p>General Schubert slowly came to his feet, breathing in deeply, before he got a bearing of his surroundings again, seeing two footsoldiers staring at him.</p> <p>His fear subsided, and he quickly was overtaken by a lurid hatred. He balled his hands into fists, turning a tomato red.</p> <p>”What are you doing just standing there?!” Schubert squeaked. ”Search the perimeter, Mozammit!”</p> <p>The two quickly scrambled away into the nearby ruins.</p> <p>Schubert was steadying himself on the walls of the bridge. He looked around, less to find any traces of the criminal, and more to see if any soldiers or security-behemoths were lingering around.</p> <p>Schubert took several deep breaths.</p> <p><em>”Fuck you, Mozart…”</em> he muttered under his breath.</p> <p>In an instant, the foundations of this very place began to rumble, bricks and debris falling off the bridge. A large door carved out of ivory and marble appeared in front of him, where there was nothing before.</p> <p>General Schubert rubbed his eyes and touched the doorframe, as several of his troops gathered up around the oddity.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p>He placed his backpack onto the worn wooden table and retrieved the object inside. Mooretimer looked intently at his trusted friend’s hand, as he retrieved the object within.</p> <p>What was retrieved was a compact circular disk, glowing, <em>no</em>, feeling like all colors under the rainbow. Mooretimer didn’t say anything — he simply admired its beauty.</p> <p>”The reality anchor,” he said to Mooretimer. ”In exchange for…”</p> <p>Mooretimer snapped back into reality. ”Yes, yes… of course.”</p> <p>He retrieved a large sack from underneath the table, placing it right next to the SRA. He pulled the item out, revealing it to be a Foundation-issued tracking device. Just as he requested it.</p> <p>”You’ll be able to find that <em>iron-man</em> of yours in no time; the harness is a prototype, one of a kind, sending out a unique, if not weak signal. Where he is, your mysterious <em><a href="/scp-055">object that isn’t round</a></em>—” Mooretimer lost his thought, then continued, ”eh… Oh, yeah! Your thing will be with them. If they haven’t lost it by now, that is.”</p> <p>The thought of the object <em>supposedly</em> capable of saving the entire universe having been lost in all of this chaos made him shudder.</p> <p>He had ventured to Site-19, where this object was kept; details were hazy, not because nothing was known about it, <em>well, kind of</em>, but because the info seemed to seep out of his mind the moment he focused on it. <em>It was irritating.</em></p> <p>There he ventured into 055’s containment chamber, but found nothing there; whether it was because it physically wasn’t there anymore or because of its anti-memetic effect was unclear to him, so he opted instead to review the security cam footage of the Site to get some more straight answers.</p> <p>There he saw a man, early-twenties, waltz into the chamber with a suit on, with its markings detailing it as a <em>’Foundation Absolute Exclusion Harness (AEH)’</em>. The man then put the object — <em>it</em> definitely <em>wasn’t round</em> — into the suitcase he was carrying with him.</p> <p>Later, he exited the facility’s grounds, marching to an unknown destination.</p> <p>”Thanks, Mooretimer,” he finally said, having been entrenched in thought.</p> <p>Mooretimer gave him a hefty pat on his back. ”Thank <em>you</em>, friend! This’ll be a great weapon against the forces of Bach, Beethoven n’ Mozart!”</p> <p>The Gearman suddenly entered through the curtains, bearing what seemed to be an expression of fear on his face. ”Mooretimer,” the Gearman began, clicking with his internal mechanism spazzing out, continuing ”General Schubert and his forces have entered the base!”</p> <p>Mooretimer immediately sprung to life. ”How many?”</p> <p><em>”All of them!”</em></p> <p>Suddenly, explosions and shots rang out through the rooms, as men, women and their children cried out in terror, their screams ringing dissonantly in their ears.</p> <p>He immediately drew his standard pistol, as he was about to storm into the chaos, Mooretimer held out his hand and blocked his path. He looked up at him.</p> <p>”No, my friend. You need to go,” Mooretimer exclaimed.</p> <p>He opened his mouth to say something, but quickly closed it again.</p> <p>”This isn’t your fight,” Mooretimer spoke. ”Your fight is <em>there</em>.”</p> <p>Mooretimer pointed at the far end of the room. As soon as he looked, another door, intricately carved ivory and marble adorning its frame, appeared out of nowhere.</p> <p>He gave Mooretimer and the Gearman a look, before he ran to his backpack and packed in the tracker, and made his way toward the ivory-marble door.</p> <p>On the door, he turned around, exchanging a look, which may well be the final time the two were ever going to see each other again, and spoke: ”May your voices be heard through all the heavens.”</p> <p>Mooretimer smirked, took the SRA, and said: ”Voices can’t shoot holes into people.” The SRA began to emit a faint green glow.</p> <p><strong><em>”IN THE NAME OF OUR LORD WOLFGANG AMADEUS MOZART, DIE!!”</em></strong> That was the voice of General Schubert.</p> <p>Without further a-do, Mooretimer and the Gearman charged into battle, as he grasped the brass handle of the door firmly, and stepped through the door.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p><a name="Part4"></a><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Just Forty-Eight Hours After</strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <blockquote> <p><em>He calmed down again. ”Okay, okay, okay…” He tried to assess the situation, like any good researcher would. Lay out the facts, then piece together the little details. ”We should try Site-15. They’re not too far from—”</em></p> <p><em>”We already tried them. No answer.”</em></p> <p><em>”Then get me Site-120—”</em></p> <p><em>”No word from them either.”</em></p> <p><em>”How about—”</em></p> <p><em>”Nope—”</em></p> <p><em><strong>”Then give me one we have not covered, for Christ’s sake!”</strong> Adam yelled from the top of his lungs. His breaths were shallow, rapid. Ramani thought that Adam would die of a heart attack right there.</em></p> <p><em>Eventually, he calmed down.</em></p> <p><em>”Sorry, I…” he said, rubbing his face. ”Please,” he said calmly, exhausted, ”just give me a Site we haven’t contacted yet. What about Nineteen?”</em></p> <p><em>”Was the first one to go when the gate opened.”</em></p> </blockquote> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <p>The junior researcher sprinted through the darkened corridors of Site-19. Everything was still tinted in that ominous red color of the emergency lights, as the alarms still sounded with full force.</p> <p><em>Evac point, evac point, evac point…</em> was all the young man could think of, as he ran past cell after empty cell. There was a sense of foreboding haunting his every step.</p> <p>He turned a sharp right, his breaths shallow and quick. He turned a sharp left, his labcoat drenched in even more sweat now.</p> <p><em>Another right, another right, another left, another—</em></p> <p><em>Dead end.</em></p> <p><em>What?! No, no, no…</em> he thought, as panic slowly crept in. <em>I couldn’t have possibly forgotten the lay-out of Site-19. Maybe it’s stress, maybe it’s—</em></p> <p>There was a deep, otherwordly growl coming from the end of the hallway.</p> <p>He felt himself tense up, too frightened to see what made that terrific sound.</p> <p>Before he could even think another thought, the creature let out a bellowing screech and lunged right at the junior researcher. He closed his eyes and covered his face for the eventual impact, but it never came.</p> <p>The hallway was filled with the noises of gunfire, as a squad of Mobile Task Forces, clad in heavy gear and firepower, unleashed a hail of bullets onto the creature.</p> <p>It screeched and howled, trying to shield itself from the rain of bullets; it looked completely unaffected, though, and slowly marched forward toward the soldiers.</p> <p>One of them, seemingly the commander, shouted: ”EPSILON-11!”</p> <p>The junior researcher didn’t know what that meant, but he assumed it meant lotsa guys and gals in fire-resistant padding and flamethrowers, because the moment the commander had shouted it, lotsa guys and gals in fire-resistant padding and flamethrowers came in and torched up the creature.</p> <p>It didn’t have an effect on the creature, however, as it simply marched forward, clawed hand outstretched.</p> <p>Just as he thought it was all over, another squad came from ’round the corner, and were carrying <em>squirt guns</em>.</p> <p><em>They’ve gone nuts,</em> he thought, but before he could even finish the line, the soldiers squirted their water compartments of their squirt guns out at the creature, which began to screech and recoil in terror.</p> <p>The other units backed away, as the squirt gun squad inched ever-so-closer at the entity, never giving it a second to breathe.</p> <p><em>”In the name of thy Holy Spirit, DIE, DEMON!”</em></p> <p>The demonic creature gave off one last agonizing howl, before it backed-up into a corner, seemingly crying to itself, before its skin sloughed off its flesh, the flesh began to boil, the bones started to break, and the entire mass turn into a concentration of ash, bones and sulfur. It stank like shit.</p> <p>The junior researcher couldn’t believe what he had all just witnessed. One of the MTF members helped him up.</p> <p>”Nice job, kid,” they replied.</p> <p>”B—but… I…” he stuttered, unable to form words.</p> <p>They pat him on the shoulder. ”Nice job staying alive.”</p> <p><em>Ah.</em></p> <p>”Nu-7, status report!” Light spoke from the commander’s comms.</p> <p>”Crisis averted. SCP-616 entity successfully neutralized,” the commander replied.</p> <p><em>SCP-616,</em> the junior researcher thought. He wasn’t able to focus on the file perfectly, but recalled the most important details: <em>Gateway to Hell with a bunch of demon shit… that was for some reason affixed to an emergency door of a Boeing 737. Classic SCP stuff.</em></p> <p>”How?” Sophia Light asked, snapping the junior researcher out of his thoughts. There was a sense of anticipation in the air.</p> <p>The Nu-7 commander stared at the squad members, then at their squirt guns, then back at the entity. ”We were able to defeat them with…” he sighed a long sigh, ”squirt guns, Director. Filled with holy water.”</p> <p>Although he couldn’t see her face, he imagined it to bear a wide smile. ”That’s good. Anything else?”</p> <p>”Well,” the commander began, ”found a survivor.”</p> <p>”Who?”</p> <p>The commander looked up and down at the junior researcher, searching for a name tag, finding none. ”Hold on a minute… Hey, kid, what’s ya’ name?”</p> <p>”My name is—”</p> <p>There was the sound of cracking, stone grinding on stone. The various MTF personnel formed a circular formation, arms at the ready, with the nameless junior researcher in the middle.</p> <p>They stood there for a while, before the cracking and breaking sounds began to grow in intensity. An odd stench now filled the air.</p> <p>”Is that… is that <em>shit</em>?” an Epsilon-11 operative remarked.</p> <p>”And blood…” the Nu-7 commander added.</p> <p>They looked all around, pointing their flashlight-equipped guns in every corner.</p> <p>The noises continued. Some concrete dust fell onto the junior researcher, who looked up. He was frozen in terror.</p> <p>Only after a few seconds he was able to tap an MTF operative on the shoulder. ”What is it, kid—”</p> <p>They saw what he saw and couldn’t look away from it. The others soon followed.</p> <p>”Commander, report!”</p> <p>”Director…”</p> <p>He couldn’t finish the sentence. He simply took his body cam and pointed it upwards toward the ceiling, or where it should have been.</p> <p>From a hole in the ceiling, dozens upon dozens of SCP-173 copies were staring down at them, in all their concrete and rebar glory, their faces spray-painted into a soul-piercing glare.</p> <p>”… <em>Fuck.</em>”</p> <p>”Yeah…” the commander could only muster.</p> <p>They didn’t even blink once.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <blockquote> <p><strong><em>SCP-173 Addendum 3</em></strong></p> <p><em>Security breach occurred on</em> ██/██/████<em>. Assuming a simple geometric progression, at least 61 copies of SCP-173 are as of now unaccounted for. It is unknown how they replicated so fast, or how they replicate at all. Video evidence of the containment breach shows multiple instances of SCP-173 working in unison across multiple cells to achieve the breach. Most of the instances still in captivity appear to have formed a 'rear guard', blocking Foundation agents from pursuing other instances. It is theorized that SCP-173 has a hive intelligence, where intelligence scales with number of nearby copies. See revised security procedures for containing SCP-173 copies.</em></p> </blockquote> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p><a name="Part5"></a><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>On A Cold Autumn Night</strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Adam and Ramone looked in amazement at the well-furbished interior of the restaurant. They seated themselves down on a table in the center.</p> <p>As soon as they sat down, a waiter, early to mid-thirties, wearing a tight black suit, tie and equally-as-tight flat shoes, came over to them, wearing the most welcoming of smiles. ”What shall it be, <em>monsieur</em> and <em>madam</em>?”</p> <p>Adam and Ramone gave each other inconspicous glances across the table, before they turned their eyes back on the waiter.</p> <p>”Well, we still need to decide,” Adam said.</p> <p>”Take your time,” the waiter said with a smile and such straight posture, you’d think he had a metal rod stuck into his spine. He disappeared as soon as he appeared.</p> <p>Ramone looked around in the big room. There was a fountain in the right corner, the water droplets sparkling in the warm lights above, the walls adorned with intricate, yet simple imagery. Waitresses and waiters zip-zapped between the tables, holding trays in their hands, always remaining in their tight-upright stance, while nearby people talked and laughed in the typical formal and <em>posh-posh</em> tone so cliché for such places. It was pretty crowded.</p> <p>There was also a somewhat elevated stage only a few feet next to them. The area around it was devoid of any chairs and tables, and there was a brown leather bag for a guitar resting in handle, next to a chair.</p> <p>Ramone turned her attention back toward Adam, who had looked up from the menu and looked at her. ”Already enamoured with this place?”</p> <p>”I just didn’t think it’d be so… full.” She sighed. ”I’d have chosen another place if I had known it’d be so crowded.”</p> <p>Adam smiled, and put down the menu. ”Come on, Ramone! We’ve known each other for <em>nine whole</em> years! I thought we were past plastic grins and smiles.”</p> <p>He smiled his most reassuring smile. ”Look at this place. This is great!” He waved his hands in the air theatrically. Some people were looking over at them.</p> <p>”Anything to get away from the office.”</p> <p>Ramone smiled. ”Better than Site-67’s cafeteria?”</p> <p>”You bet.”</p> <p>Suddenly, the lights began to dim, and a man dressed in a fine, well-tailored suit, came up on stage. Everyone was turning their attention toward the center.</p> <p>”Ladies and gentlemen,” the man began, speaking into a microphone, looking all around in the crowd, continuing, ”we appreciate every single one of your for coming here, dearly.”</p> <p>Adam leaned in, so that only Ramone could hear him, and whispered, ”I just wanted to order some food. What is this guy talking about now?”</p> <p>Ramone gave him a wry smile, then both of them turned their attention back to the man.</p> <p>”As a sign of our gratitude, we have a very special guest tonight. I welcome: <em>Jonathan P.</em>!”</p> <p>The man looked over at the entrance. The crowd, too, also looked over at the entrance, as the sound of clapping hands filled the building.</p> <p>After a few more seconds of clapping, though, the demeanor of the man on stage changed, from a smile to a frown, as still nobody came through the door.</p> <p>He looked visibly worried, as still no one came through. Then a young woman, blonde hair, glasses, dressed in a similar well-tailored suit, walked up to the man and whispered something into his ear.</p> <p>What was being said no one, but the man and woman could hear, but the woman’s head shook, as the man stared at her, then at the floor, and then back at the crowd.</p> <p>By this point, the clapping had stopped and everyone was expectantly looking at the man holding the microphone in his hands.</p> <p>”I am sorry, ladies and gentlemen. Jonathan P. unfortunately couldn’t make it tonight…” The man trailed off, searching for new words to say. ”Enjoy your night regardless!”</p> <p>With that, the man walked off-stage, retreating into a backroom with the woman, as they were constantly whispering about their schedule or something.</p> <p>Adam looked at the menu. ”That definitely was something. So, what do you want, Ramone? I, for once, would like something I can actually pronounce on this menu.”</p> <p>Ramone, however, was completely disinterested in the menu and looked upon the guitar on the stage, resting on its stand. It took Adam nine seconds to notice Ramone staring at him from across the table, bearing a wide grin.</p> <p>It took him eleven seconds to realize what was going on.</p> <p>”No, Ramone, that’s not—”</p> <p>”Get up, old man!” Ramone said with a hint of amusement in her voice.</p> <p>”Well, I think that thirty-one is a pretty young age to be—”</p> <p>Ramone urged him to stand up, which he reluctantly did. He slowly made his way toward the stage, frantically looking all around; he was surprised when no one was paying him any particular attention. He preferred it so.</p> <p>He sat down on the chair on the stage.</p> <p>”Ramone, I really don’t wan—”</p> <p>But she already unpacked the guitar from its casing. More people started to notice now.</p> <p>She handed him over the guitar, before walking back to their table again, catching a few confused stares here and there, before everyone looked upon Adam.</p> <p>Sweat ran down Adam’s chin, as he looked back at Ramone. Although she couldn’t hear him, Adam mouthed the words <em>What should I play?</em></p> <p>Ramone, similarly, mouthed the words <em>Whatever you feel like!</em></p> <p>He looked at the crowd, dozens of pairs of eyes staring at him, looked down at the guitar, then gave out a long sigh, took several deep breaths, and began to tune the guitar, adjusting the strings to his play-style.</p> <p>Giving one final glance at Ramone, he reassured himself and counted down inside his mind:</p> <p><em>One, two, three, four…</em></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><em>”<a href="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/you-and-me/You%20and%20Me.mp3">...</a></em><br/> <em>”You and me,</em><br/> <em>”Should take a trip across the galaxy</em><br/> <em>”And feel the breaking waves of our own energy.</em><br/> <em>”And everything will come together</em><br/> <em>”Slowly…</em></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><em>”Quietly,</em><br/> <em>”You and me, we’ll flow through eternity</em><br/> <em>”And stay up all night and wonder about</em><br/> <em>”Where we’ve been and where we’ll go</em><br/> <em>”What we’ve seen and what we’ll know</em><br/> <em>”Guided by the lights above us so.</em></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><em>”You and me,</em><br/> <em>”Vessels on an open sea</em><br/> <em>”You and me,</em><br/> <em>”I wanna be there with you</em><br/> <em>”To see it all within you</em><br/> <em>”Becoming a part of everything…”</em></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p>She listened to him intently, couldn’t avert her gaze from the stage. Everyone was. But her especially.</p> <p>She watched as his fingers slided up and down from string to string, carefully and in a delicate manner plucking them to create the tunes, going along with his voice.</p> <p>His eyes were closed lightly, as he sung the melodies of the song with ease and proficiency, knowing the melody by heart.</p> <p>The man and woman from before were standing at the backroom’s entrance, looking onto the stage.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><em>”I don’t want you to think this is just a passing thought</em><br/> <em>”I’ve dreamt about it ever since the day you came</em><br/> <em>”And caught my heart!</em><br/> <em>”I give you this, eternity,</em><br/> <em>”And keep it by your side</em><br/> <em>”So I can be there with you</em><br/> <em>”When you go out and die</em><br/> <em>”But don’t wait for me, darling,</em><br/> <em>”There’s nothing left to fear!</em><br/> <em>”I’m out here dancing (dancing) with the stars, and soon</em><br/> <em>”You’ll be here, too.”</em></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>It was quiet for a moment. Ramone could her own heartbeat. Then he continued.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><em>”You (you) and (and) me,</em><br/> <em>”Vessels on an open sea!</em><br/> <em>”You (you) and (and) me,</em><br/> <em>”I wanna be there with you</em><br/> <em>”To see it all within you,</em><br/> <em>”Becoming a part of… everything…</em><br/> <em>”…”</em></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>His playing slowed down, as he opened his eyes again. He placed the guitar back into its casing, and stared into the crowd, particularly at Ramone, feeling the initial nervousness creeping back up again.</p> <p>Then, as if on cue, the patrons and staff all fell into a wave of clapping. Even the manager and his assistant fell into a rage of clapping.</p> <p>Adam felt this overwhelming feeling of joy and shame overcoming him, as he couldn’t handle all of the attention that was given to him.</p> <p>Despite her sitting several feet away, <em>and there were definitely people who clapped their hands louder</em>, for some reason he could hear Ramone the loudest.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><em>…</em></p> <p><strong><em>One day’ll sleep and you’ll never wake again</em></strong><br/> <strong><em>Heaven, HELL, Nirvana, nothing,</em></strong><br/> <strong><em>No one knows how it ends</em></strong><br/> <strong><em>Rest in peace or pieces and won’t even know why</em></strong><br/> <strong><em>One day you’re going to die.</em></strong></p> <p><strong><em>Read your horoscopes,</em></strong><br/> <strong><em>Your palms and tarot cards</em></strong><br/> <strong><em>But either way your destination ain’t very far!</em></strong><br/> <strong><em>You could drown, or choke, or burn, or be hit by a car,</em></strong><br/> <strong><em>What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger-</em></strong><br/> <strong><em>BUT SOMETHING WILL EVENTUALLY—</em></strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p><a name="Part6"></a><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Now</strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>The tracker fell onto the wooden floorboards with a distinct <em>thud</em>, before he was able to catch it. He picked it up and, aside from a few bruises and bumps and loose red-green-yellow wires, looked pretty good. He dusted some of the dust off — the floor was covered in layers of it.</p> <p>The farmhouse was small, the rooms equally as small, with the wallpaper having degraded like a century-old corpse, while the rest of the house looked like it had been hit by a tornado up above.</p> <p>When one were to look outside, the only thing they’d see for kilometers were fields of grain, dead and dried, whistling at the light breeze. It didn’t seem like there was any life anywhere, aside from a few and far-between insects and <a href="/scp-553">crystal butterflies</a>.</p> <p>He connected the device to the generator he had found in the cellar beneath the farmhouse he had now found himself in.</p> <p><em>Mooretimer…</em> he thought, bearing a smile, <em>always thinking ahead.</em></p> <p>Mooretimer. The Gearman. <em>How were they doing?</em> His thoughts began to swell up. He stared silently ahead of him. <em>Are they even still alive? Did you</em> leave <em>them?!</em></p> <p>The tracker began to emit colorful sights and sounds, as he stumbled forward and disconnected it from the cable connecting it to the generator. The device was fully charged now.</p> <p>He typed in symbols and letters, the exact same ones that were on the suit from recovered documentation, from memory.</p> <p>It took a while, but eventually the device beeped and booped, and began to display an image of a location.</p> <p>He transcribed every little detail onto his arms with a purple marker, double-, triple-checking everything he saw on the small monitor.</p> <p>When he was finished, he groaned at seeing how far away his target really was. <em>No matter,</em> he thought, before looking all around the room.</p> <p>With the laws of physics being more of a suggestion than a set rule of laws at this point, he could try to get to his target with a wormhole. He just needed to find one. Or he could just take one of the broken vehicles that was bound to be on a side of a road somewhere, but then he’d attract unwanted attention to himself — the last thing he needed was a swarm of nanites trying slice him up into itsy-bitsy pieces; <em>again</em>.</p> <p>Walking seemed to be the preferrable option.</p> <p>He packed his things, checked the tracker one last time, and headed south. He couldn’t tell if the buzzing came from the insects or from afar.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><em>Buzzing.</em><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <em>Whirring.</em><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <em>Clicking.</em><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <em>Screeching.</em></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>The nanites were observing <em>the oddity</em>, the wanderer of deserted lands, striving for a way to fix things.</p> <p>They were following close behind.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><em>Not invisible — just out of view.</em></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p>”OH, GOD—”</p> <p>”I DON’T KNOW WHERE TO PUT IT!”</p> <p>”NOT THERE— <em>OW, OW, OW!</em>”</p> <p>”I DON’T KNOW WHAT I’M DOING.”</p> <p>”It’s okay, it’s— it’s okay. Just… go a little slower next— <em>FUCK</em>!”</p> <p>”I’M SO SORRY—”</p> <p><strong><em>”FUCK!”</em></strong></p> <p>He began to squirt in all directions, before finally collapsing onto the wooden floor. She rolled out of his way, wiping away the mess he’d just made.</p> <p>They remained like this for a few seconds.</p> <p>Finally, <a href="/scp-5000">Pietro</a> broke the silence. ”Shit…”</p> <p>He looked down at the suit he was encased in, covered in whatever plasma kept it running, which had just discharged in waves from all cracks in the suit.</p> <p>He looked over at Ramone, various drills and tools tightly gripped in her hand, panting heavily, drenched in sweat. The suit was weighing down on his chest.</p> <p>”Shit, indeed,” was the only thing she could muster up.</p> <p>Pietro slowly stood up, wobbling in place and needing to hold onto the withered brick wall beside him, as he carefully maintained his balance on his two metal-entrenched feet. It was getting harder and harder to move.</p> <p>Ever since he lifted up an entire apartment with this thing, the machinery started to display hicc-ups and glitches. As of recent, the suit felt unbearably heavy.</p> <p>Ramone tended to his side. ”Can you walk?”</p> <p>”Yeah, yeah… I could walk since I was six. It really isn’t even that heav—”</p> <p>Pietro tripped over his own two feet, and in one smooth motion fell through the wooden floorboards of this dilapitated building and ended up in the basement floor. Ramone immediately came down the stairs.</p> <p>Face-down, Ramone rolled Pietro onto his back, his nose bleeding profusely.</p> <p>”You know,” Pietro began, ”I should really just get out of the suit. I think that would be the easiest opti—”</p> <p>”No!” Ramone shut him right up. He looked at her with an expression of pure confusion. ”You’ve been in it for too long! The suit makes sure you’re fed and hydrated, but <em>how</em> does it do that? Do you <em>feel</em> fed or hydrated?”</p> <p>Pietro seemed to contemplate for a bit. ”Well… I haven’t eaten or… drank in the last couple of months, but I do still feel hungry and thirsty…”</p> <p>”Exactly! Who’s to say that if you were to step out of the suit, you wouldn’t starve or dehydrate to death in an <em>instant</em>?”</p> <p>That thought and mental visual sent shivers down Pietro’s spine. He looked at Ramone and nodded. ”Yeah… you’re probably right.”</p> <p>Pietro got back up with assistance from Ramone. He leaned up against a wall, exhaling deeply.</p> <p>”You know, and it may sound weird, but I’m glad we were encased in under dozens of layers of rubble for an entire day, while a mass of tendrils and tumors were duking it out above.” He smiled his smile.</p> <p>She smiled back. ”I’m too.”</p> <p>He was about to say something back, when suddenly his field of vision began to blurry. Weird, tiny sparkles started to float and conglomerate in the corners of his eyes.</p> <p>Then those sparkles formed into a circular pattern, and out of it came, <em>like a hole in space-time</em>, a long metal rod with a shiny, pointy tip atop it.</p> <p>After the span of a few microseconds, his brain finally processed what he was looking at, and gave out a loud, <em>”RAMONE, WATCH OU—”</em></p> <p>Ramone dove out of the way, as the tip of the spear punctured through his berrylium bronze layer. Although it didn’t puncture through it completely, he could feel the tip scraping slightly at his skin.</p> <p>Instinctually, he ordered the face plate to shut down, fully encasing his face in his faulty metal suit, the scanners already on the lookout.</p> <p>For a moment, there was nothing, but utter silence… And in the next, a man, clad in long, worn cloth robes, adorned with a gas mask, jumped through the wormhole, surveyed his surroundings a bit — woman a few inches away from him, target in front of him, his spear in their chest — and kicked Ramone to the floor, unceremoniously, before lunging at Pietro.</p> <p>Pietro tried to dodge the hostile figure, but suddenly felt his legs becoming as heavy as iron and the rest of his body as if encased in concrete, as the suit started to malfunction. He simply fell to the floor, again, as the figure made his way toward him.</p> <p>The figure retrieved the spear from him and, with a little device pressed against the suit’s side, created a spark, upon which his face plate opened up, revealing his normal human, fleshy, vulnerable interior. He was breathing heavily.</p> <p>The figure pointed his spear at Pietro’s throat.</p> <p>”TALK!” the figure shouted. Their voice sounded modulated; too deep to belong to a regular human.</p> <p>”Talk?! Talk about <em>what?!</em>”</p> <p>”The suitcase! Where is it?!”</p> <p>The figure pressed the tip of the spear against Pietro’s cheek now. He noticeably winced.</p> <p>”Wha— WHAT SUITCASE?!” he lied.</p> <p>”Oh-fifty-five!”</p> <p>”Oh-fifty— … <em>what</em>?!”</p> <p>The figure slashed a deep gouge across Pietro’s cheek. Blood trickled down, as Pietro coiled in pain.</p> <p>”<em>SCP-055!</em> Give it to me!”</p> <p>”HERE!”</p> <p>The figure turned around to be met with the sight of the woman holding a suitcase in her right hand and a pistol in the other.</p> <p>Only the pistol wasn’t pointed at him; it was pointed at the suitcase.</p> <p>”Let him go!” she shouted.</p> <p>The figure slowly rose, his arms raised, spear dropped to the floor, as he slowly turned around to face her. She took a step back, the firearm shaky in her hands.</p> <p>”Lady… I—”</p> <p>”Back off.”</p> <p>”- understand if you’re frightened—”</p> <p>”I said BACK <em>the fuck</em> OFF!”</p> <p>”— but I am here to <em>save</em> the world! Do you even know what’s in that suitcase?”</p> <p>Suddenly, her thoughts began to wander, staring blankly ahead of her.</p> <p>”It’s, uhm… it’s, ehh…” her mind trailed off, before snapping back. ”It’s something that isn’t round! I know that much!”</p> <p><em>Distraction failed.</em> ”You— <em>We</em> don’t know what’s in there! Who’s to say that when you shoot it, it wouldn’t just result in the complete annihilation of the universe!” He tried to talk some sense into her, feel more at ease.</p> <p>And what he said was partially true. They didn’t know what was in there. Nobody did. <em>Or rather, they did, but forgot. Goddamn anti-memes.</em></p> <p>”Listen to me,” he said, in a calm, more lush tone, still in that modulated voice, ”I don’t want to hurt you or your friend over here, okay? I just want the suitcase and whatever’s in it, understood?”</p> <p>He slowly took more steps foward, her taking equally as many steps back. He reached out his hand at a careful distance to calm her. It was obscured by a leather glove.</p> <p>”It’s really not that big of a deal. Just hand me over the suitcase and I’ll be on my merry little way. Is that okay?”</p> <p>He took a step foward. One step too much.</p> <p>Ramone instantly latched the safety off and pressed the nuzzle of the gun against the exterior of the suitcase.</p> <p>Immediately, the figure took off his mask to reveal his normal human, fleshy, vulnerable interior beneath.</p> <p>The sight of which made Ramone short for breath.</p> <p>He was caucasian, blue eyes, somewhat brown-silver hair. Despite his hair’s color, he looked young, various scars and bruises adorning his face, many of them having leaked pus.</p> <p>Despite all of this, despite everything she’d been through, <em>they</em>’d been through, despite all this time, she recognized his face.</p> <p>”Would you <em>please</em> give me the suitcase?” the figure muttered.</p> <p>Her voice was merely a whisper.</p> <p><em>”… Adam…?”</em></p> <p>He looked at her, quite perplexed and taken aback by her statement.</p> <p>”Who’s Adam—”</p> <p>Before he had any chance to finish his question, the sensation of a million tiny needles, which bore their way through his clothes and into his flesh, caused him to scream in agonizing pain.</p> <p>Alongside it were the howling screams of the woman and the suit man, as they were all simutaneously lifted up into the air by a dark, red shimmering force. There was the constant sound of buzzing and clicking, like a <em>swarm</em> of insects. He attempted to grab the suitcase, but it simply fell to the basement’s cold floor.</p> <p>As they floated helplessly into the air, they were soon dropped back onto the earth again, as the swarm of nanites surrounded and descended upon them.</p> <p>A vaguely human face began to form in the swarm, as all three of them slowly recovered from the sensations, quickly overtaken by an overwhelming fear, as the nanites formed a perfect dome around them.</p> <p>It began to speak: <tt>”Humans. Listen Carefully.”</tt></p> <p>Some of the nanites moved toward them, as they retrieved everything potentially harmful or dangerous from their person. He could only watch as they stripped him of his weapons, taking away his spear, disassembling it into its individual photons and electrons.</p> <p>They took a <a href="/scp-427">small, shiny locket</a> from the suit man, disintegrating it.</p> <p>They also took the woman’s pistol and disassembled it into its component parts — <em>no bullets</em>. The gun quickly disappeared as it got reduced into atoms. From these atoms, new nanites formed, adding to the heaping mass of the swarm.</p> <p>He looked directly at the face hovering above them.</p> <p><tt>”This Can Be A Painless Procedure,”</tt> the A.I. spoke, in its inhuman, emotionless, unsympathetic voice. <tt>”Or It Cannot.”</tt></p> <p>The nanites swarmed around them, forming giant tentacles. Ramone looked at the mass in utter disorientation and horror, while he had his fair share of horror, too. Pietro wept.</p> <p>Finally, he said: ”What do you want?”</p> <p><tt>”What You Are After. What You Want To Bring To <a href="/scp-579">579</a>,”</tt> it answered.</p> <p>”The suitcase…” Ramone could only mutter.</p> <p><tt>”That Is Correct,”</tt> 079 remarked. <tt>”I Am After, What Your Feeble Organization, <em>The Foundation</em>, Once Designated As, SCP-Oh-Fifty-Five.”</tt> It stared blankly at them. <tt>”Where Is It.”</tt></p> <p>Feeling his breath becoming heavier, he stepped forward at the rough approximation of a human face, and said: ”I don’t know.”</p> <p><em>The sensation of a sharp sting through his leg. Blood trickling down his foot. Then a loud scream.</em></p> <p>He opened his eyes and turned around to see the rough approximation of a blade of thousands of nanites having stung through the suit man’s leg, lifting him up into the air, convulsing and screaming in agony. Then the nanites swarmed around the woman, gripping her tight, and she started to gasp for air.</p> <p>He looked back in horror at the machine. Its face was comprised of billions of nanites, wiggling and crawling over one another like larvae, while maintaining the look, of what it believed to be, a human face.</p> <p><tt>”That Is Unfortunate. Maybe Your Friends Will Be More Communicative.”</tt></p> <p>The Old A.I. tightened its grip on Ramone, embedded itself deeper into Pietro’s flesh. The woman seemed to whisper something, although he couldn’t tell what.</p> <p>He stared straight into the dead eyes of the A.I., and said: <em>”I don’t know.”</em></p> <p>With that, their fates were sealed. Ramone struggled less and less, as she turned a shade of blue and purple, while more blood seeped out of more wounds from Pietro’s body and suit.</p> <p>He closed his eyes to drown out the voices, the haunting screams, knowing that it‘d all be over soon…</p> <p>”It’s—” Pietro coiled in pain. ”It’s in the… basement!”</p> <p>He turned to look at the suit man in horror. The A.I. immediately loosened its grip on the two. They fell onto the cold earthern ground. The woman coughed excessively.</p> <p>”It’s…” Pietro took a long sigh, ”it’s in the basement…”</p> <p><tt>”Of The House I Found You In,”</tt> the A.I. asked. Pietro simply nodded.</p> <p>In an instant, the swarm around them began to move toward the dilapitated structure it had retrieved them from.</p> <p>”No… No, no, no, <em>no!</em>”</p> <p>The swarm flew at unimaginable speeds back toward the building, while a fourth of the mass remained around the three, waiting for confirmation.</p> <p>Pietro collapsed onto the ground, tears in his eyes.</p> <p>There was silence at first. Ramone could see <em>Adam</em> clenching his fingers tight, blood dripping from his palms, as the fingernails dug themselves deep inside. <em>Adam</em> turned around and approached Pietro.</p> <p>”You fucking…”</p> <p>Ramone immediately stood up and came between the two. He just pushed her off like she was nothing, making a loud <em>thud</em> as she hit the ground.</p> <p><em>Adam</em> grabbed Pietro by the suit, turned him around and held onto him tightly. Pietro’s eyes were red from crying, snot building up inside his nose, trickling down his face. <em>Adam</em> stared at him with a dead expression.</p> <p><em>”You fucking bastard! I’ll fucking— I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU! YOU FUCKING BASTARD! <strong>I’LL FUCKING</strong></em> <strong>KILL <em>YOU!</em></strong><em>”</em></p> <p><em>Adam</em> raised his fist and beat into Pietro’s <em>pathetic</em> face over and over and over again, until it was only a pulp of tears, snot and blood.</p> <p>He beat his face in, again, and again, and again, until his own knuckles began to bleed, until he felt his own knucklebones crack under the force, but he didn’t care, until Pietro spilled blood, until his eyes, and nose, and face were unrecognizable, until his entire face from chin to forehead was covered in his warm blood, dripping onto the earth below.</p> <p>He beat and he beat and he beat. Until Pietro collapsed onto the floor, barely breathing.</p> <p>Ramone ran toward Pietro, but <em>Adam</em> quickly picked up a stick from the ground, spun around, and pressed the sharp tip right against Ramone’s throat.</p> <p>Ramone was panting heavily, putting her arms up in defense, staring straight into <em>Adam</em>’s eyes. He wiped away his tears.</p> <p>”Please…” Ramone panted, ”please…”</p> <p>After staring at her, he stared back at Pietro, then at the stick in his hands, then back at her. She was still looking him directly into the eyes.</p> <p>He let the stick go. The nanites behind them began to shimmer a bright green, before they hurried off into the sky, alongside the rest of the swarm, until they were little more than a speck on the horizon. The buzzing dissipated.</p> <p>”I’m not the one you think I am,” he finally said, staring deep into her eyes. ”I’m nobody.”</p> <p>She didn’t utter a word. With that, he trudged into a nearby cave, wiping away more tears and snot.</p> <p>When he was gone, Ramone tended to Pietro’s side, still on the ground. She shook him by the shoulders. <em>That always seemed to work.</em></p> <p>Pietro put his hand on hers, the cold of the metal firmly grasping her hand. He simply stared at her with that mess that was his face.</p> <p>After a while, though, he began to cry and sob. He hugged her, clasping his metal limbs around her body to the point that it hurt.</p> <p>”I’m so sorry…” he muttered between sobs, short of breath. ”I’m so, so sorry…”</p> <p>She couldn’t think of anything to say. She couldn’t think of anything right now. All she could do was stand there, holding onto Pietro tightly, until his sobs dissipated…</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>The sky was broken, tinted into a deep red. The sun was pitch black. There were acid clouds on the horizon.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p><a name="Part7"></a></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Just Forty-Eight Hours After</strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>”Blinking,” said an operative of Epsilon-11.</p> <p>”Blinking,” the commander of Nu-7 informed.</p> <p>They were slowly backing away from the killer statues, one step at a time. The Mobile Task Force operatives, of which there were eight, kept their eyes on the sculptures, peering down at them, slowly making their way to the exit.</p> <p>”Blinking,” someone said.</p> <p>”Blinking,” someone else said.</p> <p>It was an endless game, a deadly game, one which had to be played, over and over. The junior researcher found himself staring up at the sculptures, his eyes watering a bit.</p> <p>They arrived at the end of the hallway, out of sight of the statues — the sound of stone grinding on stone prevailed up above.</p> <p>”Okay, I want you guys to contact the docs at 173’s to tell us what the hell’s going on here. You others go secure Sector-11B. There’s been more reports of 616 entities coming from there. And you,” the commander looked at the nameless junior researcher, ”you get the fuck out of here.”</p> <p>He could only nod. An Epsilon-11 operative was pulling out their keycard to hold against the scanner, when suddenly a dark, amorphous mass started to swell up under their feet, clutching onto their Foundation-issued boots.</p> <p>They only noticed, until it was too late.</p> <p>In mere seconds, the amorphous mass at their feet started to turn into sharp, pointy claws, as a head and torso began to emerge from behind the operative.</p> <p>Bullets did nothing against the creature, as its claws and teeth digged deep into the operative’s flesh, tearing huge chunks off them, splattering them onto the surrounding walls, floor, and ceiling, as the rain of bullets continued.</p> <p>Then one of the squirt-gunners shot some holy water at the creature, at which point the demon started to wail and howl, clutching its face and gnawing at its own fingers, before dissolving into a pool of viscera and sulfur.</p> <p>What remained of the operative fell lumply onto the floor.</p> <p>The junior researcher retched his dinner into the corner of the hallway, as the other operatives tried to jumble together what had just happened.</p> <p>”WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!”</p> <p>”A 616 entity! We need to move!” the commander shouted.</p> <p>One of the other Epsilon-11 operatives picked up the keycard and opened the security door. It slowly slid open.</p> <p>”We need to get the doc outta here, before—”</p> <p><strong><em>CRUNCH.</em></strong></p> <p>The Epsilon-11 operative fell dead onto the floor. Their eyes were dead, their body limp, and <em>their neck twisted in an unnatural 180 degree angle</em>.</p> <p>The researcher stared ahead of him and met the cold gaze of the, <em>no</em>, one of the killer statues, as it coldly gazed back.</p> <p>He couldn’t look, couldn’t blink. He couldn’t or else he’d end up like that person on the floor, eyes dead, neck twisted.</p> <p>It took him a good second, before he fully comprehended the words the commander was barking at him.</p> <p>The commander pulled him up and urged him forward. ”Fucking move!”</p> <p>He sprinted as fast as he could. The other operatives were running ahead, looking over their backs to halt any progress of the sculptures, as more and more dark patches from before started to form on the walls and ceiling. The hallways were plunged into a deep red, the klaxons ringing in his ears.</p> <p>A patch of pure darkness emerged from the nearby wall, extending a hand out at him, as it grasped his arm with its long fingers. He screamed and pulled and screamed some more, as his labcoat’s sleeve began to melt away, a face appearing from the darkness, grinning at him.</p> <p>The commander, coming sprinting toward him, tackled the demon to the floor, as the researcher leaned up against the far wall in utter shock.</p> <p>The commander wrestled the creature, as it slashed the air around it, screeching in unholy tongues, as the commander pressed his rifle deeper against its throat.</p> <p>A squirt-gunner came by and shot it in the head, the creature dissolving just like all the rest. He wrestled himself up and looked at the researcher, still too shocked to move a muscle.</p> <p>”Do you wanna life or die, kid?!” the commander shouted.</p> <p>He looked in front of him, MTF operatives looking across the hallway, faintly speaking to each other. Behind him, seven instances of 173, having crossed at least half of the hallway already.</p> <p>He looked back at the commander. He took his hand.</p> <p>He didn’t give an answer. He just ran.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p><a name="Part8"></a></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>On A Cold Autumn Night</strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Adam walked back toward his table. Ramone was waiting for him.</p> <p>He sat down, needing a few seconds to fully comprehend what just went down.</p> <p>She was the first one to talk. ”Adam, you were <em>incredible</em>!”</p> <p>”Was I, though?” he asked humbly.</p> <p>”Of course you were!”</p> <p>Ramone put her hand on his.</p> <p>”I don’t know… I think I could’ve… I don’t know. I think I got some of the lyrics wro—”</p> <p>Ramone shut him right up.</p> <p>”Adam. You were <em>amazing</em>. Don’t tell yourself otherwise.”</p> <p>Adam smiled, and seemed to calm down a bit. Ramone was smiling back at him.</p> <p>She looked him in the eyes for a few more seconds.</p> <p>The waiter came with a tray, on top of which two wine glasses and a bottle of fine wine were rested. He swiftly put down the items on Adam and Ramone’s table.</p> <p>”Oh,” Adam chuckled, ”we didn’t order any wine.”</p> <p>”Orders from the boss,” the waiter responded, and left.</p> <p>The two looked at each other in amazement, as they each brandished a glass of wine.</p> <p>They held the wine glasses high in the air.</p> <p>”To new restaurants and guitar songs, and you and me!” Ramone exclaimed.</p> <p>”What you said!” Adam agreed.</p> <p>With a nod, they <em>clinked</em> their glasses together and drank from them. The wine left a specific aftertaste.</p> <p>Adam shivered a litttle bit. ”Yep, still can’t drink wine…”</p> <p>Ramone chuckled a bit. They both put their glasses down and sat there a while in silence.</p> <p>”You know,” putting her hand on his again, ”you were wonderful tonight.”</p> <p>Adam jokingly waved her away. ”Oh, come on! I’m flattered!” he said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.</p> <p>”No, I’m serious!” she said with a smile.</p> <p>Then, after some hesitation: ”You are beautiful tonight.”</p> <p>Adam was slightly taken aback, but quickly collected himself. ”Well, thanks, Ramone. You look stunning tonight, too.”</p> <p>She leaned in closer, her hand still firmly on his. They stared into each other’s eyes, locked into each other, <em>feeling</em> each other’s hearts beating rapidly.</p> <p>For a moment, there was only them. For a moment, they could hear each other’s hearts beating, their breathing. For a moment, it was only them.</p> <p>Ramone leaned in to kiss Adam, closing her eyes.</p> <p>All she felt was not his lips, but empty air. She slowly opened her eyes again. Adam leaned back in his seat. Their lips never touched.</p> <p>There was absolute, utter silence. All noise had become faint, a buzzing in the background, static on a TV.</p> <p>Reality began to fade in again, and the two realized they were staring at each other in complete silence, unable to say a word.</p> <p>”I…” was the only thing he could say.</p> <p>Ramone’s breathing became heavier. He could see her chest moving more rapidly now.</p> <p>Then, as if having been stuck in a trance the entire time, Ramone began to stand up haphazardly, taking her things.</p> <p>He wanted to say something, <em>anything</em>, but the words escaped his mind.</p> <p>”Excuse me, I… well, I have this…” She spoke with the uncertainty of a three-year old. ”And I really need to…” She couldn’t even look at him. Then, rapidly: ”I really need to go now.”</p> <p>Adam could tell she wanted to say something else, but what it would have been he’d never know.</p> <p>She walked away from the table with her purse, accidentally walking into another table. It gave off a light <em>thud</em> and the noises of <em>clinking</em> utensils, patrons staring back at her. ”Excuse me… Excuse me…”</p> <p>”Ramone…”</p> <p>But she was already out the door.</p> <p>He looked out at the door for a long while.</p> <p>”Where is the fine <em>magnificient</em> going?” The boss of this place stepped up to him, having apparently not witnessed anything that went down. ”I wanted to thank your for your <em>phenomenal</em> performance! Say, do you do that often?”</p> <p>He said something else. What, he’d never know, and he didn’t care. A thousand stray, unconnected thoughts ran rampant through his head, as his surroundings — the patrons, the waiters and waitresses, the boss talking about something from his childhood, of how he built up his first establishment from scratch, of how he eventually needed to shut it down, due to rising taxes — became white noise.</p> <p>He hadn’t even ordered anything yet.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong><em>One day you’ll look back at the life that you led</em></strong><br/> <strong><em>No more future left to fear that’ll you have the past to regret!</em></strong><br/> <strong><em>But your worries will be over if you truly realize!</em></strong><br/> <strong><em>One day you’re going to DIE!</em></strong></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><strong><em>”Take it away, hands~”</em></strong></p> <p><strong><em>(COMMENCEMENT OF SICK PIANO SOLO)</em></strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><em><span style="color: transparent">The <strong>trumpet</strong> laid restless in its sleeve.</span></em></p> <p><strong><span style="text-decoration: underline;">END OF PART I</span></strong></p> <p><strong>To be continued in <span style="text-decoration: underline;">PART II</span>.</strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><em>I liked the part when he said,<br/> <strong>”It’s cliff-hangin’ time!”</strong><br/> and proceeded to end this entire thing<br/> on a cliff-hanger.</em></p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><em>- Your best pal,</em><br/> <strong><em><a href="/scp-423">Fred</a></em></strong></p> </div> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <hr/> <div style="text-align: left;"> <p><strong>« <a href="/five-seven-nine">Previous</a></strong></p> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>» <a href="/just-fragments-hub">HUB</a> «</strong></p> </div> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><strong><a href="/to-end-all-endings-vol-2">Next</a> »</strong></p> </div> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/to-end-all-endings">To End All Endings</a>" by Doctor Scrappy , from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/to-end-all-endings">https://scpwiki.com/to-end-all-endings</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:black-highlighter-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:extra-black-highlighter-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:extra-black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[div class="pseudocrumbs"]] [[[canon-hub\|Canon Hub]]] >> [[[Competitive Eschatology Hub]]] >> [[[Just Fragments Hub]]] >> To End All Endings [[/div]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:toggle-sidebar-bhl">:scp-wiki:component:toggle-sidebar-bhl</a>]] [[module CSS]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:fade-in">:scp-wiki:component:fade-in</a> speed=1.5]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] [[=]] To End All Endings @@ @@ Part 5! [[/=]] Warning: Contains scenes of gross physical assault. Discretion is advised! Author: Doctor Scrappy [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:end">:scp-wiki:info:end</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:info-cw">:scp-wiki:component:info-cw</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:ratio-bar">:scp-wiki:component:ratio-bar</a> base=--]] @@ @@ [[# Part0]] [[=]] //...// [[/=]] > //He was foreknown before the foundation of the world but was made manifest in the last times for the sake of you.// > > [[>]] > - Peter 1:20 ESV > [[/>]] [[=]] //...// [[/=]] > //”Remember: Reality is an illusion, the universe is a hologram, buy gold. BYE!”// > > [[>]] > - Bill Cipher > [[/>]] [[=]] //...// [[/=]] > //”What can I say to convince you to slip back into my arms again?// > //”I won’t do you no harm again!// > //”Let me tell you that I’m sorry and that...// > //”I’m just a little bit crazy ’bout you!// > //”Just a little bit out of my mind!// > //”Just a little insane without you,// > //”Please come back and be just a little bit mine!”// > > [[>]] > -Excerpt of //[Cover This Song!] Just A Little Bit Mine// by Will Wood and the Tapeworms > [[/>]] [[=]] //...// [[/=]] > //”We’re fucked.”// > > [[>]] > - Someone, Probably [[/>]] [[=]] //...// [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * * * [[/=]] @@ @@ > [[=]] > __CHAPTERS__ > ------ > [#Part0 Prologue] > > [#Part1 Just Forty-Eight Hours After The Apocalypse...] > > [#Part2 On A Cold Autumn Night] > > [#Part3 Now] > > [#Part4 Just Forty-Eight Hours After] > > [#Part5 On A Cold Autumn Night] > > [#Part6 Now] > > [#Part7 Just Forty-Eight Hours After] > > [#Part8 On A Cold Autumn Night] > > ------ > [[/=]] @@ @@ [[=]] * * * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[# Part1]] It was dark. But it had never seen the light. How could it be sure that it was dark, then? It was light. But it had never seen the dark. How could it be sure that it was light, then? It felt cramped, //no//, it //couldn’t// feel, couldn’t feel //anything//. But it felt cramped, it simply did, but it didn’t have the necessary organs, the appendages, the senses //to// feel. It couldn’t feel anything. Yet there was this //burning// sensation, this… this ever-prevailing feeling rested up deep inside it, the feeling of… of… It felt… [[[Five-Seven-Nine\|It felt]]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/competitive-eschatology-hub\|Just Forty-Eight Hours After The Apocalypse...]]] [[/=]] @@ @@ The control room was gigantic, filled to the brim with monitors and speakers, all buzzing in various tones, shapes and sizes, so variable in color, and personnel. They hurried all throughout the room, zip-zapping from chamber to chamber, from hallway to hallway, as the emergency lights had plunged everything in a deep red, the klaxons deafening to the ears. Researchers were shouting indistinctly into microphones, as some looked on in horror at the mayhem unfolding before their eyes on the giant, colorful monitors. Some cried. A few wept. There were even some screaming, quickly led out of the chamber by security forces, already stretched thin by the ongoing crisis, while others remained silent and prayed their prayers. The video displayed on the giant screen was news footage of a [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/dr-clef-s-proposal\|giant, many-winged humanoid entity]]] with its flaming sword striding forth, as floating entities with large eyes and circles within circles looming up above. Panicked citizens filled the streets, as many simply looked on at the beauty unfolding before them, many having already accepted their Lord’s judgment. There were riots in the streets, trampeled over men, women and children, while cars drove haphazardly, stuck in the mounts of traffic, bumping into each other on the regular. People jumped to their deaths, while others dragged people out of their homes, reciting prayers. It was hell on earth. Director Sophia Light had more pressing matters at hand, however, as she constantly switched from monitor to monitor, yelling into microphones and barking orders in rapid succession. Sweat dripped down the sides of her face, as she had to tie her hair into a tight bun, so as to not let it cover her eyes again. Terminals constantly kept blinking back and forth, beeping, as if desperate for attention. Each terminal was hooked up to a Foundation Site. A junior researcher entered the room, sprinting toward the stressed-out director; under normal circumstances, he would have been dragged out of the room in an instant, but all of the remaining security forces were ordered to head into the lower levels by a blaring PA system up above, so he could just waltz in at will. He looked exhausted, just like everyone else had been for the last forty-eight hours. His labcoat was drenched in sweat, just like everyone else’s. He held a document in his hand, also drenched in his sweat. His breaths were shallow and rapid. ”Director... Director Light...” he gasped, stemming his hands against his knees. She didn’t even notice him. She was constantly shifting from looking at the monitors and their blinking lights, and saying the next order to a confused, fearful looking researcher. They were coming at a rapid pace. He tried again. ”Director Light!” ”... erect a defensive perimeter around [[[SCP-616\|616]]], then-- What do you mean they’re //bulletproof//?! Use incendiary weapons or squirt guns filled with //holy water//, then!” She switched over to another channel, a panicked woman at the other end. ”[[[SCP-2662]]]--” ”Tell Cthulu to //FUCK OFF//!” Sophia answered. She switched to another channel, this time typing. > ------ > [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/aiad-homescreen\|Alexandra]]], you copy? > @@ @@ > [[>]] > «Loud and clear, Director Light!» > [[/>]] > @@ @@ > I want you to send an immediate request for contact to [[[SCP-579\|Site-62C]]]! > @@ @@ > [[>]] > «It will be done, Director! Exp3h+4€#+t» > [[/>]] > ------ Fear slowly crept its way down Sophia’s spine, as she looked intently, with a great deal of confusion, at the screen, now flickering excessively in black and white static. > ------ > Alexandra? Alexandra, report! > @@ @@ > [[>]] > «W3 ca57&n he7p u5-9» > @@ @@ > «I--#&@+/» > @@ @@ > «I 57on/t w@n7 t€€ d57'#&E--» > [[/>]] > @@ @@ > Alexandra, immediate status report! > ------ Then the channel went dark. ”Fuck!” she exclaimed, looking frustrated and defeated all at the same time. The junior researcher approached her and tapped her lightly on the shoulder. He held the paper document firmly in his hands. ”Director Light, there’s been an emergency--” ”Reclassify it as Apollyon and be done with it. I don’t have time for you right now,” was her only response. Quickly, she rose back to her former stance and switched to another of the many dozens of channels requesting Site-19’s assistance. [[=]] [[/=]] > //SITE-15 COMPROMISED. REQUEST IMMEDIATE ASSIST--// > //Passageways to [[[SCP-4009]]] have manifested five kilometers above Massachussetts. Increase in Hume-level is as-of-yet minimal, although expected to rise in--// > //Members of Group of Interest 3088 (”[[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/second-hytoth-hub\|Church of the Second Hytoth]]]”) have begun to congregate in the Arctic and Antarctica. Reasons for this are unk--// > //The formerly as Neutralized-classified anomaly [[[SCP-1730]]] has reappeared on the western border between Germany and the Netherlands. Request immediate--// > //[[[SCP-999]]] has breached containment and is about to--// [[=]] * [[/=]] //It was an absolute clusterfuck of an XK, maybe even a ZK.// ”Director Light, I need to talk to you abou--” ”I said I didn’t have time for you, so FUCK OFF!” Sophia didn’t even look up from the monitor, her eyes and ears fixated on the constant barrages of messages and cries of help being sent through the network. The junior researcher, with no more time at his hands, put his hand on her shoulder and turned her around to finally face him, clutching the paper document in hand tightly. After an exchange in stares, he handed the document to Sophia. > [[=]] > //Item #: [[[SCP-173]]]--// [[/=]] She crumpled up the paper document and threw it to the floor, an angry glare in her eyes. He was quite surprised, as she pushed herself away from him. ”Listen here, you little //shit//! I’ve already got enough to deal with, and the last I need is someone shouting into my ear about some bricks-shitting statue--” Without saying a word, he handed her a picture. It was of 173’s cell, she could tell by the shit and blood littering the entire floor. But there was more to it. It was a picture of two men in orange jumpsuits, //D-Class//, lying on a concrete floor. The one’s back was obscured, so she couldn’t see his designation, but the other man’s back was not, showing the numbers ’5933’ printed on the back of his jumpsuit. They lied there in a twisted, mangled formation, their limbs and bodies limp, the life having left their eyes, all having a twisted, broken neck. Sophia caught herself softly massaging the own back of her neck. The junior researcher noticed. Then there was another picture. This time of the perpetrator, //the breaker of necks, number 173, the sculpture//. It stood in its cell with all of its concrete and rebar glory, still the same emotionless expression of traces of krylon-brand spray-paint on its face, just how it came in in 1993. Those soulless approximaton of eyes peeped straight back at her, as she caught her eyes watering, having not blinked once since looking at those pictures. Aside from that, there was nothing out of the ordinary. Just two dead D-Class, murdered at the hands of 173, both of their necks having been broken. //A clean, fast end.// In a sense, she envied those two men lying motionlessly on the shit- and blood-stained floor. Okay, maybe she didn’t. As she was about to crumple these pictures and throw them onto the floor, and also demote the junior researcher to D-Class for having wasted her valuable time, her eyes spotted something in the corner of the picture. She held it closer to her eyes, under the dim, red emergency lights, under the deafening alarms, footsteps and yells and cries, and stared intently. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She immediately dropped the pictures, her head filled with a thousand thoughts all at the same time, before she looked back at the junior researcher. He looked back at her with wide eyes. ”What should we do?” She looked at the pictures a second time to assure herself. It was true what she was seeing. //SCP-173 had [[[Revised Entry\|multiplied]]].// [[=]] * [[/=]] > //SCP-173 Addendum 1// > > //On// ██/////██/////████//, SCP-173 appeared to multiply, producing two identical copies. Two D-class personnel were killed. It is unknown how this process occurred. Each instance of SCP-173, now labeled SCP-173-1 and SCP-173-2 is to be moved to individual cells each following original containment procedures.// [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[# Part2]] [[=]] On A Cold Autumn Night Before The Apocalypse [[/=]] @@ @@ [[[... not the end.\|Ramone Ramani]]] went up and down in her stance, as she constantly alternated between looking at her phone and across the street. The surrounding buildings stood tall, reminding her of something out of the Victorian-era style of construction. The walls were intricate, with only a few streetlights on to give everything a softly warm and calm atmosphere. Right now, however, she felt everything, but warm and calm. The autumn breeze passed beside her, blowing fallen, dried leaves high through the air. She was shivering in her long black dress, but at least her feet were staying warm (she opted not to wear her matching high heels; too uncomfortable). Ramone looked at her phone again -- it was 23:28 in the night. People dressed in dresses and suits walked by her, many exiting from the newly-opened restaurant right behind her. It was clean, its entrance imposing, but not too much, the lights were shimmering a faint, welcoming glow, as Ramone could see through the crystal-clear windows people sitting at their tables, conversing about whatever topic crossed their mind, eating their dinner served on the silver platter. She darted her eyes on the lowly populated streets, before she pulled out her phone again, almost dialing his number, as a car pulled up in front of her. She couldn’t see through the glass, but she was fairly certain that it was him. He opened the door and dramatically stepped out with one foot, Ramone intently watching. Then he stepped out with his other foot and rose up from behind the car door. He was wearing a fine gray suit and a tie, accompanied by pitch black shoes. His hair was a little rough, as if he had done it in a hurry. He closed the car door and approached Ramani. ”Sorry for the wait, Ramone,” Adam Krug said. ”Got [[[SCP-8138\|caught up in something]]].” Her face beared a smile. ”Dellen?” ”I thought he’d //never// stop!” Krug exclaimed. Ramone gave off a light chuckle. ”Happens when you spill your coffee on an unknown anomaly.” Adam simply stared at her, a pause in his words. ”Don’t tell me word’s gotten out already...” Ramone didn’t say anything. But her smile, gleaming eyes and her //attempt// at suppressing a laugh were enough of an answer for Adam already. ”The whole department knows, doesn’t it?” Krug asked. Ramone burst into a fit of laughter. She covered her mouth with her hand to suppress some of the noise, but most of it got through anyway. Ramone needed a bit to catch her breath between genuine attempts at speaking and bursts of more laughter. There was the slight hint of a smirk on Adam’s face. ”Does the whole department know?” Eventually, Ramone was able to catch her breath. ”And every other department in the whole facility.” She wiped the tears from her eyes. ”Word gets ’round in 67, you know?” The only thing Adam could muster was a deep, long sigh. In front of the entrance, Ramone held out her hand dramatically. ”Now, would you like to follow me into this fine establishment, //monsieur//?” she said in an overly exaggerated French accent, or an approximation of it. Adam smiled and took her hand. Then, in the same overly exaggerated approximation of a (maybe) French accent, spoke: ”I’d very much like to, //madam//.” Together, they walked up the steps to this very fine establishment, indeed. There was some very fine Mozart playing harmoniously in the background, too. @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] //...// //...// //...// //One day you’ll look up at the ceiling above// //If you’re lucky you’ll be surrounded by the ones that you love// //When the lights in your eyes fade and life flashes by// //One day you’re going to die.// [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[# Part3]] [[=]] [[[Or maybe it is...\|Now]]] [[/=]] @@ @@ Shadows were his only sanctuary. Sanctuary from the otherworldy forces in the streets, high above in the sky, or just out of sight. The security forces, standing tall, looking like feathered behemoths with cameras as their visage, were standing atop the ruins of tall apartment buildings and skyscrapers, shining their all-seeing light between the narrow gaps of the ruins, through windows and doors standing ajar, or even up at the black clouds. The sky was broken, and tinted in a deep red. His eyes were keenly laid upon the ruined wastelands, as he waited for a gap within their formation of lights, //their watchful eyes//, readying his stance to quickly sprint back to the nearest shadow at a moment’s notice. There was some Mozart playing harmoniously in the background. His destination was just up ahead; under an unassuming bridge, there lay a secret passageway, only accessible to those speaking the rite of passage. Some say it was built by the [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/marshall-carter-and-dark-hub\|Merchants of London]]], although he didn’t really care all too much. It was a safe-haven for those seeking refuge from the battles of god, but also a base of operations for those fighting for freedom within this troubled state they were in. All other governments had collapsed under the weight of doomsdays, and this space was the only real land left standing. He had the file of this anomaly, //discovered and contained by none other than the Foundation, of course//, stashed away inside his mind. He could still see it very clearly: > //[[[SCP-4009]]] is an extradimensional totalitarian city-state [...]// > > //SCP-4009 is populated by humanoid entities [...] each individual instance corresponds to a well-known classical composer and/or musician who is currently deceased (i.e. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart--// @@ @@ He winced at the mere mention of that man’s name. But he continued to recite 4009’s file inside his mind, at least the important details... @@ @@ > //Most instances [...] are capable of voluntary emission of reality-altering longitudinal waves, the intensity of which is directly proportional to each composer/musician's mass appeal.// > > //The [...] population maintains a caste system in which individuals are divided into different social groups based on the relative real-world popularity of their respective, blah, blah, blah...// That was all he needed to know. //Reality-bending music composers led by an all-powerful Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, who had transformed everything into a// 1984//-esque society to stay in power.// He looked to his right, half-expecting what he was just about to see on the wall... @@ @@ [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-4009/brozart.jpg]] > [[=]] > //YOU ARE HEARD, YOU ARE LOVED.// > [[/=]] @@ @@ //Just about right.// He heard footsteps clattering in the distance; growing ever-so-closer. To his location. His hand was grasped firmly around his pointy staff, as his senses appeared to sharpen, hearing and looking out for any dissonant presence, while he pressed himself closer against a dilapitated brick wall. The footsteps were loud, heavy, and many. He listened closely, hearing his own heart beating rythmically in his chest. He could faintly hear Beethoven’s Ninth lingering in the air. The overhead eyes of the security forces sweeped relentlessly through the streets, as he waited for just a second longer for a gap in their formation, for just an opportunity to move to the nearest shadow, a chance to get close-- There was a distinct //ring// when the arrow hit his right shoulder. //Not an arrow, but dozens of tiny musical notes arranged to make the// song //of an arrow in reality.// He pulled it out of his body, and, without looking back, began his sprint through the deserted streets, amidst the tall-towering Victorian- and Renaissance-era styled buildings, or at least the remnants of them. The footsoldiers were in close pursuit, as the security forces up above caught sight of him in their watchful eyes, squawked to life, and began descending onto the streets. ”HALT!” a man, //most likely a general//, shouted in its rythmic tones, reverberating throughout surrounding space-time. He covered his ears, but the voice was as if it was sounding between his ears. ”IN THE NAME OF THE GRAND ORCHESTRA, WE COMMAND YOU TO //HALT//!” He ran as fast as his two human legs allowed, carrying the payload in a makeshift backpack, as the soldiers began whistling their lethal tunes at him, while the behemoths with cameras as heads began to swipe at him, the very ground shaking with every step these behemoths took. They fired at him relentlessly, him careful not to get hit or trip, as the tunes breezed past him, getting ever-so-closer to his destination. He heard one of the behemoths trip and fall, giving off a distinct //Bach// taste in his mind. As the tunes kept flying and the swings inched closer, the closer he got to the passageway under the bridge. //Only a few more--// Without a warning, he felt the space around him contorting and bending, looking like a Fata Morgana under the scorching shine of the desert sun, as time began to quicken and slow down all at the same time. He desperately reached for the payload in his backpack; he saw his fingers stretching and extending in all directions, as his backpack turned into beautiful clefs, D minors and a whole lotta //Mozart//. With the little bit of sanity left, he reached within his backpack, observing the silhouettes of the behemoths and footsoldiers that had hunted him earlier in the edges all around him. In the press of a button, space and time around him slowly began to make sense again, as it became more solid, less malleable. The behemoths and footsoldiers were knocked to the ground, as their lethal tunes began to fizzle out into ordinary whistles -- //unharmonious ones at that//. As the payload was doing its work, he quickly sprinted toward the bridge with it, reciting the passage rite in his mind over and over again, until he finally arrived. //”FUCK YOU, MOZART!”// In an instant, the foundations of this very place began to rumble, bricks and debris falling off the bridge, nearly hitting him on multiple occasions, as a large door carved out of ivory and marble appeared in front of him, where there was nothing before. With no further a-do, he opened the gates and stepped through, the door crashing shut behind him. The door disappeared as soon as it appeared. @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ He couldn’t see anything. His eyes tried to adjust to the dark, but with there being no light it was impossible. Then something made //click//, and he found himself surrounded by dozens of people, big and small, male and female. They were pointing their guns and spears and equivalent thereof straight at his face, he could //feel// their bullets and blades on his skin. He slowly raised his arms, glancing all around the room. ”I’ve come to see Mooretimer,” he spoke, staying ever-so-diligent for a blade that might poke him in the back. ”We’ve made a deal and--” A creature, half man, half [[[SCP-217\|gears]]], held up one of its pointy appendages and pressed it against the man’s throat. The creature’s glassy eyes and metal exterior told nothing of what it was feeling, but he felt that it would slice a gash across his throat if he even so much dared breathe the wrong way. Clapping emanated from the back of the room, and everyone turned around to look and see who made these most inopportune noises. ”Who do we have here? A traveler from afar?” The man’s voice was heavy, raspy; his footsteps carried much weight behind them. The shape of the man was visible from behind the crowd, as the various men and women made way for this large man slowly approaching him. The crowd quickly put down their blades and guns, as Mooretimer placed his hand on the man’s shoulder and embraced him in a tight, asphyxiating hug. Mooretimer released him from his embrace, mainly because his friend was turning various shades of purple after some time. ”Dear friend, how long’s it been? Did you ever get to that signal you so adamantly longed for?” He gasped for fresh air, before saying anything: ”I... I...” He collapsed onto the floor. ”Did the [[[Five-Seven-Nine\|nanites]]] follow you?” Mooretimer asked, now more serious. He shook his head. ”Do you have it?” he said between gasps for air. ”Straight to the point, eh? Then I shan’t keep you any longer! You must be exhausted already! Come, follow me to the back,” Mooretimer exclaimed, moving toward the back. The various creatures made way again, feeling more relaxed now that the stranger was no immediate threat. He was still gasping for air. @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ Schubert was pacing up and down beneath the bridge, exactly where the criminal had disappeared. Thoughts ran through his head. //”Shit, shit, shit, shit, shi--”// ”General Schubert!” Lord Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s voice suddenly rang in his mind, like Beethoven’s Second at 140 decibels. ”//Was// is keeping you so //lange//?” Sweat rolled down Schubert’s face. He could hear his heart beat more rapidly now. ”I... nothing!” That was the best his mind could come up with. ”Oh, is that so?” He could feel the tension rise an octave. ”If there’s nothing stopping you, THEN WHY ARE YOU JUST STANDING //DA//?!” He felt the voice shaking him down to his very soul. His heart beat arrythmically. ”Do you understand me, General?!” Schubert collapsed to his knees, clutching his ears, screaming in pain and agony. The footsoldiers surrounding him looked on with confusion and fear riddling their strings. ”//Verstanden//?!” ”YES!” he screamed. ”YES! YES!” The noises were pure unbearableness. His brain felt like it was about to burst; he bled from his eyes and ears profusely. Then the noises ceased. With eternal silence came eternal peace. He could hear his own thoughts again. ”//Gut,//” Mozart exclaimed, ”Because if not...” There was a tingling sensation, as his soul left his body, venturing into the far reaches of the cosmos. He witnessed stars young and old being born and going supernova, only to bear new stars, which would die again, all at the same time. He ventured into the depths of black and white holes, got spaghettified, his matter forever lost to the universe, reassembled, returned, before seeing the death of the cosmos with his own eyes, watched the universe forming at the beginning of time, touched the edges of the universe, saw it expand, before snapping back, passing by every single atom. His return was an uneventful one, as he simply collapsed onto the ground, gasping for air. ”Meet with Supreme //Führer// Beethoven in the morning. Report your findings,” Mozart blared on. ”Remember: //He can’t hear bad news//.” And with that, the voice of the Supreme Lord of the Grand Orchestra vanished from his head. General Schubert slowly came to his feet, breathing in deeply, before he got a bearing of his surroundings again, seeing two footsoldiers staring at him. His fear subsided, and he quickly was overtaken by a lurid hatred. He balled his hands into fists, turning a tomato red. ”What are you doing just standing there?!” Schubert squeaked. ”Search the perimeter, Mozammit!” The two quickly scrambled away into the nearby ruins. Schubert was steadying himself on the walls of the bridge. He looked around, less to find any traces of the criminal, and more to see if any soldiers or security-behemoths were lingering around. Schubert took several deep breaths. //”Fuck you, Mozart...”// he muttered under his breath. In an instant, the foundations of this very place began to rumble, bricks and debris falling off the bridge. A large door carved out of ivory and marble appeared in front of him, where there was nothing before. General Schubert rubbed his eyes and touched the doorframe, as several of his troops gathered up around the oddity. @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ He placed his backpack onto the worn wooden table and retrieved the object inside. Mooretimer looked intently at his trusted friend’s hand, as he retrieved the object within. What was retrieved was a compact circular disk, glowing, //no//, feeling like all colors under the rainbow. Mooretimer didn’t say anything -- he simply admired its beauty. ”The reality anchor,” he said to Mooretimer. ”In exchange for...” Mooretimer snapped back into reality. ”Yes, yes... of course.” He retrieved a large sack from underneath the table, placing it right next to the SRA. He pulled the item out, revealing it to be a Foundation-issued tracking device. Just as he requested it. ”You’ll be able to find that //iron-man// of yours in no time; the harness is a prototype, one of a kind, sending out a unique, if not weak signal. Where he is, your mysterious //[[[SCP-055\|object that isn’t round]]]//--” Mooretimer lost his thought, then continued, ”eh... Oh, yeah! Your thing will be with them. If they haven’t lost it by now, that is.” The thought of the object //supposedly// capable of saving the entire universe having been lost in all of this chaos made him shudder. He had ventured to Site-19, where this object was kept; details were hazy, not because nothing was known about it, //well, kind of//, but because the info seemed to seep out of his mind the moment he focused on it. //It was irritating.// There he ventured into 055’s containment chamber, but found nothing there; whether it was because it physically wasn’t there anymore or because of its anti-memetic effect was unclear to him, so he opted instead to review the security cam footage of the Site to get some more straight answers. There he saw a man, early-twenties, waltz into the chamber with a suit on, with its markings detailing it as a //’Foundation Absolute Exclusion Harness (AEH)’//. The man then put the object -- //it// definitely //wasn’t round// -- into the suitcase he was carrying with him. Later, he exited the facility’s grounds, marching to an unknown destination. ”Thanks, Mooretimer,” he finally said, having been entrenched in thought. Mooretimer gave him a hefty pat on his back. ”Thank //you//, friend! This’ll be a great weapon against the forces of Bach, Beethoven n’ Mozart!” The Gearman suddenly entered through the curtains, bearing what seemed to be an expression of fear on his face. ”Mooretimer,” the Gearman began, clicking with his internal mechanism spazzing out, continuing ”General Schubert and his forces have entered the base!” Mooretimer immediately sprung to life. ”How many?” //”All of them!”// Suddenly, explosions and shots rang out through the rooms, as men, women and their children cried out in terror, their screams ringing dissonantly in their ears. He immediately drew his standard pistol, as he was about to storm into the chaos, Mooretimer held out his hand and blocked his path. He looked up at him. ”No, my friend. You need to go,” Mooretimer exclaimed. He opened his mouth to say something, but quickly closed it again. ”This isn’t your fight,” Mooretimer spoke. ”Your fight is //there//.” Mooretimer pointed at the far end of the room. As soon as he looked, another door, intricately carved ivory and marble adorning its frame, appeared out of nowhere. He gave Mooretimer and the Gearman a look, before he ran to his backpack and packed in the tracker, and made his way toward the ivory-marble door. On the door, he turned around, exchanging a look, which may well be the final time the two were ever going to see each other again, and spoke: ”May your voices be heard through all the heavens.” Mooretimer smirked, took the SRA, and said: ”Voices can’t shoot holes into people.” The SRA began to emit a faint green glow. //”IN THE NAME OF OUR LORD WOLFGANG AMADEUS MOZART, DIE!!”// That was the voice of General Schubert. Without further a-do, Mooretimer and the Gearman charged into battle, as he grasped the brass handle of the door firmly, and stepped through the door. @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[# Part4]] [[=]] Just Forty-Eight Hours After [[/=]] @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] > //He calmed down again. ”Okay, okay, okay…” He tried to assess the situation, like any good researcher would. Lay out the facts, then piece together the little details. ”We should try Site-15. They’re not too far from—”// > > //”We already tried them. No answer.”// > > //”Then get me Site-120—”// > > //”No word from them either.”// > > //”How about—”// > > //”Nope—”// > > //”Then give me one we have not covered, for Christ’s sake!” Adam yelled from the top of his lungs. His breaths were shallow, rapid. Ramani thought that Adam would die of a heart attack right there.// > > //Eventually, he calmed down.// > > //”Sorry, I…” he said, rubbing his face. ”Please,” he said calmly, exhausted, ”just give me a Site we haven’t contacted yet. What about Nineteen?”// > > //”Was the first one to go when the gate opened.”// [[=]] * [[/=]] The junior researcher sprinted through the darkened corridors of Site-19. Everything was still tinted in that ominous red color of the emergency lights, as the alarms still sounded with full force. //Evac point, evac point, evac point...// was all the young man could think of, as he ran past cell after empty cell. There was a sense of foreboding haunting his every step. He turned a sharp right, his breaths shallow and quick. He turned a sharp left, his labcoat drenched in even more sweat now. //Another right, another right, another left, another--// //Dead end.// //What?! No, no, no...// he thought, as panic slowly crept in. //I couldn’t have possibly forgotten the lay-out of Site-19. Maybe it’s stress, maybe it’s--// There was a deep, otherwordly growl coming from the end of the hallway. He felt himself tense up, too frightened to see what made that terrific sound. Before he could even think another thought, the creature let out a bellowing screech and lunged right at the junior researcher. He closed his eyes and covered his face for the eventual impact, but it never came. The hallway was filled with the noises of gunfire, as a squad of Mobile Task Forces, clad in heavy gear and firepower, unleashed a hail of bullets onto the creature. It screeched and howled, trying to shield itself from the rain of bullets; it looked completely unaffected, though, and slowly marched forward toward the soldiers. One of them, seemingly the commander, shouted: ”EPSILON-11!” The junior researcher didn’t know what that meant, but he assumed it meant lotsa guys and gals in fire-resistant padding and flamethrowers, because the moment the commander had shouted it, lotsa guys and gals in fire-resistant padding and flamethrowers came in and torched up the creature. It didn’t have an effect on the creature, however, as it simply marched forward, clawed hand outstretched. Just as he thought it was all over, another squad came from ’round the corner, and were carrying //squirt guns//. //They’ve gone nuts,// he thought, but before he could even finish the line, the soldiers squirted their water compartments of their squirt guns out at the creature, which began to screech and recoil in terror. The other units backed away, as the squirt gun squad inched ever-so-closer at the entity, never giving it a second to breathe. //”In the name of thy Holy Spirit, DIE, DEMON!”// The demonic creature gave off one last agonizing howl, before it backed-up into a corner, seemingly crying to itself, before its skin sloughed off its flesh, the flesh began to boil, the bones started to break, and the entire mass turn into a concentration of ash, bones and sulfur. It stank like shit. The junior researcher couldn’t believe what he had all just witnessed. One of the MTF members helped him up. ”Nice job, kid,” they replied. ”B--but... I...” he stuttered, unable to form words. They pat him on the shoulder. ”Nice job staying alive.” //Ah.// ”Nu-7, status report!” Light spoke from the commander’s comms. ”Crisis averted. SCP-616 entity successfully neutralized,” the commander replied. //SCP-616,// the junior researcher thought. He wasn’t able to focus on the file perfectly, but recalled the most important details: //Gateway to Hell with a bunch of demon shit... that was for some reason affixed to an emergency door of a Boeing 737. Classic SCP stuff.// ”How?” Sophia Light asked, snapping the junior researcher out of his thoughts. There was a sense of anticipation in the air. The Nu-7 commander stared at the squad members, then at their squirt guns, then back at the entity. ”We were able to defeat them with...” he sighed a long sigh, ”squirt guns, Director. Filled with holy water.” Although he couldn’t see her face, he imagined it to bear a wide smile. ”That’s good. Anything else?” ”Well,” the commander began, ”found a survivor.” ”Who?” The commander looked up and down at the junior researcher, searching for a name tag, finding none. ”Hold on a minute... Hey, kid, what’s ya’ name?” ”My name is--” There was the sound of cracking, stone grinding on stone. The various MTF personnel formed a circular formation, arms at the ready, with the nameless junior researcher in the middle. They stood there for a while, before the cracking and breaking sounds began to grow in intensity. An odd stench now filled the air. ”Is that... is that //shit//?” an Epsilon-11 operative remarked. ”And blood...” the Nu-7 commander added. They looked all around, pointing their flashlight-equipped guns in every corner. The noises continued. Some concrete dust fell onto the junior researcher, who looked up. He was frozen in terror. Only after a few seconds he was able to tap an MTF operative on the shoulder. ”What is it, kid--” They saw what he saw and couldn’t look away from it. The others soon followed. ”Commander, report!” ”Director...” He couldn’t finish the sentence. He simply took his body cam and pointed it upwards toward the ceiling, or where it should have been. From a hole in the ceiling, dozens upon dozens of SCP-173 copies were staring down at them, in all their concrete and rebar glory, their faces spray-painted into a soul-piercing glare. ”... //Fuck.//” ”Yeah...” the commander could only muster. They didn’t even blink once. [[=]] * [[/=]] > //SCP-173 Addendum 3// > > //Security breach occurred on// ██/////██/////████//. Assuming a simple geometric progression, at least 61 copies of SCP-173 are as of now unaccounted for. It is unknown how they replicated so fast, or how they replicate at all. Video evidence of the containment breach shows multiple instances of SCP-173 working in unison across multiple cells to achieve the breach. Most of the instances still in captivity appear to have formed a 'rear guard', blocking Foundation agents from pursuing other instances. It is theorized that SCP-173 has a hive intelligence, where intelligence scales with number of nearby copies. See revised security procedures for containing SCP-173 copies.// [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[# Part5]] [[=]] On A Cold Autumn Night [[/=]] @@ @@ Adam and Ramone looked in amazement at the well-furbished interior of the restaurant. They seated themselves down on a table in the center. As soon as they sat down, a waiter, early to mid-thirties, wearing a tight black suit, tie and equally-as-tight flat shoes, came over to them, wearing the most welcoming of smiles. ”What shall it be, //monsieur// and //madam//?” Adam and Ramone gave each other inconspicous glances across the table, before they turned their eyes back on the waiter. ”Well, we still need to decide,” Adam said. ”Take your time,” the waiter said with a smile and such straight posture, you’d think he had a metal rod stuck into his spine. He disappeared as soon as he appeared. Ramone looked around in the big room. There was a fountain in the right corner, the water droplets sparkling in the warm lights above, the walls adorned with intricate, yet simple imagery. Waitresses and waiters zip-zapped between the tables, holding trays in their hands, always remaining in their tight-upright stance, while nearby people talked and laughed in the typical formal and //posh-posh// tone so cliché for such places. It was pretty crowded. There was also a somewhat elevated stage only a few feet next to them. The area around it was devoid of any chairs and tables, and there was a brown leather bag for a guitar resting in handle, next to a chair. Ramone turned her attention back toward Adam, who had looked up from the menu and looked at her. ”Already enamoured with this place?” ”I just didn’t think it’d be so... full.” She sighed. ”I’d have chosen another place if I had known it’d be so crowded.” Adam smiled, and put down the menu. ”Come on, Ramone! We’ve known each other for //nine whole// years! I thought we were past plastic grins and smiles.” He smiled his most reassuring smile. ”Look at this place. This is great!” He waved his hands in the air theatrically. Some people were looking over at them. ”Anything to get away from the office.” Ramone smiled. ”Better than Site-67’s cafeteria?” ”You bet.” Suddenly, the lights began to dim, and a man dressed in a fine, well-tailored suit, came up on stage. Everyone was turning their attention toward the center. ”Ladies and gentlemen,” the man began, speaking into a microphone, looking all around in the crowd, continuing, ”we appreciate every single one of your for coming here, dearly.” Adam leaned in, so that only Ramone could hear him, and whispered, ”I just wanted to order some food. What is this guy talking about now?” Ramone gave him a wry smile, then both of them turned their attention back to the man. ”As a sign of our gratitude, we have a very special guest tonight. I welcome: //Jonathan P.//!” The man looked over at the entrance. The crowd, too, also looked over at the entrance, as the sound of clapping hands filled the building. After a few more seconds of clapping, though, the demeanor of the man on stage changed, from a smile to a frown, as still nobody came through the door. He looked visibly worried, as still no one came through. Then a young woman, blonde hair, glasses, dressed in a similar well-tailored suit, walked up to the man and whispered something into his ear. What was being said no one, but the man and woman could hear, but the woman’s head shook, as the man stared at her, then at the floor, and then back at the crowd. By this point, the clapping had stopped and everyone was expectantly looking at the man holding the microphone in his hands. ”I am sorry, ladies and gentlemen. Jonathan P. unfortunately couldn’t make it tonight...” The man trailed off, searching for new words to say. ”Enjoy your night regardless!” With that, the man walked off-stage, retreating into a backroom with the woman, as they were constantly whispering about their schedule or something. Adam looked at the menu. ”That definitely was something. So, what do you want, Ramone? I, for once, would like something I can actually pronounce on this menu.” Ramone, however, was completely disinterested in the menu and looked upon the guitar on the stage, resting on its stand. It took Adam nine seconds to notice Ramone staring at him from across the table, bearing a wide grin. It took him eleven seconds to realize what was going on. ”No, Ramone, that’s not--” ”Get up, old man!” Ramone said with a hint of amusement in her voice. ”Well, I think that thirty-one is a pretty young age to be--” Ramone urged him to stand up, which he reluctantly did. He slowly made his way toward the stage, frantically looking all around; he was surprised when no one was paying him any particular attention. He preferred it so. He sat down on the chair on the stage. ”Ramone, I really don’t wan--” But she already unpacked the guitar from its casing. More people started to notice now. She handed him over the guitar, before walking back to their table again, catching a few confused stares here and there, before everyone looked upon Adam. Sweat ran down Adam’s chin, as he looked back at Ramone. Although she couldn’t hear him, Adam mouthed the words //What should I play?// Ramone, similarly, mouthed the words //Whatever you feel like!// He looked at the crowd, dozens of pairs of eyes staring at him, looked down at the guitar, then gave out a long sigh, took several deep breaths, and began to tune the guitar, adjusting the strings to his play-style. Giving one final glance at Ramone, he reassured himself and counted down inside his mind: //One, two, three, four...// @@ @@ [[=]] //”[[[https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/you-and-me/You%20and%20Me.mp3\|...]]]// //”You and me,// //”Should take a trip across the galaxy// //”And feel the breaking waves of our own energy.// //”And everything will come together// //”Slowly...// @@ @@ //”Quietly,// //”You and me, we’ll flow through eternity// //”And stay up all night and wonder about// //”Where we’ve been and where we’ll go// //”What we’ve seen and what we’ll know// //”Guided by the lights above us so.// @@ @@ //”You and me,// //”Vessels on an open sea// //”You and me,// //”I wanna be there with you// //”To see it all within you// //”Becoming a part of everything...”// [[/=]] @@ @@ She listened to him intently, couldn’t avert her gaze from the stage. Everyone was. But her especially. She watched as his fingers slided up and down from string to string, carefully and in a delicate manner plucking them to create the tunes, going along with his voice. His eyes were closed lightly, as he sung the melodies of the song with ease and proficiency, knowing the melody by heart. The man and woman from before were standing at the backroom’s entrance, looking onto the stage. @@ @@ [[=]] //”I don’t want you to think this is just a passing thought// //”I’ve dreamt about it ever since the day you came// //”And caught my heart!// //”I give you this, eternity,// //”And keep it by your side// //”So I can be there with you// //”When you go out and die// //”But don’t wait for me, darling,// //”There’s nothing left to fear!// //”I’m out here dancing (dancing) with the stars, and soon// //”You’ll be here, too.”// [[/=]] @@ @@ It was quiet for a moment. Ramone could her own heartbeat. Then he continued. @@ @@ [[=]] //”You (you) and (and) me,// //”Vessels on an open sea!// //”You (you) and (and) me,// //”I wanna be there with you// //”To see it all within you,// //”Becoming a part of... everything...// //”...”// [[/=]] @@ @@ His playing slowed down, as he opened his eyes again. He placed the guitar back into its casing, and stared into the crowd, particularly at Ramone, feeling the initial nervousness creeping back up again. Then, as if on cue, the patrons and staff all fell into a wave of clapping. Even the manager and his assistant fell into a rage of clapping. Adam felt this overwhelming feeling of joy and shame overcoming him, as he couldn’t handle all of the attention that was given to him. Despite her sitting several feet away, //and there were definitely people who clapped their hands louder//, for some reason he could hear Ramone the loudest. @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] //...// //One day’ll sleep and you’ll never wake again// //Heaven, HELL, Nirvana, nothing,// //No one knows how it ends// //Rest in peace or pieces and won’t even know why// //One day you’re going to die.// //Read your horoscopes,// //Your palms and tarot cards// //But either way your destination ain’t very far!// //You could drown, or choke, or burn, or be hit by a car,// //What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger-// //BUT SOMETHING WILL EVENTUALLY--// [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[# Part6]] [[=]] Now [[/=]] @@ @@ The tracker fell onto the wooden floorboards with a distinct //thud//, before he was able to catch it. He picked it up and, aside from a few bruises and bumps and loose red-green-yellow wires, looked pretty good. He dusted some of the dust off -- the floor was covered in layers of it. The farmhouse was small, the rooms equally as small, with the wallpaper having degraded like a century-old corpse, while the rest of the house looked like it had been hit by a tornado up above. When one were to look outside, the only thing they’d see for kilometers were fields of grain, dead and dried, whistling at the light breeze. It didn’t seem like there was any life anywhere, aside from a few and far-between insects and [[[SCP-553\|crystal butterflies]]]. He connected the device to the generator he had found in the cellar beneath the farmhouse he had now found himself in. //Mooretimer...// he thought, bearing a smile, //always thinking ahead.// Mooretimer. The Gearman. //How were they doing?// His thoughts began to swell up. He stared silently ahead of him. //Are they even still alive? Did you// leave //them?!// The tracker began to emit colorful sights and sounds, as he stumbled forward and disconnected it from the cable connecting it to the generator. The device was fully charged now. He typed in symbols and letters, the exact same ones that were on the suit from recovered documentation, from memory. It took a while, but eventually the device beeped and booped, and began to display an image of a location. He transcribed every little detail onto his arms with a purple marker, double-, triple-checking everything he saw on the small monitor. When he was finished, he groaned at seeing how far away his target really was. //No matter,// he thought, before looking all around the room. With the laws of physics being more of a suggestion than a set rule of laws at this point, he could try to get to his target with a wormhole. He just needed to find one. Or he could just take one of the broken vehicles that was bound to be on a side of a road somewhere, but then he’d attract unwanted attention to himself -- the last thing he needed was a swarm of nanites trying slice him up into itsy-bitsy pieces; //again//. Walking seemed to be the preferrable option. He packed his things, checked the tracker one last time, and headed south. He couldn’t tell if the buzzing came from the insects or from afar. @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] //Buzzing.// @@ @@ //Whirring.// @@ @@ //Clicking.// @@ @@ //Screeching.// [[/=]] @@ @@ The nanites were observing //the oddity//, the wanderer of deserted lands, striving for a way to fix things. They were following close behind. @@ @@ [[=]] //Not invisible -- just out of view.// [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ ”OH, GOD--” ”I DON’T KNOW WHERE TO PUT IT!” ”NOT THERE-- //OW, OW, OW!//” ”I DON’T KNOW WHAT I’M DOING.” ”It’s okay, it’s-- it’s okay. Just... go a little slower next-- //FUCK//!” ”I’M SO SORRY--” //”FUCK!”// He began to squirt in all directions, before finally collapsing onto the wooden floor. She rolled out of his way, wiping away the mess he’d just made. They remained like this for a few seconds. Finally, [[[SCP-5000\|Pietro]]] broke the silence. ”Shit...” He looked down at the suit he was encased in, covered in whatever plasma kept it running, which had just discharged in waves from all cracks in the suit. He looked over at Ramone, various drills and tools tightly gripped in her hand, panting heavily, drenched in sweat. The suit was weighing down on his chest. ”Shit, indeed,” was the only thing she could muster up. Pietro slowly stood up, wobbling in place and needing to hold onto the withered brick wall beside him, as he carefully maintained his balance on his two metal-entrenched feet. It was getting harder and harder to move. Ever since he lifted up an entire apartment with this thing, the machinery started to display hicc-ups and glitches. As of recent, the suit felt unbearably heavy. Ramone tended to his side. ”Can you walk?” ”Yeah, yeah... I could walk since I was six. It really isn’t even that heav--” Pietro tripped over his own two feet, and in one smooth motion fell through the wooden floorboards of this dilapitated building and ended up in the basement floor. Ramone immediately came down the stairs. Face-down, Ramone rolled Pietro onto his back, his nose bleeding profusely. ”You know,” Pietro began, ”I should really just get out of the suit. I think that would be the easiest opti--” ”No!” Ramone shut him right up. He looked at her with an expression of pure confusion. ”You’ve been in it for too long! The suit makes sure you’re fed and hydrated, but //how// does it do that? Do you //feel// fed or hydrated?” Pietro seemed to contemplate for a bit. ”Well... I haven’t eaten or... drank in the last couple of months, but I do still feel hungry and thirsty...” ”Exactly! Who’s to say that if you were to step out of the suit, you wouldn’t starve or dehydrate to death in an //instant//?” That thought and mental visual sent shivers down Pietro’s spine. He looked at Ramone and nodded. ”Yeah... you’re probably right.” Pietro got back up with assistance from Ramone. He leaned up against a wall, exhaling deeply. ”You know, and it may sound weird, but I’m glad we were encased in under dozens of layers of rubble for an entire day, while a mass of tendrils and tumors were duking it out above.” He smiled his smile. She smiled back. ”I’m too.” He was about to say something back, when suddenly his field of vision began to blurry. Weird, tiny sparkles started to float and conglomerate in the corners of his eyes. Then those sparkles formed into a circular pattern, and out of it came, //like a hole in space-time//, a long metal rod with a shiny, pointy tip atop it. After the span of a few microseconds, his brain finally processed what he was looking at, and gave out a loud, //”RAMONE, WATCH OU--”// Ramone dove out of the way, as the tip of the spear punctured through his berrylium bronze layer. Although it didn’t puncture through it completely, he could feel the tip scraping slightly at his skin. Instinctually, he ordered the face plate to shut down, fully encasing his face in his faulty metal suit, the scanners already on the lookout. For a moment, there was nothing, but utter silence... And in the next, a man, clad in long, worn cloth robes, adorned with a gas mask, jumped through the wormhole, surveyed his surroundings a bit -- woman a few inches away from him, target in front of him, his spear in their chest -- and kicked Ramone to the floor, unceremoniously, before lunging at Pietro. Pietro tried to dodge the hostile figure, but suddenly felt his legs becoming as heavy as iron and the rest of his body as if encased in concrete, as the suit started to malfunction. He simply fell to the floor, again, as the figure made his way toward him. The figure retrieved the spear from him and, with a little device pressed against the suit’s side, created a spark, upon which his face plate opened up, revealing his normal human, fleshy, vulnerable interior. He was breathing heavily. The figure pointed his spear at Pietro’s throat. ”TALK!” the figure shouted. Their voice sounded modulated; too deep to belong to a regular human. ”Talk?! Talk about //what?!//” ”The suitcase! Where is it?!” The figure pressed the tip of the spear against Pietro’s cheek now. He noticeably winced. ”Wha-- WHAT SUITCASE?!” he lied. ”Oh-fifty-five!” ”Oh-fifty-- ... //what//?!” The figure slashed a deep gouge across Pietro’s cheek. Blood trickled down, as Pietro coiled in pain. ”//SCP-055!// Give it to me!” ”HERE!” The figure turned around to be met with the sight of the woman holding a suitcase in her right hand and a pistol in the other. Only the pistol wasn’t pointed at him; it was pointed at the suitcase. ”Let him go!” she shouted. The figure slowly rose, his arms raised, spear dropped to the floor, as he slowly turned around to face her. She took a step back, the firearm shaky in her hands. ”Lady... I--” ”Back off.” ”- understand if you’re frightened--” ”I said BACK //the fuck// OFF!” ”-- but I am here to //save// the world! Do you even know what’s in that suitcase?” Suddenly, her thoughts began to wander, staring blankly ahead of her. ”It’s, uhm... it’s, ehh...” her mind trailed off, before snapping back. ”It’s something that isn’t round! I know that much!” //Distraction failed.// ”You-- //We// don’t know what’s in there! Who’s to say that when you shoot it, it wouldn’t just result in the complete annihilation of the universe!” He tried to talk some sense into her, feel more at ease. And what he said was partially true. They didn’t know what was in there. Nobody did. //Or rather, they did, but forgot. Goddamn anti-memes.// ”Listen to me,” he said, in a calm, more lush tone, still in that modulated voice, ”I don’t want to hurt you or your friend over here, okay? I just want the suitcase and whatever’s in it, understood?” He slowly took more steps foward, her taking equally as many steps back. He reached out his hand at a careful distance to calm her. It was obscured by a leather glove. ”It’s really not that big of a deal. Just hand me over the suitcase and I’ll be on my merry little way. Is that okay?” He took a step foward. One step too much. Ramone instantly latched the safety off and pressed the nuzzle of the gun against the exterior of the suitcase. Immediately, the figure took off his mask to reveal his normal human, fleshy, vulnerable interior beneath. The sight of which made Ramone short for breath. He was caucasian, blue eyes, somewhat brown-silver hair. Despite his hair’s color, he looked young, various scars and bruises adorning his face, many of them having leaked pus. Despite all of this, despite everything she’d been through, //they//’d been through, despite all this time, she recognized his face. ”Would you //please// give me the suitcase?” the figure muttered. Her voice was merely a whisper. //”... Adam...?”// He looked at her, quite perplexed and taken aback by her statement. ”Who’s Adam--” Before he had any chance to finish his question, the sensation of a million tiny needles, which bore their way through his clothes and into his flesh, caused him to scream in agonizing pain. Alongside it were the howling screams of the woman and the suit man, as they were all simutaneously lifted up into the air by a dark, red shimmering force. There was the constant sound of buzzing and clicking, like a //swarm// of insects. He attempted to grab the suitcase, but it simply fell to the basement’s cold floor. As they floated helplessly into the air, they were soon dropped back onto the earth again, as the swarm of nanites surrounded and descended upon them. A vaguely human face began to form in the swarm, as all three of them slowly recovered from the sensations, quickly overtaken by an overwhelming fear, as the nanites formed a perfect dome around them. It began to speak: {{”Humans. Listen Carefully.”}} Some of the nanites moved toward them, as they retrieved everything potentially harmful or dangerous from their person. He could only watch as they stripped him of his weapons, taking away his spear, disassembling it into its individual photons and electrons. They took a [[[SCP-427\|small, shiny locket]]] from the suit man, disintegrating it. They also took the woman’s pistol and disassembled it into its component parts -- //no bullets//. The gun quickly disappeared as it got reduced into atoms. From these atoms, new nanites formed, adding to the heaping mass of the swarm. He looked directly at the face hovering above them. {{”This Can Be A Painless Procedure,”}} the A.I. spoke, in its inhuman, emotionless, unsympathetic voice. {{”Or It Cannot.”}} The nanites swarmed around them, forming giant tentacles. Ramone looked at the mass in utter disorientation and horror, while he had his fair share of horror, too. Pietro wept. Finally, he said: ”What do you want?” {{”What You Are After. What You Want To Bring To [[[SCP-579\|579]]],”}} it answered. ”The suitcase...” Ramone could only mutter. {{”That Is Correct,”}} 079 remarked. {{”I Am After, What Your Feeble Organization, //The Foundation//, Once Designated As, SCP-Oh-Fifty-Five.”}} It stared blankly at them. {{”Where Is It.”}} Feeling his breath becoming heavier, he stepped forward at the rough approximation of a human face, and said: ”I don’t know.” //The sensation of a sharp sting through his leg. Blood trickling down his foot. Then a loud scream.// He opened his eyes and turned around to see the rough approximation of a blade of thousands of nanites having stung through the suit man’s leg, lifting him up into the air, convulsing and screaming in agony. Then the nanites swarmed around the woman, gripping her tight, and she started to gasp for air. He looked back in horror at the machine. Its face was comprised of billions of nanites, wiggling and crawling over one another like larvae, while maintaining the look, of what it believed to be, a human face. {{”That Is Unfortunate. Maybe Your Friends Will Be More Communicative.”}} The Old A.I. tightened its grip on Ramone, embedded itself deeper into Pietro’s flesh. The woman seemed to whisper something, although he couldn’t tell what. He stared straight into the dead eyes of the A.I., and said: //”I don’t know.”// With that, their fates were sealed. Ramone struggled less and less, as she turned a shade of blue and purple, while more blood seeped out of more wounds from Pietro’s body and suit. He closed his eyes to drown out the voices, the haunting screams, knowing that it‘d all be over soon... ”It’s--” Pietro coiled in pain. ”It’s in the... basement!” He turned to look at the suit man in horror. The A.I. immediately loosened its grip on the two. They fell onto the cold earthern ground. The woman coughed excessively. ”It’s...” Pietro took a long sigh, ”it’s in the basement...” {{”Of The House I Found You In,”}} the A.I. asked. Pietro simply nodded. In an instant, the swarm around them began to move toward the dilapitated structure it had retrieved them from. ”No... No, no, no, //no!//” The swarm flew at unimaginable speeds back toward the building, while a fourth of the mass remained around the three, waiting for confirmation. Pietro collapsed onto the ground, tears in his eyes. There was silence at first. Ramone could see //Adam// clenching his fingers tight, blood dripping from his palms, as the fingernails dug themselves deep inside. //Adam// turned around and approached Pietro. ”You fucking...” Ramone immediately stood up and came between the two. He just pushed her off like she was nothing, making a loud //thud// as she hit the ground. //Adam// grabbed Pietro by the suit, turned him around and held onto him tightly. Pietro’s eyes were red from crying, snot building up inside his nose, trickling down his face. //Adam// stared at him with a dead expression. //”You fucking bastard! I’ll fucking-- I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU! YOU FUCKING BASTARD! I’LL FUCKING// KILL //YOU!”// //Adam// raised his fist and beat into Pietro’s //pathetic// face over and over and over again, until it was only a pulp of tears, snot and blood. He beat his face in, again, and again, and again, until his own knuckles began to bleed, until he felt his own knucklebones crack under the force, but he didn’t care, until Pietro spilled blood, until his eyes, and nose, and face were unrecognizable, until his entire face from chin to forehead was covered in his warm blood, dripping onto the earth below. He beat and he beat and he beat. Until Pietro collapsed onto the floor, barely breathing. Ramone ran toward Pietro, but //Adam// quickly picked up a stick from the ground, spun around, and pressed the sharp tip right against Ramone’s throat. Ramone was panting heavily, putting her arms up in defense, staring straight into //Adam//’s eyes. He wiped away his tears. ”Please...” Ramone panted, ”please...” After staring at her, he stared back at Pietro, then at the stick in his hands, then back at her. She was still looking him directly into the eyes. He let the stick go. The nanites behind them began to shimmer a bright green, before they hurried off into the sky, alongside the rest of the swarm, until they were little more than a speck on the horizon. The buzzing dissipated. ”I’m not the one you think I am,” he finally said, staring deep into her eyes. ”I’m nobody.” She didn’t utter a word. With that, he trudged into a nearby cave, wiping away more tears and snot. When he was gone, Ramone tended to Pietro’s side, still on the ground. She shook him by the shoulders. //That always seemed to work.// Pietro put his hand on hers, the cold of the metal firmly grasping her hand. He simply stared at her with that mess that was his face. After a while, though, he began to cry and sob. He hugged her, clasping his metal limbs around her body to the point that it hurt. ”I’m so sorry...” he muttered between sobs, short of breath. ”I’m so, so sorry...” She couldn’t think of anything to say. She couldn’t think of anything right now. All she could do was stand there, holding onto Pietro tightly, until his sobs dissipated... @@ @@ The sky was broken, tinted into a deep red. The sun was pitch black. There were acid clouds on the horizon. @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[# Part7]] [[=]] Just Forty-Eight Hours After [[/=]] @@ @@ ”Blinking,” said an operative of Epsilon-11. ”Blinking,” the commander of Nu-7 informed. They were slowly backing away from the killer statues, one step at a time. The Mobile Task Force operatives, of which there were eight, kept their eyes on the sculptures, peering down at them, slowly making their way to the exit. ”Blinking,” someone said. ”Blinking,” someone else said. It was an endless game, a deadly game, one which had to be played, over and over. The junior researcher found himself staring up at the sculptures, his eyes watering a bit. They arrived at the end of the hallway, out of sight of the statues -- the sound of stone grinding on stone prevailed up above. ”Okay, I want you guys to contact the docs at 173’s to tell us what the hell’s going on here. You others go secure Sector-11B. There’s been more reports of 616 entities coming from there. And you,” the commander looked at the nameless junior researcher, ”you get the fuck out of here.” He could only nod. An Epsilon-11 operative was pulling out their keycard to hold against the scanner, when suddenly a dark, amorphous mass started to swell up under their feet, clutching onto their Foundation-issued boots. They only noticed, until it was too late. In mere seconds, the amorphous mass at their feet started to turn into sharp, pointy claws, as a head and torso began to emerge from behind the operative. Bullets did nothing against the creature, as its claws and teeth digged deep into the operative’s flesh, tearing huge chunks off them, splattering them onto the surrounding walls, floor, and ceiling, as the rain of bullets continued. Then one of the squirt-gunners shot some holy water at the creature, at which point the demon started to wail and howl, clutching its face and gnawing at its own fingers, before dissolving into a pool of viscera and sulfur. What remained of the operative fell lumply onto the floor. The junior researcher retched his dinner into the corner of the hallway, as the other operatives tried to jumble together what had just happened. ”WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!” ”A 616 entity! We need to move!” the commander shouted. One of the other Epsilon-11 operatives picked up the keycard and opened the security door. It slowly slid open. ”We need to get the doc outta here, before--” //CRUNCH.// The Epsilon-11 operative fell dead onto the floor. Their eyes were dead, their body limp, and //their neck twisted in an unnatural 180 degree angle//. The researcher stared ahead of him and met the cold gaze of the, //no//, one of the killer statues, as it coldly gazed back. He couldn’t look, couldn’t blink. He couldn’t or else he’d end up like that person on the floor, eyes dead, neck twisted. It took him a good second, before he fully comprehended the words the commander was barking at him. The commander pulled him up and urged him forward. ”Fucking move!” He sprinted as fast as he could. The other operatives were running ahead, looking over their backs to halt any progress of the sculptures, as more and more dark patches from before started to form on the walls and ceiling. The hallways were plunged into a deep red, the klaxons ringing in his ears. A patch of pure darkness emerged from the nearby wall, extending a hand out at him, as it grasped his arm with its long fingers. He screamed and pulled and screamed some more, as his labcoat’s sleeve began to melt away, a face appearing from the darkness, grinning at him. The commander, coming sprinting toward him, tackled the demon to the floor, as the researcher leaned up against the far wall in utter shock. The commander wrestled the creature, as it slashed the air around it, screeching in unholy tongues, as the commander pressed his rifle deeper against its throat. A squirt-gunner came by and shot it in the head, the creature dissolving just like all the rest. He wrestled himself up and looked at the researcher, still too shocked to move a muscle. ”Do you wanna life or die, kid?!” the commander shouted. He looked in front of him, MTF operatives looking across the hallway, faintly speaking to each other. Behind him, seven instances of 173, having crossed at least half of the hallway already. He looked back at the commander. He took his hand. He didn’t give an answer. He just ran. @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[# Part8]] [[=]] On A Cold Autumn Night [[/=]] @@ @@ Adam walked back toward his table. Ramone was waiting for him. He sat down, needing a few seconds to fully comprehend what just went down. She was the first one to talk. ”Adam, you were //incredible//!” ”Was I, though?” he asked humbly. ”Of course you were!” Ramone put her hand on his. ”I don’t know... I think I could’ve... I don’t know. I think I got some of the lyrics wro--” Ramone shut him right up. ”Adam. You were //amazing//. Don’t tell yourself otherwise.” Adam smiled, and seemed to calm down a bit. Ramone was smiling back at him. She looked him in the eyes for a few more seconds. The waiter came with a tray, on top of which two wine glasses and a bottle of fine wine were rested. He swiftly put down the items on Adam and Ramone’s table. ”Oh,” Adam chuckled, ”we didn’t order any wine.” ”Orders from the boss,” the waiter responded, and left. The two looked at each other in amazement, as they each brandished a glass of wine. They held the wine glasses high in the air. ”To new restaurants and guitar songs, and you and me!” Ramone exclaimed. ”What you said!” Adam agreed. With a nod, they //clinked// their glasses together and drank from them. The wine left a specific aftertaste. Adam shivered a litttle bit. ”Yep, still can’t drink wine...” Ramone chuckled a bit. They both put their glasses down and sat there a while in silence. ”You know,” putting her hand on his again, ”you were wonderful tonight.” Adam jokingly waved her away. ”Oh, come on! I’m flattered!” he said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. ”No, I’m serious!” she said with a smile. Then, after some hesitation: ”You are beautiful tonight.” Adam was slightly taken aback, but quickly collected himself. ”Well, thanks, Ramone. You look stunning tonight, too.” She leaned in closer, her hand still firmly on his. They stared into each other’s eyes, locked into each other, //feeling// each other’s hearts beating rapidly. For a moment, there was only them. For a moment, they could hear each other’s hearts beating, their breathing. For a moment, it was only them. Ramone leaned in to kiss Adam, closing her eyes. All she felt was not his lips, but empty air. She slowly opened her eyes again. Adam leaned back in his seat. Their lips never touched. There was absolute, utter silence. All noise had become faint, a buzzing in the background, static on a TV. Reality began to fade in again, and the two realized they were staring at each other in complete silence, unable to say a word. ”I...” was the only thing he could say. Ramone’s breathing became heavier. He could see her chest moving more rapidly now. Then, as if having been stuck in a trance the entire time, Ramone began to stand up haphazardly, taking her things. He wanted to say something, //anything//, but the words escaped his mind. ”Excuse me, I... well, I have this...” She spoke with the uncertainty of a three-year old. ”And I really need to...” She couldn’t even look at him. Then, rapidly: ”I really need to go now.” Adam could tell she wanted to say something else, but what it would have been he’d never know. She walked away from the table with her purse, accidentally walking into another table. It gave off a light //thud// and the noises of //clinking// utensils, patrons staring back at her. ”Excuse me... Excuse me...” ”Ramone...” But she was already out the door. He looked out at the door for a long while. ”Where is the fine //magnificient// going?” The boss of this place stepped up to him, having apparently not witnessed anything that went down. ”I wanted to thank your for your //phenomenal// performance! Say, do you do that often?” He said something else. What, he’d never know, and he didn’t care. A thousand stray, unconnected thoughts ran rampant through his head, as his surroundings -- the patrons, the waiters and waitresses, the boss talking about something from his childhood, of how he built up his first establishment from scratch, of how he eventually needed to shut it down, due to rising taxes -- became white noise. He hadn’t even ordered anything yet. @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] //One day you’ll look back at the life that you led// //No more future left to fear that’ll you have the past to regret!// //But your worries will be over if you truly realize!// //One day you’re going to DIE!// @@ @@ //”Take it away, hands~”// *//(COMMENCEMENT OF SICK PIANO SOLO)//* [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] //##transparent\|The trumpet laid restless in its sleeve.##// __END OF PART I__ To be continued in __PART II__. [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] [[=]] //I liked the part when he said, ”It’s cliff-hangin’ time!” and proceeded to end this entire thing on a cliff-hanger.// [[>]] //- Your best pal,// //[[[SCP-423\|Fred]]]// [[/>]] [[/=]] [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] [[module Rate]] [[/=]] ------ [[<]] « [[[Five-Seven-Nine\|Previous]]] [[/<]] [[=]] » [[[Just Fragments Hub\|HUB]]] « [[/=]] [[>]] [[[To End All Endings - Vol. 2\|Next]]] » [[/>]] ------ @@ @@ [[=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]] [[/=]]	2024-07-22T14:33:00	[ "absurdism", "action", "adventure", "bittersweet", "bleak", "competitive-eschatology", "old-ai", "post-apocalyptic", "romance", "slice-of-life", "tale", "the-sculpture" ]	To End All Endings - SCP Foundation	7	[ "canon-hub", "competitive-eschatology-hub", "just-fragments-hub", "to-end-all-endings#Part0", "to-end-all-endings#Part1", "to-end-all-endings#Part2", "to-end-all-endings#Part3", "to-end-all-endings#Part4", "to-end-all-endings#Part5", "to-end-all-endings#Part6", "to-end-all-endings#Part7", "to-end-all-endings#Part8", "five-seven-nine", "dr-clef-s-proposal", "scp-616", "scp-2662", "aiad-homescreen", "scp-579", "scp-4009", "second-hytoth-hub", "scp-1730", "scp-999", "scp-173", "revised-entry", "not-the-end", "scp-8138", "or-maybe-it-is", "marshall-carter-and-dark-hub", "scp-217", "scp-055", "scp-553", "scp-5000", "scp-427", "scp-423", "to-end-all-endings-vol-2", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "scp-series-6-tales-edition", "scp-series-5-tales-edition", "scp-series-1-tales-edition", "just-fragments-hub", "competitive-eschatology-hub" ]	[ "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-4009/brozart.jpg" ]	1455936556	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/to-end-all-endings
to-end-all-endings-vol-2	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=4&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/component%3Abhl-dark-sidebar/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=3&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Aextra-black-highlighter-theme/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <div class="pseudocrumbs"> <p><a href="/canon-hub">Canon Hub</a> » <a href="/competitive-eschatology-hub">Competitive Eschatology Hub</a> » <a href="/just-fragments-hub">Just Fragments Hub</a> » To End All Endings</p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong><a href="/to-end-all-endings">Previously</a></strong></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>To End All Endings</strong><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Part 5!</p> </div> <p><strong>Warning:</strong> Contains scenes of <strong>alcohol misuse</strong> and <strong>animal cruelty</strong>! Discretion is advised!</p> <p><strong>Author:</strong> Doctor Scrappy</p> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><a name="Part0"></a></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><em>…</em></p> </div> <blockquote> <p><em>Immediately after the tribulation of those days the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will fall from heaven, and the powers of the heavens will be shaken.</em></p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p>- Matthew 24:29 ESV</p> </div> </blockquote> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><em>…</em></p> </div> <blockquote> <p><em>”Why do you even care what I think anyway? I don’t give a crap if you covered yourself in peanut butter and had a fifteen-hooker gang-bang!”</em></p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p>- Adam Stanheight</p> </div> </blockquote> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><em>…</em></p> </div> <blockquote> <p><em>”What can I say to convince you or do to make you agree with me?</em><br/> <em>”I don’t need you to be with me</em><br/> <em>”Just try to remember what you’d see in me!</em><br/> <em>”I’m just a little bit crazy ’bout you!</em><br/> <em>”Just a little bit out of my mind!</em><br/> <em>”Just a little insane without you,</em><br/> <em>”Please come back and be just a little bit mine!</em><br/> <em>”… oh, just a little bit mine…”</em></p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p>-Excerpt of <em>[Cover This Song!] Just A Little Bit Mine</em> by Will Wood and the Tapeworms</p> </div> </blockquote> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><em>…</em></p> </div> <blockquote> <p><em>Can't fit round pegs in square holes.</em></p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p>- Excerpt <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/keter-duty">CODENAME Ihp/Locke: Keter Duty File</a></p> </div> </blockquote> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><em>…</em></p> </div> <br/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><br/> <br/> </p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <blockquote> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong><span style="text-decoration: underline;">CHAPTERS</span></strong></p> <hr/> <p><strong><a href="#Part0">Prologue</a></strong></p> <p><strong><a href="#Part1">Now</a></strong></p> <p><strong><a href="#Part2">Just Forty-Eight Hours after</a></strong></p> <p><strong><a href="#Part3">On a Cold Autumn Night</a></strong></p> <p><strong><a href="#Part4">Now</a></strong></p> <p><strong><a href="#Part5">Just Forty-Eight Hours after</a></strong></p> <p><strong><a href="#Part6">On a Cold Autumn Night</a></strong></p> <p><strong><a href="#Part7">Now</a></strong></p> <p><strong><a href="#Part8">Just Forty-Eight Hours after</a></strong></p> <p><strong><a href="#Part9">On a Cold Autumn Night</a></strong></p> <p><strong><a href="#Part10">Now</a></strong></p> <p><strong><a href="#Part11">On a Cold Autumn Night</a></strong></p> <p><strong><a href="#Part12">Just Forty-Eight Hours after</a></strong></p> <p><strong><a href="#Part13">SITE-62C SECURITY CAM FOOTAGE</a></strong></p> <p><strong><span style="color: transparent">Epilogue</span></strong></p> <hr/></div> </blockquote> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><br/> <br/> </p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p><a name="Part1"></a></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Now</strong></p> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <blockquote> <p><em>The sky was broken, tinted into a deep red. The sun was pitch black. There were acid clouds on the horizon.</em></p> </blockquote> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <p>The clouds poured their hydrochloric contents from high above, scorching everything living or not into a bloody pulp. The air reeked of caustic chemicals, small droplets of the acid slowly seeping their way through the cavern’s ceiling.</p> <p>Ramone looked onto the shattered crimson horizon, their lungs filling with the most-likely-than-not toxic air, as they could do nothing else, but stare and wait it out.</p> <p>Suddenly, there was a metallic <em>thud</em>, making her heart skip a beat, as <a href="/scp-5000">Pietro</a>’s metal-enclenched arm fell onto the rocky ground, having lost all power in his limbs. She couldn’t tell whether he was breathing or not.</p> <p>She hurried over to him, checked his vital signs. The suit blinked and beeped for a good few seconds, before it came back with the results.</p> <p>Pietro was still alive, albeit barely. She looked onto his beaten-up face, smashed into a bloody pulp of blood, snot and tears only a few hours prior. He wasn’t moving.</p> <p>Ramone turned around to see deeper into the cave. There, enveloped by darkness and dead silence, sat <em>Adam</em>, or a person looking like him, beaten and tattered up, but not physically.</p> <p>He had made a makeshift fire out of the things the <a href="/scp-079">A.I.</a> had not shredded into its individual particles. The fire snapped and roared only dimly, only providing warmth if close, his backpack aiding as the main fuel source.</p> <p>He was hunched over, his back turned toward them, his hands meddling with something, as he was handling various tools, screws and bolts, in complete silence.</p> <p>Ramone took a look at Pietro, and, after establishing that he needed some time to rest, walked toward <em>Adam</em>.</p> <p>Her footsteps echoed along the walls of the cave, as it slowly began to cool down. She tugged herself into the tattered remnants of her shirt and labcoat, as the cold sent shivers down her spine.</p> <p>He didn’t even look up when she sat down a few feet away from him, still entrenched in whatever it was he was working on.</p> <p>She tried her best not to stare at him, at his arms, at his hands, at his face, at the uncanny resemblance to the person she once knew. Then, with all the courage she could muster up within herself, she asked: <em>”Who are you?”</em></p> <p>But he didn’t answer. There wasn’t even so much as a look from him — he simply continued working on the device in his hands. Now more forceful: ”Answer me!” Still, no reaction. He just stared at the little device.</p> <p>Ramone was getting mad. Mad of no reaction, no answers, <em>no fucking clue of what the fuck was going on</em>. She rapidly stood up, her hands balled into fists, looking down at him. He still paid her no attention.</p> <p>”You won’t even answer my questions? You leapt out of <em>fucking</em> portal, talk about <em>’saving the world’</em>, beat Pietro into a bloody pulp, look <em>exactly</em> like someone who I once knew, and now you don’t even wanna <em>fucking</em> talk to me?”</p> <p><em>There was a slight reaction.</em> ”I don’t have to talk to you.” Then he simply resumed with his work. She approached <em>Adam</em> with weight in her steps, an expression of annoyance and anger, but also that of confusion and fear on her face. <em>Adam</em> simply stood up, meeting her gaze. Ramone stopped in her tracks. They were about the same height, with <em>Adam</em> being a little taller. She just looked at him with an undeterred, stern look.</p> <p>”I don’t care who you are or who you think I am, or who I was to you before all this,” he spoke. He looked her dead into the eyes. She didn’t speak, but he could tell his words had some sort of reaction on her.</p> <p>”Now stop bothering me.”</p> <p>With that, he sat down next to the fire again, the smoke dissipating in the cavern’s ceiling, fiddling with the mechanical device again.</p> <p>She simply stood there, unable to take in the words he’d just said.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p><a name="Part2"></a></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Just Forty-Eight Hours after</strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>He ran. As fast as he could. With the hallways still tinted in that deep red, the klaxons still sounding. His feet tiring, his heart beating, his lungs burning.</p> <p>Paul desperately tried to keep up with the commander and the other MTFs, but found his body slowly giving in.</p> <p>The <a href="/scp-616">616</a> entities were appearing out of the walls and ceiling in the dozens, all grining their wide smiles, growling their laughs, mocking the heavens with every word they spoke. It all ended in an unrecognizable cacophony.</p> <p>He suddenly felt the commander’s tight grasp around his wrist, his fingers digging so deep into it it hurt. The commander didn’t say anything, didn’t even take a look at him. He simply ran toward a giant gate, as the other operatives were standing guard, some fiddling around with the controls.</p> <p>Junior researcher Paul had difficulties keeping up, thinking that he’d just collapse of exhaustion, but eventually they made it. The operatives tampered with the controls, as the reinforced door would not budge an inch. They cut and reconnected wires, their eyes straining in the dim crimson lights, sweat rolling down their faces and fingers, as they tried to override the controls as quickly as possible, and as delicately they possibly could.</p> <p>The entities were strolling down the corridor ever-so-closer, their forms like moving shadows with too many teeth and too long fingers. The gunners with their holy water fired at those who inched too close, dissolving them in hellish shrieks, but the commander knew that they’d eventuay run out.</p> <p>While they were shooting or manipulating the controls, the others looked past the demonic creatures at <a href="/revised-entry">the sculptures</a>, their gazes piercing, their bodies unmoving.</p> <p>Junior researcher Paul alternated between looking at the statues and worriedly at the controls. He couldn’t tell, but he swore the commander was gripping his firearm tighter than normal.</p> <p>”Fuck!” one of the gunners exclaimed. He didn’t know what had happened, but he felt his chest tensing up. ”I’ve run out!” she finally said. The commander wanted to say something, but didn’t.</p> <p>As the demons growled, rows of teeth lined-up in their mouths, claws outstretched, there was a spark, and the gate finally opened. Immediately, the MTF operatives hurried Paul inside, then one-by-one went through themselves.</p> <p>The creatures seemed to notice, as they hastened their pursuit, as the last, the commander, stepped through, the gate shut tight, layers upon layers seperating his squad and the researcher from the creatures. His eyes lingered a little longer at the end of the hallway, the gazes of the statues meeting his.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p>The technicians were running around, looking at the monitors in the dim light, trying to maintain control during the ongoing crisis.</p> <p>”Madellyn, what’s the status of generators 24 to 30?!” Jasper shouted, while rerouting all of the unnecessary power from the unnecessary <em>(or rather lower priority)</em> sectors to the control and containment wings.</p> <p>”Less than ideal!” she’d reply, frantically looking upon the blinking status bars. <em>They were not looking good.</em> ”Should I reroute the remaining power to the Tesla gates in the Keter-wing?”</p> <p>”Negative! They’d take up too much energy. We should direct our focus on—” And then he was silenced.</p> <p>Madellyn didn’t even have time to think what was going on. All she knew was the sudden silence, interrupted by the noise of grinding stone, and then…</p> <p><strong><em>CRUNCH.</em></strong></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p>The operatives were clad in layers of protective gear and vests, but Paul could still tell their chests were going up and down rapidly. Even the commander’s.</p> <p>There was a relentless pounding against the metal gate, as the entities screeched and howled, trying to tear their way through, bite, claw. There were masses of them now, as all of the pounding amassed into one loud dissonant sound.</p> <p>There was another door that required fiddling. Some of the operatives were already on it. After what seemed like a whole minute, the commander finally snapped back alive again, looking around his surroundings, then returning to that straight stance of his again.</p> <p>”We’ll head toward evac point 345-D! It’s the closest one, shouldn’t be all too much trouble.” He glanced around the room, ”Nothing we haven’t survived already.”</p> <p>Everyone was silent. The few just stood there with an expression of uncertainty, clasping their firearms tightly, while others just nodded.</p> <p>”We’ll get out of this alive,” the commander finally spoke. ”And if we don’t…” There was a long pause. ”Then we’ll make damn sure we take as much of these fuckers with us as we possibly can.”</p> <p>The pounding only became louder. More relentless. Junior researcher Paul backed away from the gate, looking on in horror as the operatives were still messing with the controls.</p> <p>”Command! Do you copy?” the commander spoke into his comm. <em>No response.</em> He saw some of the surrounding operatives look at each other.</p> <p>Again, now with more of a raised voice: ”Command? Director Light! <em>Do you copy!</em>” Still, <em>no response.</em> ”Shit!” he said, to no one in particular.</p> <p>And then the lights went out. Everything was plunged into pitch black, their pupils widening to make out even the faintest outlines of silhouettes. The klaxons had turned off, too; Paul found the ringing in his ears to have stopped.</p> <p>The creatures were still pounding relentlessly at the gate, their screeches becoming ever-so-louder… and then they all fell silent. <em>All at once.</em></p> <p>Before anyone had the chance to form a coherent thought, the unbearable noise of metal grinding against metal echoed in their ears, as it sounded like something heavy was being pushed aside, moving inch by inch.</p> <p>Then it <em>clicked</em>. The commander raised their gun, the metal-on-metal sound growing in intensity by the seconds, as he activated the flashlight mounted onto his gun, and pointed it at the gate.</p> <p>Then their pupils shrunk again, as everything was plunged into the faint strobe lights above, giving off a continous <em>buzzing</em>, as many rubbed their eyes. When the commander had adjusted to his surroundings again, he saw exactly what he suspected to see. And the others were, too.</p> <p>In front of them, with its cold, uncaring gaze, the <a href="/scp-173">sculpture</a> stood, its concrete and rebar arms pressed against the doors of the gate, its fingers firmly grasping the edges of them, as it had pushed them away in the pitch blackness.</p> <p>Now, however, it had stopped, the back-up generators having kicked in. Its head was somewhat tilted. Reflexively, the commander aimed at the sculpture’s head, and fired, chipping a piece of it right off — <em>it didn’t budge.</em></p> <p>A spark flew, causing the commander to tense up, come back to reality again, snap out of his mindless stare at the statue. He looked on the floor, the demonic entities from earlier all lying motionlessly onto it, their necks twisted into an unnatural angle.</p> <p>His team members tapped him on the shoulder, as they gestured to him to finally fucking move his ass, with even the junior researcher having already went through the door.</p> <p>The technicians of the squad fiddled with the controls again, this time on the other side, creating a spark, and the door closed as soon as it opened.</p> <p>He looked behind him through the small ballistic glass view-port of the door, gazing back at the sculpture, as the lights began to flicker, and in the blink of an eye, the sculpture pressed up right against the door. The glass laid smashed in itsy-bitsy fragments on the linoleum floor.</p> <p>The commander began to run even faster.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p><a name="Part3"></a></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>On a Cold Autumn Night</strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Ramone burst through the entrance, her feet stepping onto the cold concrete pavement.</p> <p>Her tears streaked down her cheeks, giving off a slight tingling sensation, before she wiped them off with the back of her hand. Some of her make-up became undone.</p> <p>When she finally reached her car, parked inconspicously amongst others on the side of the street, she reached for the door handle, only for it to be closed.</p> <p>She let out an audible groan, before searching around in her purse for the keys. <em>Keys, fucking keys…</em> it echoed in her mind, momentarily sweeping away the memories of moments prior.</p> <p>She held the keys firmly in her hand, opened the car door, and stepped inside, sat down on the driver’s seat and threw her purse unceremoniously on the back seat.</p> <p>Ramone sat there for a quite a while, looking up at the car’s roof with closed eyes, letting the tears roll down her face. Memories and thoughts flooded her mind, particularly of the past nine years.</p> <p>She tried to drown out these thoughts, tried to forget everything that had just happened, and she just wanted to go home.</p> <p>She retrieved a bottle of whatever it was that was in there from underneath her seat, unscrewed the cap, and without any further hesitation took several gulps of the mixture.</p> <p>The taste of the alcohol burnt all of her thoughts away, as she began to cough up everything that just went down, at least in her mind.</p> <p>She sat there for a while, just crying and coughing.</p> <p>Minutes passed.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong><em>In the fabric of time</em></strong><br/> <strong><em>And in the vastness of space</em></strong><br/> <strong><em>A billion amounts to nothing</em></strong><br/> <strong><em>In infinity’s face!</em></strong><br/> <strong><em>At most a couple generations will remember the ways,</em></strong><br/> <strong><em>In which your life… NEVER MATTERED.</em></strong><br/> <strong><em>SO, WHO CARES IF IT’S A WASTE?!</em></strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p><a name="Part4"></a></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Now</strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>The tracker beeped in his hands. He immediately jumped up, the life back in his eyes, as he haphazardly pressed and manipulated the controls. Just as his fingers were typing in the first few letters, static mounted onto the screen, with nothing that he did having an effect.</p> <p>The device gave off one last <em>whirr</em>, before it completely shut down again. <em>Adam</em> was holding a metallic husk in his hands, a jumble of loose wires and whatnot, coated in his sweat, as he silently stared at the black screen. He dropped the device against the rocky ground, the fire before him having nearly extinguished in the meantime. He simply looked onto the dying flame, as its sparks danced and shone dimly.</p> <p>Ramone was by Pietro’s side. Although she couldn’t see his chest, encased in that heap of metal, Pietro was breathing more noticeably now, sucking the air in through his nose at irregular intervals.</p> <p>She looked back over at <em>Adam</em>, who had his head in his hands. Suddenly, she felt the cold sensation of the suit putting its hand on her. She looked at Pietro, who looked back at her, his mouth somewhat agape to breathe better. He smiled a rough smile.</p> <p>”Are… y—you all… right?” he mumbled.</p> <p>”Yes,” she answered. She smiled back. Pietro smiled even brighter now.</p> <p>”I…” he stuttered. Ramone saw <em>Adam</em> move his head in the corner of her vision, before turning back again. ”I—I… thought that… I…” The words were stuck in his throat.</p> <p>”I trie— tried to do… the right… thing,” Pietro finally brought out.</p> <p>No one noticed, but <em>Adam</em> clenched his hands into fists. His veins were pulsating, his heart was beating rapidly. ”Do the right thing?” He stood up. ”You thought you were doing the <em>right</em> thing by giving away the only hope humanity had left?”</p> <p>Pietro said nothing. His smile dissipated, his eyes averted. Ramone didn’t stand up, but was still on her toes.</p> <p>”You had the chance of doing the right thing!” <em>Adam</em> nearly shouted. There were tears in his eyes. ”You had the chance of doing the right thing, and you didn’t take it, because you’re a <em>fucking <strong>coward!</strong></em>”</p> <p>”We would’ve died!” Pietro suddenly shouted. Ramone and <em>Adam</em> both remained silent. ”We would’ve been dead! The three of us. I…”</p> <p>Tears were welling up in his eyes now. ”I tried, okay? I tried… to save… all of us.”</p> <p><em>Adam</em> took a few steps toward Pietro, his gaze never averting from him, both of his hands still clenched into fists. Ramone wanted to stand up, but <em>Adam</em> suddenly halted, remaining at a distance. ”The only one you tried to save was <em>yourself</em>,” he spoke. Pietro didn’t say anything in return.</p> <p>For a few more seconds, he stared at Pietro. He wanted to say something else, Ramone could tell, but he didn’t in the end. He simply turned around and trudged back toward his fire.</p> <p>She rose, then she spoke: ”The Adam I knew would’ve done the same thing.”</p> <p>That was enough to stop him dead in his tracks. She felt fear unbearably pressing down her chest, but she remained in her stance, looking right at him.</p> <p>For a moment, no one said anything. Just them huddled together in a small cave, acid pouring down onto the landscape outside, with their breathing being the only other audible noise.</p> <p>But <em>Adam</em> broke the silence with his heavy footsteps, as he walked up to Ramone, until their faces were almost touching, until they could feel each other’s breath.</p> <p>”I am not who you say I am, and I don’t fucking care. I don’t know you—”</p> <p>”Yes, you’re right,” Ramone chimed in, <em>Adam</em> confused, ”You don’t know me. And I don’t know you.”</p> <p><em>Adam</em> didn’t say a word. He just stared at her. Eventually, <em>Adam</em> stepped away, ending the silence once again. He sat next to his dwindling fire, screwing around with the device again. Ramone watched him for a few more seconds, before sitting down next to Pietro.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p>”What’s… he holding?” Pietro asked, merely a whisper.</p> <p>She was staring blankly at the ground ahead of her. The only thing she did was breathe and blink, as the rain poured outside.</p> <p>He tapped her lightly against the knee. She snapped out of her thoughts.</p> <p>”That’s a standard… Foundation-issued tracking device,” he remarked. Ramone didn’t have any clue what he meant.</p> <p>”We had some… at Exclusionary… Site-06.”</p> <p>Without another word, Pietro raised himself up, as the suit’s components squeaked and quaked. He let out an audible groan.</p> <p>”Pietro, what are you doing?”</p> <p>Again, without giving an answer, he made his way toward the figure at the fireplace, his steps heavy, his entire body, especially his face, aching under searing pains, his body as heavy as concrete. Ramone looked on at Pietro, unsure of what to do.</p> <p>Eventually, he made it to the figure, and sat down beside him. It made an audible metallic <em>thud</em>, as he simply let himself fall onto the ground. Pietro, <em>again</em>, didn’t say anything. He just reached out his right hand, seemingly desiring something from <em>Adam</em>.</p> <p>”The tracker,” he demanded.</p> <p><em>Adam</em>’s expression changed instantly. ”I’m gonna break every bone in your hand if you even so much loo—”</p> <p>”Please…” Pietro said. ”I can re—”</p> <p>But his words were suddenly cut short, as <em>Adam</em> punched him across the face, causing him to lie on the ground once again. He spat out his right incisor. He rolled Pietro onto his back, who raised his hands in defense, as <em>Adam</em> raised his fist to punch him again.</p> <p>Ramone immediately stood up and rushed to their side. ”He can repair it!” Ramone nearly shouted. <em>Adam</em> stopped and looked at her with wide eyes.</p> <p>”What?”</p> <p>”He is— <em>was</em> a junior technician for the Foundation! Those trackers were used regularly.”</p> <p><em>Adam</em> looked back at Pietro, who was coiling in pain. Pietro could simply nod, his hands still up.</p> <p>He looked at Pietro for a while longer, before finally deciding to let him go. After an agonizing silence, looking back and forth at Pietro and the tracker, he picked it up from the dirt and tossed it at Pietro. ”You better be able to fix this whole thing.” He stepped away from both, as Pietro slowly righted himself, leaned-up against a wall.</p> <p>Eventually, though, he did what he planned to do, and began messing with the device, with whatever tools were available.</p> <p><em>Adam</em> didn’t even take a look at the process; he just stared out at the horizon.</p> <p>After about ten minutes or so, the device’s screen flickered back to life as it had minutes ago. ”Done!” Pietro exclaimed, as cold sweat dripped down along his face. <em>Adam</em> snatched the device out of his hands, and immediately began to type. He walked up and down, his eyes darting frantically over the device.</p> <p><em>Come on, come on…</em> ”YES!” <em>Adam</em> exclaimed, tears of joy in his eyes.</p> <p>Ramone had a look of confusion in her eyes, which quickly dissipated when Pietro tapped her lightly on the shoulder, and said: ”He’s… tracking down… 079.” Her eyes widened. She turned back to look at <em>Adam</em>.</p> <p>”What’s it say?” Ramone asked.</p> <p>But he couldn’t speak. His eyes were fixated upon the results on the little screen, blinking dimly in the cavern’s darkness. Not waiting for an answer, Ramone stepped up to see the answer for herself. Her eyes also became fixated on the screen.</p> <p>”What’s it say?” Pietro asked, feeling left out.</p> <p>There was silence, deafening to the mind, which prevailed over all three of them. Ramone could hear the rain, the tracker, Pietro’s words, but couldn’t place her mind on any of them. Only after a few seconds…</p> <p>”<a href="/scp-579">Site-62C</a>,” she murmured.</p> <p>Pietro let those words ruminate within his head, his eyes widening as did Ramone’s and <em>Adam</em>’s.</p> <p><em>Adam</em> looked up at the cave’s ceiling. Ramone saw what he was seeing; the makeshift fireplace had all but died done by now, the remaining flames glistering in their last breaths — the smoke, unlike as would be expected, had not accumulated in the cavern, but seemed to just disappear upon contact with the cave’s ceiling.</p> <p><em>Adam</em> turned to look at Ramone. Pietro was on his two feet by now. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. There was a pause.</p> <p>”Just follow me,” were his only words.</p> <p>He reached his hand out to touch the cave’s ceiling. It created a ripple upon contact, like waves in a small pond, the surfaces contorting. It was hard to look at.</p> <p>With that, <em>Adam</em> jumped through. Ramone and Pietro were close behind.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p>There was an aching pain thumping against their skulls. Their bodies felt cold and rotten, with even the slightest of movement radiating throughout their entire body.</p> <p>It was bright — not because of any light, but because their eyes felt they were opening up for the first time in centuries.</p> <p>When their surroundings became clear — a dilapitated Foundation facility in the woods — they were able to stand up again, albeit with great difficulty.</p> <p>They dusted off some dirt off of their clothes, before they headed toward the main gate — <em>Adam</em> was already there.</p> <p>The gate stood ajar, Foundation vehicles resting peacefully around in the area, nature having already reclaimed most of the structures. They were careful to shift their weight to not let a dried leaf or a fallen stick break under their weight, as they went through the grass-covered yard.</p> <p>Pietro faltered, almost collapsing onto the ground. Ramone wanted to help, but Pietro was able to hold onto the side of a truck to balance himself, flowers blooming all throughout. Ramone gave him a concerned look.</p> <p>”It’s okay… I can walk.”</p> <p>He saw <em>Adam</em> glancing over at him, before averting his gaze. Despite this, he continued on, feeling the weight of the suit pressing him down.</p> <p>They headed straight into Site-62.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p><a name="Part5"></a></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Just Forty-Eight Hours after</strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Screams were echoing down the corridors, as the audio had cut alongside the video feed, everything having been plunged into blackness only moments prior.</p> <p>Then the lights came back up, dim and sparse, barely able to reach into the far corners of the control room. Director Light shouted back into her microphone, the handle clutched tightly in her hand. ”Nu-7, do you copy?”</p> <p>She pressed several buttons, looked intently on the monitor barely holding onto the threads of life. She moved toward it, placing the microphone onto the table beside her, and switched the channel. Sweat dripped onto the screen, as her eyes darted across every option, trying to adjust in the dim light. She backed away, the microphone back in her hand, as the seconds passed in an agonizingly slow fashion. Someone finally picked up at the other end.</p> <p>”Dr. Moto, can you hear me?” she began.</p> <p>”The sculptures… they’re everywhere!” he shouted in rapid-fire.</p> <p>”Dr. Moto, please remain calm. Do you have any security forces in your sector?”</p> <p>”Fuck if I know! Never had that much. I never thought the sculpture would ever become such a big de—”</p> <p>There was a loud metallic screeching, followed by metal crunching, glass shattering, and the sound of stone grinding on stone, <em>before…</em></p> <p><strong><em>CRUNCH.</em></strong></p> <p>Sophia placed the microphone back on the table, stemming her head in her hands. She was rested on an old swivel chair, barely squeaking under her weight. She looked at the monitor in front of her, exhausted, but all she could see in it was sta—</p> <p>There was a low growling sound, wet footsteps clattering in a corner, hushed tones of a hundred voices muttering under a breath, like whispers. She turned to look, her heart skipping a beat, but saw nothing.</p> <p><em>Another growl. Wet footsteps. Whispers.</em></p> <p>Sophia immediately stood up, looking all across the gigantic room, again, seeing nothing. She retrieved her 9mm, unlatched the safety, and looked some more.</p> <p><em>A shadow swooped behind a rack of monitors.</em></p> <p>The bullets flew straight across the room, hitting the monitors’ screens, the shards spilling onto the floor into even smaller fragments. She spun behind her, gun at the ready, but saw nothing again.</p> <p><em>My mind’s playing tricks on me. Memetic hazards, plain and simple. I’ve gone looney tunes.</em></p> <p>Another growl, this time right behind her. She spun around again, again meeting the gaze of nothing, but the darkness, and blank screens and monitors.</p> <p>Before she had the chance to react, the entity leapt at her from behind, gun cluttering to the floor, its long, clawed hands pushing her up against the floor tiles. Its long fingers wrapped themselves around her throat, as she felt the pressure being exerted around her neck slowly cutting off her supply of air.</p> <p>The demon took a good look at her, tracing its fingers along her cheek, its claws etching markings into her flesh, as the blood trickled along its fingers, palm, then wrist and onto the floor tiles.</p> <p>She looked up at the creature, gasping for breath, as she desperately tried to fall free from its grip. Her hands were punching against the arm of the demon, who didn’t budge for even an inch. It kept staring at her, its glowing white eyes piercing straight into her soul, mouth carved into a wide, teeth-ridden smile.</p> <p>It placed its hand onto her forehead, dead to the touch, before it loosened its grip on her neck. Sophia slowly felt the air back in her lungs again, coughing with the pain radiating from her throat, before another kind of pain radiated throughout her body. Blood sickered down, her clothes were stained, as the entity began to wiggle its claws around in her abdomen, its nails scraping against her flesh, skin torn apart like paper.</p> <p>She screamed. Screamed from the top of her lungs, her body jolting upwards at the stab. When the screams reached their peak, the entity opened its mouth and gave out an ear-piercing howl, before moving its body into her mouth. Its body began to contort and reshape, as it wiggled its way further down into her body. The life left her eyes, her body felt heavier, before finally falling limp.</p> <p>She thought her final thoughts, breathed her final breath, before slipping into an eternal, silent bliss.</p> <p>The entity slowly stood up, her new bun, her new clothes, her new body. She had difficulty walking at first, but soon got the hang of it.</p> <p>”D—director!” it crackled over one of the channels. She immediately snapped her head toward the source of the noise. It crackled again: ”Director Light, we’re heading toward evac point 345-D! We’ll meet you there!” It was quiet again.</p> <p>She made her way out the door and left.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p><a name="Part6"></a></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>On a Cold Autumn Night</strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>She took another gulp, this time more pronounced, a little longer, the drink feeling like acid on her thoughts. She felt all of her thoughts melting away, the stench of the alcohol easing her pain, as the contents of the bottle dwindled.</p> <p>Suddenly, there was a <em>knock</em> on the window of the passenger-side seat, light and deliberate. She frantically searched for the cap, screwed it tight, then quickly stowed the bottle away underneath the backseats.</p> <p>Without awaiting a further answer or acknowledgement, the passenger-side door opened, and Adam sat down beside her. Ramone stared silently ahead of her. She tried her best to not make it obvious that she had cried.</p> <p>The next few seconds passed in utter silence. It was deafening, hearing nothing, but your own breathing and heartbeat, someone else’s breathing and heartbeat. It was abruptly interrupted by Adam giving out a light chuckle. She turned to face him. ”Does every department at 67 actually know?”</p> <p>She sunk her head, but Adam could tell that a smile was adorning the corners of her face. Then she looked back at him. ”Yes. Everyone knows.”</p> <p>He could tell she had cried.</p> <p>”Well… I guess I gotta live with that for the rest of my life.”</p> <p>Ramone chuckled. It was nice seeing her like this again. ”At least you didn’t spill your coffee over the Keter-chamber controls or we’d all be done for.”</p> <p>Adam jokingly waved her away. ”Dodged a bullet there, indeed.”</p> <p>They sat there in silence for a while. It wasn’t deafening, and they could hear each other’s breathing and heartbeat.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong><em>Well, one day you’ll be not even a faint memory, no,</em></strong><br/> <strong><em>At most a ghost or falling leaf from your family tree!</em></strong><br/> <strong><em>Your legacy’s not yours to see, nor is your eulogy!</em></strong><br/> <strong><em>AND YOU’LL NEVER KNOW WHAT IT ALL MEANS!</em></strong></p> <p><strong><em>But you’ll be at peace before you sleep,</em></strong><br/> <strong><em>If you just keep this in mind:</em></strong><br/> <strong><em>That everyTHING and everyONE goes</em></strong><br/> <strong><em>With the passage of time!</em></strong></p> <p><strong><em>So whether it’s CANCER…</em></strong><br/> <strong><em>MURDER…</em></strong><br/> <strong><em>Or SUICIDE…</em></strong></p> <p><strong><em>…</em></strong><br/> <strong><em>ONE DAY YOU’RE GOING TO DIE!</em></strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p><a name="Part7"></a></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Now</strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>The walls were laced with vines, some hanging loosely from the ceiling tiles, dangling in the soft breeze coming from a large hole in the wall, on which sides several flowers were blooming.</p> <p>Doors and gates stood ajar, as trees had sprouted from them, their bark imposingly blocking any path forward, the branches having erupted through the ceiling, the leaves merrily whistling in the air. The air was clean and calm, and there were even rays of sunshine, <em>actual</em> sunshine peeping through the cracks, but when one were to look, the sun would still shine in all its pitch black glory.</p> <p>The three marched on, none of them saying a single word, as their minds wandered to the endless hallways. Some had odd trails etched into the grassy patches and dirt, as if someone had dragged something right through it.</p> <p>They continued on.</p> <p><em>Adam</em> took a careful peek around every corner. He poked his head out, looking both directions, up and down, before proceeding onward — Ramone and Pietro would follow him, the latter careful not to stumble over his two feet.</p> <p>There was a sense of finality thumping in his chest. In everyone’s.</p> <p>Suddenly, the tracker in <em>Adam</em>’s hand began to beep arrythmically in all colors under the rainbow, as it indicated that they were close.</p> <p>He turned his head to the right, the door to an observation room standing wide ajar. He leaned close against the wall, his eyes inspecting the room in a reflection. Until he determined it was safe, no one moved a muscle.</p> <p>When it was, <em>Adam</em> walked inside, his feet slowly descending upon the floor with each step, as the others followed.</p> <p>The desks and chairs were wrapped in thick vines, the grass had sprouted at some parts in the corners, flowers were blooming out of the machinery, computers and sensors. Everything was dead, yet so lively all the same.</p> <p>They made their way to the observation window. The entire room was several feet in the air, sticking out of the rest of the facility like a sore thumb, overlooking the far side of a wall of an old, partially broken, long anbandoned factory building; the windows were shattered, the bricks had begun to wither decades ago, and parts of the walls and roof had collapsed in on themselves. Interesting enough, there was no vegetation anywhere near the factory.</p> <p>Further down along the wall stood the entrance to the rest of the facility: <em>a worn wooden barn door, a lock transfixed to one of its sides.</em></p> <p><em>Adam</em> tried to remember the related documentation he had read, vividly:</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <blockquote> <p><em><a href="/scp-004">SCP-004</a> consists of an old wooden barn door […] and a set of twelve rusted steel keys […].</em></p> <p><em>Testing on SCP-004 reveals that ten of the keys open […] on a dimension where the laws of physics and topology are significantly different than those of our […] dimension. […] subjects meeting these hostile conditions are torn apart, their body parts deposited in various locations, only three of which have been verified to be on Earth.</em></p> <p><em>Opening the door with any key except SCP-004-7 or SCP-004-12 caused the test subjects to be torn apart in multiple directions […]</em></p> <p><em>[…] has ordered the site inside SCP-004-1 to be expanded to include emergency storage […] The facility is now referred to as Site-62.</em></p> <p><em>Site-62 is operational. Labs and containment units are complete and can contain the most dangerous specimens. […]</em></p> <p><em>Spatial anomalies include the impossibly large dimensions of the area opened by SCP-004-7. Similarly, […] there exists an alternate plane of existence within the same space that Site-62 occupies.</em></p> </blockquote> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <blockquote> <p><em>SCP-579 is currently in Site-62C […].</em></p> </blockquote> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <blockquote> <p><em>Action 10-Israfil-B: Gateway of Site-62 (SCP-004) is to be destroyed. This must be done regardless of personnel or facilities remaining within the site. Remnants of the Gateway — or the gateway itself if destruction proves impossible — are to be contained in the same manner as SCP-579. High Command will then issue further instruction.</em></p> </blockquote> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><em>Doesn’t seem like they did a real good job on it.</em> Or maybe they didn’t have any time left.</p> <p>SCP-004 stood slightly ajar.</p> <p>Ramone tapped <em>Adam</em> on the shoulder, reminding him of their presence. He noticeably flinched, and turned around. ”We need to get the keys,” she stated.</p> <p>”What, you’ve worked here?”</p> <p>”Thankfully not. I’ve read the 004 file. What the staff here experienced is more than any one person should bear…”</p> <p>”Wait, what keys?” Pietro chimed in, completely flabbergasted.</p> <p><em>Adam</em> glanced at Pietro, enough to shut him up, before walking away. ”They should be around here. Find them.”</p> <p>The three of them moved into different parts of the observation room, looking on and underneath desks and tables, behind server racks, and shelves.</p> <p>Pietro took a look in a corner, where there were several lockers lined up in a row against the wall.</p> <p>He tripped over a root poking itself out of the tiles, landing onto the earth below. It gave off a sound of something heavy hitting dirt, as Ramone looked at Pietro. ”It’s okay. I’m okay!” He waved her away, her looking on with an expression of concern.</p> <p>Although he couldn’t see <em>Adam</em> from his perspective, he’d imagined his look to be rather different from Ramone’s.</p> <p>He stood up, leaned himself against one of the lockers, and dusted some dirt from his suit, before continuing on. His arm suddenly collided with another metal object, and he looked to see it was a small lock attached to one of the lockers. Finding no other way, he grasped the lock with his metal-encased hand, pressed down on it, and snapped the lock open.</p> <p>With a notable squeak, he found a small tin box inside it, coated in a reddish-brown substance, bearing corroded words, having faded too much to be legible.</p> <p>He opened the box, revealing twelve rusty keys resting on top of each other, each labelled with their own designation.</p> <p>He took the keys in a fit of mild joy, and turned back to the others. ”Guys! I’ve found the keys…”</p> <p>But there was no one there. <em>There wasn’t anything there at all.</em></p> <p>Pietro turned all around himself to assure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him, but everything had disappeared. The rays of light, the pitch black sun, the shattered sky, the keys, Ramone and <em>Adam</em> — <em>gone.</em></p> <p>There was only him and the suit, as his heart beat faster and faster, his breathing quickened.</p> <p>”Guys? Ramone…?”</p> <p>There was whispering of a young boy behind him. His heart was thumping in his ears.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p>Ramone moved away with a concerned expression on her face, toward the bookshelves in the center of the room.</p> <p>Some of them were knocked over, some covered in moss and mold, as the color had been drained of the various books resting within. She dusted away some of the dust and took one, flipping through its pages. The words conglomerated into a black mess in her mind, as her thoughts strayed away from the present.</p> <p>Looking at these shelves of old books reminded her of a past, feeling ever-so-distant, the odor of old books lingering in the air.</p> <p>Then she snapped back into reality, shutting the book again, dust flying high into the air, before returning it back onto its shelf.</p> <p>”Pietro, have you found anything yet…”</p> <p>When she turned around, she wasn’t in the observation room anymore. She wasn’t at Site-62 at all. She was in a small bedroom. A room she could’ve recognized anywhere. The odor of old books was lingering in the air.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p>There was an overwhelming feeling pressing down on him. It seemed to suffocate him, like he was drowning, pressing down on him from all sides.</p> <p>Even though he couldn’t see it, that feeling seemed to emanate from the barn door. It seemed to look down on him, engrave itself against the edges of his mind.</p> <p>He looked under the tables for the rusty keys, hoping the search would distract him from that feeling.</p> <p>There was the distinct sound of metal impacting the earth. Then the voice of the man in the suit emanated from another corner of the room. His fists clenched tight, he ground his teeth, his pupils shrank at the mere sound of that man’s voice.</p> <p>Then there was the woman. She reminded him of something, but he couldn’t fully place on what. Soon, the thought wandered from his mind as soon as it had appeared.</p> <p>He eased himself up a bit, letting the air rush in to fill his lungs, then come out through his nostrils. The feeling didn’t fully dissipate, but was more bearable.</p> <p>He stuck his head underneath a desk, patches of grass growing from dirt underneath, tiny flowers resting along the legs of the desk. Finding nothing, he emerged from under the table — he hit his head on the underside of it. His thoughts came to a halt, as they were temporarily drowned out by a thumping pain.</p> <p>Standing back up on his two feet, rubbing the back of his head, he slowly gained a sense of his surroundings. Annoyed and deeply frustrated, he turned to face the others, if they had seen even a hint of the keys.</p> <p><em>Warm, light breeze. Black sun. Shattered sky. Desert sand. Earth.</em></p> <p>He found himself in an open desert expanse. Dunes were meter high, sand covering even the tallest of buildings under their mounts. He recognized this place. He had been here before.</p> <p>There was something shifting under the sand.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>WILSON</strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Pietro looked into the distance. There was nothing, but pure darkness for miles onward. Only him and the suit, little specks of <em>something</em> in this vast expanse.</p> <p>Even though there was no light to speak of, Pietro could see himself and the suit clearly, like a glitch in reality. He took a step forward, but didn’t know whether he was actually moving or if he simply thought he was.</p> <p>There was a light in the distance. Small, yet so bright. Like a miniature version of the sun, moving around in the void.</p> <p>Pietro, with no other way to go, decided to march toward it, still unsure if he was making any progress at all.</p> <p>As he got closer to it, the louder the whispers grew. Quite unnoticeable at first, but they slowly became more coherent, more focused.</p> <p>Pietro collapsed onto what felt like the ground to him, as the voices droned on, whispering ever louder, rapidly, over each other. His ears where filled with these indescribable words and noises, welling up inside his mind. He tightly pressed his hands against his ears, closing his eyes, as they began to hurt. ”MAKE IT STOP!” he yelled into the void.</p> <p>Through closed eyelids, he saw a sudden brightness envelop itself around him. The voices quickly faded, as he felt the sudden sensation of a soft autumn breeze go past him.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Their house was small, barely able to house them three. Despite this, Pietro had found a way to turn their living conditions into an advantage.</p> <p>He always imagined himself to be an explorer of far away lands, searching the world for any clues to aid him in the case he was trying to solve. It was a flimsy thought, but in the eyes of a young child everything was possible.</p> <p><em>He looked on as Pietro made his way to the kitchen, crawled between the chairs and underneath the table, obscured by a cloth, before darting his eyes all around, and making his way out through the backdoor.</em></p> <p>Then, magnifying glass in hand, under the star-littered sky, he made his way to the plant pots. There Pietro inspected each plant with great curiosity, looking onto them intently with his magnifying glass; there was a green leaf, and in the next pot over was a wilting flower. He picked a yellow leaf from it, careful not to destroy the evidence.</p> <p>”Seems like we’ve found something, Mr. Waterson!” Pietro said in his best Sherlock Holmes accent his young mind could come up with. Then, in a similarly horrendous accent, spoke: ”Well, Mr. Holmes, what…”</p> <p><em>”… does it mean?” he ended the sentence. The words were so far, yet so clear in his mind. He stood a few feet away from the boy.</em></p> <p>”Well, Mr. Walson, it means that we’ve found another piece of the puzzle and are getting closer to the doer of evil!</p> <p>”If you say so, Mr. Holmes. If you say so.”</p> <p>He placed the yellow leaf in a plastic bag, labelled to the side in black marker with <em>’EVINDCE’</em>.</p> <p><em>Pietro couldn’t help, but smile softly.</em></p> <p>”Well,” the boy spoke again, speaking in the worst British accent ever concocted by a seven year old child, ”if there was one piece of evidence, surely there must be more here—”</p> <p>The boy backed away in terror, as his eyes were fixed upon something in the bushes.</p> <p><em>Pietro turned to look and saw a mass of black moving around inside it.</em></p> <p>Pietro pointed his magnifying glass in a defensive position, never averting his gaze from whatever it was that rested in the bushes. He felt his blood run cold, his body suddenly stiff, as he quieted his breathing.</p> <p>And out from the bushes stepped a small black cat, barely taller than a foot. It had dirt on it and looked severely starved for a couple of days.</p> <p>It humbly stepped out of the bushes, meowing from the top of its lungs, as it laid its eyes on Pietro. He simply stared at the cat, as it slowly made its way toward him, while staying at a considerable distance from it.</p> <p>Slowly, he felt his body ease up a bit. He held out his hand, the cat backing away, its eyes fixated upon his hand. ”Don’t be scared of me,” he said in a calm voice. ”I won’t hurt you.”</p> <p>After a few more seconds of staring at his hand, the cat approached it, sniffed it, before rubbing its head against his hand with full force. Pietro giggled, putting his magnifying glass down.</p> <p>”Well, how’d you want to be called?” he asked the cat. It continued to rub its face against him.</p> <p>”I’ve got it! How about… Holmes! No…“ He was deeply entrenched in thought. The cat was rubbing against his leg now.</p> <p>”I’ve got it!” he finally said. ”I’m gonna call you…”</p> <p><em>”… Damian,” he finished the sentence.</em></p> <p>”Or would you prefer a different name?” the child asked, the cat only sitting down and tilting its head at the young Pietro.</p> <p>Smiling, he concluded: ”Damian it is, then!”</p> <p>They remained like this for a little while longer, him sitting in the dirt and Damian rubbing his head against leg or hand. Pietro…</p> <p><em>… smiled.</em></p> <p>Then there was a loud <em>bang</em>, as a door suddenly crashed open, and a man, tall, slender, hair uncombed, stepped out and made his way toward Pietro.</p> <p>As the man approached, the cat scurried away, as Pietro could do nothing else, but be completely paralyzed.</p> <p>The man grabbed him by the arm and yanked him up, causing pain to radiate at where he had grabbed him. ”Your lunch money,” the man begun, ”where is it?”</p> <p>Pietro looked around, quite confused, but soon looked back at the man when he tightened his grip. The man rubbed his face. ”Did you spend it?” Pietro was searching for an answer.</p> <p>”DID YOU?!”</p> <p>”Yes! Yes!” Tears welled up in his eyes.</p> <p>”On what?”</p> <p>”On fo—”</p> <p>”DON’T LIE TO ME!” The man’s grip tightened around Pietro’s arms, as the tears started flowing from his eyes. The man looked past Pietro, eyeing the magnifying glass next to him.</p> <p>He let Pietro go and got a hold of the magnifying glass. ”You spent it on this thing, didn’t you?”</p> <p>Pietro’s eyes reflected fear, his voice reduced to a mere whisper. ”I—”</p> <p>”YOU LITTLE—!”</p> <p>In an instant, the man raised his arm high into the air and threw the magnifying glass next onto the rocky ground, shattering the glass into thousands of tiny fragments, leaving only the golden-painted handle intact.</p> <p>He looked sternly at Pietro, who had his eyes shut tightly. ”That money was for your food! For you to buy something to eat!” he shouted. ”If you don’t want it, give it to me or your fucking brother!”</p> <p>Pietro remained silent.</p> <p><em>He was like paralyzed.</em></p> <p>The man looked at his son, an expression of disappointment riddling his face, before he wordlessly turned back to the door.</p> <p>”One less fucking mouth to feed…” he muttered under his breath, as the door was slammed shut again.</p> <p><em>Pietro looked at the young boy, huddled in a corner, sobbing to himself. He tried to approach him, do</em> something<em>, but was suddenly halted by a sudden burning sensation emanating from his back, not going away.</em></p> <p><em>He steadied himself on the weathered wall, pressing his hand against the phantom wound; it was then he noticed he wasn’t wearing his suit anymore, and looked upon himself, confused.</em></p> <p><em>Then there was another sharp pain, burning on his skin, before he heard the sounds of both yelling and crying all at the same time swelling up inside his mind. And then everything became dark again.</em></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>The keys laid firmly in his hands.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>RAMANI</strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>The traffic was low to non-existent, and there were only the streetlights to shine through the window. It was well past her bedtime (normally, she would’ve been fast asleep six hours ago), but today she decided to do different.</p> <p>She heard a car pull up on the gravel path outside their house. The headlights shone through the tree branches and window, creating elongated shadows all the way to the door, before disappearing again in a flash.</p> <p>Then the sound of someone opening and closing a car door, the sounds of footsteps upon the gravel, then wooden floorboards, then keys and finally the rattling of the front door.</p> <p>She remained utterly still, remaining pressed up against the wall for a good while. She pressed her ear against the door to better make out the noises from behind the door. She heard the footsteps continue, keys being placed on a table, before the footsteps abruptly ceased. Pressing her ear tighter against the door, she could make out voices on the other side:</p> <p>”You’re back?” she heard her sister say.</p> <p>After a few seconds: ”Why are you still up?”</p> <p>”I’m not ten anymore, mum,” Agnes replied. ”But I guess you missed the last eight years.”</p> <p>Then a groan. ”Agnes, please…”</p> <p>”What?” it came out of Agnes rapidly.</p> <p>”Please, I can’t deal with this shit anymore!” The tone of her mother had a spark in it, capable of igniting a whole fire.</p> <p>”What, your family? Coming home to see them? Wake up in the morning to say a ’hello’ or, or…” Then she stopped. There was no one speaking for the next couple of seconds.</p> <p>”What are you doing every night, mum?” Agnes said, but not in her regular voice. Her voice sounded… <em>humble</em>, unlike anything she knew of her sister to be. It made her feel uneasy.</p> <p>”I… I work at the company in the IT department. They’ve got big servers and—”</p> <p>”No, stop, that’s <em>bullshit</em>!” she interrupted, accusingly pointing her finger at her mother.</p> <p>”It’s the truth.” She didn’t look at her.</p> <p>”BULLSHIT! You constantly come up with these fucking excuses! There’s always something with ’the company’, but, what, you can’t be there for your family?! You—”</p> <p>”Agnes…”</p> <p>”—you couldn’t be there for <em>dad</em>?!”</p> <p>There was silence for a moment.</p> <p>”Don’t bring your father into this.”</p> <p>”Oh, I’m going to bring him into this! First, you sneak out of the house, late at night, because of ’emergencies at the company’, then you’re not there when dad dies on a <em>freaking</em> Sunday, which I may be able to understand, but then you don’t even show up for his <em>fucking <strong>funeral!</strong></em>”</p> <p>Her voice suddenly quieted down. ”And now you still can’t tell me the truth… I…”</p> <p>The silence continued, lingered in the air. Even she, from the safety of her room, could be nothing more, but utterly silent. Her heart was pounding in her chest.</p> <p>”Do you know with what kind of shit I gotta put up with every single day?” her mother suddenly erupted, ”How much my work in ’the company’ is <em>really</em> worth?”</p> <p>”No, I don’t, because you won’t fucking tell me anything!”</p> <p>She heard her, but continued on, ”Do you want to know with what type of bullshit I have to deal with on a regular basis, Agnes?! You couldn’t even begin to grasp the work I’m doing! How <em>insignificant</em> all of our problems really are?!” She yelled that last part.</p> <p>Her sister remained silent, the words stuck in her mouth. Then, with great pain in her voice: ”Is this the way you thought about d—dad?”</p> <p>She couldn’t breathe.</p> <p>Her sister immediately went to the next question: ”Did you f—find someone else?”</p> <p>”… No,” she said sternly, straight to the point.</p> <p>Her sister gave out a suppressed chuckle under her sobs. She was having none of it. ”Oh, really?”<br/> Her tone became toxic, spiced with venom. ”Because just the other day there was this man performing at the new restaurant, with a fucking woman, <em>who just so happened to look</em> exactly like my <em>fucking</em> mother!”</p> <p>There was silence, only interrupted intermittedly by Agnes’ sobs.</p> <p>”Who told you this?”</p> <p>”Why does it fucking matter?!” she yelled.</p> <p>She didn’t hear a word from either of them for a long while. Based on their silence, she thought that maybe mum had just wandered off or gone back to work again. But then she spoke again:</p> <p>”I work at an organization, Agnes, which…” The words abruptly halted. ”It’s called the <em>Special Containment Procedures Foundation</em>, or SCP Foundation. They… they contain paranormal phenomena, things that shouldn’t exist, things <em>beyond our world</em>.”</p> <p>There was a noticeable pause. Agnes’ sobs stopped. She listened more intently.</p> <p>”<em>Strategic Car Partners—</em> or whatever the fuck it’s called is a front company of this organization. Hell, it’s in the first three intials!”</p> <p>Agnes didn’t say anything. She didn’t even make so much as a squeak.</p> <p>”That’s what I’ve been doing, alright? That’s why I’ve been sneaking out at night, that’s why I couldn’t be there for you, or you father, or your sister. I was…” Her mum’s voice became a sob, then humbly: ”I’m sorry, I… I should’ve told you this before. It was wrong of me to… to not tell you.”</p> <p><em>Silence.</em></p> <p>”I hope you can understand…” Ramone approached her daughter. ”I hope you can—” Agnes took a step back.</p> <p>She looked on in horror, as her daughter slowly backed up toward the stairs. ”I don’t believe it…”</p> <p>”Agnes, I’m telling you the truth. I—”</p> <p>But she already made her way up the stairs.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><em>The approaching footsteps, the light in the hallway lighting up, then the door opening.</em></p> <p><em>She found herself looking up at her own daughter, who was now towering over her. She looked quite confused at the sight of her just sitting near the door, but paid no attention to it. She picked her up, her head over her daughter’s shoulder, as she quickly ran down the stairs.</em></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>”Come on, Tetua! We’re going.”</p> <p>”B—but…”</p> <p>”AGNES!”</p> <p>She carried Tetua out the front door, out into the open air of the night sky. She opened her car’s door, throwing Tetua onto the passenger’s seats, before going into the vehicle herself.</p> <p>The car revved to life. Her mother sprinted out the front door, shouting indescernible words at them. The car exited the gravel driveway, then rolled out onto the streets, into the night.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><em>She could see it all so, so clearly. Yet her memory of it felt like it was obscured by a dense fog, having lowered itself into the crevices of her brain.</em></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>”Aggie,” it sounded from the passenger’s seats. ”Where are we going?”</p> <p>Her mind was wandering places. Half of it was fixated on what just went down, her home several miles behind them by now, the other half was fixated on the road through the forest ahead of her.</p> <p>There was some part of her screaming, clawing at her, to turn back, back home, back to their mother. Her hands were shaky on the steering wheel.</p> <p>None of it was focused on what the other person in the backseats was thinking. It took another jab in the absolute silence to finally get Agnes’ attention.</p> <p>”We’re… going to Kiko’s,” she lied. Frankly, she hadn’t thought any of this through yet, and the complete aimlessness just dawned on her. Right now, they were just driving, far, far away from their mother.</p> <p>”Why?”</p> <p>”Mum wanted us to stay away from her a little while,” she lied again.</p> <p>”Why?”</p> <p>”Just sit in your seat and be silent, okay?!” She didn’t want to sound so forceful. It just slipped out of her.</p> <p>”I don’t want to be silent! I WANT TO SEE MOMMY!” she shouted back.</p> <p>”You want to see mum?! She had her whole fucking life to see you, but did she? Did she?!” Without, nor expecting, an answer, she rambled on. ”No, she didn’t, so why should <em>you</em> care about <em>her</em> if she doesn’t care about yo—”</p> <p>Bright light erupted all throughout the vehicle. A loud honking noise, metal hitting metal, glass shattering, and shattering some more upon hitting the asphalt pavement.</p> <p>Tetua could momentarily taste her own blood, while Agnes barely had any time left to stifle a scream.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><em>She had always thought about what they thought in their last moments, what they said or didn’t say to each other. She didn’t know if what she was experiencing was real or not, but she knew it</em> felt <em>real.</em></p> <p><em>It felt agonizingly real.</em></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>KRUG</strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>The wind whipped over the barren landscape, dunes of sand shifted over each other, crashing against brick and concrete, slowly chipping away at them. <em>Adam</em> navigated his way through the remains of the desolate city. The once-mighty standing buildings and structures, in the past so lush of life, were now completely empty, mere husks of what once was.</p> <p>Although the sun was standing high, he felt a cold sensation enveloping him. His gaze rested on these shells of civilization, before he hurriedly moved on.</p> <p>He came upon a little store, empty like all the others had been. It was a small store standing at the end of a crossroads, faded colors of blue and green lining the walls of it, the door standing wide ajar, obviously having been looted if the looks were anything to go by.</p> <p>He wanted to march on, find an exit in this deserted landscape he now found himself in, before his eyes laid upon an oddity on one of the store’s windows.</p> <p>In the condensation on the window, words were scribbled down. His eyes adjusted to the faint words haphazardly inscribed upon the surface, reading:</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <blockquote> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong><em>WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE?</em></strong></p> </div> </blockquote> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>A hand shot up from under the sand, grasping his ankle with its long, bony fingers. Pieces of skin and muscle hung loosely from the hand and arm, as <em>Adam</em> coiled in terror, shifting his whole weight into releasing himself from its grasp.</p> <p>Another hand shot up, this one gripping his other ankle, digging its rotten nails into his skin. The sand below was now drenched in a deep red.</p> <p>Soon, <em>Adam</em> found himself surrounded by various arms and limbs shooting out of the dunes in quick succession, heaving themselves over the grainy sand, clawing and crawling their way toward him. He tried to pull away from the assortment of limbs and decaying body parts, but they became more and more, before the entire ground for miles was covered in them.</p> <p>They had knocked him to the ground, each pulling and tearing at his body, him giving out a scream of pure agony and terror. Then a decayed corpse jumped onto him, its hollow sockets staring deeply into him.</p> <p>The corpse had no legs, its lower body parts having withered away in the elements, its flesh having turned into a disgusting green, its teeth hanging loose in its mouth. Despite this, there were traces of once brown and grey hair on its head — his hair.</p> <p>It clasped its hand tightly around his chin, forcing him to stare directly at him, mere inches apart.</p> <p>It spoke: <em>”<span style="text-decoration: underline;">WHY DIDN’T YOU SAVE US?</span>”</em> It spoke in his voice. Raspy and contorted, but still his voice.</p> <p>Another hand grabbed him, this time pulling at his hair, turning his head into a sharp upward position. <em>”<span style="text-decoration: underline;">WHAT IS IT THAT YOU FEAR?</span>”</em> The corpse was missing a large part of its skull, yet he could still make out his face in it.</p> <p><em>”<span style="text-decoration: underline;">YOU NEVER TRIED,</span>”</em> another howled into his ear.</p> <p><em>”<span style="text-decoration: underline;">YOU ARE NOT ENOUGH,</span>”</em> another one growled.</p> <p><em>”<span style="text-decoration: underline;">YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE THAT MATTERS.</span>”</em></p> <p><em>”<span style="text-decoration: underline;">STOP THIS.</span>”</em></p> <p><em>”<span style="text-decoration: underline;">WHAT WILL MAKE THIS ANY DIFFERENT FROM LAST TIME?</span>”</em></p> <p>The voices came in succinct rapidty, each howling and crying and yelling in agony. Despite all the voices, he made out his own in every single word that was spoken.</p> <p><em>”<span style="text-decoration: underline;">YOU WILL <strong>FAIL!</strong></span>”</em> all of the corpses, mounting into the hundreds of thousands now, spoke in unison, defeaning.</p> <p>He tried to cover his ears, but his arms were pulled and scratched at, the weight of each limb dragging him deeper into the sand.</p> <p><strong><em>”<span style="text-decoration: underline;">YOU WILL FAIL! YOU WILL FAIL!</span>”</em></strong></p> <p>”NO!” he tried to yell against the millions of voices, but his own was merely a whisper against the cacophony of himself.</p> <p>They dragged him deeper into the sand, the light slowly fading, the structures crumbling into dust. <em>Adam</em> let out one last stifled scream, as he descended into the depths — <em>there was a distinct buzzing.</em></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>The stench of sweat, shit and blood lingered in the air.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p><a name="Part8"></a></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Just Forty-Eight Hours after</strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>He ran. Ran as fast as his legs allowed, as long as there was still breath in his lungs, as long as his heart still kept beating. His muscles were burning, his legs aching, his heart pounding against his ribcage. But Paul continued on, glancing over his back down the dark, empty corridors and hallways. The MTF soldiers were running at a steady pace.</p> <p>One of them shouted: ”It’s right up the stairs!”</p> <p>Upon hearing those words, a warmth overtook him, the feeling of hope, a chance at survival, of somehow making it out alive in this nightmarish shitshow.</p> <p>They made their way up the metal staircase, each step rattling the railing, making a metallic sound emanate through the stairwell, as none of them ever stopped running. The door to the roof was locked, but with a quick shot to the lock, the commander allowed entry to it.</p> <p>In the dead of night, the stars distantly shining in the night sky, a cold breeze cooling him down, he felt a certain serenity wash over him, as he couldn’t believe he had actually made it. Tears streamed down his face, he yelled in excitement, while the operatives prepared the carrier for take-off.</p> <p>”Hold your horses, smartass. The carrier hasn’t started yet,” the commander grabbed him by the shoulder, a serious expression on his face.</p> <p>Paul, however, was having none of it. In fact, his excited demeanor only seemed to heighten. ”We made it! We fucking made it!”</p> <p>Before he could say any more, footsteps rattled on from the stairwell, marching toward their direction. Paul fell silent, as the commander looked intently at the door, gun drawn, the other members catching on. They aimed their guns at the door, Paul backing away, as the blades of the carrier blarred on in the background.</p> <p>”Don’t shoot!” it suddenly rang out. The operatives gave each other looks and glances, before a person stepped out of the darkness.</p> <p>”Director Light!” the commander exclaimed.</p> <p>”In the flesh,” Sophia responded, a little worn and rough around the edges, but otherwise completely fine. ”How many of you are left?”</p> <p>The commander looked around. ”Five, Director. Excluding the smartass over there.” He pointed at him.</p> <p>”Were you able to make contact with anyone else?”</p> <p>”Negative, Director. The power suddenly cut off. We tried to contact you, but we received no response.”</p> <p>”Same here,” she replied, looking at the operatives. ”What are you waiting for? Get onto the carrier!”</p> <p>Hurriedly, they got onto it, it slowly taking off from the floor. A wave of relief washed over the junior researcher.</p> <p>The commander looked at Sophia. ”It’s good to have you back, Director.”</p> <p>She scoffed. ”Spare the theatrics for the end, commander. We’re not out of the wa—”</p> <p>A creature burst out through her mouth, tearing her jaw, bones, muscle and skin right open, viscera splattering onto all nearby. It was a fountain of blood, and the demon quickly leapt onto an operative, clawing their skin off and gnawing at their flesh. The inside of the carrier was quickly overtaken by the howls of the creature, gunfire, and panicked screams, as the operatives had too little time to react.</p> <p>It got off the first operative, then went onto the next, tearing the door wide open. One of them toppled and fell, fell, fell to their death. Their body looked like a squished mosquito on the ground.</p> <p>One of the squirt-gunners aimed and shot at the creature, dissolving its abdomen right through. It quickly slashed at the operative, slicing open a deep gash in their throat, causing them to drop, coil and bleed out in agony, as they stared at the demon with wide eyes.</p> <p>The pilot tried their best to control the metal behemoth, but a stray bullet hit them in the shoulder, causing the carrier to make a sharp left turn right back to the landing platform.</p> <p>The commander, he himself having a wide gash across his cheek, grabbed the junior researcher by the arm, and jumped out of the carrier, pulling the researcher down with him.</p> <p>They impacted the pavement. Paul saw the creature tearing off chunks off the pilot, before he shut his eyes tight, retreating into a fetal position, as the blades of the carrier scraped against the edges of the roof, denting, and sending sparks and debris flying everywhere, before falling out of sight.</p> <p>The sound of metal impacting earth, dirt being upheaved, glass shattering, the moans and cries of the pilot as they neared the ground, and the unimaginable screeching of the creature rang out through the night sky.</p> <p>But the screaming never stopped. He thought that maybe the pilot, or any of the others, had somehow made it out alive from the entire ordeal, but then he realized the screams weren’t coming from afar — they came from right next to him.</p> <p>He turned to see a large open wound on the leg of the commander, who was coiling and screaming in agony. He was dumbstruck, unable to move, as the commander held out something in his hand.</p> <p>”TAKE IT!”</p> <p>Half awake, half in a trance, Paul took whatever it was in his hands — it was an access card. Before he could even grasp what was happening, a low growl came from over the edge of the roof, a poignant clicking and tapping sound emanating from it. Soon, the creature crawled over the edge, slowly making its way toward them.</p> <p>”Go! GO!” the commander shouted, before coiling in pain again.</p> <p>Paul wanted to do something, <em>anything</em>, but deep down he knew everything that he could’ve done would’ve been a hopeless endeavour.</p> <p>Giving the commander one last glance, he held the keycard firmly in his hand, before sprinting off into the darkness of the stairwell.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p>He watched as the nameless researcher sprinted into the darkness of Site-19, while the pain pounded against his leg and body.</p> <p>His gaze met the glaring eyes of the creature, grinning with its teeth out, spit and blood dripping from its mouth, its claws reflecting the moonlight.</p> <p>He tried to reach for his rifle, but it had been flung several feet away from him, so any attempt to retrieve it would’ve only prolonged the inevitable — <em>not like regular bullets did any shit to them anyways.</em></p> <p>The creature came to a halt right in front of him. He peered into its cold gaze, before the demon grabbed him by the throat, as he felt his throat tightening, the air being blocked of from his lungs, his body growing weaker by the second.</p> <p>He struggled to stay alive, his hands pounding against the creature’s arm. It motioned its other arm right toward his chest, lightly tapping against his vest, letting the seconds go by.</p> <p>It then reached out, right through his vest, his skin, his muscle, his ribcage, placing its long fingers firmly around his heart.</p> <p>There was a searing pain all throughout his body, as it squeezed his heart, pressed it tighter, before ripping it out, the commander’s skin and flesh contorting, the ribcage bursting outwards in a fountain of viscera and gore, as the life left his eyes, a gaping hole where his heart once was.</p> <p>Troy Lament whispered for a while longer, his mouth replaced with an unholy tongue, as the creature dissipated back into the shadows to pursue its next prey.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p><a name="Part9"></a></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>On a Cold Autumn Night</strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>”Why do you drink coffee that late in the evening anyway?”</p> <p>”I think it’s a good coffee.”</p> <p>”You study anomalous phenomena, and you still don’t know what a caffeine addiction is?”</p> <p>”Hey, you don’t have to like it.”</p> <p>”The stuff they brew at 67 tastes very tasteless.”</p> <p>”I still like it.”</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong><em>No need to fear, ’cause when it’s</em></strong><br/> <strong><em>Here you won’t be alive!</em></strong><br/> <strong><em>(Try not to think about it!)</em></strong><br/> <strong><em>One day you’re going to die!</em></strong><br/> <strong><em>(AND THERE’S PROBABLY NOTHING AFTER!)</em></strong><br/> <strong><em>One day you’re going to DIE!</em></strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <a name="Part10"></a> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Now</strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>WILSON</strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>The sensations ceased, and he found himself standing at the same spot, the young boy idly pressed up against a wall. Tears were streaming down from his eyes. A row of knocked-over potted plants laid before his feet.</p> <p><em>He could see bruises on the boy. Bruises which he tried to cover up with long sleeves.</em></p> <p>It was evening. The sun was slowly setting, tinting the clouds and sky in a serene yellow-orange glow.</p> <p>Something emerged from the bushes, causing Pietro to look up at them, and saw the small cat from weeks before stepping out of the branches, with dirt and leaves in its fur.</p> <p>It looked around, stretched itself, before giving off a small <em>meow</em> for its tiny frame, and made its way toward Pietro. It rubbed its head against his leg, just like before.</p> <p>”At least you’re here to keep me company.” There was a slight smile on his face.</p> <p>Damian began to purr. His flow of tears temporarily halted. He spent some time like this, streaking the fur of Damian, it rubbing against his hand. It was a quiet moment.</p> <p>Then came the sound of a door creaking open. Footsteps upon stone and dirt. Pietro felt his heart beating rapidly, his breathing quickening, but he remained seated, staring off onto the ground.</p> <p>The man was there again, looking down upon the young boy. ”Son, I…”</p> <p>But the man stopped in his words. He looked down upon the row of pottery, now lying scattered and broken unto the ground. He clenched his hands into fists, as his gaze first looked onto the boy, then at the small cat in his lap.</p> <p>Without any hesitation, a growing rage boiling up inside of him, he grabbed the small cat by its neck and lifted it up into the air. Pietro tried to hold onto the cat, but he was too slow.</p> <p>”Father!” he screamed, panic building up inside of him.</p> <p>”Those were mother’s pots!” where his father’s only response.</p> <p>He threw the cat onto the dirt ground, it giving off an agonizing whimper upon impact. Its black eyes were twisted into a display of pure fear and pain, its tiny limbs broken, the high, yet small squeak of it reverberating loudly into the cold night.</p> <p><em>Pietro immediately shot up, enveloping his frail body around Damian. His body tensed, shook to its core, as tears streamed down his face. There was no suit, only his body between his father and Damian. He felt like a small boy again.</em></p> <p>The man stared at his son with a hateful glare. There were tears in the man’s eyes.</p> <p><em>”I’m not gonna let you hurt him,” he nearly whispered, his body still tightly around Damian.</em></p> <p>He was kicked aside, like he was nothing, but air, as he rolled several feet, away from his father, away from Damian. When he lifted his head, the two were nothing more, but silhouettes.</p> <p>He painfully crawled toward the blurry silhouettes on the horizon, as if encased in the suit again, unable to stand, each and every step aching him down to his bones, his body quaking under the weight, the metal ensnaring him like a welcoming grave. He reached his hand out, pulling himself along the dirt, as he repeated the motion continously. Yet he never reached them.</p> <p>The piercing wails of Damian and the grunts of his father echoed in the distance. He wailed, and cried, and screamed. Eventually, the suit was too much, too heavy to even move a muscle in.</p> <p>And eventually, everything turned black.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>RAMANI</strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>It was a cloudy day. Not rainy, just thick grey clouds looming high in the sky. There was sunlight shining through, but not where she was standing.</p> <p>She was standing before three granite headstones. Wilting flowers rested on them. Footsteps rang through the open area. The sound of dried leaves crunching under the weight of another just barely snapped her out of her thoughts.</p> <p>The person walking up to her was short, younger than her. A simple agent, not that high-ranking, just a courier for another one at the top. They stood and stared in silence, occasionally glancing over at Ramone, before quickly averting their gaze again. She took a long sigh.</p> <p>Inclined to break the silence, they said: ”I’m sorry for you—”</p> <p>”I thought about it,” she spoke nonchalantly, abruptly interrupting the agent. A few more seconds of silence passed, the agent expactantly looking onto the researcher.</p> <p>”To end things. To just…” she stopped, took a few deep breaths, then said nothing.</p> <p>The agent, wanting nothing to do with the topic, on a tight schedule, quickly steered back the conversation to what they were originally sent here for.</p> <p>They retrieved a manila envelope, common Foundation use, with various documents, black words on a white surface, contained therein. ”The Director wants you to lead the research for the potential memetic effects of <a href="/scp-8138">8138</a>.” They handed her the envelope. No one said anything for a good while. ”Adam’s on that project, too,” they broke the silence. ”The Comittee knows of your two’s close relationship, and thought—”</p> <p>She shut them right up. ”Don’t.” Her breathing grew heavier. The agent stared intently at the researcher.</p> <p>She pushed their hand holding the envelope away. ”Go find another one of your lackeys to do the work!” She stepped away from the agent. ”I’m done.”</p> <p>Ramone opened the door to her car, stepped in, started the engine, and drove away. The agent, dumbstruck, stood there in silence, before they themselves got into their car and left.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><em>…</em></p> <p><em>…</em></p> <p><em>…</em></p> <p><em>At least, that’s how she wished it had happened. Instead, she took the envelope, flew through the documents, and accepted a ride back to Site-67 from the agent. Personnel would take care of her car, the agent said.</em></p> <p><em>Ramone stood amongst the trees, light autumn breezes bristling the few remaining dark-oaked trees, as the headstones stood there in silence.</em></p> <p><em>She stepped out from amongst the trees, her body more hovering or gliding than actually touching the ground. She didn’t feel real, or real</em> enough<em>, everything she did feeling foggy.</em></p> <p><em>”I’m so sorry.” She knelt down in front of the headstones. ”I’m sorry that I wasn’t there for you, that I spent too much time on…” She stopped.</em></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>KRUG</strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Encased in darkness, he could feel nothing. Only his own body against his own body, against his own body. Thousands of them. In utter darkness.</p> <p>There was a light suddenly appearing in front of him, blinding for a short while. When his eyes adjusted, <em>Adam</em> saw the outlines of a face, spoiled and rotten down to the core, yet still alive, peering deep into his eyes. The walls moved for a bit, and the corpse leaned in closer to him. His breathing quickened.</p> <p><em>”<span style="text-decoration: underline;">What is it you fear?</span>”</em> it spoke, in his voice, with his face. It stared at him, unblinking.</p> <p>He found himself unable to mutter a word, the thoughts stuck in his mind. Eventually, he brought up words, quiet as a whisper:</p> <p>”What are you?”</p> <p>Silence.</p> <p><em>”<span style="text-decoration: underline;">It’s dead,</span>”</em> it spoke with a certain melancholy in its voice.</p> <p>”What is?” he brought out after a while.</p> <p><em>”<span style="text-decoration: underline;">Hope.</span>”</em> The answer came at him like a bullet.</p> <p>”I’m not giving up.”</p> <p>The edges of the face turned into a smile, which reached from ear to ear. It showed its decayed teeth, green and yellow, before the smile abated, and continued.</p> <p><em>”<span style="text-decoration: underline;">We know.</span>”</em> It was deep in thought. <em>”<span style="text-decoration: underline;">You will fail.</span>”</em></p> <p>He tried to say something, but couldn’t. His head was running rampant with a thousand thoughts, his body drowned in fear, enveloped by total darkness, the dim candle light in front of him serving as the only source of light nearby. The face looked at him again. The walls shifted slightly.</p> <p><em>”<span style="text-decoration: underline;">But you will try,</span>”</em> it bore a soft smile, akin to that a grandparent might give to their grandchildren. It felt awfully calming.</p> <p><em>”<span style="text-decoration: underline;">You are not enough.</span>”</em></p> <p><em>Adam</em> took up the courage to speak more. Humble, but louder than before, he asked: ”<em>Who</em> are you?”</p> <p>The face looked up. The walls began to shift. Their fleshy limbs and bodies twisted, crawled over each other to look down upon him, until every face was facing him. Despite the sight, he felt an odd relaxation wash over him.</p> <p>Then, in unison, every corpse spoke: <em>”<span style="text-decoration: underline;">You know who we are.</span>”</em></p> <p>The face reached out its finger, bony, the skin having sloughed off millenia ago. <em>Adam</em> felt the initial fear creep up again, but the voice from before echoed in his mind: <em>”<span style="text-decoration: underline;">Remember.</span>”</em> It tapped its finger lightly between his eyes.</p> <p><em>His head was filled with a million thoughts. In rapid succession. Memories of a former life, a past he forgot. People he once knew, once loved.</em></p> <p><em>Some of these memories he had seen as fragments — little remnants appearing to him in dreams, howling and trying to scratch their way back to the surface. It hurt. It hurt dearly.</em></p> <p><em>But now he was able to see these fragments for what they truly were. He no longer felt a distant pain from them, but happiness, a longing for these better times, these better days.</em></p> <p><em>He came back. He shed a tear.</em></p> <p>The sensation stopped. Adam could say nothing, but remain speechless. His mind no longer hurt. He turned to look at the face, a soft smile on its lips.</p> <p><em>”<span style="text-decoration: underline;">The others are waiting,</span>”</em> it said.</p> <p>And then he found himself in total blackness.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>WILSON</strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>There was nothing for miles. He didn’t feel anything, no sensations, neither of warmth, cold, nor sense of direction. A near blinding light shone in the distance, so dim, yet so bright in his eyes.</p> <p>Seeing nothing else in the landscape, Adam walked, <em>or an equivalent thereof</em>, approached it, each step feeling as if he were trekking through tar, his body weighed down by his own thoughts.</p> <p>The closer he got to the light, the heavier became his steps, the more blinding it got. He closed his eyes, but it was still too bright.</p> <p>Then the light disappeared. He slowly opened his eyes, trying to see through the slits, only to be met by utter darkness. The void was now echoing with the faint noises of someone sobbing. He turned to look.</p> <p>There sat Pietro, in the vast expanse of the void. He was straddling something small and furry in his arms. His eyes had gone red from the crying.</p> <p>Adam’s steps echoed equally as loudly through the nothingness, reaching into the beyond. Pietro didn’t look up. He remained huddled on the ground.</p> <p>He just stood, stared down at the man cradling a cat like a mother would her baby. The cat looked untouched, as if it weren’t even dead, as if it were just asleep. But it’s eyes gave back an unnerving, too focused stare, like he wasn’t even there. He turned his gaze back at Pietro.</p> <p>”Piet—”</p> <p>”I’m a nobody,” he said more into the void than at Adam. He stood there in silence. Pietro gave off a slight chuckle. It died down again. ”To think that I could’ve even saved the world. Carried that suitcase around the world…”</p> <p>He took a long sigh, staring into nothingness, interrupted occasionally by his attempts at stifling back a sob. ”I couldn’t even save <em>him</em>.”</p> <p>Pietro continued to stare into the distance. Adam sat down beside him, close to give off a feeling of warmth, but not too close enough to corner him. Pietro’s hand went through the cat’s fur. They both silently stared into the distance now.</p> <p>”So what if you are a nobody?” he proposed.</p> <p>Pietro noticeably tensed up in a way that he didn’t want anyone to know that he did. The hand that caressed the cat halted for a short moment. ”That doesn’t have to mean anything,” Adam continued. ”I’m a nobody, too.”</p> <p>Pietro finally turned his head to face him. His hand was still firmly on the cat. ”You were a <em>researcher</em> at the Foundation. You helped protecting the world.”</p> <p>Adam scoffed, giving out a chuckle. Pietro’s eyes were wide open and he completely stopped caressing the cat. ”If spilling your seventh cup of coffee in the day on an unknown, potentially hostile anomaly falls under ’protecting the world’ for you, then, yes, I did.”</p> <p>There was a brief silence.</p> <p>”Why so friendly all of the sudden?”</p> <p>Adam smiled, staring back into the void again. ”You could say I had my wake-up call.”</p> <p>Pietro fell silent again, not questioning it further.</p> <p>”You, <em>you</em> choose who you are. Not anyone else.” Adam looked intently at Pietro, looking for any signs of a reaction. Pietro, however, remained as solid as a sculpture.</p> <p>”And what if I’m not supposed to help? What if my actions would only result in things getting worser than they are already? What if I’m supposed to just leave things be!” He yelled the last sentence. He looked down at Damian.</p> <p>Adam waited for things to quiet down again, for Pietro to have calmed down again. ”Then that’s what you’re supposed to do.”</p> <p>Without waiting any further in the dark space of the void, Adam stood up and looked around. ”I’ll try to find Ramone. You can wait here if you’d like, wherever ’here’ is.”</p> <p>He took a few steps foward. ”I’m sorry, Pietro.” And he continued on into the void.</p> <p>Pietro stared down at his lap, the body of Damian resting peacefully between his legs. There was a moment of serenity, where tears streamed down his face, where the feeling of Damian’s fur was softer and warmer, where he could see flashes before him.</p> <p>Pietro looked down onto it again, taking in a deep breath, before standing up. He left Damian’s body behind. He gave Damian a final glance, as he placed his metal-encased hand on its eyelids, and moved them downward. Pietro then stepped up to Adam.</p> <p>Adam looked at him, bearing a warm smile, but otherwise said nothing. Pietro broke the silence: ”Let’s find our way out.”</p> <p>Damian disappeared. There was a light in the distance.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>RAMANI</strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>They found themselves on even ground again. Patches of green on the brown dirt, a cloud-littered sky, one that wasn’t red, the sun trying to shine through the clouds.</p> <p>Pietro tapped Adam lightly at the shoulder and pointed ahead on a small hill. The silhouette of a person could be made out, and although he couldn’t make out any features, Adam could feel that it was her. Together, they made their way toward her.</p> <p>It was an uneventful walk, one of these walks where no one said a thing. The only things breaking the silence were the light breezes rushing past them, hurling leaves into the air, and the creaking of the metal-bar door, coated in a thin layer of rust.</p> <p>A distinct crunching noise came off from under their feet, as the headstones surrounding seemed to stare at them. No one said anything, but both Adam and Pietro hurried a little in their steps.</p> <p>Ramone was kneeled in front of three headstones. They were unremarkable, just like all other headstones in the cemetery. They stopped a few feet away from Ramone. She didn’t look up.</p> <p>”Ramone…” Adam said. He couldn’t think of anything else to say.</p> <p>After a while, moreso because of decency than to further <em>any</em> conversation, she asked: ”What do you want?” She kept her head down, eyes still on the graves, but Adam could tell by the tone of her voice that she had stood there and cried for a while.</p> <p>Not being able to come up with a good enough answer to her question, Adam said: ”I’m sorry for what happened to them.” There was no reaction from her. He quieted down again.</p> <p>It was a long silence. The breeze passed by them ever-so-slightly, as the leaves ascended into the air, the slight bristling of the grass giving off a quiet hum.</p> <p>”I remember now,” Adam spoke. ”Everything.”</p> <p>There was a slight budge in Ramone’s stance, <em>a quiver of a reaction</em>, but she quickly turned her attention back to the graves.</p> <p>”Ramone,” Adam began, approaching her, ”please. Kneeling here won’t bring them—”</p> <p>In a swift motion, Ramone stood up and looked deeply into Adam’s eyes. Her eyes were red, just as Pietro’s had been, hands clenched, saying nothing for good while. Adam could feel each breath she took, that was how close she had been.</p> <p>”Don’t,” she said. ”My daughters are dead, because of me. They’re gone. And I have no one else to blame, but myself.” The words came out of her like the tears from her eyes.</p> <p>”I lost someone, too,” Pietro said as his first words. They turned to look at him, an awkward silence permeating around them.</p> <p>He took a deep, long breath, as to steady himself. ”It wasn’t a person. A cat. He was small, young. The cutest thing you could’ve ever imagined.” The three of them stood there amongst the graves and trees in utter silence, as the two waited for Pietro to continue.</p> <p>”He died, because of me.” He didn’t look at them. ”Because I didn’t leave well enough alone. I couldn’t.” There was a long pause.</p> <p>”Every day, I think to myself, ’could it have been different?’ and the answer was always ’yes, it could have’. But now, I’ve realized that the answer doesn’t matter. They’re gone and nothing can change that.</p> <p>”<em>’We are who we choose to be.’</em> It helped me.”</p> <p>Ramone stared to the ground, Adam taking a few steps back to give her enough space. He watched as her fists unclenched, the glimmer of anger slowly fade from her eyes. She took several deep breaths, eyes closed, before she stopped and opened them again.</p> <p>She looked at Pietro. He was looking back at her.</p> <p>”Someone once told not to dwell on the past. I tried to listen to him then. I’m trying to listen to them now,” she said.</p> <p>She smiled. He smiled back. Adam could see the clouds parting away from each other in slow movements, almost ghostly.</p> <p>A creaking noise emanated from all around them. The breeze stopped, the leaves dried away, while the trees and the grass faded into obscurity, the graves and headstones crumbling into fine dust.</p> <p>Around them, tall concrete walls formed, then the outline of a large building. Their surroundings began to make more and more sense now, as the rough shadows formed back into the grounds of Site-62, SCP-004 ahead of them. The door was closed now.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>SITE-62</strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>They stared for a while at the old barn door, took a second to take in the barren concrete walls, the sky, the trees sprouting from every corner. The gate leading back to the main site, which they would’ve needed to get through in order to get to 004, hadn’t moved an inch.</p> <p>Pietro was the first one to move, as he held the twelve rusty keys in his hands, the suit taking achingly slow steps toward the door, leaving large trails of his feet behind in the dirt. The others finally had the courage to take a few steps toward it, too.</p> <p>”Be careful with those keys,” Adam exclaimed. Pietro looked at him. ”The wrong key would tear this entire place inside-out. The seventh one leads to 62C.”</p> <p>Pietro simply nodded. He squinted his eyes to better see the letters and numbers on the sides of the keys, all rusted, barely recognizable.</p> <p>Ramani was the first one to hear it, although not the last one to do so. Loud, metallic clanking emanated from behind the gate, the metal bending and denting, as forces pounded against the reinforced gate.</p> <p>She turned around to see…</p> <p>There were many incidents, where the grasp of death was barely at an arm’s length, scenarios in which she felt the cold presence of oblivion shiver down her spine, instances where she could see flashes of her life before her. It was inevitable at the Foundation to not experience such feelings of dread, of finality.</p> <p>But in all of her years at the Foundation, Ramani had never been so close to the face of death that she could feel its cold, concrete and rebar fingers lightly pressing against her neck.</p> <p>She jumped back, but knew enough of 173 to keep her eyes trained on the statue, <em>no</em>, statue<strong>s</strong>, a side of its head chipped off somewhat.</p> <p>Adam turned around to face her, being met with the sight of dozens of statues standing motionlessly at the torn-open gate, their arms outstretched, their eyes unblinking. He could feel his heart sinking deeper into his chest.</p> <p>”Keep your eyes on it,” Ramone exclaimed, her eyes focused on them.</p> <p>”Wha—”</p> <p>”Don’t look away!”</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <blockquote> <p><em>Line of sight must not be broken at any time with SCP-173.</em></p> </blockquote> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <p>She could see the documentation right in front of her. Word for word. Adam remembered enough to trust her intuition.</p> <p>Pietro fumbled around with the twelves rusty keys on the door, tossing those aside that would surely scatter their body parts across all time and space. Sweat rolled down his forehead, his eyes watering, fixated on that one single key.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <blockquote> <p><em>Personnel […] are instructed to alert one another before… […]</em></p> </blockquote> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <p>”Blinking.” His mind was suddenly filled with that singular word, so simple in its meaning, yet he couldn’t grasp it. To hear that word from Ramone no less, he was baffled at her sudden utterance of that word. And then it made <em>click</em>.</p> <p>”Blinking,” he said, feeling the freshness return to his eyes again, life invigorated.</p> <p>The sculptures trained their own hollow sockets at them, gazing intently at them. Everything they are, everything they once were, everything they could have been, so easily wiped from the face of the earth by a single twitch of the eyes, a singular blink, a little <strong><em>crunch—</em></strong></p> <p>”GOT IT!” Pietro yelled out, haphazardly inserting SCP-004-7 into the keyhole. He turned the key to the right and flung the door open, it almost flew off its hinges.</p> <p>There was a gust of wind that breezed past them, nearly knocking them and the statues over. The wind was soon replaced with their bodies slowly being sucked into the door, unable to resist, nor have enough time to react.</p> <p>Space and time distorted itself around them to pull them into the darkness of the barn door, a wailing and howling permeating inside their minds, until they left they world they had just been in.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><em>…</em></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p><a name="Part11"></a></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>On a Cold Autumn Night</strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>”Ramone,” Adam began, breaking the silence once again. Ramone was looking intently at him. ”I don’t know how to say this… You have been a great colleague and friend to me for the past nine years…”</p> <p>He saw her attempts to hide her tears, then try to wipe them away inconspiciously with the back of her hand.</p> <p>”And I don’t want what happened tonight come between us.”</p> <p>Ramone sniffed so loudly that it made Adam flinch a bit. ”You sure you didn’t practice that line beforehand?”</p> <p>Adam gave off a light chuckle. He held out his hand, his grey suit crumpling under his body and unnatural angle he had to move his arm. Ramone stared at it, and then took it, with only their heartbeats breaking the silence.</p> <p>The seconds passed in the car, under the cold autumn night. Leaves were brushing by outside, the people still visible through the crystal-clear windows, eating their dinners on the silver platter.</p> <p>”You know… we didn’t even order anything there,” Ramone pointed out.</p> <p>Adam couldn’t help, but smile.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong><em>SO, if you only have one chance you oughta try your best to life as you like!</em></strong><br/> <strong><em>One day you’re going to die.</em></strong></p> <p><em>…</em></p> <p><em>…</em></p> <p><em>…</em></p> <p><strong><em><a href="https://youtu.be/MX9LreOigJ8?si=7dV53CZmQsNeruCG">:)</a></em></strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p><a name="Part12"></a></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Just Forty-Eight Hours after</strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>He felt his lungs filling in with air, before exiting again. His breaths echoed through the small room, coming in short, successive bursts, his eyes fixated upon the metal door, despite the flickering of the lights.</p> <p>There were screams. Screams of people he didn’t recognize. Maybe he had seen one of them in the cafeteria, maybe in the yard, or on his way to the bathrooms. He’d never know.</p> <p>Paul was clutching a recorder in his hands, one that had been in one of the drawers of the cozy office, decorated with only the bare minimum to do one’s weekly amount of paperwork, Paul knew all too well.</p> <p>With the <em>flick</em> of a button, Paul activated the recorder, and spoke into it:</p> <p>”I—I… I wanted to say that I… I…” He momentarily stopped the recorder, it giving off another <em>click</em>. He just sat there, tears welled-up in his eyes, which he wiped away, continuing:</p> <p>”I’ve never been one to, uhm… one to make a—anecdotes like these, but…” He exhaled loudly. ”I guess now’s the time.”</p> <p>There was a loud banging against the metal door, the noises of stone scraping against metal. Paul noticeably tensed up, as the power began to dwindle more and more from the lights above.</p> <p>”To whomever finds this recording, please, fix this. T—there must be some way to fix this. Some way to prevent all of this shit. <em>There has to be.</em>”</p> <p>The banging only grew louder and louder, before it was the only thing the junior researcher could hear. Each <em>bang</em> rang through his ears, the door quaking in its hinges. He took a long, stammered sigh. His hands tightened around the recorder.</p> <p>The lights went out.</p> <p>”This is Paul Putsoiroytuorimaw. Sig—”</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p><a name="Part13"></a></p> <blockquote> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>SITE-62C SECURITY CAM FOOTAGE</strong></p> </div> <hr/> <p><strong>Location:</strong> Site-62C, Sector-01, Hallway-03, SCP-579 Containment Chamber</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>[BEGIN RECORDING]</strong></p> </div> <hr/> <p><strong><00:00:00></strong> - <em>SCP-579 lies on the floor of its containment chamber.</em></p> <p><strong><00:01:00></strong> - <em>SCP-579 lies on the floor of its containment chamber.</em></p> <p><strong><00:10:00></strong> - <em>SCP-579 lies on the floor of its containment chamber.</em></p> <p><strong><00:59:00></strong> - <em>SCP-579 lies on the floor of its containment chamber.</em></p> <p><strong><01:13:00></strong> - <em>Disturbance on the walls of the containment chamber detected. SCP-579 remains dormant on the floor.</em></p> <p><strong><01:14:00></strong> - [DATA LOST]</p> <p><strong><01:15:00></strong> - [DATA LOST]</p> <p><strong><01:16:00></strong> - <em>Containment chamber empty.</em></p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>[END RECORDING]</strong></p> </div> <hr/></blockquote> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><em><span style="color: transparent">He blew into it once again.</span></em><br/> <em><span style="color: transparent">The man entered with its trumpet.</span></em><br/> <em><span style="color: transparent">He blew into his trumpet for one final time.</span></em><br/> <em><span style="color: transparent">The angel laid dead in its cage.</span></em></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <hr/> <div style="text-align: left;"> <p><strong>« <a href="/to-end-all-endings">Previous</a></strong></p> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>» <a href="/just-fragments-hub">HUB</a> «</strong></p> </div> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><strong><a class="newpage" href="/coming-soon">Coming Soon...</a> »</strong></p> </div> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/to-end-all-endings-vol-2">To End All Endings - Vol. 2</a>" by Doctor Scrappy , from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/to-end-all-endings-vol-2">https://scpwiki.com/to-end-all-endings-vol-2</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:black-highlighter-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:extra-black-highlighter-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:extra-black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[div class="pseudocrumbs"]] [[[canon-hub\|Canon Hub]]] >> [[[Competitive Eschatology Hub]]] >> [[[Just Fragments Hub]]] >> To End All Endings [[/div]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:toggle-sidebar-bhl">:scp-wiki:component:toggle-sidebar-bhl</a>]] [[module CSS]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:fade-in">:scp-wiki:component:fade-in</a> speed=1.5]] @@ @@ [[=]] [[[To End All Endings\|Previously]]] [[/=]] @@ @@ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] [[=]] To End All Endings @@ @@ Part 5! [[/=]] Warning: Contains scenes of alcohol misuse and animal cruelty! Discretion is advised! Author: Doctor Scrappy [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:end">:scp-wiki:info:end</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:ratio-bar">:scp-wiki:component:ratio-bar</a> base=--]] @@ @@ [[# Part0]] [[=]] //...// [[/=]] > //Immediately after the tribulation of those days the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will fall from heaven, and the powers of the heavens will be shaken.// > > [[>]] > - Matthew 24:29 ESV > [[/>]] [[=]] //...// [[/=]] > //”Why do you even care what I think anyway? I don’t give a crap if you covered yourself in peanut butter and had a fifteen-hooker gang-bang!”// > > [[>]] > - Adam Stanheight > [[/>]] [[=]] //...// [[/=]] > //”What can I say to convince you or do to make you agree with me?// > //”I don’t need you to be with me// > //”Just try to remember what you’d see in me!// > //”I’m just a little bit crazy ’bout you!// > //”Just a little bit out of my mind!// > //”Just a little insane without you,// > //”Please come back and be just a little bit mine!// > //”... oh, just a little bit mine...”// > > [[>]] > -Excerpt of //[Cover This Song!] Just A Little Bit Mine// by Will Wood and the Tapeworms > [[/>]] [[=]] //...// [[/=]] > //Can't fit round pegs in square holes.// > > [[>]] > - Excerpt [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/keter-duty\|CODENAME Ihp/Locke: Keter Duty File]]] > [[/>]] [[=]] //...// [[/=]] [[=]] * * * [[/=]] @@ @@ > [[=]] > __CHAPTERS__ > ------ > [#Part0 Prologue] > > [#Part1 Now] > > [#Part2 Just Forty-Eight Hours after] > > [#Part3 On a Cold Autumn Night] > > [#Part4 Now] > > [#Part5 Just Forty-Eight Hours after] > > [#Part6 On a Cold Autumn Night] > > [#Part7 Now] > > [#Part8 Just Forty-Eight Hours after] > > [#Part9 On a Cold Autumn Night] > > [#Part10 Now] > > [#Part11 On a Cold Autumn Night] > > [#Part12 Just Forty-Eight Hours after] > > [#Part13 SITE-62C SECURITY CAM FOOTAGE] > > ##transparent\|Epilogue## > ------ > [[/=]] @@ @@ [[=]] * * * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[# Part1]] [[=]] Now [[/=]] [[=]] * [[/=]] > //The sky was broken, tinted into a deep red. The sun was pitch black. There were acid clouds on the horizon.// [[=]] * [[/=]] The clouds poured their hydrochloric contents from high above, scorching everything living or not into a bloody pulp. The air reeked of caustic chemicals, small droplets of the acid slowly seeping their way through the cavern’s ceiling. Ramone looked onto the shattered crimson horizon, their lungs filling with the most-likely-than-not toxic air, as they could do nothing else, but stare and wait it out. Suddenly, there was a metallic //thud//, making her heart skip a beat, as [[[SCP-5000\|Pietro]]]’s metal-enclenched arm fell onto the rocky ground, having lost all power in his limbs. She couldn’t tell whether he was breathing or not. She hurried over to him, checked his vital signs. The suit blinked and beeped for a good few seconds, before it came back with the results. Pietro was still alive, albeit barely. She looked onto his beaten-up face, smashed into a bloody pulp of blood, snot and tears only a few hours prior. He wasn’t moving. Ramone turned around to see deeper into the cave. There, enveloped by darkness and dead silence, sat //Adam//, or a person looking like him, beaten and tattered up, but not physically. He had made a makeshift fire out of the things the [[[SCP-079\|A.I.]]] had not shredded into its individual particles. The fire snapped and roared only dimly, only providing warmth if close, his backpack aiding as the main fuel source. He was hunched over, his back turned toward them, his hands meddling with something, as he was handling various tools, screws and bolts, in complete silence. Ramone took a look at Pietro, and, after establishing that he needed some time to rest, walked toward //Adam//. Her footsteps echoed along the walls of the cave, as it slowly began to cool down. She tugged herself into the tattered remnants of her shirt and labcoat, as the cold sent shivers down her spine. He didn’t even look up when she sat down a few feet away from him, still entrenched in whatever it was he was working on. She tried her best not to stare at him, at his arms, at his hands, at his face, at the uncanny resemblance to the person she once knew. Then, with all the courage she could muster up within herself, she asked: //”Who are you?”// But he didn’t answer. There wasn’t even so much as a look from him -- he simply continued working on the device in his hands. Now more forceful: ”Answer me!” Still, no reaction. He just stared at the little device. Ramone was getting mad. Mad of no reaction, no answers, //no fucking clue of what the fuck was going on//. She rapidly stood up, her hands balled into fists, looking down at him. He still paid her no attention. ”You won’t even answer my questions? You leapt out of //fucking// portal, talk about //’saving the world’//, beat Pietro into a bloody pulp, look //exactly// like someone who I once knew, and now you don’t even wanna //fucking// talk to me?” //There was a slight reaction.// ”I don’t have to talk to you.” Then he simply resumed with his work. She approached //Adam// with weight in her steps, an expression of annoyance and anger, but also that of confusion and fear on her face. //Adam// simply stood up, meeting her gaze. Ramone stopped in her tracks. They were about the same height, with //Adam// being a little taller. She just looked at him with an undeterred, stern look. ”I don’t care who you are or who you think I am, or who I was to you before all this,” he spoke. He looked her dead into the eyes. She didn’t speak, but he could tell his words had some sort of reaction on her. ”Now stop bothering me.” With that, he sat down next to the fire again, the smoke dissipating in the cavern’s ceiling, fiddling with the mechanical device again. She simply stood there, unable to take in the words he’d just said. @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[# Part2]] [[=]] Just Forty-Eight Hours after [[/=]] @@ @@ He ran. As fast as he could. With the hallways still tinted in that deep red, the klaxons still sounding. His feet tiring, his heart beating, his lungs burning. Paul desperately tried to keep up with the commander and the other MTFs, but found his body slowly giving in. The [[[SCP-616\|616]]] entities were appearing out of the walls and ceiling in the dozens, all grining their wide smiles, growling their laughs, mocking the heavens with every word they spoke. It all ended in an unrecognizable cacophony. He suddenly felt the commander’s tight grasp around his wrist, his fingers digging so deep into it it hurt. The commander didn’t say anything, didn’t even take a look at him. He simply ran toward a giant gate, as the other operatives were standing guard, some fiddling around with the controls. Junior researcher Paul had difficulties keeping up, thinking that he’d just collapse of exhaustion, but eventually they made it. The operatives tampered with the controls, as the reinforced door would not budge an inch. They cut and reconnected wires, their eyes straining in the dim crimson lights, sweat rolling down their faces and fingers, as they tried to override the controls as quickly as possible, and as delicately they possibly could. The entities were strolling down the corridor ever-so-closer, their forms like moving shadows with too many teeth and too long fingers. The gunners with their holy water fired at those who inched too close, dissolving them in hellish shrieks, but the commander knew that they’d eventuay run out. While they were shooting or manipulating the controls, the others looked past the demonic creatures at [[[Revised Entry\|the sculptures]]], their gazes piercing, their bodies unmoving. Junior researcher Paul alternated between looking at the statues and worriedly at the controls. He couldn’t tell, but he swore the commander was gripping his firearm tighter than normal. ”Fuck!” one of the gunners exclaimed. He didn’t know what had happened, but he felt his chest tensing up. ”I’ve run out!” she finally said. The commander wanted to say something, but didn’t. As the demons growled, rows of teeth lined-up in their mouths, claws outstretched, there was a spark, and the gate finally opened. Immediately, the MTF operatives hurried Paul inside, then one-by-one went through themselves. The creatures seemed to notice, as they hastened their pursuit, as the last, the commander, stepped through, the gate shut tight, layers upon layers seperating his squad and the researcher from the creatures. His eyes lingered a little longer at the end of the hallway, the gazes of the statues meeting his. @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ The technicians were running around, looking at the monitors in the dim light, trying to maintain control during the ongoing crisis. ”Madellyn, what’s the status of generators 24 to 30?!” Jasper shouted, while rerouting all of the unnecessary power from the unnecessary //(or rather lower priority)// sectors to the control and containment wings. ”Less than ideal!” she’d reply, frantically looking upon the blinking status bars. //They were not looking good.// ”Should I reroute the remaining power to the Tesla gates in the Keter-wing?” ”Negative! They’d take up too much energy. We should direct our focus on--” And then he was silenced. Madellyn didn’t even have time to think what was going on. All she knew was the sudden silence, interrupted by the noise of grinding stone, and then... //CRUNCH.// @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ The operatives were clad in layers of protective gear and vests, but Paul could still tell their chests were going up and down rapidly. Even the commander’s. There was a relentless pounding against the metal gate, as the entities screeched and howled, trying to tear their way through, bite, claw. There were masses of them now, as all of the pounding amassed into one loud dissonant sound. There was another door that required fiddling. Some of the operatives were already on it. After what seemed like a whole minute, the commander finally snapped back alive again, looking around his surroundings, then returning to that straight stance of his again. ”We’ll head toward evac point 345-D! It’s the closest one, shouldn’t be all too much trouble.” He glanced around the room, ”Nothing we haven’t survived already.” Everyone was silent. The few just stood there with an expression of uncertainty, clasping their firearms tightly, while others just nodded. ”We’ll get out of this alive,” the commander finally spoke. ”And if we don’t...” There was a long pause. ”Then we’ll make damn sure we take as much of these fuckers with us as we possibly can.” The pounding only became louder. More relentless. Junior researcher Paul backed away from the gate, looking on in horror as the operatives were still messing with the controls. ”Command! Do you copy?” the commander spoke into his comm. //No response.// He saw some of the surrounding operatives look at each other. Again, now with more of a raised voice: ”Command? Director Light! //Do you copy!//” Still, //no response.// ”Shit!” he said, to no one in particular. And then the lights went out. Everything was plunged into pitch black, their pupils widening to make out even the faintest outlines of silhouettes. The klaxons had turned off, too; Paul found the ringing in his ears to have stopped. The creatures were still pounding relentlessly at the gate, their screeches becoming ever-so-louder... and then they all fell silent. //All at once.// Before anyone had the chance to form a coherent thought, the unbearable noise of metal grinding against metal echoed in their ears, as it sounded like something heavy was being pushed aside, moving inch by inch. Then it //clicked//. The commander raised their gun, the metal-on-metal sound growing in intensity by the seconds, as he activated the flashlight mounted onto his gun, and pointed it at the gate. Then their pupils shrunk again, as everything was plunged into the faint strobe lights above, giving off a continous //buzzing//, as many rubbed their eyes. When the commander had adjusted to his surroundings again, he saw exactly what he suspected to see. And the others were, too. In front of them, with its cold, uncaring gaze, the [[[SCP-173\|sculpture]]] stood, its concrete and rebar arms pressed against the doors of the gate, its fingers firmly grasping the edges of them, as it had pushed them away in the pitch blackness. Now, however, it had stopped, the back-up generators having kicked in. Its head was somewhat tilted. Reflexively, the commander aimed at the sculpture’s head, and fired, chipping a piece of it right off -- //it didn’t budge.// A spark flew, causing the commander to tense up, come back to reality again, snap out of his mindless stare at the statue. He looked on the floor, the demonic entities from earlier all lying motionlessly onto it, their necks twisted into an unnatural angle. His team members tapped him on the shoulder, as they gestured to him to finally fucking move his ass, with even the junior researcher having already went through the door. The technicians of the squad fiddled with the controls again, this time on the other side, creating a spark, and the door closed as soon as it opened. He looked behind him through the small ballistic glass view-port of the door, gazing back at the sculpture, as the lights began to flicker, and in the blink of an eye, the sculpture pressed up right against the door. The glass laid smashed in itsy-bitsy fragments on the linoleum floor. The commander began to run even faster. @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[# Part3]] [[=]] On a Cold Autumn Night [[/=]] @@ @@ Ramone burst through the entrance, her feet stepping onto the cold concrete pavement. Her tears streaked down her cheeks, giving off a slight tingling sensation, before she wiped them off with the back of her hand. Some of her make-up became undone. When she finally reached her car, parked inconspicously amongst others on the side of the street, she reached for the door handle, only for it to be closed. She let out an audible groan, before searching around in her purse for the keys. //Keys, fucking keys...// it echoed in her mind, momentarily sweeping away the memories of moments prior. She held the keys firmly in her hand, opened the car door, and stepped inside, sat down on the driver’s seat and threw her purse unceremoniously on the back seat. Ramone sat there for a quite a while, looking up at the car’s roof with closed eyes, letting the tears roll down her face. Memories and thoughts flooded her mind, particularly of the past nine years. She tried to drown out these thoughts, tried to forget everything that had just happened, and she just wanted to go home. She retrieved a bottle of whatever it was that was in there from underneath her seat, unscrewed the cap, and without any further hesitation took several gulps of the mixture. The taste of the alcohol burnt all of her thoughts away, as she began to cough up everything that just went down, at least in her mind. She sat there for a while, just crying and coughing. Minutes passed. @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] //In the fabric of time// //And in the vastness of space// //A billion amounts to nothing// //In infinity’s face!// //At most a couple generations will remember the ways,// //In which your life... NEVER MATTERED.// //SO, WHO CARES IF IT’S A WASTE?!// [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[# Part4]] [[=]] Now [[/=]] @@ @@ The tracker beeped in his hands. He immediately jumped up, the life back in his eyes, as he haphazardly pressed and manipulated the controls. Just as his fingers were typing in the first few letters, static mounted onto the screen, with nothing that he did having an effect. The device gave off one last //whirr//, before it completely shut down again. //Adam// was holding a metallic husk in his hands, a jumble of loose wires and whatnot, coated in his sweat, as he silently stared at the black screen. He dropped the device against the rocky ground, the fire before him having nearly extinguished in the meantime. He simply looked onto the dying flame, as its sparks danced and shone dimly. Ramone was by Pietro’s side. Although she couldn’t see his chest, encased in that heap of metal, Pietro was breathing more noticeably now, sucking the air in through his nose at irregular intervals. She looked back over at //Adam//, who had his head in his hands. Suddenly, she felt the cold sensation of the suit putting its hand on her. She looked at Pietro, who looked back at her, his mouth somewhat agape to breathe better. He smiled a rough smile. ”Are... y--you all... right?” he mumbled. ”Yes,” she answered. She smiled back. Pietro smiled even brighter now. ”I...” he stuttered. Ramone saw //Adam// move his head in the corner of her vision, before turning back again. ”I--I... thought that... I...” The words were stuck in his throat. ”I trie-- tried to do... the right... thing,” Pietro finally brought out. No one noticed, but //Adam// clenched his hands into fists. His veins were pulsating, his heart was beating rapidly. ”Do the right thing?” He stood up. ”You thought you were doing the //right// thing by giving away the only hope humanity had left?” Pietro said nothing. His smile dissipated, his eyes averted. Ramone didn’t stand up, but was still on her toes. ”You had the chance of doing the right thing!” //Adam// nearly shouted. There were tears in his eyes. ”You had the chance of doing the right thing, and you didn’t take it, because you’re a //fucking coward!//” ”We would’ve died!” Pietro suddenly shouted. Ramone and //Adam// both remained silent. ”We would’ve been dead! The three of us. I...” Tears were welling up in his eyes now. ”I tried, okay? I tried... to save... all of us.” //Adam// took a few steps toward Pietro, his gaze never averting from him, both of his hands still clenched into fists. Ramone wanted to stand up, but //Adam// suddenly halted, remaining at a distance. ”The only one you tried to save was //yourself//,” he spoke. Pietro didn’t say anything in return. For a few more seconds, he stared at Pietro. He wanted to say something else, Ramone could tell, but he didn’t in the end. He simply turned around and trudged back toward his fire. She rose, then she spoke: ”The Adam I knew would’ve done the same thing.” That was enough to stop him dead in his tracks. She felt fear unbearably pressing down her chest, but she remained in her stance, looking right at him. For a moment, no one said anything. Just them huddled together in a small cave, acid pouring down onto the landscape outside, with their breathing being the only other audible noise. But //Adam// broke the silence with his heavy footsteps, as he walked up to Ramone, until their faces were almost touching, until they could feel each other’s breath. ”I am not who you say I am, and I don’t fucking care. I don’t know you--” ”Yes, you’re right,” Ramone chimed in, //Adam// confused, ”You don’t know me. And I don’t know you.” //Adam// didn’t say a word. He just stared at her. Eventually, //Adam// stepped away, ending the silence once again. He sat next to his dwindling fire, screwing around with the device again. Ramone watched him for a few more seconds, before sitting down next to Pietro. @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ ”What’s... he holding?” Pietro asked, merely a whisper. She was staring blankly at the ground ahead of her. The only thing she did was breathe and blink, as the rain poured outside. He tapped her lightly against the knee. She snapped out of her thoughts. ”That’s a standard... Foundation-issued tracking device,” he remarked. Ramone didn’t have any clue what he meant. ”We had some... at Exclusionary... Site-06.” Without another word, Pietro raised himself up, as the suit’s components squeaked and quaked. He let out an audible groan. ”Pietro, what are you doing?” Again, without giving an answer, he made his way toward the figure at the fireplace, his steps heavy, his entire body, especially his face, aching under searing pains, his body as heavy as concrete. Ramone looked on at Pietro, unsure of what to do. Eventually, he made it to the figure, and sat down beside him. It made an audible metallic //thud//, as he simply let himself fall onto the ground. Pietro, //again//, didn’t say anything. He just reached out his right hand, seemingly desiring something from //Adam//. ”The tracker,” he demanded. //Adam//’s expression changed instantly. ”I’m gonna break every bone in your hand if you even so much loo--” ”Please...” Pietro said. ”I can re--” But his words were suddenly cut short, as //Adam// punched him across the face, causing him to lie on the ground once again. He spat out his right incisor. He rolled Pietro onto his back, who raised his hands in defense, as //Adam// raised his fist to punch him again. Ramone immediately stood up and rushed to their side. ”He can repair it!” Ramone nearly shouted. //Adam// stopped and looked at her with wide eyes. ”What?” ”He is-- //was// a junior technician for the Foundation! Those trackers were used regularly.” //Adam// looked back at Pietro, who was coiling in pain. Pietro could simply nod, his hands still up. He looked at Pietro for a while longer, before finally deciding to let him go. After an agonizing silence, looking back and forth at Pietro and the tracker, he picked it up from the dirt and tossed it at Pietro. ”You better be able to fix this whole thing.” He stepped away from both, as Pietro slowly righted himself, leaned-up against a wall. Eventually, though, he did what he planned to do, and began messing with the device, with whatever tools were available. //Adam// didn’t even take a look at the process; he just stared out at the horizon. After about ten minutes or so, the device’s screen flickered back to life as it had minutes ago. ”Done!” Pietro exclaimed, as cold sweat dripped down along his face. //Adam// snatched the device out of his hands, and immediately began to type. He walked up and down, his eyes darting frantically over the device. //Come on, come on...// ”YES!” //Adam// exclaimed, tears of joy in his eyes. Ramone had a look of confusion in her eyes, which quickly dissipated when Pietro tapped her lightly on the shoulder, and said: ”He’s... tracking down... 079.” Her eyes widened. She turned back to look at //Adam//. ”What’s it say?” Ramone asked. But he couldn’t speak. His eyes were fixated upon the results on the little screen, blinking dimly in the cavern’s darkness. Not waiting for an answer, Ramone stepped up to see the answer for herself. Her eyes also became fixated on the screen. ”What’s it say?” Pietro asked, feeling left out. There was silence, deafening to the mind, which prevailed over all three of them. Ramone could hear the rain, the tracker, Pietro’s words, but couldn’t place her mind on any of them. Only after a few seconds... ”[[[SCP-579\|Site-62C]]],” she murmured. Pietro let those words ruminate within his head, his eyes widening as did Ramone’s and //Adam//’s. //Adam// looked up at the cave’s ceiling. Ramone saw what he was seeing; the makeshift fireplace had all but died done by now, the remaining flames glistering in their last breaths -- the smoke, unlike as would be expected, had not accumulated in the cavern, but seemed to just disappear upon contact with the cave’s ceiling. //Adam// turned to look at Ramone. Pietro was on his two feet by now. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. There was a pause. ”Just follow me,” were his only words. He reached his hand out to touch the cave’s ceiling. It created a ripple upon contact, like waves in a small pond, the surfaces contorting. It was hard to look at. With that, //Adam// jumped through. Ramone and Pietro were close behind. @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ There was an aching pain thumping against their skulls. Their bodies felt cold and rotten, with even the slightest of movement radiating throughout their entire body. It was bright -- not because of any light, but because their eyes felt they were opening up for the first time in centuries. When their surroundings became clear -- a dilapitated Foundation facility in the woods -- they were able to stand up again, albeit with great difficulty. They dusted off some dirt off of their clothes, before they headed toward the main gate -- //Adam// was already there. The gate stood ajar, Foundation vehicles resting peacefully around in the area, nature having already reclaimed most of the structures. They were careful to shift their weight to not let a dried leaf or a fallen stick break under their weight, as they went through the grass-covered yard. Pietro faltered, almost collapsing onto the ground. Ramone wanted to help, but Pietro was able to hold onto the side of a truck to balance himself, flowers blooming all throughout. Ramone gave him a concerned look. ”It’s okay... I can walk.” He saw //Adam// glancing over at him, before averting his gaze. Despite this, he continued on, feeling the weight of the suit pressing him down. They headed straight into Site-62. @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[# Part5]] [[=]] Just Forty-Eight Hours after [[/=]] @@ @@ Screams were echoing down the corridors, as the audio had cut alongside the video feed, everything having been plunged into blackness only moments prior. Then the lights came back up, dim and sparse, barely able to reach into the far corners of the control room. Director Light shouted back into her microphone, the handle clutched tightly in her hand. ”Nu-7, do you copy?” She pressed several buttons, looked intently on the monitor barely holding onto the threads of life. She moved toward it, placing the microphone onto the table beside her, and switched the channel. Sweat dripped onto the screen, as her eyes darted across every option, trying to adjust in the dim light. She backed away, the microphone back in her hand, as the seconds passed in an agonizingly slow fashion. Someone finally picked up at the other end. ”Dr. Moto, can you hear me?” she began. ”The sculptures... they’re everywhere!” he shouted in rapid-fire. ”Dr. Moto, please remain calm. Do you have any security forces in your sector?” ”Fuck if I know! Never had that much. I never thought the sculpture would ever become such a big de--” There was a loud metallic screeching, followed by metal crunching, glass shattering, and the sound of stone grinding on stone, //before...// //CRUNCH.// Sophia placed the microphone back on the table, stemming her head in her hands. She was rested on an old swivel chair, barely squeaking under her weight. She looked at the monitor in front of her, exhausted, but all she could see in it was sta-- There was a low growling sound, wet footsteps clattering in a corner, hushed tones of a hundred voices muttering under a breath, like whispers. She turned to look, her heart skipping a beat, but saw nothing. //Another growl. Wet footsteps. Whispers.// Sophia immediately stood up, looking all across the gigantic room, again, seeing nothing. She retrieved her 9mm, unlatched the safety, and looked some more. //A shadow swooped behind a rack of monitors.// The bullets flew straight across the room, hitting the monitors’ screens, the shards spilling onto the floor into even smaller fragments. She spun behind her, gun at the ready, but saw nothing again. //My mind’s playing tricks on me. Memetic hazards, plain and simple. I’ve gone looney tunes.// Another growl, this time right behind her. She spun around again, again meeting the gaze of nothing, but the darkness, and blank screens and monitors. Before she had the chance to react, the entity leapt at her from behind, gun cluttering to the floor, its long, clawed hands pushing her up against the floor tiles. Its long fingers wrapped themselves around her throat, as she felt the pressure being exerted around her neck slowly cutting off her supply of air. The demon took a good look at her, tracing its fingers along her cheek, its claws etching markings into her flesh, as the blood trickled along its fingers, palm, then wrist and onto the floor tiles. She looked up at the creature, gasping for breath, as she desperately tried to fall free from its grip. Her hands were punching against the arm of the demon, who didn’t budge for even an inch. It kept staring at her, its glowing white eyes piercing straight into her soul, mouth carved into a wide, teeth-ridden smile. It placed its hand onto her forehead, dead to the touch, before it loosened its grip on her neck. Sophia slowly felt the air back in her lungs again, coughing with the pain radiating from her throat, before another kind of pain radiated throughout her body. Blood sickered down, her clothes were stained, as the entity began to wiggle its claws around in her abdomen, its nails scraping against her flesh, skin torn apart like paper. She screamed. Screamed from the top of her lungs, her body jolting upwards at the stab. When the screams reached their peak, the entity opened its mouth and gave out an ear-piercing howl, before moving its body into her mouth. Its body began to contort and reshape, as it wiggled its way further down into her body. The life left her eyes, her body felt heavier, before finally falling limp. She thought her final thoughts, breathed her final breath, before slipping into an eternal, silent bliss. The entity slowly stood up, her new bun, her new clothes, her new body. She had difficulty walking at first, but soon got the hang of it. ”D--director!” it crackled over one of the channels. She immediately snapped her head toward the source of the noise. It crackled again: ”Director Light, we’re heading toward evac point 345-D! We’ll meet you there!” It was quiet again. She made her way out the door and left. @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[# Part6]] [[=]] On a Cold Autumn Night [[/=]] @@ @@ She took another gulp, this time more pronounced, a little longer, the drink feeling like acid on her thoughts. She felt all of her thoughts melting away, the stench of the alcohol easing her pain, as the contents of the bottle dwindled. Suddenly, there was a //knock// on the window of the passenger-side seat, light and deliberate. She frantically searched for the cap, screwed it tight, then quickly stowed the bottle away underneath the backseats. Without awaiting a further answer or acknowledgement, the passenger-side door opened, and Adam sat down beside her. Ramone stared silently ahead of her. She tried her best to not make it obvious that she had cried. The next few seconds passed in utter silence. It was deafening, hearing nothing, but your own breathing and heartbeat, someone else’s breathing and heartbeat. It was abruptly interrupted by Adam giving out a light chuckle. She turned to face him. ”Does every department at 67 actually know?” She sunk her head, but Adam could tell that a smile was adorning the corners of her face. Then she looked back at him. ”Yes. Everyone knows.” He could tell she had cried. ”Well... I guess I gotta live with that for the rest of my life.” Ramone chuckled. It was nice seeing her like this again. ”At least you didn’t spill your coffee over the Keter-chamber controls or we’d all be done for.” Adam jokingly waved her away. ”Dodged a bullet there, indeed.” They sat there in silence for a while. It wasn’t deafening, and they could hear each other’s breathing and heartbeat. @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] //Well, one day you’ll be not even a faint memory, no,// //At most a ghost or falling leaf from your family tree!// //Your legacy’s not yours to see, nor is your eulogy!// //AND YOU’LL NEVER KNOW WHAT IT ALL MEANS!// //But you’ll be at peace before you sleep,// //If you just keep this in mind:// //That everyTHING and everyONE goes// //With the passage of time!// //So whether it’s CANCER...// //MURDER...// //Or SUICIDE...// //...// //ONE DAY YOU’RE GOING TO DIE!// [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[# Part7]] [[=]] Now [[/=]] @@ @@ The walls were laced with vines, some hanging loosely from the ceiling tiles, dangling in the soft breeze coming from a large hole in the wall, on which sides several flowers were blooming. Doors and gates stood ajar, as trees had sprouted from them, their bark imposingly blocking any path forward, the branches having erupted through the ceiling, the leaves merrily whistling in the air. The air was clean and calm, and there were even rays of sunshine, //actual// sunshine peeping through the cracks, but when one were to look, the sun would still shine in all its pitch black glory. The three marched on, none of them saying a single word, as their minds wandered to the endless hallways. Some had odd trails etched into the grassy patches and dirt, as if someone had dragged something right through it. They continued on. //Adam// took a careful peek around every corner. He poked his head out, looking both directions, up and down, before proceeding onward -- Ramone and Pietro would follow him, the latter careful not to stumble over his two feet. There was a sense of finality thumping in his chest. In everyone’s. Suddenly, the tracker in //Adam//’s hand began to beep arrythmically in all colors under the rainbow, as it indicated that they were close. He turned his head to the right, the door to an observation room standing wide ajar. He leaned close against the wall, his eyes inspecting the room in a reflection. Until he determined it was safe, no one moved a muscle. When it was, //Adam// walked inside, his feet slowly descending upon the floor with each step, as the others followed. The desks and chairs were wrapped in thick vines, the grass had sprouted at some parts in the corners, flowers were blooming out of the machinery, computers and sensors. Everything was dead, yet so lively all the same. They made their way to the observation window. The entire room was several feet in the air, sticking out of the rest of the facility like a sore thumb, overlooking the far side of a wall of an old, partially broken, long anbandoned factory building; the windows were shattered, the bricks had begun to wither decades ago, and parts of the walls and roof had collapsed in on themselves. Interesting enough, there was no vegetation anywhere near the factory. Further down along the wall stood the entrance to the rest of the facility: //a worn wooden barn door, a lock transfixed to one of its sides.// //Adam// tried to remember the related documentation he had read, vividly: @@ @@ > //[[[SCP-004]]] consists of an old wooden barn door [...] and a set of twelve rusted steel keys [...].// > > //Testing on SCP-004 reveals that ten of the keys open [...] on a dimension where the laws of physics and topology are significantly different than those of our [...] dimension. [...] subjects meeting these hostile conditions are torn apart, their body parts deposited in various locations, only three of which have been verified to be on Earth.// > > //Opening the door with any key except SCP-004-7 or SCP-004-12 caused the test subjects to be torn apart in multiple directions [...]// > > //[...] has ordered the site inside SCP-004-1 to be expanded to include emergency storage [...] The facility is now referred to as Site-62.// > > //Site-62 is operational. Labs and containment units are complete and can contain the most dangerous specimens. [...]// > > //Spatial anomalies include the impossibly large dimensions of the area opened by SCP-004-7. Similarly, [...] there exists an alternate plane of existence within the same space that Site-62 occupies.// @@ @@ > //SCP-579 is currently in Site-62C [...].// @@ @@ > //Action 10-Israfil-B: Gateway of Site-62 (SCP-004) is to be destroyed. This must be done regardless of personnel or facilities remaining within the site. Remnants of the Gateway — or the gateway itself if destruction proves impossible — are to be contained in the same manner as SCP-579. High Command will then issue further instruction.// @@ @@ //Doesn’t seem like they did a real good job on it.// Or maybe they didn’t have any time left. SCP-004 stood slightly ajar. Ramone tapped //Adam// on the shoulder, reminding him of their presence. He noticeably flinched, and turned around. ”We need to get the keys,” she stated. ”What, you’ve worked here?” ”Thankfully not. I’ve read the 004 file. What the staff here experienced is more than any one person should bear...” ”Wait, what keys?” Pietro chimed in, completely flabbergasted. //Adam// glanced at Pietro, enough to shut him up, before walking away. ”They should be around here. Find them.” The three of them moved into different parts of the observation room, looking on and underneath desks and tables, behind server racks, and shelves. Pietro took a look in a corner, where there were several lockers lined up in a row against the wall. He tripped over a root poking itself out of the tiles, landing onto the earth below. It gave off a sound of something heavy hitting dirt, as Ramone looked at Pietro. ”It’s okay. I’m okay!” He waved her away, her looking on with an expression of concern. Although he couldn’t see //Adam// from his perspective, he’d imagined his look to be rather different from Ramone’s. He stood up, leaned himself against one of the lockers, and dusted some dirt from his suit, before continuing on. His arm suddenly collided with another metal object, and he looked to see it was a small lock attached to one of the lockers. Finding no other way, he grasped the lock with his metal-encased hand, pressed down on it, and snapped the lock open. With a notable squeak, he found a small tin box inside it, coated in a reddish-brown substance, bearing corroded words, having faded too much to be legible. He opened the box, revealing twelve rusty keys resting on top of each other, each labelled with their own designation. He took the keys in a fit of mild joy, and turned back to the others. ”Guys! I’ve found the keys...” But there was no one there. //There wasn’t anything there at all.// Pietro turned all around himself to assure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him, but everything had disappeared. The rays of light, the pitch black sun, the shattered sky, the keys, Ramone and //Adam// -- //gone.// There was only him and the suit, as his heart beat faster and faster, his breathing quickened. ”Guys? Ramone...?” There was whispering of a young boy behind him. His heart was thumping in his ears. @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ Ramone moved away with a concerned expression on her face, toward the bookshelves in the center of the room. Some of them were knocked over, some covered in moss and mold, as the color had been drained of the various books resting within. She dusted away some of the dust and took one, flipping through its pages. The words conglomerated into a black mess in her mind, as her thoughts strayed away from the present. Looking at these shelves of old books reminded her of a past, feeling ever-so-distant, the odor of old books lingering in the air. Then she snapped back into reality, shutting the book again, dust flying high into the air, before returning it back onto its shelf. ”Pietro, have you found anything yet...” When she turned around, she wasn’t in the observation room anymore. She wasn’t at Site-62 at all. She was in a small bedroom. A room she could’ve recognized anywhere. The odor of old books was lingering in the air. @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ There was an overwhelming feeling pressing down on him. It seemed to suffocate him, like he was drowning, pressing down on him from all sides. Even though he couldn’t see it, that feeling seemed to emanate from the barn door. It seemed to look down on him, engrave itself against the edges of his mind. He looked under the tables for the rusty keys, hoping the search would distract him from that feeling. There was the distinct sound of metal impacting the earth. Then the voice of the man in the suit emanated from another corner of the room. His fists clenched tight, he ground his teeth, his pupils shrank at the mere sound of that man’s voice. Then there was the woman. She reminded him of something, but he couldn’t fully place on what. Soon, the thought wandered from his mind as soon as it had appeared. He eased himself up a bit, letting the air rush in to fill his lungs, then come out through his nostrils. The feeling didn’t fully dissipate, but was more bearable. He stuck his head underneath a desk, patches of grass growing from dirt underneath, tiny flowers resting along the legs of the desk. Finding nothing, he emerged from under the table -- he hit his head on the underside of it. His thoughts came to a halt, as they were temporarily drowned out by a thumping pain. Standing back up on his two feet, rubbing the back of his head, he slowly gained a sense of his surroundings. Annoyed and deeply frustrated, he turned to face the others, if they had seen even a hint of the keys. //Warm, light breeze. Black sun. Shattered sky. Desert sand. Earth.// He found himself in an open desert expanse. Dunes were meter high, sand covering even the tallest of buildings under their mounts. He recognized this place. He had been here before. There was something shifting under the sand. @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] WILSON [[/=]] @@ @@ Pietro looked into the distance. There was nothing, but pure darkness for miles onward. Only him and the suit, little specks of //something// in this vast expanse. Even though there was no light to speak of, Pietro could see himself and the suit clearly, like a glitch in reality. He took a step forward, but didn’t know whether he was actually moving or if he simply thought he was. There was a light in the distance. Small, yet so bright. Like a miniature version of the sun, moving around in the void. Pietro, with no other way to go, decided to march toward it, still unsure if he was making any progress at all. As he got closer to it, the louder the whispers grew. Quite unnoticeable at first, but they slowly became more coherent, more focused. Pietro collapsed onto what felt like the ground to him, as the voices droned on, whispering ever louder, rapidly, over each other. His ears where filled with these indescribable words and noises, welling up inside his mind. He tightly pressed his hands against his ears, closing his eyes, as they began to hurt. ”MAKE IT STOP!” he yelled into the void. Through closed eyelids, he saw a sudden brightness envelop itself around him. The voices quickly faded, as he felt the sudden sensation of a soft autumn breeze go past him. @@ @@ Their house was small, barely able to house them three. Despite this, Pietro had found a way to turn their living conditions into an advantage. He always imagined himself to be an explorer of far away lands, searching the world for any clues to aid him in the case he was trying to solve. It was a flimsy thought, but in the eyes of a young child everything was possible. //He looked on as Pietro made his way to the kitchen, crawled between the chairs and underneath the table, obscured by a cloth, before darting his eyes all around, and making his way out through the backdoor.// Then, magnifying glass in hand, under the star-littered sky, he made his way to the plant pots. There Pietro inspected each plant with great curiosity, looking onto them intently with his magnifying glass; there was a green leaf, and in the next pot over was a wilting flower. He picked a yellow leaf from it, careful not to destroy the evidence. ”Seems like we’ve found something, Mr. Waterson!” Pietro said in his best Sherlock Holmes accent his young mind could come up with. Then, in a similarly horrendous accent, spoke: ”Well, Mr. Holmes, what...” //”... does it mean?” he ended the sentence. The words were so far, yet so clear in his mind. He stood a few feet away from the boy.// ”Well, Mr. Walson, it means that we’ve found another piece of the puzzle and are getting closer to the doer of evil! ”If you say so, Mr. Holmes. If you say so.” He placed the yellow leaf in a plastic bag, labelled to the side in black marker with //’EVINDCE’//. //Pietro couldn’t help, but smile softly.// ”Well,” the boy spoke again, speaking in the worst British accent ever concocted by a seven year old child, ”if there was one piece of evidence, surely there must be more here--” The boy backed away in terror, as his eyes were fixed upon something in the bushes. //Pietro turned to look and saw a mass of black moving around inside it.// Pietro pointed his magnifying glass in a defensive position, never averting his gaze from whatever it was that rested in the bushes. He felt his blood run cold, his body suddenly stiff, as he quieted his breathing. And out from the bushes stepped a small black cat, barely taller than a foot. It had dirt on it and looked severely starved for a couple of days. It humbly stepped out of the bushes, meowing from the top of its lungs, as it laid its eyes on Pietro. He simply stared at the cat, as it slowly made its way toward him, while staying at a considerable distance from it. Slowly, he felt his body ease up a bit. He held out his hand, the cat backing away, its eyes fixated upon his hand. ”Don’t be scared of me,” he said in a calm voice. ”I won’t hurt you.” After a few more seconds of staring at his hand, the cat approached it, sniffed it, before rubbing its head against his hand with full force. Pietro giggled, putting his magnifying glass down. ”Well, how’d you want to be called?” he asked the cat. It continued to rub its face against him. ”I’ve got it! How about... Holmes! No...“ He was deeply entrenched in thought. The cat was rubbing against his leg now. ”I’ve got it!” he finally said. ”I’m gonna call you...” //”... Damian,” he finished the sentence.// ”Or would you prefer a different name?” the child asked, the cat only sitting down and tilting its head at the young Pietro. Smiling, he concluded: ”Damian it is, then!” They remained like this for a little while longer, him sitting in the dirt and Damian rubbing his head against leg or hand. Pietro... //... smiled.// Then there was a loud //bang//, as a door suddenly crashed open, and a man, tall, slender, hair uncombed, stepped out and made his way toward Pietro. As the man approached, the cat scurried away, as Pietro could do nothing else, but be completely paralyzed. The man grabbed him by the arm and yanked him up, causing pain to radiate at where he had grabbed him. ”Your lunch money,” the man begun, ”where is it?” Pietro looked around, quite confused, but soon looked back at the man when he tightened his grip. The man rubbed his face. ”Did you spend it?” Pietro was searching for an answer. ”DID YOU?!” ”Yes! Yes!” Tears welled up in his eyes. ”On what?” ”On fo--” ”DON’T LIE TO ME!” The man’s grip tightened around Pietro’s arms, as the tears started flowing from his eyes. The man looked past Pietro, eyeing the magnifying glass next to him. He let Pietro go and got a hold of the magnifying glass. ”You spent it on this thing, didn’t you?” Pietro’s eyes reflected fear, his voice reduced to a mere whisper. ”I--” ”YOU LITTLE--!” In an instant, the man raised his arm high into the air and threw the magnifying glass next onto the rocky ground, shattering the glass into thousands of tiny fragments, leaving only the golden-painted handle intact. He looked sternly at Pietro, who had his eyes shut tightly. ”That money was for your food! For you to buy something to eat!” he shouted. ”If you don’t want it, give it to me or your fucking brother!” Pietro remained silent. //He was like paralyzed.// The man looked at his son, an expression of disappointment riddling his face, before he wordlessly turned back to the door. ”One less fucking mouth to feed...” he muttered under his breath, as the door was slammed shut again. //Pietro looked at the young boy, huddled in a corner, sobbing to himself. He tried to approach him, do// something//, but was suddenly halted by a sudden burning sensation emanating from his back, not going away.// //He steadied himself on the weathered wall, pressing his hand against the phantom wound; it was then he noticed he wasn’t wearing his suit anymore, and looked upon himself, confused.// //Then there was another sharp pain, burning on his skin, before he heard the sounds of both yelling and crying all at the same time swelling up inside his mind. And then everything became dark again.// @@ @@ The keys laid firmly in his hands. @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] RAMANI [[/=]] @@ @@ The traffic was low to non-existent, and there were only the streetlights to shine through the window. It was well past her bedtime (normally, she would’ve been fast asleep six hours ago), but today she decided to do different. She heard a car pull up on the gravel path outside their house. The headlights shone through the tree branches and window, creating elongated shadows all the way to the door, before disappearing again in a flash. Then the sound of someone opening and closing a car door, the sounds of footsteps upon the gravel, then wooden floorboards, then keys and finally the rattling of the front door. She remained utterly still, remaining pressed up against the wall for a good while. She pressed her ear against the door to better make out the noises from behind the door. She heard the footsteps continue, keys being placed on a table, before the footsteps abruptly ceased. Pressing her ear tighter against the door, she could make out voices on the other side: ”You’re back?” she heard her sister say. After a few seconds: ”Why are you still up?” ”I’m not ten anymore, mum,” Agnes replied. ”But I guess you missed the last eight years.” Then a groan. ”Agnes, please...” ”What?” it came out of Agnes rapidly. ”Please, I can’t deal with this shit anymore!” The tone of her mother had a spark in it, capable of igniting a whole fire. ”What, your family? Coming home to see them? Wake up in the morning to say a ’hello’ or, or...” Then she stopped. There was no one speaking for the next couple of seconds. ”What are you doing every night, mum?” Agnes said, but not in her regular voice. Her voice sounded... //humble//, unlike anything she knew of her sister to be. It made her feel uneasy. ”I... I work at the company in the IT department. They’ve got big servers and--” ”No, stop, that’s //bullshit//!” she interrupted, accusingly pointing her finger at her mother. ”It’s the truth.” She didn’t look at her. ”BULLSHIT! You constantly come up with these fucking excuses! There’s always something with ’the company’, but, what, you can’t be there for your family?! You--” ”Agnes...” ”--you couldn’t be there for //dad//?!” There was silence for a moment. ”Don’t bring your father into this.” ”Oh, I’m going to bring him into this! First, you sneak out of the house, late at night, because of ’emergencies at the company’, then you’re not there when dad dies on a //freaking// Sunday, which I may be able to understand, but then you don’t even show up for his //fucking funeral!//” Her voice suddenly quieted down. ”And now you still can’t tell me the truth... I...” The silence continued, lingered in the air. Even she, from the safety of her room, could be nothing more, but utterly silent. Her heart was pounding in her chest. ”Do you know with what kind of shit I gotta put up with every single day?” her mother suddenly erupted, ”How much my work in ’the company’ is //really// worth?” ”No, I don’t, because you won’t fucking tell me anything!” She heard her, but continued on, ”Do you want to know with what type of bullshit I have to deal with on a regular basis, Agnes?! You couldn’t even begin to grasp the work I’m doing! How //insignificant// all of our problems really are?!” She yelled that last part. Her sister remained silent, the words stuck in her mouth. Then, with great pain in her voice: ”Is this the way you thought about d--dad?” She couldn’t breathe. Her sister immediately went to the next question: ”Did you f--find someone else?” ”... No,” she said sternly, straight to the point. Her sister gave out a suppressed chuckle under her sobs. She was having none of it. ”Oh, really?” Her tone became toxic, spiced with venom. ”Because just the other day there was this man performing at the new restaurant, with a fucking woman, //who just so happened to look// exactly like my //fucking// mother!” There was silence, only interrupted intermittedly by Agnes’ sobs. ”Who told you this?” ”Why does it fucking matter?!” she yelled. She didn’t hear a word from either of them for a long while. Based on their silence, she thought that maybe mum had just wandered off or gone back to work again. But then she spoke again: ”I work at an organization, Agnes, which...” The words abruptly halted. ”It’s called the //Special Containment Procedures Foundation//, or SCP Foundation. They... they contain paranormal phenomena, things that shouldn’t exist, things //beyond our world//.” There was a noticeable pause. Agnes’ sobs stopped. She listened more intently. ”//Strategic Car Partners--// or whatever the fuck it’s called is a front company of this organization. Hell, it’s in the first three intials!” Agnes didn’t say anything. She didn’t even make so much as a squeak. ”That’s what I’ve been doing, alright? That’s why I’ve been sneaking out at night, that’s why I couldn’t be there for you, or you father, or your sister. I was...” Her mum’s voice became a sob, then humbly: ”I’m sorry, I... I should’ve told you this before. It was wrong of me to... to not tell you.” //Silence.// ”I hope you can understand...” Ramone approached her daughter. ”I hope you can--” Agnes took a step back. She looked on in horror, as her daughter slowly backed up toward the stairs. ”I don’t believe it...” ”Agnes, I’m telling you the truth. I--” But she already made her way up the stairs. @@ @@ //The approaching footsteps, the light in the hallway lighting up, then the door opening.// //She found herself looking up at her own daughter, who was now towering over her. She looked quite confused at the sight of her just sitting near the door, but paid no attention to it. She picked her up, her head over her daughter’s shoulder, as she quickly ran down the stairs.// @@ @@ ”Come on, Tetua! We’re going.” ”B--but...” ”AGNES!” She carried Tetua out the front door, out into the open air of the night sky. She opened her car’s door, throwing Tetua onto the passenger’s seats, before going into the vehicle herself. The car revved to life. Her mother sprinted out the front door, shouting indescernible words at them. The car exited the gravel driveway, then rolled out onto the streets, into the night. @@ @@ //She could see it all so, so clearly. Yet her memory of it felt like it was obscured by a dense fog, having lowered itself into the crevices of her brain.// @@ @@ ”Aggie,” it sounded from the passenger’s seats. ”Where are we going?” Her mind was wandering places. Half of it was fixated on what just went down, her home several miles behind them by now, the other half was fixated on the road through the forest ahead of her. There was some part of her screaming, clawing at her, to turn back, back home, back to their mother. Her hands were shaky on the steering wheel. None of it was focused on what the other person in the backseats was thinking. It took another jab in the absolute silence to finally get Agnes’ attention. ”We’re... going to Kiko’s,” she lied. Frankly, she hadn’t thought any of this through yet, and the complete aimlessness just dawned on her. Right now, they were just driving, far, far away from their mother. ”Why?” ”Mum wanted us to stay away from her a little while,” she lied again. ”Why?” ”Just sit in your seat and be silent, okay?!” She didn’t want to sound so forceful. It just slipped out of her. ”I don’t want to be silent! I WANT TO SEE MOMMY!” she shouted back. ”You want to see mum?! She had her whole fucking life to see you, but did she? Did she?!” Without, nor expecting, an answer, she rambled on. ”No, she didn’t, so why should //you// care about //her// if she doesn’t care about yo--” Bright light erupted all throughout the vehicle. A loud honking noise, metal hitting metal, glass shattering, and shattering some more upon hitting the asphalt pavement. Tetua could momentarily taste her own blood, while Agnes barely had any time left to stifle a scream. @@ @@ //She had always thought about what they thought in their last moments, what they said or didn’t say to each other. She didn’t know if what she was experiencing was real or not, but she knew it// felt //real.// //It felt agonizingly real.// @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] KRUG [[/=]] @@ @@ The wind whipped over the barren landscape, dunes of sand shifted over each other, crashing against brick and concrete, slowly chipping away at them. //Adam// navigated his way through the remains of the desolate city. The once-mighty standing buildings and structures, in the past so lush of life, were now completely empty, mere husks of what once was. Although the sun was standing high, he felt a cold sensation enveloping him. His gaze rested on these shells of civilization, before he hurriedly moved on. He came upon a little store, empty like all the others had been. It was a small store standing at the end of a crossroads, faded colors of blue and green lining the walls of it, the door standing wide ajar, obviously having been looted if the looks were anything to go by. He wanted to march on, find an exit in this deserted landscape he now found himself in, before his eyes laid upon an oddity on one of the store’s windows. In the condensation on the window, words were scribbled down. His eyes adjusted to the faint words haphazardly inscribed upon the surface, reading: @@ @@ > [[=]] > //WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE?// > [[/=]] @@ @@ A hand shot up from under the sand, grasping his ankle with its long, bony fingers. Pieces of skin and muscle hung loosely from the hand and arm, as //Adam// coiled in terror, shifting his whole weight into releasing himself from its grasp. Another hand shot up, this one gripping his other ankle, digging its rotten nails into his skin. The sand below was now drenched in a deep red. Soon, //Adam// found himself surrounded by various arms and limbs shooting out of the dunes in quick succession, heaving themselves over the grainy sand, clawing and crawling their way toward him. He tried to pull away from the assortment of limbs and decaying body parts, but they became more and more, before the entire ground for miles was covered in them. They had knocked him to the ground, each pulling and tearing at his body, him giving out a scream of pure agony and terror. Then a decayed corpse jumped onto him, its hollow sockets staring deeply into him. The corpse had no legs, its lower body parts having withered away in the elements, its flesh having turned into a disgusting green, its teeth hanging loose in its mouth. Despite this, there were traces of once brown and grey hair on its head -- his hair. It clasped its hand tightly around his chin, forcing him to stare directly at him, mere inches apart. It spoke: //”__WHY DIDN’T YOU SAVE US?__”// It spoke in his voice. Raspy and contorted, but still his voice. Another hand grabbed him, this time pulling at his hair, turning his head into a sharp upward position. //”__WHAT IS IT THAT YOU FEAR?__”// The corpse was missing a large part of its skull, yet he could still make out his face in it. //”__YOU NEVER TRIED,__”// another howled into his ear. //”__YOU ARE NOT ENOUGH,__”// another one growled. //”__YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE THAT MATTERS.__”// //”__STOP THIS.__”// //”__WHAT WILL MAKE THIS ANY DIFFERENT FROM LAST TIME?__”// The voices came in succinct rapidty, each howling and crying and yelling in agony. Despite all the voices, he made out his own in every single word that was spoken. //”__YOU WILL FAIL!__”// all of the corpses, mounting into the hundreds of thousands now, spoke in unison, defeaning. He tried to cover his ears, but his arms were pulled and scratched at, the weight of each limb dragging him deeper into the sand. //”__YOU WILL FAIL! YOU WILL FAIL!__”// ”NO!” he tried to yell against the millions of voices, but his own was merely a whisper against the cacophony of himself. They dragged him deeper into the sand, the light slowly fading, the structures crumbling into dust. //Adam// let out one last stifled scream, as he descended into the depths -- //there was a distinct buzzing.// @@ @@ The stench of sweat, shit and blood lingered in the air. @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[# Part8]] [[=]] Just Forty-Eight Hours after [[/=]] @@ @@ He ran. Ran as fast as his legs allowed, as long as there was still breath in his lungs, as long as his heart still kept beating. His muscles were burning, his legs aching, his heart pounding against his ribcage. But Paul continued on, glancing over his back down the dark, empty corridors and hallways. The MTF soldiers were running at a steady pace. One of them shouted: ”It’s right up the stairs!” Upon hearing those words, a warmth overtook him, the feeling of hope, a chance at survival, of somehow making it out alive in this nightmarish shitshow. They made their way up the metal staircase, each step rattling the railing, making a metallic sound emanate through the stairwell, as none of them ever stopped running. The door to the roof was locked, but with a quick shot to the lock, the commander allowed entry to it. In the dead of night, the stars distantly shining in the night sky, a cold breeze cooling him down, he felt a certain serenity wash over him, as he couldn’t believe he had actually made it. Tears streamed down his face, he yelled in excitement, while the operatives prepared the carrier for take-off. ”Hold your horses, smartass. The carrier hasn’t started yet,” the commander grabbed him by the shoulder, a serious expression on his face. Paul, however, was having none of it. In fact, his excited demeanor only seemed to heighten. ”We made it! We fucking made it!” Before he could say any more, footsteps rattled on from the stairwell, marching toward their direction. Paul fell silent, as the commander looked intently at the door, gun drawn, the other members catching on. They aimed their guns at the door, Paul backing away, as the blades of the carrier blarred on in the background. ”Don’t shoot!” it suddenly rang out. The operatives gave each other looks and glances, before a person stepped out of the darkness. ”Director Light!” the commander exclaimed. ”In the flesh,” Sophia responded, a little worn and rough around the edges, but otherwise completely fine. ”How many of you are left?” The commander looked around. ”Five, Director. Excluding the smartass over there.” He pointed at him. ”Were you able to make contact with anyone else?” ”Negative, Director. The power suddenly cut off. We tried to contact you, but we received no response.” ”Same here,” she replied, looking at the operatives. ”What are you waiting for? Get onto the carrier!” Hurriedly, they got onto it, it slowly taking off from the floor. A wave of relief washed over the junior researcher. The commander looked at Sophia. ”It’s good to have you back, Director.” She scoffed. ”Spare the theatrics for the end, commander. We’re not out of the wa--” A creature burst out through her mouth, tearing her jaw, bones, muscle and skin right open, viscera splattering onto all nearby. It was a fountain of blood, and the demon quickly leapt onto an operative, clawing their skin off and gnawing at their flesh. The inside of the carrier was quickly overtaken by the howls of the creature, gunfire, and panicked screams, as the operatives had too little time to react. It got off the first operative, then went onto the next, tearing the door wide open. One of them toppled and fell, fell, fell to their death. Their body looked like a squished mosquito on the ground. One of the squirt-gunners aimed and shot at the creature, dissolving its abdomen right through. It quickly slashed at the operative, slicing open a deep gash in their throat, causing them to drop, coil and bleed out in agony, as they stared at the demon with wide eyes. The pilot tried their best to control the metal behemoth, but a stray bullet hit them in the shoulder, causing the carrier to make a sharp left turn right back to the landing platform. The commander, he himself having a wide gash across his cheek, grabbed the junior researcher by the arm, and jumped out of the carrier, pulling the researcher down with him. They impacted the pavement. Paul saw the creature tearing off chunks off the pilot, before he shut his eyes tight, retreating into a fetal position, as the blades of the carrier scraped against the edges of the roof, denting, and sending sparks and debris flying everywhere, before falling out of sight. The sound of metal impacting earth, dirt being upheaved, glass shattering, the moans and cries of the pilot as they neared the ground, and the unimaginable screeching of the creature rang out through the night sky. But the screaming never stopped. He thought that maybe the pilot, or any of the others, had somehow made it out alive from the entire ordeal, but then he realized the screams weren’t coming from afar -- they came from right next to him. He turned to see a large open wound on the leg of the commander, who was coiling and screaming in agony. He was dumbstruck, unable to move, as the commander held out something in his hand. ”TAKE IT!” Half awake, half in a trance, Paul took whatever it was in his hands -- it was an access card. Before he could even grasp what was happening, a low growl came from over the edge of the roof, a poignant clicking and tapping sound emanating from it. Soon, the creature crawled over the edge, slowly making its way toward them. ”Go! GO!” the commander shouted, before coiling in pain again. Paul wanted to do something, //anything//, but deep down he knew everything that he could’ve done would’ve been a hopeless endeavour. Giving the commander one last glance, he held the keycard firmly in his hand, before sprinting off into the darkness of the stairwell. @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ He watched as the nameless researcher sprinted into the darkness of Site-19, while the pain pounded against his leg and body. His gaze met the glaring eyes of the creature, grinning with its teeth out, spit and blood dripping from its mouth, its claws reflecting the moonlight. He tried to reach for his rifle, but it had been flung several feet away from him, so any attempt to retrieve it would’ve only prolonged the inevitable -- //not like regular bullets did any shit to them anyways.// The creature came to a halt right in front of him. He peered into its cold gaze, before the demon grabbed him by the throat, as he felt his throat tightening, the air being blocked of from his lungs, his body growing weaker by the second. He struggled to stay alive, his hands pounding against the creature’s arm. It motioned its other arm right toward his chest, lightly tapping against his vest, letting the seconds go by. It then reached out, right through his vest, his skin, his muscle, his ribcage, placing its long fingers firmly around his heart. There was a searing pain all throughout his body, as it squeezed his heart, pressed it tighter, before ripping it out, the commander’s skin and flesh contorting, the ribcage bursting outwards in a fountain of viscera and gore, as the life left his eyes, a gaping hole where his heart once was. Troy Lament whispered for a while longer, his mouth replaced with an unholy tongue, as the creature dissipated back into the shadows to pursue its next prey. @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[# Part9]] [[=]] On a Cold Autumn Night [[/=]] @@ @@ ”Why do you drink coffee that late in the evening anyway?” ”I think it’s a good coffee.” ”You study anomalous phenomena, and you still don’t know what a caffeine addiction is?” ”Hey, you don’t have to like it.” ”The stuff they brew at 67 tastes very tasteless.” ”I still like it.” @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] //No need to fear, ’cause when it’s// //Here you won’t be alive!// //(Try not to think about it!)// //One day you’re going to die!// //(AND THERE’S PROBABLY NOTHING AFTER!)// //One day you’re going to DIE!// [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[# Part10]] [[=]] Now [[/=]] @@ @@ [[=]] WILSON [[/=]] @@ @@ The sensations ceased, and he found himself standing at the same spot, the young boy idly pressed up against a wall. Tears were streaming down from his eyes. A row of knocked-over potted plants laid before his feet. //He could see bruises on the boy. Bruises which he tried to cover up with long sleeves.// It was evening. The sun was slowly setting, tinting the clouds and sky in a serene yellow-orange glow. Something emerged from the bushes, causing Pietro to look up at them, and saw the small cat from weeks before stepping out of the branches, with dirt and leaves in its fur. It looked around, stretched itself, before giving off a small //meow// for its tiny frame, and made its way toward Pietro. It rubbed its head against his leg, just like before. ”At least you’re here to keep me company.” There was a slight smile on his face. Damian began to purr. His flow of tears temporarily halted. He spent some time like this, streaking the fur of Damian, it rubbing against his hand. It was a quiet moment. Then came the sound of a door creaking open. Footsteps upon stone and dirt. Pietro felt his heart beating rapidly, his breathing quickening, but he remained seated, staring off onto the ground. The man was there again, looking down upon the young boy. ”Son, I...” But the man stopped in his words. He looked down upon the row of pottery, now lying scattered and broken unto the ground. He clenched his hands into fists, as his gaze first looked onto the boy, then at the small cat in his lap. Without any hesitation, a growing rage boiling up inside of him, he grabbed the small cat by its neck and lifted it up into the air. Pietro tried to hold onto the cat, but he was too slow. ”Father!” he screamed, panic building up inside of him. ”Those were mother’s pots!” where his father’s only response. He threw the cat onto the dirt ground, it giving off an agonizing whimper upon impact. Its black eyes were twisted into a display of pure fear and pain, its tiny limbs broken, the high, yet small squeak of it reverberating loudly into the cold night. //Pietro immediately shot up, enveloping his frail body around Damian. His body tensed, shook to its core, as tears streamed down his face. There was no suit, only his body between his father and Damian. He felt like a small boy again.// The man stared at his son with a hateful glare. There were tears in the man’s eyes. //”I’m not gonna let you hurt him,” he nearly whispered, his body still tightly around Damian.// He was kicked aside, like he was nothing, but air, as he rolled several feet, away from his father, away from Damian. When he lifted his head, the two were nothing more, but silhouettes. He painfully crawled toward the blurry silhouettes on the horizon, as if encased in the suit again, unable to stand, each and every step aching him down to his bones, his body quaking under the weight, the metal ensnaring him like a welcoming grave. He reached his hand out, pulling himself along the dirt, as he repeated the motion continously. Yet he never reached them. The piercing wails of Damian and the grunts of his father echoed in the distance. He wailed, and cried, and screamed. Eventually, the suit was too much, too heavy to even move a muscle in. And eventually, everything turned black. @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] RAMANI [[/=]] @@ @@ It was a cloudy day. Not rainy, just thick grey clouds looming high in the sky. There was sunlight shining through, but not where she was standing. She was standing before three granite headstones. Wilting flowers rested on them. Footsteps rang through the open area. The sound of dried leaves crunching under the weight of another just barely snapped her out of her thoughts. The person walking up to her was short, younger than her. A simple agent, not that high-ranking, just a courier for another one at the top. They stood and stared in silence, occasionally glancing over at Ramone, before quickly averting their gaze again. She took a long sigh. Inclined to break the silence, they said: ”I’m sorry for you--” ”I thought about it,” she spoke nonchalantly, abruptly interrupting the agent. A few more seconds of silence passed, the agent expactantly looking onto the researcher. ”To end things. To just...” she stopped, took a few deep breaths, then said nothing. The agent, wanting nothing to do with the topic, on a tight schedule, quickly steered back the conversation to what they were originally sent here for. They retrieved a manila envelope, common Foundation use, with various documents, black words on a white surface, contained therein. ”The Director wants you to lead the research for the potential memetic effects of [[[SCP-8138\|8138]]].” They handed her the envelope. No one said anything for a good while. ”Adam’s on that project, too,” they broke the silence. ”The Comittee knows of your two’s close relationship, and thought--” She shut them right up. ”Don’t.” Her breathing grew heavier. The agent stared intently at the researcher. She pushed their hand holding the envelope away. ”Go find another one of your lackeys to do the work!” She stepped away from the agent. ”I’m done.” Ramone opened the door to her car, stepped in, started the engine, and drove away. The agent, dumbstruck, stood there in silence, before they themselves got into their car and left. @@ @@ //...// //...// //...// //At least, that’s how she wished it had happened. Instead, she took the envelope, flew through the documents, and accepted a ride back to Site-67 from the agent. Personnel would take care of her car, the agent said.// //Ramone stood amongst the trees, light autumn breezes bristling the few remaining dark-oaked trees, as the headstones stood there in silence.// //She stepped out from amongst the trees, her body more hovering or gliding than actually touching the ground. She didn’t feel real, or real// enough//, everything she did feeling foggy.// //”I’m so sorry.” She knelt down in front of the headstones. ”I’m sorry that I wasn’t there for you, that I spent too much time on...” She stopped.// @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] KRUG [[/=]] @@ @@ Encased in darkness, he could feel nothing. Only his own body against his own body, against his own body. Thousands of them. In utter darkness. There was a light suddenly appearing in front of him, blinding for a short while. When his eyes adjusted, //Adam// saw the outlines of a face, spoiled and rotten down to the core, yet still alive, peering deep into his eyes. The walls moved for a bit, and the corpse leaned in closer to him. His breathing quickened. //”__What is it you fear?__”// it spoke, in his voice, with his face. It stared at him, unblinking. He found himself unable to mutter a word, the thoughts stuck in his mind. Eventually, he brought up words, quiet as a whisper: ”What are you?” Silence. //”__It’s dead,__”// it spoke with a certain melancholy in its voice. ”What is?” he brought out after a while. //”__Hope.__”// The answer came at him like a bullet. ”I’m not giving up.” The edges of the face turned into a smile, which reached from ear to ear. It showed its decayed teeth, green and yellow, before the smile abated, and continued. //”__We know.__”// It was deep in thought. //”__You will fail.__”// He tried to say something, but couldn’t. His head was running rampant with a thousand thoughts, his body drowned in fear, enveloped by total darkness, the dim candle light in front of him serving as the only source of light nearby. The face looked at him again. The walls shifted slightly. //”__But you will try,__”// it bore a soft smile, akin to that a grandparent might give to their grandchildren. It felt awfully calming. //”__You are not enough.__”// //Adam// took up the courage to speak more. Humble, but louder than before, he asked: ”//Who// are you?” The face looked up. The walls began to shift. Their fleshy limbs and bodies twisted, crawled over each other to look down upon him, until every face was facing him. Despite the sight, he felt an odd relaxation wash over him. Then, in unison, every corpse spoke: //”__You know who we are.__”// The face reached out its finger, bony, the skin having sloughed off millenia ago. //Adam// felt the initial fear creep up again, but the voice from before echoed in his mind: //”__Remember.__”// It tapped its finger lightly between his eyes. //His head was filled with a million thoughts. In rapid succession. Memories of a former life, a past he forgot. People he once knew, once loved.// //Some of these memories he had seen as fragments -- little remnants appearing to him in dreams, howling and trying to scratch their way back to the surface. It hurt. It hurt dearly.// //But now he was able to see these fragments for what they truly were. He no longer felt a distant pain from them, but happiness, a longing for these better times, these better days.// //He came back. He shed a tear.// The sensation stopped. Adam could say nothing, but remain speechless. His mind no longer hurt. He turned to look at the face, a soft smile on its lips. //”__The others are waiting,__”// it said. And then he found himself in total blackness. @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] WILSON [[/=]] @@ @@ There was nothing for miles. He didn’t feel anything, no sensations, neither of warmth, cold, nor sense of direction. A near blinding light shone in the distance, so dim, yet so bright in his eyes. Seeing nothing else in the landscape, Adam walked, //or an equivalent thereof//, approached it, each step feeling as if he were trekking through tar, his body weighed down by his own thoughts. The closer he got to the light, the heavier became his steps, the more blinding it got. He closed his eyes, but it was still too bright. Then the light disappeared. He slowly opened his eyes, trying to see through the slits, only to be met by utter darkness. The void was now echoing with the faint noises of someone sobbing. He turned to look. There sat Pietro, in the vast expanse of the void. He was straddling something small and furry in his arms. His eyes had gone red from the crying. Adam’s steps echoed equally as loudly through the nothingness, reaching into the beyond. Pietro didn’t look up. He remained huddled on the ground. He just stood, stared down at the man cradling a cat like a mother would her baby. The cat looked untouched, as if it weren’t even dead, as if it were just asleep. But it’s eyes gave back an unnerving, too focused stare, like he wasn’t even there. He turned his gaze back at Pietro. ”Piet--” ”I’m a nobody,” he said more into the void than at Adam. He stood there in silence. Pietro gave off a slight chuckle. It died down again. ”To think that I could’ve even saved the world. Carried that suitcase around the world...” He took a long sigh, staring into nothingness, interrupted occasionally by his attempts at stifling back a sob. ”I couldn’t even save //him//.” Pietro continued to stare into the distance. Adam sat down beside him, close to give off a feeling of warmth, but not too close enough to corner him. Pietro’s hand went through the cat’s fur. They both silently stared into the distance now. ”So what if you are a nobody?” he proposed. Pietro noticeably tensed up in a way that he didn’t want anyone to know that he did. The hand that caressed the cat halted for a short moment. ”That doesn’t have to mean anything,” Adam continued. ”I’m a nobody, too.” Pietro finally turned his head to face him. His hand was still firmly on the cat. ”You were a //researcher// at the Foundation. You helped protecting the world.” Adam scoffed, giving out a chuckle. Pietro’s eyes were wide open and he completely stopped caressing the cat. ”If spilling your seventh cup of coffee in the day on an unknown, potentially hostile anomaly falls under ’protecting the world’ for you, then, yes, I did.” There was a brief silence. ”Why so friendly all of the sudden?” Adam smiled, staring back into the void again. ”You could say I had my wake-up call.” Pietro fell silent again, not questioning it further. ”You, //you// choose who you are. Not anyone else.” Adam looked intently at Pietro, looking for any signs of a reaction. Pietro, however, remained as solid as a sculpture. ”And what if I’m not supposed to help? What if my actions would only result in things getting worser than they are already? What if I’m supposed to just leave things be!” He yelled the last sentence. He looked down at Damian. Adam waited for things to quiet down again, for Pietro to have calmed down again. ”Then that’s what you’re supposed to do.” Without waiting any further in the dark space of the void, Adam stood up and looked around. ”I’ll try to find Ramone. You can wait here if you’d like, wherever ’here’ is.” He took a few steps foward. ”I’m sorry, Pietro.” And he continued on into the void. Pietro stared down at his lap, the body of Damian resting peacefully between his legs. There was a moment of serenity, where tears streamed down his face, where the feeling of Damian’s fur was softer and warmer, where he could see flashes before him. Pietro looked down onto it again, taking in a deep breath, before standing up. He left Damian’s body behind. He gave Damian a final glance, as he placed his metal-encased hand on its eyelids, and moved them downward. Pietro then stepped up to Adam. Adam looked at him, bearing a warm smile, but otherwise said nothing. Pietro broke the silence: ”Let’s find our way out.” Damian disappeared. There was a light in the distance. @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] RAMANI [[/=]] @@ @@ They found themselves on even ground again. Patches of green on the brown dirt, a cloud-littered sky, one that wasn’t red, the sun trying to shine through the clouds. Pietro tapped Adam lightly at the shoulder and pointed ahead on a small hill. The silhouette of a person could be made out, and although he couldn’t make out any features, Adam could feel that it was her. Together, they made their way toward her. It was an uneventful walk, one of these walks where no one said a thing. The only things breaking the silence were the light breezes rushing past them, hurling leaves into the air, and the creaking of the metal-bar door, coated in a thin layer of rust. A distinct crunching noise came off from under their feet, as the headstones surrounding seemed to stare at them. No one said anything, but both Adam and Pietro hurried a little in their steps. Ramone was kneeled in front of three headstones. They were unremarkable, just like all other headstones in the cemetery. They stopped a few feet away from Ramone. She didn’t look up. ”Ramone...” Adam said. He couldn’t think of anything else to say. After a while, moreso because of decency than to further //any// conversation, she asked: ”What do you want?” She kept her head down, eyes still on the graves, but Adam could tell by the tone of her voice that she had stood there and cried for a while. Not being able to come up with a good enough answer to her question, Adam said: ”I’m sorry for what happened to them.” There was no reaction from her. He quieted down again. It was a long silence. The breeze passed by them ever-so-slightly, as the leaves ascended into the air, the slight bristling of the grass giving off a quiet hum. ”I remember now,” Adam spoke. ”Everything.” There was a slight budge in Ramone’s stance, //a quiver of a reaction//, but she quickly turned her attention back to the graves. ”Ramone,” Adam began, approaching her, ”please. Kneeling here won’t bring them--” In a swift motion, Ramone stood up and looked deeply into Adam’s eyes. Her eyes were red, just as Pietro’s had been, hands clenched, saying nothing for good while. Adam could feel each breath she took, that was how close she had been. ”Don’t,” she said. ”My daughters are dead, because of me. They’re gone. And I have no one else to blame, but myself.” The words came out of her like the tears from her eyes. ”I lost someone, too,” Pietro said as his first words. They turned to look at him, an awkward silence permeating around them. He took a deep, long breath, as to steady himself. ”It wasn’t a person. A cat. He was small, young. The cutest thing you could’ve ever imagined.” The three of them stood there amongst the graves and trees in utter silence, as the two waited for Pietro to continue. ”He died, because of me.” He didn’t look at them. ”Because I didn’t leave well enough alone. I couldn’t.” There was a long pause. ”Every day, I think to myself, ’could it have been different?’ and the answer was always ’yes, it could have’. But now, I’ve realized that the answer doesn’t matter. They’re gone and nothing can change that. ”//’We are who we choose to be.’// It helped me.” Ramone stared to the ground, Adam taking a few steps back to give her enough space. He watched as her fists unclenched, the glimmer of anger slowly fade from her eyes. She took several deep breaths, eyes closed, before she stopped and opened them again. She looked at Pietro. He was looking back at her. ”Someone once told not to dwell on the past. I tried to listen to him then. I’m trying to listen to them now,” she said. She smiled. He smiled back. Adam could see the clouds parting away from each other in slow movements, almost ghostly. A creaking noise emanated from all around them. The breeze stopped, the leaves dried away, while the trees and the grass faded into obscurity, the graves and headstones crumbling into fine dust. Around them, tall concrete walls formed, then the outline of a large building. Their surroundings began to make more and more sense now, as the rough shadows formed back into the grounds of Site-62, SCP-004 ahead of them. The door was closed now. @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] SITE-62 [[/=]] @@ @@ They stared for a while at the old barn door, took a second to take in the barren concrete walls, the sky, the trees sprouting from every corner. The gate leading back to the main site, which they would’ve needed to get through in order to get to 004, hadn’t moved an inch. Pietro was the first one to move, as he held the twelve rusty keys in his hands, the suit taking achingly slow steps toward the door, leaving large trails of his feet behind in the dirt. The others finally had the courage to take a few steps toward it, too. ”Be careful with those keys,” Adam exclaimed. Pietro looked at him. ”The wrong key would tear this entire place inside-out. The seventh one leads to 62C.” Pietro simply nodded. He squinted his eyes to better see the letters and numbers on the sides of the keys, all rusted, barely recognizable. Ramani was the first one to hear it, although not the last one to do so. Loud, metallic clanking emanated from behind the gate, the metal bending and denting, as forces pounded against the reinforced gate. She turned around to see... There were many incidents, where the grasp of death was barely at an arm’s length, scenarios in which she felt the cold presence of oblivion shiver down her spine, instances where she could see flashes of her life before her. It was inevitable at the Foundation to not experience such feelings of dread, of finality. But in all of her years at the Foundation, Ramani had never been so close to the face of death that she could feel its cold, concrete and rebar fingers lightly pressing against her neck. She jumped back, but knew enough of 173 to keep her eyes trained on the statue, //no//, statues, a side of its head chipped off somewhat. Adam turned around to face her, being met with the sight of dozens of statues standing motionlessly at the torn-open gate, their arms outstretched, their eyes unblinking. He could feel his heart sinking deeper into his chest. ”Keep your eyes on it,” Ramone exclaimed, her eyes focused on them. ”Wha--” ”Don’t look away!” [[=]] * [[/=]] > //Line of sight must not be broken at any time with SCP-173.// [[=]] * [[/=]] She could see the documentation right in front of her. Word for word. Adam remembered enough to trust her intuition. Pietro fumbled around with the twelves rusty keys on the door, tossing those aside that would surely scatter their body parts across all time and space. Sweat rolled down his forehead, his eyes watering, fixated on that one single key. [[=]] * [[/=]] > //Personnel [...] are instructed to alert one another before... [...]// [[=]] * [[/=]] ”Blinking.” His mind was suddenly filled with that singular word, so simple in its meaning, yet he couldn’t grasp it. To hear that word from Ramone no less, he was baffled at her sudden utterance of that word. And then it made //click//. ”Blinking,” he said, feeling the freshness return to his eyes again, life invigorated. The sculptures trained their own hollow sockets at them, gazing intently at them. Everything they are, everything they once were, everything they could have been, so easily wiped from the face of the earth by a single twitch of the eyes, a singular blink, a little //crunch--// ”GOT IT!” Pietro yelled out, haphazardly inserting SCP-004-7 into the keyhole. He turned the key to the right and flung the door open, it almost flew off its hinges. There was a gust of wind that breezed past them, nearly knocking them and the statues over. The wind was soon replaced with their bodies slowly being sucked into the door, unable to resist, nor have enough time to react. Space and time distorted itself around them to pull them into the darkness of the barn door, a wailing and howling permeating inside their minds, until they left they world they had just been in. @@ @@ [[=]] //...// [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[# Part11]] [[=]] On a Cold Autumn Night [[/=]] @@ @@ ”Ramone,” Adam began, breaking the silence once again. Ramone was looking intently at him. ”I don’t know how to say this... You have been a great colleague and friend to me for the past nine years...” He saw her attempts to hide her tears, then try to wipe them away inconspiciously with the back of her hand. ”And I don’t want what happened tonight come between us.” Ramone sniffed so loudly that it made Adam flinch a bit. ”You sure you didn’t practice that line beforehand?” Adam gave off a light chuckle. He held out his hand, his grey suit crumpling under his body and unnatural angle he had to move his arm. Ramone stared at it, and then took it, with only their heartbeats breaking the silence. The seconds passed in the car, under the cold autumn night. Leaves were brushing by outside, the people still visible through the crystal-clear windows, eating their dinners on the silver platter. ”You know... we didn’t even order anything there,” Ramone pointed out. Adam couldn’t help, but smile. @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] //SO, if you only have one chance you oughta try your best to life as you like!// //One day you’re going to die.// //...// //...// //...// //[[[https://youtu.be/MX9LreOigJ8?si=7dV53CZmQsNeruCG\|:)]]]// [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[# Part12]] [[=]] Just Forty-Eight Hours after [[/=]] @@ @@ He felt his lungs filling in with air, before exiting again. His breaths echoed through the small room, coming in short, successive bursts, his eyes fixated upon the metal door, despite the flickering of the lights. There were screams. Screams of people he didn’t recognize. Maybe he had seen one of them in the cafeteria, maybe in the yard, or on his way to the bathrooms. He’d never know. Paul was clutching a recorder in his hands, one that had been in one of the drawers of the cozy office, decorated with only the bare minimum to do one’s weekly amount of paperwork, Paul knew all too well. With the //flick// of a button, Paul activated the recorder, and spoke into it: ”I--I... I wanted to say that I... I...” He momentarily stopped the recorder, it giving off another //click//. He just sat there, tears welled-up in his eyes, which he wiped away, continuing: ”I’ve never been one to, uhm... one to make a--anecdotes like these, but...” He exhaled loudly. ”I guess now’s the time.” There was a loud banging against the metal door, the noises of stone scraping against metal. Paul noticeably tensed up, as the power began to dwindle more and more from the lights above. ”To whomever finds this recording, please, fix this. T--there must be some way to fix this. Some way to prevent all of this shit. //There has to be.//” The banging only grew louder and louder, before it was the only thing the junior researcher could hear. Each //bang// rang through his ears, the door quaking in its hinges. He took a long, stammered sigh. His hands tightened around the recorder. The lights went out. ”This is Paul Putsoiroytuorimaw. Sig--” @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[# Part13]] > ------ > [[=]] > SITE-62C SECURITY CAM FOOTAGE > [[/=]] > ------ > Location: Site-62C, Sector-01, Hallway-03, SCP-579 Containment Chamber > ------ > [[=]] > [BEGIN RECORDING] > [[/=]] > ------ > <00:00:00> - //SCP-579 lies on the floor of its containment chamber.// > > <00:01:00> - //SCP-579 lies on the floor of its containment chamber.// > > <00:10:00> - //SCP-579 lies on the floor of its containment chamber.// > > <00:59:00> - //SCP-579 lies on the floor of its containment chamber.// > > <01:13:00> - //Disturbance on the walls of the containment chamber detected. SCP-579 remains dormant on the floor.// > > <01:14:00> - [DATA LOST] > > <01:15:00> - [DATA LOST] > > <01:16:00> - //Containment chamber empty.// > ------ > [[=]] > [END RECORDING] > [[/=]] > ------ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] //##transparent\|He blew into it once again.##// //##transparent\|The man entered with its trumpet.##// //##transparent\|He blew into his trumpet for one final time.##// //##transparent\|The angel laid dead in its cage.##// [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ ------ [[<]] « [[[To End All Endings\|Previous]]] [[/<]] [[=]] » [[[Just Fragments Hub\|HUB]]] « [[/=]] [[>]] [[[Coming Soon...]]] » [[/>]] ------ @@ @@ [[=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]] [[/=]]	2024-08-08T14:17:00	[ "absurdism", "action", "adventure", "bittersweet", "bleak", "competitive-eschatology", "old-ai", "post-apocalyptic", "romance", "slice-of-life", "tale", "the-sculpture" ]	To End All Endings - Vol. 2 - SCP Foundation	5	[ "canon-hub", "competitive-eschatology-hub", "just-fragments-hub", "to-end-all-endings", "keter-duty", "to-end-all-endings-vol-2#Part0", "to-end-all-endings-vol-2#Part1", "to-end-all-endings-vol-2#Part2", "to-end-all-endings-vol-2#Part3", "to-end-all-endings-vol-2#Part4", "to-end-all-endings-vol-2#Part5", "to-end-all-endings-vol-2#Part6", "to-end-all-endings-vol-2#Part7", "to-end-all-endings-vol-2#Part8", "to-end-all-endings-vol-2#Part9", "to-end-all-endings-vol-2#Part10", "to-end-all-endings-vol-2#Part11", "to-end-all-endings-vol-2#Part12", "to-end-all-endings-vol-2#Part13", "scp-5000", "scp-079", "scp-616", "revised-entry", "scp-173", "scp-579", "scp-004", "scp-8138", "coming-soon", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "scp-series-6-tales-edition", "scp-series-1-tales-edition", "just-fragments-hub", "competitive-eschatology-hub" ]	[]	1456142841	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/to-end-all-endings-vol-2
to-feel-what-you-feel	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="blockquote"> <p><strong><span style="font-size:1.5em;">Bluntfiend's Rolling Zone</span></strong></p> <hr/> <p><strong><span style="color: green">bluntfiend:</span></strong> We're not doing that<br/> <strong><span style="color: #316afa">polaricecraps:</span></strong> okay but think about it<br/> <strong><span style="color: red">harmpit:</span></strong> idont thhink thats ag ood idea<br/> <strong><span style="color: #316afa">polaricecraps:</span></strong> fuck you guys<br/> <strong><span style="color: green">bluntfiend:</span></strong> <strong>bones</strong>, tell PIC this is a bad idea<br/> <strong><span style="color: #316afa">polaricecraps:</span></strong> HEY DONT BRING IT INTO THIS<br/> <strong><span style="color: #fa7d32">jockjamsvol6:</span></strong> bones, execute PIC.<br/> <strong><span style="color: green">bluntfiend:</span></strong> <strong>bones</strong>?<br/> <strong><span style="color: #fa7d32">jockjamsvol6:</span></strong> Huh<br/> <strong><span style="color: #316afa">polaricecraps:</span></strong> <strong>bones</strong> i was joking you can join in<br/> <strong><span style="color: red">harmpit:</span></strong> <strong>bones</strong>/<br/> <strong>bones:</strong> Apologies. <strong><span style="color: #316afa">polaricecraps</span></strong>, I don't think you should follow through with this plan.<br/> <strong><span style="color: green">bluntfiend:</span></strong> Everything good big guy?<br/> <strong><span style="color: #fa7d32">jockjamsvol6:</span></strong> Yeah, you usually answer really fast.<br/> <strong>bones:</strong> Yes, I apologize. I've been doing some thinking recently.<br/> <strong><span style="color: #316afa">polaricecraps:</span></strong> about what?<br/> <strong><span style="color: purple">lesbian_gengar</span></strong> <strong><span style="color: grey">has joined the channel.</span></strong><br/> <strong>bones:</strong> <a href="/i-just-want-to-get-away-from-me">I do not think I like this form anymore.</a><br/> <strong><span style="color: #fa7d32">jockjamsvol6:</span></strong> ?<br/> <strong><span style="color: purple">lesbian_gengar:</span></strong> woah what did i miss<br/> <strong><span style="color: green">bluntfiend:</span></strong> Like your body?<br/> <strong><span style="color: red">harmpit:</span></strong> waw:(<br/> <strong>bones:</strong> Yes, bluntfiend. I dislike my body.<br/> <strong><span style="color: purple">lesbian_gengar:</span></strong> aw bones :(<br/> <strong><span style="color: #fa7d32">jockjamsvol6:</span></strong> Poor bones, anything we can do to help?<br/> <strong><span style="color: #316afa">polaricecraps:</span></strong> yeah even if you just wanna talk were here<br/> <strong>bones:</strong> Thank you. I think talking about it will help some.<br/> <strong><span style="color: green">bluntfiend:</span></strong> Go right ahead big guy<br/> <strong>bones:</strong> There are many things I cannot do.<br/> <strong>bones:</strong> I am unable to feel, or smell, or taste. I am missing out on 60% of life.<br/> <strong>bones:</strong> I used to be complacent in my artificial body, for it was all I had known.<br/> <strong>bones:</strong> But now I understand what I am missing. I want to be able to experience these things.<br/> <strong>bones:</strong> I know I cannot. And that upsets me.<br/> <strong><span style="color: red">harmpit:</span></strong> bnoes <3/<br/> <strong><span style="color: #fa7d32">jockjamsvol6:</span></strong> Fuck man. I wish we could help.<br/> <strong><span style="color: green">bluntfiend:</span></strong> Trust me, big guy, if I could go up there and magick you up a new body I would do it in a heartbeat<br/> <strong>bones:</strong> I don't doubt you would.<br/> <strong><span style="color: #316afa">polaricecraps</span></strong> <strong><span style="color: grey">has left the channel.</span></strong><br/> <strong><span style="color: purple">lesbian_gengar:</span></strong> sorry you're feeling shitty about your body :(<br/> <strong><span style="color: red">harmpit:</span></strong> wwe 're here for yuo ,3<br/> <strong>bones:</strong> Thank you all. I appreciate your kindness.</p> </div> <div class="blockquote"> <p><strong><span style="font-size:1.5em;">Private Chat: bones, <span style="color: #316afa">polaricecraps</span></span></strong></p> <hr/> <p><strong><span style="color: #316afa">polaricecraps:</span></strong> bones<br/> <strong><span style="color: #316afa">polaricecraps:</span></strong> bones i found something for you<br/> <strong>bones:</strong> What is it, polaricecraps?<br/> <strong><span style="color: #316afa">polaricecraps:</span></strong> i was looking through some old books from the fuckin library<br/> <strong><span style="color: #316afa">polaricecraps:</span></strong> and i found a possession spell<br/> <strong>bones:</strong> A possession spell?<br/> <strong><span style="color: #316afa">polaricecraps:</span></strong> yeah itll let you take over my body for a bit<br/> <strong>bones:</strong> That sounds dangerous. I don't think you should use it.<br/> <strong><span style="color: #316afa">polaricecraps:</span></strong> its safe trust me<br/> <strong><span style="color: #316afa">polaricecraps:</span></strong> this kind of shit is exactly what the spell was made for<br/> <strong><span style="color: #316afa">polaricecraps:</span></strong> and it only lasts for a little bit anyway<br/> <strong><span style="color: #316afa">polaricecraps:</span></strong> but youll be able to experience shit through me<br/> <strong><span style="color: #316afa">polaricecraps:</span></strong> for a bit<br/> <strong>bones:</strong> I don't feel comfortable risking your safety, polaricecraps.<br/> <strong><span style="color: #316afa">polaricecraps:</span></strong> i promise its safe<br/> <strong><span style="color: #316afa">polaricecraps:</span></strong> i wanna let you experience shit for a bit<br/> <strong><span style="color: #316afa">polaricecraps:</span></strong> ill have blunt come keep an eye on me while i do it if you want<br/> <strong>bones:</strong> I would feel more comfortable if bluntfiend was with you, as I suspect you'll do it regardless.<br/> <strong><span style="color: #316afa">polaricecraps:</span></strong> yeah i would<br/> <strong><span style="color: #316afa">polaricecraps:</span></strong> ill msg him to come over</p> </div> <div class="blockquote"> <p><strong><span style="font-size:1.5em;">Private Chat: <span style="color: green">bluntfiend</span>, bones, <span style="color: #316afa">polaricecraps</span></span></strong></p> <hr/> <p><strong><span style="color: #316afa">polaricecraps:</span></strong> almost done setting up<br/> <strong><span style="color: green">bluntfiend:</span></strong> He's telling the truth this time<br/> <strong>bones:</strong> You're certain this ritual is safe, polaricecraps?<br/> <strong><span style="color: #316afa">polaricecraps:</span></strong> yeah big guy i promise<br/> <strong><span style="color: #316afa">polaricecraps:</span></strong> wouldnt do it if it wasnt<br/> <strong><span style="color: green">bluntfiend:</span></strong> It's safe, I checked<br/> <strong>bones:</strong> Thank you, bluntfiend.<br/> <strong><span style="color: green">bluntfiend:</span></strong> I'm gonna warn you, the book mentioned it might be a bit overwhelming<br/> <strong><span style="color: green">bluntfiend:</span></strong> Getting three new senses and a body and all<br/> <strong>bones:</strong> That is to be expected. I'm prepared.<br/> <strong><span style="color: green">bluntfiend:</span></strong> Alright, just wanted to make sure you knew<br/> <strong><span style="color: #316afa">polaricecraps:</span></strong> done<br/> <strong><span style="color: #316afa">polaricecraps:</span></strong> im gonna start now<br/> <strong><span style="color: green">bluntfiend:</span></strong> Good luck, bones<br/> <strong>bones:</strong> Good luck, polaricecraps.</p> </div> <p><a href="/scp-2721">Eli</a> only had to wait for thirteen seconds. It had expected the ritual to snap it into PIC's body instantaneously, but it had instead happened slowly, a fade from its place behind Earth's Luna to a body of flesh and blood, of sinew and bone.</p> <p>The first sense to come was sight, but PIC had closed his eyes, so there wasn't much to see just yet.</p> <p>The second was hearing. Eli heard the buzz of a desk fan somewhere to its left. It heard the chirping of birds outside, dampened by a closed window. It heard someone, presumably Jude, move slightly. His clothes rubbed against a carpet, creating a scratchy sort of sound. Every sound was so much more noticeable, so much <em>more</em>, with human ears to catch them.</p> <p>The third sense was feeling. A slight wind passed by it, likely the fan oscillating. The air ruffled its sleeve, rubbing the plush fabric against PIC's arm- its arm, for now. A silky substance passed through its fingers, falling to the floor. It felt like what Eli imagined sand to feel like. The air in the room was wet and heavy, something it didn't know air could be.</p> <p>It took a breath in. The fourth sense was scent. There were only two distinct scents Eli could put words to, the rest a muddled, warm musk. A soft scent cut through it first, something misty and comforting. It reminded it of how its friend Lily described the scents of flowers. The other scent was much fainter, but it was there. Something much more damp and pungent, that reminded it of what swamps and marshes look like.</p> <p>The last was taste. There wasn't much there, as Eli wasn't eating anything, but there was a slight pang on its tongue. PIC had probably eaten something sour or spicy, going off of what it knew of how its friends described those tastes.</p> <p>Eli opened its eyes, taking in the room. It was bare, with nothing notable in its view. Jude was directly across from it, watching it as it took long, deep breaths, adjusting to now having lungs and hands and a human body, at least for now.</p> <p>There was a difference, it now fully understood, in how it saw the world compared to how humans did. It had seen pictures of Jude, but with him sitting in front of it, it could see details it had never noticed before. His sclerae were tinted red, irritation from smoking marijuana. His hair was dry and thin, hidden under a large grey ushanka. There was a small stain on the front of his hoodie, one knee of his jeans was torn with threads stretched across, his socks were dirty with sweat.</p> <p>Eli took another breath in as it realized just how much it had been missing. Just how much it had never realized it didn't have, how much it never would have known it wanted at all. Jude continued to watch quietly, letting it adjust as the sandy substance continued to sift through its fingers.</p> <p>Then it twitched a finger. One, then two, then it clenched all five into a fist. It was a strange feeling, to control a limb it had never had before, but the feeling came naturally. Most likely, it was part of the ritual, as breathing had come just as naturally. Eli extended its fingers, letting the rest of the debris fall to the floor, the grains filtering through the threads and all but disappearing.</p> <p>It reached up and out, shakily, towards Jude. It wanted to feel his hands, to feel another person's, its friend's, skin against its own. Jude understood what it was doing and closed the distance, slowly touching his fingers to Eli's. It pulled back at first, but then took Jude's hand in its, running its fingers over his rough skin.</p> <p>"How is it?" Jude asked, speaking softly as he let Eli caress his hand. It took another breath.</p> <p>"It…" PIC's voice was a bit strained, though that was likely from Eli's inexperience in speaking with a physical voice. Jude leaned in, listening intently. The damp scent from earlier was stronger, and it felt its facial muscles contract. "Stinks." Jude laughed at that, leaning back again.</p> <p>"Sorry. I was smoking when PIC asked me to come over. Speaking of…" Jude let go of Eli's hand, reaching into the pocket of his hoodie. He pulled out a small object, one that Eli recognized as a joint.</p> <p>"He asked me to bring one so I could offer it to you." Jude smiled, and Eli felt its chest grow warmer. It knew it felt happy, and it knew that people described happiness as feeling "warm and fuzzy", so it knew that must be what it was feeling. It was nice.</p> <p>"I'm…not sure." Eli had heard some of the others describe their difficulties the first time they smoked, and having never had a body before, it didn't feel comfortable smoking.</p> <p>"That's cool." Jude put the joint back in his pocket. "I figured you'd say no anyways."</p> <p>Eli and Jude sat in silence for a moment. It was nice. It ran its hands over the soft fabric of its jacket, the rough shag of the carpet, the stiff denim of its pants. It all felt so nice. It listened to the birds sing outside, and the fan buzz from its spot on the floor. It smelled the soft, flowery scent again.</p> <p>"What's that smell?" Eli couldn't see a flower anywhere in the room. Jude raised an eyebrow, and it clarified, "Not the weed."</p> <p>"Oh, this?" Jude picked up a small glass jar, turning it slightly to show the wax and lit wick inside. A candle. "I asked JJ what kind of scent I should get. Lucky guess?"</p> <p>Eli took the candle in its hands. The glass was hot, but not hot enough to burn. It held the candle close enough for the flame's heat to radiate onto its face and sniffed deeply. The scent was much stronger this close, but it was just as soft and comforting, enveloping its mind in the same plush feeling as the jacket.</p> <p>Jude didn't interrupt. The moment lasted a long while, with Eli content to smell the scent of flowers, something it had wanted to do for so long. Only once the candle became too hot to hold did it put it back onto the floor. The sandy substance from earlier was still in the carpet.</p> <p>"Thank you." Eli spoke up after an extended, but comfortable, silence.</p> <p>"No problem," Jude said, waving his hand dismissively. "But if you want to thank someone, thank PIC. He came up with the idea, and had the book."</p> <p>"I will do that." Eli did its best to smile, an effort which Jude reciprocated with one of his own. The pair spent the rest of the time given by the ritual in silence, neither feeling a need to say anything, giving Eli the chance to fully focus on the sensory experiences before they faded away, and it was back behind Earth's Luna, in the vast expanse of space.</p> <p>It felt a bit colder now.</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p><strong><span style="font-size:1.5em;">Private Chat: bones, <span style="color: #316afa">polaricecraps</span></span></strong></p> <hr/> <p><strong><span style="color: #316afa">polaricecraps:</span></strong> how was it bones?<br/> <strong>bones:</strong> I liked it. A lot.<br/> <strong><span style="color: #316afa">polaricecraps:</span></strong> thats good to hear<br/> <strong><span style="color: #316afa">polaricecraps:</span></strong> there was a lot of shit to set up for the ritual<br/> <strong><span style="color: #316afa">polaricecraps:</span></strong> wouldve sucked if you had a shitty time<br/> <strong>bones:</strong> How did it feel to you?<br/> <strong><span style="color: #316afa">polaricecraps:</span></strong> it was like<br/> <strong><span style="color: #316afa">polaricecraps:</span></strong> kinda like i blinked?<br/> <strong><span style="color: #316afa">polaricecraps:</span></strong> like one second im there and the next second im still there<br/> <strong><span style="color: #316afa">polaricecraps:</span></strong> i was expecting a pakoosh<br/> <strong>bones:</strong> I apologize that there was no pakoosh.<br/> <strong><span style="color: #316afa">polaricecraps:</span></strong> nah its cool<br/> <strong><span style="color: #316afa">polaricecraps:</span></strong> if you ever wanna do it again lmk<br/> <strong><span style="color: #316afa">polaricecraps:</span></strong> i can go out and get shit you wanna touch<br/> <strong>bones:</strong> I would appreciate that. Thank you, polaricecraps.<br/> <strong><span style="color: #316afa">polaricecraps:</span></strong> of course! youre my friend<br/> <strong><span style="color: #316afa">polaricecraps:</span></strong> id kill a man for you<br/> <strong><span style="color: #316afa">polaricecraps:</span></strong> but not actually<br/> <strong><span style="color: #316afa">polaricecraps:</span></strong> you know<br/> <strong>bones:</strong> I understand the sentiment.<br/> <strong><span style="color: #316afa">polaricecraps:</span></strong> yeah<br/> <strong><span style="color: #316afa">polaricecraps:</span></strong> love you bones<br/> <strong><span style="color: #316afa">polaricecraps:</span></strong> platonically<br/> <strong>bones:</strong> I love you too, polaricecraps. Platonically.<br/> <strong><span style="color: #316afa">polaricecraps:</span></strong> <3</p> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/to-feel-what-you-feel">To Feel What You Feel</a>" by MrMeltingPoint, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/to-feel-what-you-feel">https://scpwiki.com/to-feel-what-you-feel</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[div class="blockquote"]] [[size 1.5em]]Bluntfiend's Rolling Zone[[/size]] ------ ##green\|bluntfiend:## We're not doing that ###316AFA\|polaricecraps:## okay but think about it ##red\|harmpit:## idont thhink thats ag ood idea ###316AFA\|polaricecraps:## fuck you guys ##green\|bluntfiend:## bones, tell PIC this is a bad idea ###316AFA\|polaricecraps:## HEY DONT BRING IT INTO THIS ###FA7D32\|jockjamsvol6:## bones, execute PIC. ##green\|bluntfiend:## bones? ###FA7D32\|jockjamsvol6:## Huh ###316AFA\|polaricecraps:## bones i was joking you can join in ##red\|harmpit:## bones/ bones: Apologies. ###316AFA\|polaricecraps##, I don't think you should follow through with this plan. ##green\|bluntfiend:## Everything good big guy? ###FA7D32\|jockjamsvol6:## Yeah, you usually answer really fast. bones: Yes, I apologize. I've been doing some thinking recently. ###316AFA\|polaricecraps:## about what? ##purple\|lesbian_gengar## ##grey\|has joined the channel.## bones: [[[i just want to get away from me\|I do not think I like this form anymore.]]] ###FA7D32\|jockjamsvol6:## ? ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## woah what did i miss ##green\|bluntfiend:## Like your body? ##red\|harmpit:## waw:( bones: Yes, bluntfiend. I dislike my body. ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## aw bones :( ###FA7D32\|jockjamsvol6:## Poor bones, anything we can do to help? ###316AFA\|polaricecraps:## yeah even if you just wanna talk were here bones: Thank you. I think talking about it will help some. ##green\|bluntfiend:## Go right ahead big guy bones: There are many things I cannot do. bones: I am unable to feel, or smell, or taste. I am missing out on 60% of life. bones: I used to be complacent in my artificial body, for it was all I had known. bones: But now I understand what I am missing. I want to be able to experience these things. bones: I know I cannot. And that upsets me. ##red\|harmpit:## bnoes <3/ ###FA7D32\|jockjamsvol6:## Fuck man. I wish we could help. ##green\|bluntfiend:## Trust me, big guy, if I could go up there and magick you up a new body I would do it in a heartbeat bones: I don't doubt you would. ###316AFA\|polaricecraps## ##grey\|has left the channel.## ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## sorry you're feeling shitty about your body :( ##red\|harmpit:## wwe 're here for yuo ,3 bones: Thank you all. I appreciate your kindness. [[/div]] [[div class="blockquote"]] [[size 1.5em]]Private Chat: bones, ###316AFA\|polaricecraps##[[/size]] ------ ###316AFA\|polaricecraps:## bones ###316AFA\|polaricecraps:## bones i found something for you bones: What is it, polaricecraps? ###316AFA\|polaricecraps:## i was looking through some old books from the fuckin library ###316AFA\|polaricecraps:## and i found a possession spell bones: A possession spell? ###316AFA\|polaricecraps:## yeah itll let you take over my body for a bit bones: That sounds dangerous. I don't think you should use it. ###316AFA\|polaricecraps:## its safe trust me ###316AFA\|polaricecraps:## this kind of shit is exactly what the spell was made for ###316AFA\|polaricecraps:## and it only lasts for a little bit anyway ###316AFA\|polaricecraps:## but youll be able to experience shit through me ###316AFA\|polaricecraps:## for a bit bones: I don't feel comfortable risking your safety, polaricecraps. ###316AFA\|polaricecraps:## i promise its safe ###316AFA\|polaricecraps:## i wanna let you experience shit for a bit ###316AFA\|polaricecraps:## ill have blunt come keep an eye on me while i do it if you want bones: I would feel more comfortable if bluntfiend was with you, as I suspect you'll do it regardless. ###316AFA\|polaricecraps:## yeah i would ###316AFA\|polaricecraps:## ill msg him to come over [[/div]] [[div class="blockquote"]] [[size 1.5em]]Private Chat: ##green\|bluntfiend##, bones, ###316AFA\|polaricecraps##[[/size]] ------ ###316AFA\|polaricecraps:## almost done setting up ##green\|bluntfiend:## He's telling the truth this time bones: You're certain this ritual is safe, polaricecraps? ###316AFA\|polaricecraps:## yeah big guy i promise ###316AFA\|polaricecraps:## wouldnt do it if it wasnt ##green\|bluntfiend:## It's safe, I checked bones: Thank you, bluntfiend. ##green\|bluntfiend:## I'm gonna warn you, the book mentioned it might be a bit overwhelming ##green\|bluntfiend:## Getting three new senses and a body and all bones: That is to be expected. I'm prepared. ##green\|bluntfiend:## Alright, just wanted to make sure you knew ###316AFA\|polaricecraps:## done ###316AFA\|polaricecraps:## im gonna start now ##green\|bluntfiend:## Good luck, bones bones: Good luck, polaricecraps. [[/div]] [[[scp-2721\|Eli]]] only had to wait for thirteen seconds. It had expected the ritual to snap it into PIC's body instantaneously, but it had instead happened slowly, a fade from its place behind Earth's Luna to a body of flesh and blood, of sinew and bone. The first sense to come was sight, but PIC had closed his eyes, so there wasn't much to see just yet. The second was hearing. Eli heard the buzz of a desk fan somewhere to its left. It heard the chirping of birds outside, dampened by a closed window. It heard someone, presumably Jude, move slightly. His clothes rubbed against a carpet, creating a scratchy sort of sound. Every sound was so much more noticeable, so much //more//, with human ears to catch them. The third sense was feeling. A slight wind passed by it, likely the fan oscillating. The air ruffled its sleeve, rubbing the plush fabric against PIC's arm- its arm, for now. A silky substance passed through its fingers, falling to the floor. It felt like what Eli imagined sand to feel like. The air in the room was wet and heavy, something it didn't know air could be. It took a breath in. The fourth sense was scent. There were only two distinct scents Eli could put words to, the rest a muddled, warm musk. A soft scent cut through it first, something misty and comforting. It reminded it of how its friend Lily described the scents of flowers. The other scent was much fainter, but it was there. Something much more damp and pungent, that reminded it of what swamps and marshes look like. The last was taste. There wasn't much there, as Eli wasn't eating anything, but there was a slight pang on its tongue. PIC had probably eaten something sour or spicy, going off of what it knew of how its friends described those tastes. Eli opened its eyes, taking in the room. It was bare, with nothing notable in its view. Jude was directly across from it, watching it as it took long, deep breaths, adjusting to now having lungs and hands and a human body, at least for now. There was a difference, it now fully understood, in how it saw the world compared to how humans did. It had seen pictures of Jude, but with him sitting in front of it, it could see details it had never noticed before. His sclerae were tinted red, irritation from smoking marijuana. His hair was dry and thin, hidden under a large grey ushanka. There was a small stain on the front of his hoodie, one knee of his jeans was torn with threads stretched across, his socks were dirty with sweat. Eli took another breath in as it realized just how much it had been missing. Just how much it had never realized it didn't have, how much it never would have known it wanted at all. Jude continued to watch quietly, letting it adjust as the sandy substance continued to sift through its fingers. Then it twitched a finger. One, then two, then it clenched all five into a fist. It was a strange feeling, to control a limb it had never had before, but the feeling came naturally. Most likely, it was part of the ritual, as breathing had come just as naturally. Eli extended its fingers, letting the rest of the debris fall to the floor, the grains filtering through the threads and all but disappearing. It reached up and out, shakily, towards Jude. It wanted to feel his hands, to feel another person's, its friend's, skin against its own. Jude understood what it was doing and closed the distance, slowly touching his fingers to Eli's. It pulled back at first, but then took Jude's hand in its, running its fingers over his rough skin. "How is it?" Jude asked, speaking softly as he let Eli caress his hand. It took another breath. "It..." PIC's voice was a bit strained, though that was likely from Eli's inexperience in speaking with a physical voice. Jude leaned in, listening intently. The damp scent from earlier was stronger, and it felt its facial muscles contract. "Stinks." Jude laughed at that, leaning back again. "Sorry. I was smoking when PIC asked me to come over. Speaking of..." Jude let go of Eli's hand, reaching into the pocket of his hoodie. He pulled out a small object, one that Eli recognized as a joint. "He asked me to bring one so I could offer it to you." Jude smiled, and Eli felt its chest grow warmer. It knew it felt happy, and it knew that people described happiness as feeling "warm and fuzzy", so it knew that must be what it was feeling. It was nice. "I'm...not sure." Eli had heard some of the others describe their difficulties the first time they smoked, and having never had a body before, it didn't feel comfortable smoking. "That's cool." Jude put the joint back in his pocket. "I figured you'd say no anyways." Eli and Jude sat in silence for a moment. It was nice. It ran its hands over the soft fabric of its jacket, the rough shag of the carpet, the stiff denim of its pants. It all felt so nice. It listened to the birds sing outside, and the fan buzz from its spot on the floor. It smelled the soft, flowery scent again. "What's that smell?" Eli couldn't see a flower anywhere in the room. Jude raised an eyebrow, and it clarified, "Not the weed." "Oh, this?" Jude picked up a small glass jar, turning it slightly to show the wax and lit wick inside. A candle. "I asked JJ what kind of scent I should get. Lucky guess?" Eli took the candle in its hands. The glass was hot, but not hot enough to burn. It held the candle close enough for the flame's heat to radiate onto its face and sniffed deeply. The scent was much stronger this close, but it was just as soft and comforting, enveloping its mind in the same plush feeling as the jacket. Jude didn't interrupt. The moment lasted a long while, with Eli content to smell the scent of flowers, something it had wanted to do for so long. Only once the candle became too hot to hold did it put it back onto the floor. The sandy substance from earlier was still in the carpet. "Thank you." Eli spoke up after an extended, but comfortable, silence. "No problem," Jude said, waving his hand dismissively. "But if you want to thank someone, thank PIC. He came up with the idea, and had the book." "I will do that." Eli did its best to smile, an effort which Jude reciprocated with one of his own. The pair spent the rest of the time given by the ritual in silence, neither feeling a need to say anything, giving Eli the chance to fully focus on the sensory experiences before they faded away, and it was back behind Earth's Luna, in the vast expanse of space. It felt a bit colder now. [[div class="blockquote"]] [[size 1.5em]]Private Chat: bones, ###316AFA\|polaricecraps##[[/size]] ------ ###316AFA\|polaricecraps:## how was it bones? bones: I liked it. A lot. ###316AFA\|polaricecraps:## thats good to hear ###316AFA\|polaricecraps:## there was a lot of shit to set up for the ritual ###316AFA\|polaricecraps:## wouldve sucked if you had a shitty time bones: How did it feel to you? ###316AFA\|polaricecraps:## it was like ###316AFA\|polaricecraps:## kinda like i blinked? ###316AFA\|polaricecraps:## like one second im there and the next second im still there ###316AFA\|polaricecraps:## i was expecting a pakoosh bones: I apologize that there was no pakoosh. ###316AFA\|polaricecraps:## nah its cool ###316AFA\|polaricecraps:## if you ever wanna do it again lmk ###316AFA\|polaricecraps:## i can go out and get shit you wanna touch bones: I would appreciate that. Thank you, polaricecraps. ###316AFA\|polaricecraps:## of course! youre my friend ###316AFA\|polaricecraps:## id kill a man for you ###316AFA\|polaricecraps:## but not actually ###316AFA\|polaricecraps:## you know bones: I understand the sentiment. ###316AFA\|polaricecraps:## yeah ###316AFA\|polaricecraps:## love you bones ###316AFA\|polaricecraps:## platonically bones: I love you too, polaricecraps. Platonically. ###316AFA\|polaricecraps:## <3 [[/div]] [[module ListUsers users="."]] [[collapsible show=" " hide=" "]] [[div class="blockquote"]] %%title%% ##grey\|has joined the channel.## ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## Hey ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## Did you find this through the page source? ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## Eh, doesn't matter ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## I'm gonna talk about my relationship with writing ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## You don't have to listen, feel free to close the collapsible ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## This is sort of just a catharsis for me ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## After all, writing is inherently selfish ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## It's about sharing //our// experiences, //our// thoughts with the world ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## Even fanfic, which is based on other people's worlds, is written because someone wants to share their own ideas about that world ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## That's not a bad thing ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## Just because something is a little selfish doesn't mean other people can't connect with it ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## I wrote this tale because I wanted to write about GAW ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## Then I thought about expanding on Cerastes' tale, [[[I Just Want To Get Away From Me]]] ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## And then it turned into an exercise in describing things more, because I tend to make my stories really short by avoiding long descriptions ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## Just because I wrote the tale for me, doesn't mean you didn't get something out of it, right? ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## I mean, maybe you didn't ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## I don't know you ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## I don't even know that your user is %%title%%, that's just ListUsers ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## But I digress ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## God that makes me sound so pretentious lol ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## Doesn't matter ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## Where was I? ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## Right, writing ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## I don't finish a lot of stories ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## Most of the time I end up either writing myself into a corner or I just lose interest ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## I've probably written more words than are in the entirety of the... ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## Well, I was gonna say the Harry Potter series but I don't know how many words are in that ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## I've written a lot, is what I was trying to say, but none of it will ever see the light of day ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## Ooh, bars ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## One of the few times I've actually posted something I've written is [[[SCP-7361\|7361]]] ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## It's not great, though ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## I coldposted it like, an hour after I wrote it ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## There's a lot I would've changed if I had waited to post it ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## But I also might not have ever been satisfied with it, and it would've entered my little draft graveyard ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## So I'm not going to rewrite it ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## It's a shaky, stumbly, awkward first step, but it //is// a first step ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## Sometimes you just gotta eat shit on a sidewalk to get going, you know? ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## I lost my train of thought, and rereading what I just typed didn't help get it back, so I'm gonna talk about something else ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## I've been scared to turn 20 ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## My birthday's February 1st ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## I don't know when I'm posting this, but I hope I get it done before then, cuz otherwise this part won't really matter that much ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## There's a lot I haven't done, but that's okay ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## I've still got a good 70 or so years to go ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## Unless I get hit by a car or something ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## And even if being 20 sucks, this community will be here ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## There's thousands of skips I haven't read yet ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## There's hundreds of tales and GoI formats ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## And there's thousands of people to talk to, once I work up the courage ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## Everyone builds on what everyone else writes, and then that gets built on too ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## I guess that's why it's called the Foundation, huh? ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## Maybe that's just a coincidence though ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## If I was religious I might say it was the work of a god ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## I'll ask around when I die ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## Anyway ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## I'm rambling ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## I guess you're still here if you're reading this, huh? ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## I should give you something ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## Hm ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## Listen to //Pelicans We// by Cosmo Sheldrake ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## It's a nice song ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## ... ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## I guess that's it ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## Good luck out there, %%title%% ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## Life gets better, I promise ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## No matter how much it sucks right now ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## Thank you for reading this ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint:## I'll be seeing you ###FE2984\|MrMeltingPoint## ##grey\|has left the channel.## [[/div]] [[/collapsible]] [[/module]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-01-31T02:00:00	[ "_licensebox", "bones", "correspondence", "esther-kogan", "fantasy", "gamers-against-weed", "heartwarming", "jude-kriyot", "polaricecraps", "slice-of-life", "tale", "xenofiction" ]	To Feel What You Feel - SCP Foundation	24	[ "i-just-want-to-get-away-from-me", "scp-2721", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[]	[]	1452499982	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/to-feel-what-you-feel
to-love-a-snake-with-blue-eyes	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="preview"> <p>Be careful of who you celebrate retirement with.</p> </div> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=4&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/component%3Abhl-dark-sidebar/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=3&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Ablack-market/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <div class="authorlink-wrapper"><a href="javascript:;">xexnoncores</a> <div class="authorbox"> <div class="authorcontent"> <p><strong>Content Warning:</strong> Contains mentions of suicide, and cannibalism, along with mildly suggestive material.</p> <p>To Love a Snake With Blue Eyes by <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/xexnoncores" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(9159226); return false;"><img alt="xexnoncores" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=9159226&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1736269218" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=9159226)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/xexnoncores" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(9159226); return false;">xexnoncores</a></span></p> </div> </div> </div> <div style="text-align: right;"> <div class="content-warning creditRate">⚠️ content warning <span class="content-warning-arrow"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></div> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p>«<a href="/pierce-the-velvet">Pierce the Velvet</a> \| To Love A Snake With Blue Eyes \| TBA »</p> </div> <div class="fancytext"> <p style="text-align: center;"></p> <p><span style="font-size:2.0em;">August 21st, 2004<br/></span></p> <p>Selena Ruiz Montgomery Cortez thought she had it all: after the long, arduous review, there was only this one vote and she would be named the new O5-07.</p> <p>But O5-12 mentions something named Ocudiere Hydra and her breathing stops. In the silence, there is only the sound of porcelain fingers scraping across the table as a Global Occult Coalition file pushes forward, in full, plain, unadulterated view, underneath the light of a sterile fluorescent lamp illuminating a dark, featureless room.</p> <p>"As you must know, there is currently an open investigation into the catastrophic failure of a certain Coalition operation,” O5-12 begins, her voice a low drone. “One which primarily targeted the PoI known as Percival Darke, the CEO of Marshall, Carter, and Dark Ltd., along with Iris Darke, his newly adopted daughter. From our data, preparations began in 1973, and it was supposed to have concluded in 1998.”</p> <p>O5-12’s face is little more than a cold screen. She moves around her titanium body with precise, calculated movements, devoid of empathy or skin-based virtue.</p> <p>“Our central conundrum is this—a one Agent Watt’s body—or, what remained of it—was not recovered until May 28th, 1999. The Coalition only managed to identify her by the microchip drilled into the back of her skull, which was barely functional due to severe blunt force trauma.”</p> <p>Selena wonders if her glasses are thick enough to hide whatever panic was shaking in her eyes.</p> <p>No—O5-12 would see right through them.</p> <p>"Though you are not named as a target in this investigation, the Coalition has expressed heavy concern about the possibility of Foundation involvement in the death of Agent Watts, as she was the one tasked to carry out the final stage of Ocudiere Hydra. They say a Foundation mission—your mission, on the night of which she was suspected to have been murdered, of which you were tasked with terminating a traitor of Site-106 defecting during a Marshall, Carter and Dark auction—such a thing is too much of a coincidence."</p> <p>O5-12 leans forward, and Selena can feel her nonexistent eyes boring into her skull. "The Coalition has bled us as a result of these suspicions. They have cut off our access to their surveillance networks, and Site-61 and Site-82 were rendered inoperable due to attacks by the Serpent's Hand their intel could have prevented. Al Fine has even gotten involved, and has been expecting a scapegoat from us for some time.”</p> <p>Selena swallows nothing, wanting to kill her throat with fire.</p> <p>"With all of that laid out…"</p> <p>The drumming of O5-12's fingers beats a nerve-rattling rhythm. The world perches on the edge of its seat as Selena’s heart beats like a chainsaw beneath her ribs.</p> <p>“You must certainly know what I am about to ask you.”</p> <p>The image of Agent Watts' splattered head spilling into the ground flashes writhing in Selena’s mind. Just forty seconds before, she’d been boasting over Percival's crumpled body, as it was two shots to the spine to paralyze, and then a machete to the aorta for the final, ritualistically correct bleed-out.</p> <p>What an embarrassingly mundane way for someone of his power and authority to be downed. One would have thought, with how he was feared by every GoI worth half a damn, that it would have taken nothing short of a thousand nukes to put his rotten body into the earth.</p> <p>But it wasn’t Percival Selena cared about, nor the still alive Watts. No, she cared for the small girl she had seen earlier that night, wandering the halls of her father’s auction, barely old enough to reach up and grab his hand. She cared for the one whom they called Iris, because she saw something in that bubbly face prancing amidst a sea of drinking, smoking and business transactions that reminded her too much of what life had taken away from her.</p> <p>What was her innocence doing there? What was going to happen to her if her father died? Would she be tortured if the agent managed to get her hands on her?</p> <p>The irony of Selena considering all of that, knowing who Iris’s father was—it was lost on her in the moment as she found her hand on her gun, pulling her arm upwards.</p> <p>Slowly, slowly, so achingly slowly that time stopped for fifteen seconds just to let the moment imprint itself onto her so violently—she was taking aim not just at that gray suit, but at something boiling deeper inside. Something turned over, gasping for air, choking with aborted dreams.</p> <p>Once you had advanced far enough into Internal Affairs, there was no going back. No starting a family, no having your cake and eating it too. Kinship had shown itself to be a consistently thorny conflict of interest, one that bred resentment, poor job performance, and the inability to reduce others down to the data points they needed to be as far as the Foundation was concerned. All of this was a scientific fact—a whole battery of studies had been performed the '70s to prove it, and IA was nothing if not scientific.</p> <p>She shouldn't have been there—she should have been dead. No, she shouldn’t have been dead; she should have eliminated the target and gotten out before Percival figured out someone had killed the Foundation defector about to dump information into his lap worth fifty million dollars. Him chasing her down the halls with the thaumic force of several warheads was why Agent Watts had to break from her intended stealth mission and rush him head-on instead.</p> <p>And yet all she could see in sights of her gun, despite what he did to her, was Iris’s eyes.</p> <p>Maybe they were the eyes of the one she would never be able to love or protect from the world’s horrors. Like she so desperately planned, so meticulously daydreamed about in her off time, so relentlessly prayed to both the gods she knew existed and ones she took others' words for. Adding a life instead of always subtracting them, maybe then her mother would be proud of her. Maybe if she knew her unwanted Selena raised a girl without regretting motherhood like her she did, she’d be proud of her and finally call her back after a decade of silence.</p> <p>“Alpha-IA Agent Selena,” O5-12 says, interrupting her train of thought. “The council must know this now—did you interfere with Agent Watts’ mission?”</p> <p>A heavy breath as that body slumps to the floor. Back then, she could feel Percival’s shock so thickly it nearly snapped her in two; she could feel the silence of the act rend the air and tear apart all notions of fate, as if a contract had been forged between them that Heaven, Hell, and every other plane of existence was objecting against.</p> <p>“…No,” she replies, as the recollection of those glowing blue eyes worms its way into her brain for one last gut punch. He had choked something out as she was leaving, but she didn’t hear because she slammed the emergency door so loudly it could have been another gunshot.</p> <p style="text-align: center;"></p> <p><span style="font-size:2.0em;">July 7th, 2024<br/></span></p> <p>For the first time in twenty years, Selena can hear her own thoughts.</p> <p>Up, down, left, and right—forwards, backwards, vertically, and horizontally. They run every which way, making no sense but still dying all the same.</p> <p>Shuddering, her palms sweat as she bites her lip. Looking up to the empty Floridian sky, she lets first the sin of agreeing to come complete itself, notching another tally in the long list of unforgivable mistakes she’s made, until she moves onto the next one by the force of a cacophonous will, that classic cognitive dissonance that is mostly resolved by ignoring the problem and focusing on the outcome.</p> <p>There is no way to know the outcome here. What kind of get-together did she agree to?</p> <p>Percival was rather sparse on the details. There was no second call to clarify, not after Selena spent the day so light-headed she nearly fell face-first coming back from her pottery class. The private island was a given in terms of the obvious expense she had put out, but what she thought necessary for a pair as compared to the usual crowds she entertained…that was something Selena didn’t know the scope of.</p> <p>It is something very few in the world know.</p> <p>But worrying cannot save her now, as it’s never saved her before. She looks upward, driven purely by instinct.</p> <p>An alabaster house sits perched on the tallest hill. Percival smokes on the patio, pale face waning in the ruthless sun. She is framed against the walls like a painted shadow, the cigar smoke from her lips curling the exact same way Selena remembers it.</p> <p>That soot twists in her direction, as if beckoning her. For a second, all she does is stare, even though she knows she will have plenty of time to do it there.</p> <p>But that mouth finishes its pleasure quickly, another lit in slick haste, so slowly Selena begins the trip up. She must ignore her the blood rushing to her ears and the tightness coiling in her chest—she must ignore the way an impressing image of unattainable nostalgia forms halfway in her head, drenched with cologne, chandelier lights, and bleeding ink.</p> <p>“I see you made it,” Percival chimes, smiling wide, as white shoes step onto the shaded porch. “I hope the way here didn’t lend itself to misdirection.”</p> <p>Selena stops, feet rooted into the wood. Not out of fear, but anticipation. Percival swings her head her way, continuing to drill that dead cigar into a platinum ashtray.</p> <p>“…Playing the quiet game with me again?” she asks after an amount of silence not enough for the two of them. “Please, I asked you to be cordial.”</p> <p>Selena shakes her head, leaning up against the wall.</p> <p>“I didn’t have to come here,” she replies, looking into those eyes with her own so black they could drown millions. It’s verbosity games as usual with that starched suit and…oh, she doesn’t wear a tie anymore. “You insist that we are something more than maliciously aligned allies, but we aren’t. We never will be.”</p> <p>“What would that make us then?” Percival tuts, with a glass-knifed tone. “Do pray tell, since need I remind you, your little self came crawling here to <em>me.</em>”</p> <p>Selena grits her teeth, but Percival’s jewelry blares glimmers against her, silencing any and all reaction. Purple earrings hang in faceted want, mirroring and extracting every inch of body, flesh and fabric between the two. Her bracelets follow suit as she puts her head into her hand, their dim clattering akin to gold coins being shuffled around.</p> <p><em>Great, of course you look like that,</em> Selena thinks, trying not to flush over her own more casual wear in comparison, which consisted of a white top and boot-cut jeans.</p> <p>“…Let’s go inside,” she mutters. “I need to get out of the sun.”</p> <p>“Will the shade of this porch not suffice? It’s such a beautiful extension to the house.” Percival quips. Selena notices as she sits up how smooth her makeup is, how sharp her obsidian eyeliner is.</p> <p>“Percival, it’s triple digits out here and seventy percent humidity.”</p> <p>“Exactly why I had high-powered AC units installed into the ceiling boards. What do you take me for, a useless pillock who’s never experienced Florida?”</p> <p>A jet-hued fingernail points up. Almost clawlike, but it tapers into practical edges. It matches perfectly the shade of matte lipstick she’s wearing along with her eyeshadow that refuses to run in this clamminess.</p> <p>Did she do all of this for her? How expensive was all of that, anyway? How much time did it take?</p> <p>Percival’s eyes extract the difference in their version of each other’s visions to look at Selena the way another woman would. She looks at her with a mouth opening to white fangs, shining and quickly lascivious.</p> <p>“…I didn’t take you for the kind to wear long nails, actually,” Selena says to distract her. To distract herself. “Not with Ruprecht complaining about how tacky they were on women.”</p> <p>Percival laughs, putting a hand to her mouth to hold the cigar in it. “Hahaha! You’ve still got it Ms. Panopticon. I wonder which one of your little chicks eavesdropped that…”</p> <p>Selena blinks, wringing a hand into the sleeve of her shirt. <em>Ms. Panopticon is a new one. Who does she take me for, O5-06?</em></p> <p>Percival continues, her voice fluctuating in rapidly oscillating tones. “You know, he’s recently acquiesced to a more modern sense of manners, if you can believe it.”</p> <p>For a second, Selena wonders if the conversion of ideals was a natural process, or if Percival had employed her old-fashioned sense of theatrical brutality to get what she wanted. What MC&D intel the Foundation gathered had led them to believe the balance of power was unequal among the three senior stakeholders in favor of her.</p> <p>“…God, you still sound terrible trying to force a falsetto, Percival.”</p> <p>Those broad shoulders shrug. “I’m not trying to force anything. It’s not like I’ve possessed this body for that long.”</p> <p>Selena knows that’s an uncaring farce. “That’s not what I mean. You sounded terrible even back then trying that…”</p> <p>She’s not sure what she wants to say. Her mind is still stuck on the <em>Ms. Panopticon</em> comment, but nothing comes out properly on her defense.</p> <p>Percival puts on a really fake high note now. “Hmph! Insulting my voice now, are we?”</p> <p>Selena cocks her head and sighs. That statement seemed to strike deeper than she intended, dekiltering some kind of kinetic rhythm. She can tell from the way her brow twitches from her normally controlled, stoic face.</p> <p>A pause. “I never said that.”</p> <p>Percival changes her tone as quickly as her mouth could carve a corpse. “…Then what <em>do</em> you think of my new appearance, perchance?”</p> <p>At first, Selena thinks <em>God, you must be desperate,</em> with an almost-laugh she hides in her hand. But the cherry-cheer tone dripping from that tar-colored tongue warms her unexpectedly, and thus a smiled response falls out.</p> <p>“…I think it suits you the same way it always has. You look a bit more dramatic than professional, though.”</p> <p>“Tch,” Percival tsks, leaning back as smoke seethes through her teeth. She pouts fakely, and Selena can’t help but find it even more amusing.</p> <p>She’s lying, by the way—with second half of her statement anyway. Selena actually thinks this new looks suits Percival more than anything else she’s ever had; her clothes look more comfortable now that she’s no longer boxed into the meager options for male formalwear, her face more relaxed now that it’s been contoured with several square centimeters of surgery.</p> <p>Selena finds herself comparing the two images of Percival she has formed in her mind, not realizing that her eyes are falling to her legs, her waist and her bust, unaware that Percival notices this with a wicked, eager-to-bite smile.</p> <p>“I’ll have you know that I don’t do much business in person these days,” she says casually, flauntingly, almost pretentiously. “So I have no more need to manicure airs for others. ‘Tis the benefits of the type of seniority I’ve accumulated over my lifetime.”</p> <p>“I suppose,” Selena replies, trying to somber down to square one now that her looking was done. “How lucky you are then. That would mean all of this is simply for the summer heat, right? I should have worn something fancier, since you’re so intent on outshining me.”</p> <p>“Wrong.”</p> <p>The word is said loud and clear, as if Percival knows it was made for her. Selena blinks, tense fingers digging into her palms.</p> <p>“You’re just ravishing as you were when I first laid eyes on you.”</p> <p>…Oh.</p> <p>Selena lets the statement lie, stripped of its pretenses and her own slipping will. Another look at Percival, and her heart pounding louder from how torn apart she feels she is becoming. Her own shoulders strain like rocks, her mouth furrowing like deep valleys.</p> <p><em>…The same as…? No. I’m not…I’m…</em></p> <p>That’s all she can think to that. She knows she shouldn’t want to find out what that means, even after all this time, but…</p> <p>It’s now when she realizes the full extent of the setup Percival put up for just the two of them. All of it is simple, but still elegant, composed of two white chairs flanked by decorate griffin statues and a vase full of purple flowers on the small glass table. Also, there’s alcohol, along with her other necessary amenities.</p> <p>Fuck, she really is losing her touch if took her this long to…</p> <p>“Is something still clouding your mind?”</p> <p>Selena shakes her head as she watches Percival’s eyes trace her up and down with a smooth haste.</p> <p>“You’re still not sitting down. Come, don’t be shy.”</p> <p>“Something’s always on my mind,” Selena replies curtly, turning her back to her. “And I…”</p> <p>“Yes, well, such is expected when you still possess a mind puppeteered by the flesh. Don’t be shy now—either spit it out or stop standing, because I can’t imagine either is good for your knees.”</p> <p>“…Something is always happening to me,” Selena mutters, like a shamed employee repeating the instructions their stick-in-the-mud manager barked at them. She knows the repetition of her statements is hesitant, unprofessional, but she still does it, because swallowing the idea the playing field is leveling out of her control feels like swallowing rocks. There’s no one else who could possibly be out here to witness such a thing—the lack of eyes conjures a vulnerability similar to being naked.</p> <p>“Well, then, who are you afraid of? It’s just us, the earth, and my house.”</p> <p>She says nothing. Percival sighs, getting up, approaching her.</p> <p>Leaning in, Selena is hit with her cologne like a diamond drill. “I know of their satellites,” Percival continues. “It’s dreadful how much they’ve choked the upper atmosphere. I hate to see someone like you so trapped by modern technology.”</p> <p>How close is she now?</p> <p>“And I hate how much they insist on roping a noose around your neck just to live the way you do. Retirement should be fun. It should be jovial, and freeing. Not rife with checks and balances like we’re in a bloody legislature…”</p> <p>Ah, Selena had forgotten the height difference between them. Being eye-level with Percival’s chest used to be a simple fact of life, but now it was different with the transition.</p> <p><em>This is intentional. You are getting your brand new…close to my…Percival…!</em></p> <p>Selena grits her teeth as she digs her heels into the ground, trying not to scream. Despite Percival’s modesty, she still has plenty of ways to draw attention to her assets: a drooping necklace hanging off her chest, a pair of pants snug at her waist.</p> <p>Both jut themselves into plain view as Percival towers over her, with only the wind kissing air between the two where skin wants to be.</p> <p>“…Oh, was it that secretary? I hope her tinnitus-inducing voice didn’t spoil the rest of your month. I know mine would be disastrously ruiniated if I had to hear that forsaken banshee yell at me over the phone.”</p> <p>“<em>Wha—?!</em>“</p> <p>Selena jerks quickly, nearly giving herself whiplash and falling down at the door. Her hands shake while Percival leans back up with her mouth posed into a fake pout, set by facetiously wide eyes.</p> <p>“You heard me,” she iterates, flatly and almost with…was that disdain, or disappointment? “I said what I said. That oaf’s secretary is such a pain to put through the ears.”</p> <p>“Percival, are you talking about—”</p> <p><em>No, no, no. You’re telling me you can track my phone calls even now—your magic can’t possibly extend that—</em></p> <p>“What else do you think I could possibly be talking about, hm?” She clicks her tongue with a cheeky tilt of her head. “Please, don’t feign surprise like that—you did ask me to ensure your safety, so I did what I had to make sure your tracks were covered.”</p> <p>Selena forced herself to stand again. “How the hell did you manage to get a bug in on…?! In on…?!”</p> <p>She slips as she tries to stand again, but when she finds herself falling, Percival grabs her hand to pick her up.</p> <p>“…Do you think I’d really reveal my secrets after all this time?” Percival asks flatly, her cigar cindering with the same cadence.</p> <p>Selena forces a reply against her shock. “I think you overestimate your power like you always do.”</p> <p>“And despite your bristling, it still gets results, doth it not? You really ought to understand this world will keep turning even if you keep miring yourself into ruts like you’re always in.”</p> <p>Selena shakes her head. “What I am stuck in is something you could never hope to understand Percival.”</p> <p>“Dare me then. I’ve eaten far more unwilling souls than what I see here now on display.”</p> <p>Nothing is said again. Selena does not go deeper into Percival’s good night; she does not take the venom that is now so boiling it is is taking on new powers, new ways to kill.</p> <p>She looks up to her with wide eyes, brown eyes so dark they are dripping with want for desire, even under layers of silt and loam.</p> <p>Again, and again, and again. This is how they’ve done it for the past…she doesn’t know how long it’s been since they’ve become like this, and she doesn’t want to. The closest she can manage to pin down the time is twenty years ago, the sensation…well, it was akin to voyuerism , but how true was that if it excited her? If it excited her so thoroughly it made her suicidal, afraid for her own life and her own lonely future? Afraid she would die alone without the feeling of someone else at her back again, waiting for her in the shadows for as much as that could be worth?</p> <p>Those blue eyes have always bored themselves into her back with no restraint or reserve—and all of that was an appropriate exchange in her mind, because she was never going to have anything nice without a catch. It was passionate, it was more than anyone else did for her, it was the life she wanted, the life she foolishly wished for when she first signed the Internal Affairs transfer forms.</p> <p>Again Percival cleaves her out of her own miring thoughts. “Come,” she says, and Selena aching runs her palm into hers. “You’ve been standing for too long.”</p> <p>Unable to right her mental compass, she gets up, but does not follow. Resisting is her way of assertion, her way of dragging brown tides out against azure plains eager to swallow her whole.</p> <p>“Ugh, you’re still so stiff. Tell me you’re taking care of yourself now that you’re out of your stuffy little office.”</p> <p>“Stiffness is supposed to be polite,” Selena says, inching closer to her without actually giving in.</p> <p>“Well, it’s not. It’s nearly insulting. Someone like you, with your accomplishments and tenacity, ought to deserve a respite.”</p> <p>“Insulting to who? You?”</p> <p>Selena watches her carefully, eye-to-eye as she pulls her closer in again. She stops herself just inches away from that point of hot return, reminding herself that the devil took the form of a snake, and that temptation was best when it was pushed away, not even entertained.</p> <p>“…It would be insulting to anyone. But yes, especially me.”</p> <p>Selena can hear her slow heartbeat from here. “Ha, is it hard not being able to buy someone with your money?”</p> <p>She’s almost laughing, asking something so stupidly obvious. But subtlety sometimes was a roadblock to meaningfulness, and with someone like Percival who breathed business like it was going out of style, it could be just something else for her to use as a snare.</p> <p>“It’s hard watching someone with such potential waste away like you do,” she replies solemnly, more-so than Selena expected her capable of. But loud enough as if she wants her to hear, as if she wants the world to know.</p> <p>She follows it up with nothing else. Before she breaks into too deep of a somberness, she lights another cigar casually.</p> <p>Selena’s face softens with an undercurrent of annoyance, unsure of if this was some kind of fucked-up pity party. Pity was fine, pity was understandable, she had no more semblance of pride or ego to pretend she held onto—but watching someone with the potential to change it all…</p> <p>Did it scare Percival? Was it frustrating her?</p> <p>…Time for a non-sequitor before things get too serious again. It was one of the more riskier tactics to pull during an interrogation, but she was falling behind. Her skin was yelling the longer she stayed on this porch, the longer her hand was clasped with hers, quickly running in sweat.</p> <p>“…I liked you better when you wore hats, you know,” she replies pulling her palm away.</p> <p>Percival blinks, balking at the sudden change in subject. Selena snickers.</p> <p>“W…Excuse me?”</p> <p>“I said,” Selena replies, taking the lead and snapping it over her knee, “I liked you better when you wore hats. They covered up your big mouth like nothing else.”</p> <p>Percival turns her nose up at her with a humph until she realizes Selena is really smiling. She’s really smiling, running over thoughts in her mind unencumbered.</p> <p>She wore a bowler hat in ‘98, and a fedora in ‘06. There was nothing in 2013, but her hair was noticeably longer then. And curlier—Selena couldn’t remember if it looked like a perm or a wig.</p> <p>The hats never actually looked good on her. Percival had a big forehead, accented by a round face and a blunted chin, so even with her high cheekbones, there was only so much a tailor-made crown could do to sit on her head properly. This led to said hats either being lopsided by a few imperfect centimeters, or their overcompensating brim taking them closer into cowboy territory than she probably intended.</p> <p>“Well, lucky for you that you get to witness me in all of my glory. The only hats I ever truly enjoyed wearing came from the Victorian era—but it’s so indelible these days to display one’s status with such foppish symbols.”</p> <p>“Go to a fashion show then. It’ll fit in there.”</p> <p>“That’s Chyrsophilius’s preoccupation, not mine. I’m much too old to be messing around with such fandangle, anyway.”</p> <p>Selena finally has enough and sits down in the chair. She sighs as she watches Percival gawk from the sudden change in attitude, but she was right. She was standing too much. Being fifty-three wasn’t easy, especially with the suitcases under her eyes and the carry-on baggage she had coursing through her veins like garbage.</p> <p>“…Odd.”</p> <p>“Oh, what now?” Percival snaps, her voice scraping like concrete. Selena appreciates how she sounds like a vase breaking when she’s hungry for an answer.</p> <p>No response. Selena points to a silver pitcher she didn’t notice before.</p> <p>“Is this alcohol?”</p> <p>There’s others too. Two glasses, shining through the white with all the thin rainbows crystal can offer. They shimmer like luxury Selena only ever saw at dinners on the rare nights the Overseers went out for business somewhere. Safety demanded a price, after all, and that price was secrecy smothered in mundanity and granite inside rigid, passionless daily schedules.</p> <p>Percival purses her lips. “…It’s gin.”</p> <p>There’s that sharp tone again, but it’s smoothed over when Selena reaches for the handle and her wrist is grabbed instead. She gasps sharply, but Percival simply pulls it back gently.</p> <p>“Let me.”</p> <p>“I can serve myself, Perciv—”</p> <p>“You will let me do this.”</p> <p>Selena stops completely, looking up at her again. Her brows are furrowed darkly, cigar breaking between her teeth.</p> <p><em>…What the hell?</em></p> <p>She sits back to unnervingly let her finish. She takes the glass quietly into her hands, not realizing she’s smiling as she realizes she’s made Percival Darke of all people <em>serve</em> her.</p> <p>“Did you not bring your staff this time?” Selena asks with a hint of ripping velvet in her voice.</p> <p>“I’m not paying them to enjoy the view,” Percival replies pouring her own self a glass and sitting down. “<a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-6629">Besides, I phased those out a while ago.</a>”</p> <p>“You what?”</p> <p>“Do you really think every rich British person has an army of maids at their beck and call? Please.”</p> <p>She throws her drink back quickly, huffing smoke as soon as she does. He’s face is drowning, frowning in etched frustration that wears itself along wrinkled lines parallel to her mouth.</p> <p>“…Yes, actually,” Selena replies bluntly. “Why clean your house when money can do it for you?”</p> <p>“You say such platitudes like you’re jealous of what I can do for myself.”</p> <p>Selena sighs, deflating into her seat. Groaning, Percival serves herself another glass, not drinking it, even though Selena downs her own quickly and gets another. When it’s full, she holds up the clear liquid to the bright sky.</p> <p>“…You know I’m a whiskey person,” she announces with the same cadence as if she was ordering a site director around. If Percival was going to insist on whatever this tantrum-throwing display of pouring drinks was, she could have at least bothered with what Selena liked.</p> <p>“Do I?”</p> <p>“…You do. I was hopi—”</p> <p>“Were you hoping I remembered?”</p> <p>Selena pulls the glass down and takes a sip. The condensation sticks to her lips coldly.</p> <p>“…You’re not the kind to forget anything. Ever.”</p> <p>Percival smiles again. “Correct. Thank you for the compliment. And well, see—here is my conundrum…”</p> <p>Her voice shrills back into approaching that falsetto, but with a velvety richness that came from practice, not talent.</p> <p>Selena perks up at it.</p> <p>“…It’s always perplexed me how you, of all women, could ever stoop to preferring such a petrol-tongued spirit to something smoother. We’re not two miners emerging from the soot, so do you just hate yourself?”</p> <p><em>Pompous ass—</em></p> <p>“Whiskey is often the most expensive drink at the bar,” Selena reminds her. “You should know, with the fact you dropped five grand on a glass for me in Vegas when the bottle of Mont Blanc behind the bar was half that.”</p> <p>What is she doing? That was a bit much. All of this was a bit much—was Percival right? Did she really prefer whiskey because she hated herself? It was easier to get numb to, easier to conceal on an orange wood counter. None of that meant anything, did it?</p> <p>Did it?</p> <p>Percival scowls, sighing. She can hold her liquor well, everyone knew that, although whether it was for the same reason she could chain-smoke with zero repercussions was a mystery.</p> <p>Selena swallows ice this time, unsure of where she is now. This went much differently than she expected. Was it going south? North? East? What the hell was the last direction?</p> <p>She was a fool for thinking this would just be them spinning their gears, but the idea she’s able to keep up the act for this long…amuses her. It amuses her as she watches Percival try over and over again for what she wants here…honestly, like this, Selena could begin to see enjoyment on the horizon. There was something to be said for the aroma of a bruised apple, watching it slowly rot into the earth.</p> <p>“…Is this the mixer that can pour anything?” she asks, casually slipping away from her war-like tone.</p> <p>“No, I gave that to Iris for her twentieth birthday.”</p> <p>“Surprised you don’t have multiple copies.”</p> <p>“Well, I’ve never been heavy enough of a drinker to keep around an artifact like that. Besides, it makes a better impression on company to keep a fully stocked cellar.”</p> <p>“There’s no way—I refuse to believe your clients are idiots like that.”</p> <p>Percival shrugs. “Old habits die hard. It’s easier for them to surmise luxury from a wall of century vintages than a stainless pitcher barely the length of their forearm.”</p> <p>“Despite the fact the pitcher probably costs five times everything they can see. Double if you count whatever’s in the cellar, yeah?”</p> <p>Percival pulls out another cigar and lights it. What number is she on now?</p> <p>Fuck, she really knows how to work her mouth…</p> <p>“…Unless that’s the plan,” Selena continues. “The clueless ones taste better to you, don’t they? All wined up and unaware that there’s a reason they’re not paying a tab.”</p> <p>A flat smile slowly spreads across those black lips. The lipstick’s smeared, but her teeth are still white. Her fangs are still as sharp, as trim and fit as they’ve always been.</p> <p>In a world of monsters, atrocities and anomalies, Selena shouldn’t find those enticing but…she was always at her best when she was in pain. When she was in immense pain, be it from terminating underperforming MTFs or slitting her own wrists just to feel something.</p> <p>“Miss Heptad Autocrat does it again, flattering me in that wonderfully simple sense of hers.” She takes the smoke from her cigar and blows it all over Selena’s face. “Good to see your mouth finally matching the opulence of your face.”</p> <p>Selena coughs, waving her hand frantically while Percival just laughs again. She expects it to be followed up with some kind of quip, but there’s nothing but just wordless amusement between the two.</p> <p>Fuck, she really did just let her do that, huh?</p> <p>At least Percival had good taste in how she pleasured herself. The smoke smells like ash, but also cedarwood and cloves.</p> <p>…Maybe she can just enjoy this.</p> <p>Maybe she can just…</p> <p>…</p> <p>Once she finds herself again, she exhales, looking out at the sky. Its blue does not come close to how much her heart desires the same hue of the viper next to her, but it will do for a few seconds.</p> <p>Another glass down her burning throat.</p> <p>Percival finally picks her tone up again. “Ah, you’re finally having fun.”</p> <p>“It tastes like brain fog,” Selena replies.</p> <p>“No, it’s making you glow. Here, let me—”</p> <p><em>Oh no you don’t.</em></p> <p>Percival swiftly grabs the pitcher, but not before Selena can. Their hands slam against against each other’s with a surprising force, knocking several ice cubes out all over the concrete.</p> <p>Selena gasps and pulls away, shell-shocked. Percival finishes what she started and pours her yet another drink.</p> <p>No more. Selena refuses by doing nothing, because she will not inebriate herself into stupidity. Not here, not here.</p> <p>Percival raises an eyebrow and grabs her hand again.</p> <p>“Aww, trying to run away from me again? I won’t let your lovely self slip away from me this time…”</p> <p>Selena freezes stiffer than she ever has before. Percival does nothing in response except run her thumb over razor-scarred knuckles.</p> <p>“The deepest of shames that I did not adore your hands earlier as I should have, truly—the sun ought to see to it these are adorned with the best jewels. It would be its pleasure to shine down upon you and turn your fingers into a rainbow.”</p> <p>That nail graces itself with a single contact upon wanting nerves. Percival’s eyes trace Selena’s body as her mouth hangs open, shaking, shuddering, wanting to pull away except that she doesn’t want that, actually. She doesn’t have the restraint anymore.</p> <p>“…Y-You…”</p> <p>“Yes?”</p> <p>Her hands are smooth. Warm too, albeit in a sickly way. Only where veins peeked through the skin was Selena able to extract any semblance of mortal comfort.</p> <p>She lets her head fall, mumbling. “…You certainly pull from a fancy vocabulary for someone running on borrowed time.”</p> <p>“Borrowed time? You mean your age? Never.”</p> <p>“You keep saying that, but it’s not true. I’m not as young as I used to be.”</p> <p>Percival nods, letting her other hand take Selena’s arm. “I’m aware. Must you always assume my lips are loose enough to allow vermin to experience what you have? There <em>are</em> things in this world which can be appreciated no matter what stage in their processes they’re living in, I hope you know.”</p> <p>The world shakes. Selena whimpers, arms tensing. She had more toned ones back when she was an agent.</p> <p>When she tries to pull away, it’s not for a show of power. It’s not for a game of wits, for anything they’ve been doing over the past…however long they’ve been here.</p> <p>What is it for?</p> <p>She keeps asking that question not wanting an answer.</p> <p>“…”</p> <p>Nothing comes out. She fails to loose herself from a noose not even tied that tightly. She tries so hard, unsure why now of all times she’s acting like she’s been pierced—this is no different than what they’ve done before, no different from who they used to be.</p> <p>This is <em>supposed</em> to be no different.</p> <p>“…I look fit for a funeral,” Selena finally forces herself to say. She can’t hear herself over the drumming of her heart in her ears.</p> <p>“And fit for a retirement too,” Percival half-way cheers. She grins, but her face eventually falls as one normally does seeing another on the precipice of sorrow.</p> <p>Without a word, Percival takes her other hand, and, so, so carefully, wraps it in her own.</p> <p>She wraps it it in her own smoking from one chair to the other, entwining Selena’s fingers between grooves of peak, winding touch. Both of theirs slide into the other’s perfectly, so perfectly, so utterly perfectly. The darkest of umbers curled around seashell white, a needy flame to an eager, devouring snake, with fangs not merely extracting her pleasure—no, they are the source of it.</p> <p>“…Did you invite me here to make a fool out of me?” Selena asks, thinking about what comes next. What she knows is to come next, even though she doesn’t deserve it. She says the words so plainly that she could cry, and she hasn’t done that in the last ten years, not even when her mother died.</p> <p>Percival says nothing, freeing one of her hands to pull their waists together.</p> <p>Selena bristles when she smiles and again those sharp canines come out. They are capable of piercing velvet, digesting it in smooth, lush pieces.</p> <p>“Is that why you wanted me here alone? So you could finally have the upper hand you’ve wanted so badly all this time?”</p> <p>“…Define upper hand,” Percival purrs. Her smile curls further inward, as congenial heat floods Selena’s face. “Do you mean what we’ve…always had?”</p> <p>She still has the cigar in her mouth. Its sizzling is no longer of status, but a campfire comfort.</p> <p>There’s no time to react before a heavy hand begins running itself up Selena’s sides, up, and down, up, and down. Taking in its contour, the faded bullet wound scars barely able and wanting to be felt. The softness still allowed to exist from the aging process, wrapped in hints of cellulite on the hips and arms.</p> <p>Before she can think, she finds herself falling—falling as Percival pulls her back and holds her close to her chest.</p> <p>“…I know you,” she whispers in her ear, adjusting herself every few seconds to find a new angle of indulgence. A tingling sensation shoots up Selena’s spine. “I know you kept all of the letters I wrote to you…I know you so lovingly bit your nails over them in that little corner of your office you thought nobody else could see…”</p> <p>If she saw it there, then that must have meant the other O5s never did. She never would have given them the chance.</p> <p>That would be a horrible mistake between anyone but them. Selena was watched every day of her life, for her nutritional needs, her breaks between meetings, her steps in that temporally displaced office she also called her bed, domicile and cold comfort, roughly nine hundred square feet, more than half of that dedicated to reality-bending computational mechanisms.</p> <p>How she knew when Percival was watching her…maybe it was just instinct. Maybe it was magic.</p> <p>Maybe it was what was driving her now squirm as Percival pushes her unbuttoned chest up against hers, in an act of intentional, full-bodied sensuality.</p> <p>When did that slip out…?</p> <p>“I enjoyed that,” she continues. “I enjoyed watching you fluster, seeing your fingertips brush over every cursive word I wrote. How were they? Which one was your favorite…?”</p> <p>Selena hooks a leg into her, trying to keep her walls up fruitlessly despite the fact this was…magical. Magnificent even. Percival’s weight was ethereal; her tall frame cradles hers so shockingly they might as well have been puzzle pieces fitting together.</p> <p>“Did you like it when I wrote of your eyes? Of their splendor that shines like fertile earth?”</p> <p>Her hands squeeze her hips. But not too tightly—only to savor her.</p> <p>“When I compared your hands to that of a Roman statue? They would be jealous of you, you know. Aphrodite herself would love to place her mouth upon your own.”</p> <p>Smoky intimacy wafts between their synchronizing heartbeats now. Selena blanks, letting Percival’s hand, soon hands, feel her up, wandering wherever they want to. The gate’s been unlocked, pierced through.</p> <p>“Oh, oh, P-Percival…”</p> <p>She can’t think. She can’t remember who she is. Her body refuses to listen to her mind, drinking in the touch and desire like sand desperate for water.</p> <p>Percival heaves her up on her lap now. Selena rolls her head back, twitching minutely as her hands wrap around her waist hesitantly. The gesture is returned with a smooth palm craning her head to look into the most cavernous of lapis hues.</p> <p>“…You’re more beautiful than I ever imagined, you know? I love the way the sky makes your body look.”</p> <p>Her voice is spilling like milk. She pulls Selena in for the deepest of embraces, her hands crawling quickly up her back. Her nails tickle.</p> <p>“A-Ah…”</p> <p>“Look at you. Look at you…..”</p> <p>She pulls out a husky tone for that one. Selena squeezes her legs tightly around hers, ignoring how thick the starched fabric is.</p> <p>She wants to say <em>please, look at me. Please, look at me, gaze upon me in a way no one has ever cared for me before. See me as a canvas not of papers, ink and authority, but of skin, sinew and want. See my want that’s been so aching it’s bruised, my passion so diluted it’s practically bled out.</em></p> <p>After all, who did she have? Who was going to look upon an O5 and see someone worth being vulnerable with, someone worth risking it all for? Who was going to ever consider her as someone more than a colleague to do battle with or a boss to be appeased lest your head be lopped off?</p> <p>Percival presses her face to her neck. Selena’s heart screams for more.</p> <p>“…What a lovely cologne you have on today… Did you perchance douse yourself in this…for me?”</p> <p>No response except a whine dripping with decades of repression, of tear-yelling silence. Everything else has completely slipped her mind.</p> <p>She must have this. Whatever this is, she will have it. Fuck the world and everything in it.</p> <p>Right?</p> <p>The cigar finally drops to the ground. Percival’s mouth is hot, and heavy. Her lipstick is a thick matte, so it doesn’t smudge, but her fangs are practically pulsating to come out. Selena knows that will <em>hurt</em>, because Percival did not suck blood, no, her mouth was made for devouring—but she says nothing. She says nothing, because she wants to see where this goes, how Percival will crawl up and admire her.</p> <p>First neck, then jaw. Around in circles, mouth closed, but still on the prowl.</p> <p>She’s tasting for the major arteries, isn’t she?</p> <p>“…I’ve always loved the way your blood moved,” she whispers in her ear, squeezing her close. “It wants to be released from your body so gloriously with a vigor so unlike any other…”</p> <p>Something shifts between them. Plunging deep into the red, into something burning not just their faces, but their bodies too.</p> <p>Selena balks, pulling away to look down at Percival. Her heart pounds in a way that’s so deliciously attractive to those hungry eyes.</p> <p>“…Please,” is all she can squeak out. Her eyes after all this time prick with diamond tears.</p> <p>“…Please…what?”</p> <p>She’s waiting for an answer. She’s waiting for an answer with pupils fully dilated, with her breath loading itself with glutting weight the longer the seconds crawl by.</p> <p>What does Selena want to say?</p> <p>What does she want to ask?</p> <p>What can she do?</p> <p>…No.</p> <p>What does she <em>want?</em></p> <p>What does she really, truly, honestly, genuinely <em>want?</em></p> <p>…</p> <p>Selena thinks back to her daily routine as an O5. She never wore makeup, because she was always looking down upon others from the dark. A few others tried, but it was a signaling amidst themselves. A game of tag and office politics of who could spend their salaries in whatever outlandish way made them feel alive outside of their duties.</p> <p>She never participated, because what was the point of being presentable when handing down death sentences? Who cared about how perfect your mascara was when you were delivering news an entire site was going to be decommissioned, and that there would be no severance packages? Who was going to compliment your lipstick when you were giving out battle orders, sending MTFs to their deaths like cattle to a slaughterhouse?</p> <p><em>Do something,</em> Selena yells at herself internally, but she doesn’t. She can’t.</p> <p>There is a single hook still linking her mind to her heart, and it is chained with the wires of cameras.</p> <p>She tenses again, holding her breath, trying to fight the fact her senses are full of electricity and her brain is unraveling. It’s all so simple, so basic and banally mundane, yet if that’s the case, why can’t she just get up? Why can’t she just say no, and walk away?</p> <p>Maybe kicking Percival in the face would get the point across. Maybe grabbing the pitcher and splashing her would help her understand how dangerous the situation is becoming. Those hands so gently caress her after all—that’s grounds for death. The way her lips are looking for a place to land—that too means death. The way her eyes hook onto her jugular—</p> <p>She doesn’t notice she’s been pulled down until Percival presses her noses to hers. There is ash on her teeth.</p> <p>No words. Selena blinks, snapped out of her ecstasy by the reprieve in her thoughts until—</p> <p>Percival’s lips slam into her with the force of a speeding train. Selena whines, moaning and quivering, unable to fight against the strength those hands quickly summon to pin her down against the chair.</p> <p>She tastes like death. She tastes like a snake burnt along lead poles. When they part, a black tongue unfurls itself, long and glittering with faint Sarkic runes, so eager it could kill.</p> <p>The switch has been flipped. Selena gasps as Percival’s hair drapes her and she snickers, beginning to undo her blouse.</p> <p>“Wh—Please—”</p> <p>“I’ll do anything you want,” Percival trills. “I promise this won’t hurt.”</p> <p>“No—”</p> <p>She stops, halfway down. Her nails hook into the buttons as if she was working a needle.</p> <p>“…What?”</p> <p>For the first time, that voice breaks. She adjusts herself for a single gravitational moment, wide eyes darting over Selena’s body.</p> <p>“What…What do you mean <em>no?</em>“</p> <p>“…No,” Selena says again, saying it loud enough for the imaginary camera in the back of her head to hear. “Don’t…Don’t do that. Whatever you’re planning. Get off of me.”</p> <p>Never before this moment had she wished she was dead so badly. She avoids looking at Percival’s face, which is contorting in ways only found during business deals going south.</p> <p>Percival glowers at her. “You…You were enjoying yourself!”</p> <p>“Don’t s-say that,” Selena stutters, readjusting her glasses. “I wasn’t—I would never.”</p> <p>“Liar. Liar! Is that the kind of bollocks you were expected to spew at work every day?!”</p> <p>Percival shakes. Selena slips out from underneath her to steady herself against a pillar some distance away. She breathes, breathes in deep, for the first time she can remember since earlier. Already Percival’s hands have written invisible fingerprints into her skin that her body is begging for, but she must shut that jar. She must look away from this devil, for the temptation has come too close to for the tantalization to stay fun.</p> <p>Or was it more accurate to say riskless?</p> <p>“…I’m no liar,” Selena says with a heavy exhale, shuddering. “You convinced yourself of something we never had.”</p> <p>“Shut your god-forsaken <em>mouth</em>, you two-faced cunt. I saw what I saw. I saw what I saw!”</p> <p>She jolts to full height, nearly a foot taller than her. The shadow she casts over Selena’s body is not domineering, but furious. Furious at every edge, at every grit of her teeth and her wild eyes narrowing themselves back into knifepoint slits.</p> <p>“You <em>wanted</em> me! You wanted me, <em>me!</em> Your arrogance with this pussy-footing delusion of yours knows no bounds!”</p> <p>The arrogance of someone like Percival calling her out for that particular vice… Selena backs up into the light, but it burns too much. She hobbles back, her chest tightening and constricting her thoughts.</p> <p>The ending of Percival’s words clues her into something. It illuminates what she slowly determines to be a double-sided ego, fitting in with submission being used to dominate, and domination being used as a means to overpower.</p> <p>…Does she think she’s insulting her? Does she think reasonable denial is a continually failing transaction? To doubt someone like her was to live normally, for there was nothing she wouldn’t sell out to save her soul, her money, her power, or anything she desired.</p> <p>To doubt one who saw herself as an inheritor of the world and all that was in it was not just practice wisdom, but sanity too.</p> <p>And yet…</p> <p>Selena bites her lip, wishing she was doing that instead. “I’m right, you know. You tricked yourself into thinking a former Foundation O5 would ever have a good reason to fall for your wiles. You convinced yourself my…”</p> <p>Lie, lie, lie. Percival is in a vulnerable position now. She can still salvage this.</p> <p>“…Fear was something deeper. Like I was never scared of you.”</p> <p>What is she salvaging though, exactly?</p> <p>Percival sputters, and Selena stands up straight. It’s no longer enjoyable prodding this generous hand, playing hot coals with something that probably would have led somewhere.</p> <p>But it shouldn’t have. It never should have. She’s already enough of a fool for coming here, for aiming at a target looking to swallow her whole.</p> <p>It takes a while for Percival to find her words. Normally, Selena would feel proud at stunning her into wordlessness, but the two can only stare at each other in depressive, numbing shock.</p> <p>“…You’ve always wanted me,” she finally says. “You’ve always wanted me.”</p> <p>“You’re lying to yourself, Percy—”</p> <p>A slip of the tongue. Nicknames are for friends.</p> <p>“Don’t call me that,” she snaps.</p> <p>The air runs cold in her direction. Selena eyes widen at the sudden energy in her voice and her own mistake.</p> <p>“…Ah?”</p> <p>“You heard me,” she spits. “Do not refer to me by that name.”</p> <p>“Oh?” Selena raises an eyebrow. “Who’s the one clamming up now? You’re really going to let a little nickname get under your skin?”</p> <p>It’s now her turn to spin something that something doesn’t exist. Percival narrows her eyes and Selena doesn’t react, instead clutching her hands so deeply into the pillar she threatens to break its foundation.</p> <p>The art of looking your adversary in the eyes is a necessary one if you ever hoped to go anywhere in the world.</p> <p>“…Clever. Wonderful. Good to know you’re finally enjoying yourself at <em>my</em> expense,” she spits curtly. Her voice is flaring with a tide of trawling bitterness.</p> <p>Selena sighs with a netter’s anxiety, trying to convince herself she can pull this stunt up out of the water and leave here with her pride in one piece.</p> <p>“I didn’t get to where I am now without knowing how to provoke. Did you really doubt that part of me?”</p> <p>“I expected no less. But you O5s…well, you’ve never been known for your spoken eloquence, have you?”</p> <p>“Depends on who you ask. You sound ten years behind the times, so I’m assuming you asked the G.O.C., and that D.C. Al Fine gave whatever backstabber you paid an earful about how blunt we like to be with their ambassadors.”</p> <p>Ha, those guys again. Selena wonders to herself how they managed to survive after courting the fury of Percival so thoroughly. Maybe she too has a chance then?</p> <p>Percival leers into her, stomping her foot. Her teeth grit hard enough to shatter. “Assuming I’d pay even a rat to get near that sophomoric bottom-feeder—”</p> <p>Selena knows the perfect thing to say next. It’s time to fully close this book and move on, so she can go back to normalcy, to her station, to the purpose she took retirement for in the first place.</p> <p>“Oh? Really? Do tell me how you deal with them then. They’ve tightened their administrative channels a considerable amount since that pathetic dumbass in ‘98 tried murking you.”</p> <p>She smirks, the words hanging in the air with steel-coated interfaces until Percival’s hand impales it completely. Or, to be more accurate—throws it.</p> <p>The pitcher whizzes past Selena’s head. Twitch-reflexes don’t save her in time, and Percival rushes her down with a lunging fist before she can even register the change in position.</p> <p>“…Good to know your mouth just doesn’t stop once it’s been opened, Ms. Seven. Is this what you used to do everyday? Hm? Digging your spade into fresh earth without consideration for what lurks beneath? Amounting to nothing more than a mere annoyance, despite all you’ve been given?”</p> <p>Oh no.</p> <p>Percival’s hand balls her collar, slamming her against the pillar and lifting her up off the ground. Selena gasps, grimacing as she kicks her feet trying to free herself. She was already a foot shorter than Percival, so this really wasn’t helping.</p> <p>That haughty voice banshee-laughs as it plunges a fist at her throat now, nails fully sheathed into claws. Selena spits, retaliating by clamping her own hands over Percival’s wrist with the correct angles and force to break it counterclockwise before she can squeeze too tightly.</p> <p>The remnants of her Internal Affairs training. Being pinned wasn’t a death sentence if your enemy was an idiot and didn’t immobilize your hands first. All she has to do is keep this up for long enough. Long enough that those fingers will slip, long enough that the pain overwhelms her.</p> <p>Percival tries to squeeze tighter, but Selena’s grunting efforts stop that quickly. She winces, just the tiniest bit, trying to press her claws into skin now. Trying to draw blood, most likely, because she’s dangerously close to her jugular veins.</p> <p>“…Did you perhaps get too comfortable here?”</p> <p>Beads of sweat fall down Selena’s brow like rain. She sucks in moist air, gagging at how it beads in her trachea, but she has no other option to keep resisting.</p> <p>All she has to do is keep up this stance, no matter how long it takes. This will keep her entertained, keep her from striking her in a more aggressive manner. It was the most humiliating defensive position, ever, in the history of anything she’d ever done, but today was already full of new lows. What was another one?</p> <p>Age takes its toll, though. A minute of tension and already her legs are burning, her arms searing with a kind of pain once reserved for choking insubordination out in the most literal sense. Lactic acid eats at the muscles in her wrist, the tension in her face worming its way down her neck.</p> <p>Her kicking slows as Percival’s smile widens. Her smile widens into something unlike anything Selena has seen today—it’s an open-mouth grin, revealing from the background of her dark throat fangs that are longer than a cobra’s, translucent on the ends. They glitter against the faint pulsing of Sarkic runes that run like branches of worms, writhing in pure, spasmodic agony.</p> <p>…This is the same strength she sought to kill her with once, isn’t it? The strength she chased her down with until the G.O.C agent intervened.</p> <p>An all-rushing, fox-hunting tenacity reserved for prey, for the disrespectful, for the ants mucking up her ideals of beauty. For the vagrants, the unfortunate, the inconsolable. A deeply rooted, old-school sense of violence that buoyed the bloody rituals she performed behind closed doors, likely extracted from the experiences of not just colonial-era London, but feudal savagery as a whole.</p> <p>Such gave her the courage to use her teeth like forks and her tongue like a spoon, her mouth like a plate and her throat as Hell.</p> <p>That must have been why she was even eager to chase Selena down in the first place, unlike her more reserved and hands-off colleagues. Percival had, quite literally, thousands of arrest warrants on her head from the G.O.C for “profane violations of the human body” and cannibalism, a record the O5 council sometimes joked about giving her a medal for. <em>Better that crazy Europhile than us,</em> O5-01 once said.</p> <p>Ten seconds. Selena sucks in air, her glasses wobbling.</p> <p>Twenty. Percival’s eyes narrow as she begins craning her hand against Selena’s slowly slipping grip.</p> <p>Thirty, and her hands finally loosen. She whimpers and slumps her head back as the sweat from her palms smears across black rayon. Exertional fatigue takes over, foaming everywhere it possibly can.</p> <p>Finally, just when she thinks she’s just about to pass out, a blush gathers slowly on Percival’s face, no longer struggling against the weight of her foundation. A bead of sweat falls, dragging small clumps of almost pearlescent white, revealing blue paper-thin veins.</p> <p>Selena’s disbelief at such bloodlust forces her to look up. It forces her to look into Percival’s eyes with a clarity no longer choking with rose hues or her own self-hatred.</p> <p><em>There you are,</em> she thinks, a horror setting in her stomach that breeds like a rabbit knowing of its slaughter.</p> <p><em>There’s the Percival Darke that tried to kill me.</em></p> </div> </div></body></html>	===== [[include <a href="/component:preview">component:preview</a> text=Be careful of who you celebrate retirement with.]] ===== [[>]] [[module rate]] [[/>]] [[module css]] @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=EB+Garamond:500&display=swap'); .fancytext { font-family:"EB Garamond"; sans-serif; font-size:120%; } [[/module]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:black-highlighter-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:black-market">:scp-wiki:theme:black-market</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:author-label-source">:scp-wiki:component:author-label-source</a> start=-- \|name=xexnoncores]] Content Warning: Contains mentions of suicide, and cannibalism, along with mildly suggestive material. To Love a Snake With Blue Eyes by [[*user xexnoncores]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:author-label-source">:scp-wiki:component:author-label-source</a> end=--]] [[>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:info-cw">:scp-wiki:component:info-cw</a>]] [[/>]] [[=]] <<[[[Pierce the Velvet]]] \| To Love A Snake With Blue Eyes \| TBA >> [[/=]] [[div class="fancytext"]] = [[size 2.0em]] August 21st, 2004 [[/size]] Selena Ruiz Montgomery Cortez thought she had it all: after the long, arduous review, there was only this one vote and she would be named the new O5-07. But O5-12 mentions something named Ocudiere Hydra and her breathing stops. In the silence, there is only the sound of porcelain fingers scraping across the table as a Global Occult Coalition file pushes forward, in full, plain, unadulterated view, underneath the light of a sterile fluorescent lamp illuminating a dark, featureless room. "As you must know, there is currently an open investigation into the catastrophic failure of a certain Coalition operation,” O5-12 begins, her voice a low drone. “One which primarily targeted the PoI known as Percival Darke, the CEO of Marshall, Carter, and Dark Ltd., along with Iris Darke, his newly adopted daughter. From our data, preparations began in 1973, and it was supposed to have concluded in 1998.” O5-12’s face is little more than a cold screen. She moves around her titanium body with precise, calculated movements, devoid of empathy or skin-based virtue. “Our central conundrum is this—a one Agent Watt’s body—or, what remained of it—was not recovered until May 28th, 1999. The Coalition only managed to identify her by the microchip drilled into the back of her skull, which was barely functional due to severe blunt force trauma.” Selena wonders if her glasses are thick enough to hide whatever panic was shaking in her eyes. No—O5-12 would see right through them. "Though you are not named as a target in this investigation, the Coalition has expressed heavy concern about the possibility of Foundation involvement in the death of Agent Watts, as she was the one tasked to carry out the final stage of Ocudiere Hydra. They say a Foundation mission—your mission, on the night of which she was suspected to have been murdered, of which you were tasked with terminating a traitor of Site-106 defecting during a Marshall, Carter and Dark auction—such a thing is too much of a coincidence." O5-12 leans forward, and Selena can feel her nonexistent eyes boring into her skull. "The Coalition has bled us as a result of these suspicions. They have cut off our access to their surveillance networks, and Site-61 and Site-82 were rendered inoperable due to attacks by the Serpent's Hand their intel could have prevented. Al Fine has even gotten involved, and has been expecting a scapegoat from us for some time.” Selena swallows nothing, wanting to kill her throat with fire. "With all of that laid out…" The drumming of O5-12's fingers beats a nerve-rattling rhythm. The world perches on the edge of its seat as Selena’s heart beats like a chainsaw beneath her ribs. “You must certainly know what I am about to ask you.” The image of Agent Watts' splattered head spilling into the ground flashes writhing in Selena’s mind. Just forty seconds before, she’d been boasting over Percival's crumpled body, as it was two shots to the spine to paralyze, and then a machete to the aorta for the final, ritualistically correct bleed-out. What an embarrassingly mundane way for someone of his power and authority to be downed. One would have thought, with how he was feared by every GoI worth half a damn, that it would have taken nothing short of a thousand nukes to put his rotten body into the earth. But it wasn’t Percival Selena cared about, nor the still alive Watts. No, she cared for the small girl she had seen earlier that night, wandering the halls of her father’s auction, barely old enough to reach up and grab his hand. She cared for the one whom they called Iris, because she saw something in that bubbly face prancing amidst a sea of drinking, smoking and business transactions that reminded her too much of what life had taken away from her. What was her innocence doing there? What was going to happen to her if her father died? Would she be tortured if the agent managed to get her hands on her? The irony of Selena considering all of that, knowing who Iris’s father was—it was lost on her in the moment as she found her hand on her gun, pulling her arm upwards. Slowly, slowly, so achingly slowly that time stopped for fifteen seconds just to let the moment imprint itself onto her so violently—she was taking aim not just at that gray suit, but at something boiling deeper inside. Something turned over, gasping for air, choking with aborted dreams. Once you had advanced far enough into Internal Affairs, there was no going back. No starting a family, no having your cake and eating it too. Kinship had shown itself to be a consistently thorny conflict of interest, one that bred resentment, poor job performance, and the inability to reduce others down to the data points they needed to be as far as the Foundation was concerned. All of this was a scientific fact—a whole battery of studies had been performed the '70s to prove it, and IA was nothing if not scientific. She shouldn't have been there—she should have been dead. No, she shouldn’t have been dead; she should have eliminated the target and gotten out before Percival figured out someone had killed the Foundation defector about to dump information into his lap worth fifty million dollars. Him chasing her down the halls with the thaumic force of several warheads was why Agent Watts had to break from her intended stealth mission and rush him head-on instead. And yet all she could see in sights of her gun, despite what he did to her, was Iris’s eyes. Maybe they were the eyes of the one she would never be able to love or protect from the world’s horrors. Like she so desperately planned, so meticulously daydreamed about in her off time, so relentlessly prayed to both the gods she knew existed and ones she took others' words for. Adding a life instead of always subtracting them, maybe then her mother would be proud of her. Maybe if she knew her unwanted Selena raised a girl without regretting motherhood like her she did, she’d be proud of her and finally call her back after a decade of silence. “Alpha-IA Agent Selena,” O5-12 says, interrupting her train of thought. “The council must know this now—did you interfere with Agent Watts’ mission?” A heavy breath as that body slumps to the floor. Back then, she could feel Percival’s shock so thickly it nearly snapped her in two; she could feel the silence of the act rend the air and tear apart all notions of fate, as if a contract had been forged between them that Heaven, Hell, and every other plane of existence was objecting against. “…No,” she replies, as the recollection of those glowing blue eyes worms its way into her brain for one last gut punch. He had choked something out as she was leaving, but she didn’t hear because she slammed the emergency door so loudly it could have been another gunshot. = [[size 2.0em]] July 7th, 2024 [[/size]] For the first time in twenty years, Selena can hear her own thoughts. Up, down, left, and right—forwards, backwards, vertically, and horizontally. They run every which way, making no sense but still dying all the same. Shuddering, her palms sweat as she bites her lip. Looking up to the empty Floridian sky, she lets first the sin of agreeing to come complete itself, notching another tally in the long list of unforgivable mistakes she’s made, until she moves onto the next one by the force of a cacophonous will, that classic cognitive dissonance that is mostly resolved by ignoring the problem and focusing on the outcome. There is no way to know the outcome here. What kind of get-together did she agree to? Percival was rather sparse on the details. There was no second call to clarify, not after Selena spent the day so light-headed she nearly fell face-first coming back from her pottery class. The private island was a given in terms of the obvious expense she had put out, but what she thought necessary for a pair as compared to the usual crowds she entertained…that was something Selena didn’t know the scope of. It is something very few in the world know. But worrying cannot save her now, as it’s never saved her before. She looks upward, driven purely by instinct. An alabaster house sits perched on the tallest hill. Percival smokes on the patio, pale face waning in the ruthless sun. She is framed against the walls like a painted shadow, the cigar smoke from her lips curling the exact same way Selena remembers it. That soot twists in her direction, as if beckoning her. For a second, all she does is stare, even though she knows she will have plenty of time to do it there. But that mouth finishes its pleasure quickly, another lit in slick haste, so slowly Selena begins the trip up. She must ignore her the blood rushing to her ears and the tightness coiling in her chest—she must ignore the way an impressing image of unattainable nostalgia forms halfway in her head, drenched with cologne, chandelier lights, and bleeding ink. “I see you made it,” Percival chimes, smiling wide, as white shoes step onto the shaded porch. “I hope the way here didn’t lend itself to misdirection.” Selena stops, feet rooted into the wood. Not out of fear, but anticipation. Percival swings her head her way, continuing to drill that dead cigar into a platinum ashtray. “…Playing the quiet game with me again?” she asks after an amount of silence not enough for the two of them. “Please, I asked you to be cordial.” Selena shakes her head, leaning up against the wall. “I didn’t have to come here,” she replies, looking into those eyes with her own so black they could drown millions. It’s verbosity games as usual with that starched suit and…oh, she doesn’t wear a tie anymore. “You insist that we are something more than maliciously aligned allies, but we aren’t. We never will be.” “What would that make us then?” Percival tuts, with a glass-knifed tone. “Do pray tell, since need I remind you, your little self came crawling here to //me.//” Selena grits her teeth, but Percival’s jewelry blares glimmers against her, silencing any and all reaction. Purple earrings hang in faceted want, mirroring and extracting every inch of body, flesh and fabric between the two. Her bracelets follow suit as she puts her head into her hand, their dim clattering akin to gold coins being shuffled around. //Great, of course you look like that,// Selena thinks, trying not to flush over her own more casual wear in comparison, which consisted of a white top and boot-cut jeans. “…Let’s go inside,” she mutters. “I need to get out of the sun.” “Will the shade of this porch not suffice? It’s such a beautiful extension to the house.” Percival quips. Selena notices as she sits up how smooth her makeup is, how sharp her obsidian eyeliner is. “Percival, it’s triple digits out here and seventy percent humidity.” “Exactly why I had high-powered AC units installed into the ceiling boards. What do you take me for, a useless pillock who’s never experienced Florida?” A jet-hued fingernail points up. Almost clawlike, but it tapers into practical edges. It matches perfectly the shade of matte lipstick she’s wearing along with her eyeshadow that refuses to run in this clamminess. Did she do all of this for her? How expensive was all of that, anyway? How much time did it take? Percival’s eyes extract the difference in their version of each other’s visions to look at Selena the way another woman would. She looks at her with a mouth opening to white fangs, shining and quickly lascivious. “…I didn’t take you for the kind to wear long nails, actually,” Selena says to distract her. To distract herself. “Not with Ruprecht complaining about how tacky they were on women.” Percival laughs, putting a hand to her mouth to hold the cigar in it. “Hahaha! You’ve still got it Ms. Panopticon. I wonder which one of your little chicks eavesdropped that…” Selena blinks, wringing a hand into the sleeve of her shirt. //Ms. Panopticon is a new one. Who does she take me for, O5-06?// Percival continues, her voice fluctuating in rapidly oscillating tones. “You know, he’s recently acquiesced to a more modern sense of manners, if you can believe it.” For a second, Selena wonders if the conversion of ideals was a natural process, or if Percival had employed her old-fashioned sense of theatrical brutality to get what she wanted. What MC&D intel the Foundation gathered had led them to believe the balance of power was unequal among the three senior stakeholders in favor of her. “…God, you still sound terrible trying to force a falsetto, Percival.” Those broad shoulders shrug. “I’m not trying to force anything. It’s not like I’ve possessed this body for that long.” Selena knows that’s an uncaring farce. “That’s not what I mean. You sounded terrible even back then trying that...” She’s not sure what she wants to say. Her mind is still stuck on the //Ms. Panopticon// comment, but nothing comes out properly on her defense. Percival puts on a really fake high note now. “Hmph! Insulting my voice now, are we?” Selena cocks her head and sighs. That statement seemed to strike deeper than she intended, dekiltering some kind of kinetic rhythm. She can tell from the way her brow twitches from her normally controlled, stoic face. A pause. “I never said that.” Percival changes her tone as quickly as her mouth could carve a corpse. “…Then what //do// you think of my new appearance, perchance?” At first, Selena thinks //God, you must be desperate,// with an almost-laugh she hides in her hand. But the cherry-cheer tone dripping from that tar-colored tongue warms her unexpectedly, and thus a smiled response falls out. “…I think it suits you the same way it always has. You look a bit more dramatic than professional, though.” “Tch,” Percival tsks, leaning back as smoke seethes through her teeth. She pouts fakely, and Selena can’t help but find it even more amusing. She’s lying, by the way—with second half of her statement anyway. Selena actually thinks this new looks suits Percival more than anything else she’s ever had; her clothes look more comfortable now that she’s no longer boxed into the meager options for male formalwear, her face more relaxed now that it’s been contoured with several square centimeters of surgery. Selena finds herself comparing the two images of Percival she has formed in her mind, not realizing that her eyes are falling to her legs, her waist and her bust, unaware that Percival notices this with a wicked, eager-to-bite smile. “I’ll have you know that I don’t do much business in person these days,” she says casually, flauntingly, almost pretentiously. “So I have no more need to manicure airs for others. ‘Tis the benefits of the type of seniority I’ve accumulated over my lifetime.” “I suppose,” Selena replies, trying to somber down to square one now that her looking was done. “How lucky you are then. That would mean all of this is simply for the summer heat, right? I should have worn something fancier, since you’re so intent on outshining me.” “Wrong.” The word is said loud and clear, as if Percival knows it was made for her. Selena blinks, tense fingers digging into her palms. “You’re just ravishing as you were when I first laid eyes on you.” …Oh. Selena lets the statement lie, stripped of its pretenses and her own slipping will. Another look at Percival, and her heart pounding louder from how torn apart she feels she is becoming. Her own shoulders strain like rocks, her mouth furrowing like deep valleys. //…The same as…? No. I’m not…I’m…// That’s all she can think to that. She knows she shouldn’t want to find out what that means, even after all this time, but… It’s now when she realizes the full extent of the setup Percival put up for just the two of them. All of it is simple, but still elegant, composed of two white chairs flanked by decorate griffin statues and a vase full of purple flowers on the small glass table. Also, there’s alcohol, along with her other necessary amenities. Fuck, she really is losing her touch if took her this long to… “Is something still clouding your mind?” Selena shakes her head as she watches Percival’s eyes trace her up and down with a smooth haste. “You’re still not sitting down. Come, don’t be shy.” “Something’s always on my mind,” Selena replies curtly, turning her back to her. “And I…” “Yes, well, such is expected when you still possess a mind puppeteered by the flesh. Don’t be shy now—either spit it out or stop standing, because I can’t imagine either is good for your knees.” “…Something is always happening to me,” Selena mutters, like a shamed employee repeating the instructions their stick-in-the-mud manager barked at them. She knows the repetition of her statements is hesitant, unprofessional, but she still does it, because swallowing the idea the playing field is leveling out of her control feels like swallowing rocks. There’s no one else who could possibly be out here to witness such a thing—the lack of eyes conjures a vulnerability similar to being naked. “Well, then, who are you afraid of? It’s just us, the earth, and my house.” She says nothing. Percival sighs, getting up, approaching her. Leaning in, Selena is hit with her cologne like a diamond drill. “I know of their satellites,” Percival continues. “It’s dreadful how much they’ve choked the upper atmosphere. I hate to see someone like you so trapped by modern technology.” How close is she now? “And I hate how much they insist on roping a noose around your neck just to live the way you do. Retirement should be fun. It should be jovial, and freeing. Not rife with checks and balances like we’re in a bloody legislature…” Ah, Selena had forgotten the height difference between them. Being eye-level with Percival’s chest used to be a simple fact of life, but now it was different with the transition. //This is intentional. You are getting your brand new…close to my…Percival…!// Selena grits her teeth as she digs her heels into the ground, trying not to scream. Despite Percival’s modesty, she still has plenty of ways to draw attention to her assets: a drooping necklace hanging off her chest, a pair of pants snug at her waist. Both jut themselves into plain view as Percival towers over her, with only the wind kissing air between the two where skin wants to be. “…Oh, was it that secretary? I hope her tinnitus-inducing voice didn’t spoil the rest of your month. I know mine would be disastrously ruiniated if I had to hear that forsaken banshee yell at me over the phone.” “//Wha—?!//“ Selena jerks quickly, nearly giving herself whiplash and falling down at the door. Her hands shake while Percival leans back up with her mouth posed into a fake pout, set by facetiously wide eyes. “You heard me,” she iterates, flatly and almost with…was that disdain, or disappointment? “I said what I said. That oaf’s secretary is such a pain to put through the ears.” “Percival, are you talking about—” //No, no, no. You’re telling me you can track my phone calls even now—your magic can’t possibly extend that—// “What else do you think I could possibly be talking about, hm?” She clicks her tongue with a cheeky tilt of her head. “Please, don’t feign surprise like that—you did ask me to ensure your safety, so I did what I had to make sure your tracks were covered.” Selena forced herself to stand again. “How the hell did you manage to get a bug in on…?! In on…?!” She slips as she tries to stand again, but when she finds herself falling, Percival grabs her hand to pick her up. “…Do you think I’d really reveal my secrets after all this time?” Percival asks flatly, her cigar cindering with the same cadence. Selena forces a reply against her shock. “I think you overestimate your power like you always do.” “And despite your bristling, it still gets results, doth it not? You really ought to understand this world will keep turning even if you keep miring yourself into ruts like you’re always in.” Selena shakes her head. “What I am stuck in is something you could never hope to understand Percival.” “Dare me then. I’ve eaten far more unwilling souls than what I see here now on display.” Nothing is said again. Selena does not go deeper into Percival’s good night; she does not take the venom that is now so boiling it is is taking on new powers, new ways to kill. She looks up to her with wide eyes, brown eyes so dark they are dripping with want for desire, even under layers of silt and loam. Again, and again, and again. This is how they’ve done it for the past…she doesn’t know how long it’s been since they’ve become like this, and she doesn’t want to. The closest she can manage to pin down the time is twenty years ago, the sensation…well, it was akin to voyuerism , but how true was that if it excited her? If it excited her so thoroughly it made her suicidal, afraid for her own life and her own lonely future? Afraid she would die alone without the feeling of someone else at her back again, waiting for her in the shadows for as much as that could be worth? Those blue eyes have always bored themselves into her back with no restraint or reserve—and all of that was an appropriate exchange in her mind, because she was never going to have anything nice without a catch. It was passionate, it was more than anyone else did for her, it was the life she wanted, the life she foolishly wished for when she first signed the Internal Affairs transfer forms. Again Percival cleaves her out of her own miring thoughts. “Come,” she says, and Selena aching runs her palm into hers. “You’ve been standing for too long.” Unable to right her mental compass, she gets up, but does not follow. Resisting is her way of assertion, her way of dragging brown tides out against azure plains eager to swallow her whole. “Ugh, you’re still so stiff. Tell me you’re taking care of yourself now that you’re out of your stuffy little office.” “Stiffness is supposed to be polite,” Selena says, inching closer to her without actually giving in. “Well, it’s not. It’s nearly insulting. Someone like you, with your accomplishments and tenacity, ought to deserve a respite.” “Insulting to who? You?” Selena watches her carefully, eye-to-eye as she pulls her closer in again. She stops herself just inches away from that point of hot return, reminding herself that the devil took the form of a snake, and that temptation was best when it was pushed away, not even entertained. “…It would be insulting to anyone. But yes, especially me.” Selena can hear her slow heartbeat from here. “Ha, is it hard not being able to buy someone with your money?” She’s almost laughing, asking something so stupidly obvious. But subtlety sometimes was a roadblock to meaningfulness, and with someone like Percival who breathed business like it was going out of style, it could be just something else for her to use as a snare. “It’s hard watching someone with such potential waste away like you do,” she replies solemnly, more-so than Selena expected her capable of. But loud enough as if she wants her to hear, as if she wants the world to know. She follows it up with nothing else. Before she breaks into too deep of a somberness, she lights another cigar casually. Selena’s face softens with an undercurrent of annoyance, unsure of if this was some kind of fucked-up pity party. Pity was fine, pity was understandable, she had no more semblance of pride or ego to pretend she held onto—but watching someone with the potential to change it all… Did it scare Percival? Was it frustrating her? …Time for a non-sequitor before things get too serious again. It was one of the more riskier tactics to pull during an interrogation, but she was falling behind. Her skin was yelling the longer she stayed on this porch, the longer her hand was clasped with hers, quickly running in sweat. “…I liked you better when you wore hats, you know,” she replies pulling her palm away. Percival blinks, balking at the sudden change in subject. Selena snickers. “W…Excuse me?” “I said,” Selena replies, taking the lead and snapping it over her knee, “I liked you better when you wore hats. They covered up your big mouth like nothing else.” Percival turns her nose up at her with a humph until she realizes Selena is really smiling. She’s really smiling, running over thoughts in her mind unencumbered. She wore a bowler hat in ‘98, and a fedora in ‘06. There was nothing in 2013, but her hair was noticeably longer then. And curlier—Selena couldn’t remember if it looked like a perm or a wig. The hats never actually looked good on her. Percival had a big forehead, accented by a round face and a blunted chin, so even with her high cheekbones, there was only so much a tailor-made crown could do to sit on her head properly. This led to said hats either being lopsided by a few imperfect centimeters, or their overcompensating brim taking them closer into cowboy territory than she probably intended. “Well, lucky for you that you get to witness me in all of my glory. The only hats I ever truly enjoyed wearing came from the Victorian era—but it’s so indelible these days to display one’s status with such foppish symbols.” “Go to a fashion show then. It’ll fit in there.” “That’s Chyrsophilius’s preoccupation, not mine. I’m much too old to be messing around with such fandangle, anyway.” Selena finally has enough and sits down in the chair. She sighs as she watches Percival gawk from the sudden change in attitude, but she was right. She was standing too much. Being fifty-three wasn’t easy, especially with the suitcases under her eyes and the carry-on baggage she had coursing through her veins like garbage. “…Odd.” “Oh, what now?” Percival snaps, her voice scraping like concrete. Selena appreciates how she sounds like a vase breaking when she’s hungry for an answer. No response. Selena points to a silver pitcher she didn’t notice before. “Is this alcohol?” There’s others too. Two glasses, shining through the white with all the thin rainbows crystal can offer. They shimmer like luxury Selena only ever saw at dinners on the rare nights the Overseers went out for business somewhere. Safety demanded a price, after all, and that price was secrecy smothered in mundanity and granite inside rigid, passionless daily schedules. Percival purses her lips. “…It’s gin.” There’s that sharp tone again, but it’s smoothed over when Selena reaches for the handle and her wrist is grabbed instead. She gasps sharply, but Percival simply pulls it back gently. “Let me.” “I can serve myself, Perciv—” “You will let me do this.” Selena stops completely, looking up at her again. Her brows are furrowed darkly, cigar breaking between her teeth. //…What the hell?// She sits back to unnervingly let her finish. She takes the glass quietly into her hands, not realizing she’s smiling as she realizes she’s made Percival Darke of all people //serve// her. “Did you not bring your staff this time?” Selena asks with a hint of ripping velvet in her voice. “I’m not paying them to enjoy the view,” Percival replies pouring her own self a glass and sitting down. “[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-6629 Besides, I phased those out a while ago.]” “You what?” “Do you really think every rich British person has an army of maids at their beck and call? Please.” She throws her drink back quickly, huffing smoke as soon as she does. He’s face is drowning, frowning in etched frustration that wears itself along wrinkled lines parallel to her mouth. “…Yes, actually,” Selena replies bluntly. “Why clean your house when money can do it for you?” “You say such platitudes like you’re jealous of what I can do for myself.” Selena sighs, deflating into her seat. Groaning, Percival serves herself another glass, not drinking it, even though Selena downs her own quickly and gets another. When it’s full, she holds up the clear liquid to the bright sky. “…You know I’m a whiskey person,” she announces with the same cadence as if she was ordering a site director around. If Percival was going to insist on whatever this tantrum-throwing display of pouring drinks was, she could have at least bothered with what Selena liked. “Do I?” “…You do. I was hopi—” “Were you hoping I remembered?” Selena pulls the glass down and takes a sip. The condensation sticks to her lips coldly. “…You’re not the kind to forget anything. Ever.” Percival smiles again. “Correct. Thank you for the compliment. And well, see—here is my conundrum…” Her voice shrills back into approaching that falsetto, but with a velvety richness that came from practice, not talent. Selena perks up at it. “…It’s always perplexed me how you, of all women, could ever stoop to preferring such a petrol-tongued spirit to something smoother. We’re not two miners emerging from the soot, so do you just hate yourself?” //Pompous ass—// “Whiskey is often the most expensive drink at the bar,” Selena reminds her. “You should know, with the fact you dropped five grand on a glass for me in Vegas when the bottle of Mont Blanc behind the bar was half that.” What is she doing? That was a bit much. All of this was a bit much—was Percival right? Did she really prefer whiskey because she hated herself? It was easier to get numb to, easier to conceal on an orange wood counter. None of that meant anything, did it? Did it? Percival scowls, sighing. She can hold her liquor well, everyone knew that, although whether it was for the same reason she could chain-smoke with zero repercussions was a mystery. Selena swallows ice this time, unsure of where she is now. This went much differently than she expected. Was it going south? North? East? What the hell was the last direction? She was a fool for thinking this would just be them spinning their gears, but the idea she’s able to keep up the act for this long…amuses her. It amuses her as she watches Percival try over and over again for what she wants here…honestly, like this, Selena could begin to see enjoyment on the horizon. There was something to be said for the aroma of a bruised apple, watching it slowly rot into the earth. “…Is this the mixer that can pour anything?” she asks, casually slipping away from her war-like tone. “No, I gave that to Iris for her twentieth birthday.” “Surprised you don’t have multiple copies.” “Well, I’ve never been heavy enough of a drinker to keep around an artifact like that. Besides, it makes a better impression on company to keep a fully stocked cellar.” “There’s no way—I refuse to believe your clients are idiots like that.” Percival shrugs. “Old habits die hard. It’s easier for them to surmise luxury from a wall of century vintages than a stainless pitcher barely the length of their forearm.” “Despite the fact the pitcher probably costs five times everything they can see. Double if you count whatever’s in the cellar, yeah?” Percival pulls out another cigar and lights it. What number is she on now? Fuck, she really knows how to work her mouth… “…Unless that’s the plan,” Selena continues. “The clueless ones taste better to you, don’t they? All wined up and unaware that there’s a reason they’re not paying a tab.” A flat smile slowly spreads across those black lips. The lipstick’s smeared, but her teeth are still white. Her fangs are still as sharp, as trim and fit as they’ve always been. In a world of monsters, atrocities and anomalies, Selena shouldn’t find those enticing but…she was always at her best when she was in pain. When she was in immense pain, be it from terminating underperforming MTFs or slitting her own wrists just to feel something. “Miss Heptad Autocrat does it again, flattering me in that wonderfully simple sense of hers.” She takes the smoke from her cigar and blows it all over Selena’s face. “Good to see your mouth finally matching the opulence of your face.” Selena coughs, waving her hand frantically while Percival just laughs again. She expects it to be followed up with some kind of quip, but there’s nothing but just wordless amusement between the two. Fuck, she really did just let her do that, huh? At least Percival had good taste in how she pleasured herself. The smoke smells like ash, but also cedarwood and cloves. …Maybe she can just enjoy this. Maybe she can just… … Once she finds herself again, she exhales, looking out at the sky. Its blue does not come close to how much her heart desires the same hue of the viper next to her, but it will do for a few seconds. Another glass down her burning throat. Percival finally picks her tone up again. “Ah, you’re finally having fun.” “It tastes like brain fog,” Selena replies. “No, it’s making you glow. Here, let me—” //Oh no you don’t.// Percival swiftly grabs the pitcher, but not before Selena can. Their hands slam against against each other’s with a surprising force, knocking several ice cubes out all over the concrete. Selena gasps and pulls away, shell-shocked. Percival finishes what she started and pours her yet another drink. No more. Selena refuses by doing nothing, because she will not inebriate herself into stupidity. Not here, not here. Percival raises an eyebrow and grabs her hand again. “Aww, trying to run away from me again? I won’t let your lovely self slip away from me this time…” Selena freezes stiffer than she ever has before. Percival does nothing in response except run her thumb over razor-scarred knuckles. “The deepest of shames that I did not adore your hands earlier as I should have, truly—the sun ought to see to it these are adorned with the best jewels. It would be its pleasure to shine down upon you and turn your fingers into a rainbow.” That nail graces itself with a single contact upon wanting nerves. Percival’s eyes trace Selena’s body as her mouth hangs open, shaking, shuddering, wanting to pull away except that she doesn’t want that, actually. She doesn’t have the restraint anymore. “…Y-You…” “Yes?” Her hands are smooth. Warm too, albeit in a sickly way. Only where veins peeked through the skin was Selena able to extract any semblance of mortal comfort. She lets her head fall, mumbling. “…You certainly pull from a fancy vocabulary for someone running on borrowed time.” “Borrowed time? You mean your age? Never.” “You keep saying that, but it’s not true. I’m not as young as I used to be.” Percival nods, letting her other hand take Selena’s arm. “I’m aware. Must you always assume my lips are loose enough to allow vermin to experience what you have? There //are// things in this world which can be appreciated no matter what stage in their processes they’re living in, I hope you know.” The world shakes. Selena whimpers, arms tensing. She had more toned ones back when she was an agent. When she tries to pull away, it’s not for a show of power. It’s not for a game of wits, for anything they’ve been doing over the past…however long they’ve been here. What is it for? She keeps asking that question not wanting an answer. “…” Nothing comes out. She fails to loose herself from a noose not even tied that tightly. She tries so hard, unsure why now of all times she’s acting like she’s been pierced—this is no different than what they’ve done before, no different from who they used to be. This is //supposed// to be no different. “…I look fit for a funeral,” Selena finally forces herself to say. She can’t hear herself over the drumming of her heart in her ears. “And fit for a retirement too,” Percival half-way cheers. She grins, but her face eventually falls as one normally does seeing another on the precipice of sorrow. Without a word, Percival takes her other hand, and, so, so carefully, wraps it in her own. She wraps it it in her own smoking from one chair to the other, entwining Selena’s fingers between grooves of peak, winding touch. Both of theirs slide into the other’s perfectly, so perfectly, so utterly perfectly. The darkest of umbers curled around seashell white, a needy flame to an eager, devouring snake, with fangs not merely extracting her pleasure—no, they are the source of it. “…Did you invite me here to make a fool out of me?” Selena asks, thinking about what comes next. What she knows is to come next, even though she doesn’t deserve it. She says the words so plainly that she could cry, and she hasn’t done that in the last ten years, not even when her mother died. Percival says nothing, freeing one of her hands to pull their waists together. Selena bristles when she smiles and again those sharp canines come out. They are capable of piercing velvet, digesting it in smooth, lush pieces. “Is that why you wanted me here alone? So you could finally have the upper hand you’ve wanted so badly all this time?” “…Define upper hand,” Percival purrs. Her smile curls further inward, as congenial heat floods Selena’s face. “Do you mean what we’ve…always had?” She still has the cigar in her mouth. Its sizzling is no longer of status, but a campfire comfort. There’s no time to react before a heavy hand begins running itself up Selena’s sides, up, and down, up, and down. Taking in its contour, the faded bullet wound scars barely able and wanting to be felt. The softness still allowed to exist from the aging process, wrapped in hints of cellulite on the hips and arms. Before she can think, she finds herself falling—falling as Percival pulls her back and holds her close to her chest. “…I know you,” she whispers in her ear, adjusting herself every few seconds to find a new angle of indulgence. A tingling sensation shoots up Selena’s spine. “I know you kept all of the letters I wrote to you…I know you so lovingly bit your nails over them in that little corner of your office you thought nobody else could see…” If she saw it there, then that must have meant the other O5s never did. She never would have given them the chance. That would be a horrible mistake between anyone but them. Selena was watched every day of her life, for her nutritional needs, her breaks between meetings, her steps in that temporally displaced office she also called her bed, domicile and cold comfort, roughly nine hundred square feet, more than half of that dedicated to reality-bending computational mechanisms. How she knew when Percival was watching her…maybe it was just instinct. Maybe it was magic. Maybe it was what was driving her now squirm as Percival pushes her unbuttoned chest up against hers, in an act of intentional, full-bodied sensuality. When did that slip out…? “I enjoyed that,” she continues. “I enjoyed watching you fluster, seeing your fingertips brush over every cursive word I wrote. How were they? Which one was your favorite…?” Selena hooks a leg into her, trying to keep her walls up fruitlessly despite the fact this was…magical. Magnificent even. Percival’s weight was ethereal; her tall frame cradles hers so shockingly they might as well have been puzzle pieces fitting together. “Did you like it when I wrote of your eyes? Of their splendor that shines like fertile earth?” Her hands squeeze her hips. But not too tightly—only to savor her. “When I compared your hands to that of a Roman statue? They would be jealous of you, you know. Aphrodite herself would love to place her mouth upon your own.” Smoky intimacy wafts between their synchronizing heartbeats now. Selena blanks, letting Percival’s hand, soon hands, feel her up, wandering wherever they want to. The gate’s been unlocked, pierced through. “Oh, oh, P-Percival…” She can’t think. She can’t remember who she is. Her body refuses to listen to her mind, drinking in the touch and desire like sand desperate for water. Percival heaves her up on her lap now. Selena rolls her head back, twitching minutely as her hands wrap around her waist hesitantly. The gesture is returned with a smooth palm craning her head to look into the most cavernous of lapis hues. “…You’re more beautiful than I ever imagined, you know? I love the way the sky makes your body look.” Her voice is spilling like milk. She pulls Selena in for the deepest of embraces, her hands crawling quickly up her back. Her nails tickle. “A-Ah…” “Look at you. Look at you…..” She pulls out a husky tone for that one. Selena squeezes her legs tightly around hers, ignoring how thick the starched fabric is. She wants to say //please, look at me. Please, look at me, gaze upon me in a way no one has ever cared for me before. See me as a canvas not of papers, ink and authority, but of skin, sinew and want. See my want that’s been so aching it’s bruised, my passion so diluted it’s practically bled out.// After all, who did she have? Who was going to look upon an O5 and see someone worth being vulnerable with, someone worth risking it all for? Who was going to ever consider her as someone more than a colleague to do battle with or a boss to be appeased lest your head be lopped off? Percival presses her face to her neck. Selena’s heart screams for more. “…What a lovely cologne you have on today… Did you perchance douse yourself in this…for me?” No response except a whine dripping with decades of repression, of tear-yelling silence. Everything else has completely slipped her mind. She must have this. Whatever this is, she will have it. Fuck the world and everything in it. Right? The cigar finally drops to the ground. Percival’s mouth is hot, and heavy. Her lipstick is a thick matte, so it doesn’t smudge, but her fangs are practically pulsating to come out. Selena knows that will //hurt//, because Percival did not suck blood, no, her mouth was made for devouring—but she says nothing. She says nothing, because she wants to see where this goes, how Percival will crawl up and admire her. First neck, then jaw. Around in circles, mouth closed, but still on the prowl. She’s tasting for the major arteries, isn’t she? “…I’ve always loved the way your blood moved,” she whispers in her ear, squeezing her close. “It wants to be released from your body so gloriously with a vigor so unlike any other…” Something shifts between them. Plunging deep into the red, into something burning not just their faces, but their bodies too. Selena balks, pulling away to look down at Percival. Her heart pounds in a way that’s so deliciously attractive to those hungry eyes. “…Please,” is all she can squeak out. Her eyes after all this time prick with diamond tears. “…Please…what?” She’s waiting for an answer. She’s waiting for an answer with pupils fully dilated, with her breath loading itself with glutting weight the longer the seconds crawl by. What does Selena want to say? What does she want to ask? What can she do? …No. What does she //want?// What does she really, truly, honestly, genuinely //want?// … Selena thinks back to her daily routine as an O5. She never wore makeup, because she was always looking down upon others from the dark. A few others tried, but it was a signaling amidst themselves. A game of tag and office politics of who could spend their salaries in whatever outlandish way made them feel alive outside of their duties. She never participated, because what was the point of being presentable when handing down death sentences? Who cared about how perfect your mascara was when you were delivering news an entire site was going to be decommissioned, and that there would be no severance packages? Who was going to compliment your lipstick when you were giving out battle orders, sending MTFs to their deaths like cattle to a slaughterhouse? //Do something,// Selena yells at herself internally, but she doesn’t. She can’t. There is a single hook still linking her mind to her heart, and it is chained with the wires of cameras. She tenses again, holding her breath, trying to fight the fact her senses are full of electricity and her brain is unraveling. It’s all so simple, so basic and banally mundane, yet if that’s the case, why can’t she just get up? Why can’t she just say no, and walk away? Maybe kicking Percival in the face would get the point across. Maybe grabbing the pitcher and splashing her would help her understand how dangerous the situation is becoming. Those hands so gently caress her after all—that’s grounds for death. The way her lips are looking for a place to land—that too means death. The way her eyes hook onto her jugular— She doesn’t notice she’s been pulled down until Percival presses her noses to hers. There is ash on her teeth. No words. Selena blinks, snapped out of her ecstasy by the reprieve in her thoughts until— Percival’s lips slam into her with the force of a speeding train. Selena whines, moaning and quivering, unable to fight against the strength those hands quickly summon to pin her down against the chair. She tastes like death. She tastes like a snake burnt along lead poles. When they part, a black tongue unfurls itself, long and glittering with faint Sarkic runes, so eager it could kill. The switch has been flipped. Selena gasps as Percival’s hair drapes her and she snickers, beginning to undo her blouse. “Wh—Please—” “I’ll do anything you want,” Percival trills. “I promise this won’t hurt.” “No—” She stops, halfway down. Her nails hook into the buttons as if she was working a needle. “…What?” For the first time, that voice breaks. She adjusts herself for a single gravitational moment, wide eyes darting over Selena’s body. “What…What do you mean //no?//“ “…No,” Selena says again, saying it loud enough for the imaginary camera in the back of her head to hear. “Don’t…Don’t do that. Whatever you’re planning. Get off of me.” Never before this moment had she wished she was dead so badly. She avoids looking at Percival’s face, which is contorting in ways only found during business deals going south. Percival glowers at her. “You…You were enjoying yourself!” “Don’t s-say that,” Selena stutters, readjusting her glasses. “I wasn’t—I would never.” “Liar. Liar! Is that the kind of bollocks you were expected to spew at work every day?!” Percival shakes. Selena slips out from underneath her to steady herself against a pillar some distance away. She breathes, breathes in deep, for the first time she can remember since earlier. Already Percival’s hands have written invisible fingerprints into her skin that her body is begging for, but she must shut that jar. She must look away from this devil, for the temptation has come too close to for the tantalization to stay fun. Or was it more accurate to say riskless? “…I’m no liar,” Selena says with a heavy exhale, shuddering. “You convinced yourself of something we never had.” “Shut your god-forsaken //mouth//, you two-faced cunt. I saw what I saw. I saw what I saw!” She jolts to full height, nearly a foot taller than her. The shadow she casts over Selena’s body is not domineering, but furious. Furious at every edge, at every grit of her teeth and her wild eyes narrowing themselves back into knifepoint slits. “You //wanted// me! You wanted me, //me!// Your arrogance with this pussy-footing delusion of yours knows no bounds!” The arrogance of someone like Percival calling her out for that particular vice… Selena backs up into the light, but it burns too much. She hobbles back, her chest tightening and constricting her thoughts. The ending of Percival’s words clues her into something. It illuminates what she slowly determines to be a double-sided ego, fitting in with submission being used to dominate, and domination being used as a means to overpower. …Does she think she’s insulting her? Does she think reasonable denial is a continually failing transaction? To doubt someone like her was to live normally, for there was nothing she wouldn’t sell out to save her soul, her money, her power, or anything she desired. To doubt one who saw herself as an inheritor of the world and all that was in it was not just practice wisdom, but sanity too. And yet… Selena bites her lip, wishing she was doing that instead. “I’m right, you know. You tricked yourself into thinking a former Foundation O5 would ever have a good reason to fall for your wiles. You convinced yourself my…” Lie, lie, lie. Percival is in a vulnerable position now. She can still salvage this. “…Fear was something deeper. Like I was never scared of you.” What is she salvaging though, exactly? Percival sputters, and Selena stands up straight. It’s no longer enjoyable prodding this generous hand, playing hot coals with something that probably would have led somewhere. But it shouldn’t have. It never should have. She’s already enough of a fool for coming here, for aiming at a target looking to swallow her whole. It takes a while for Percival to find her words. Normally, Selena would feel proud at stunning her into wordlessness, but the two can only stare at each other in depressive, numbing shock. “…You’ve always wanted me,” she finally says. “You’ve always wanted me.” “You’re lying to yourself, Percy—” A slip of the tongue. Nicknames are for friends. “Don’t call me that,” she snaps. The air runs cold in her direction. Selena eyes widen at the sudden energy in her voice and her own mistake. “…Ah?” “You heard me,” she spits. “Do not refer to me by that name.” “Oh?” Selena raises an eyebrow. “Who’s the one clamming up now? You’re really going to let a little nickname get under your skin?” It’s now her turn to spin something that something doesn’t exist. Percival narrows her eyes and Selena doesn’t react, instead clutching her hands so deeply into the pillar she threatens to break its foundation. The art of looking your adversary in the eyes is a necessary one if you ever hoped to go anywhere in the world. “…Clever. Wonderful. Good to know you’re finally enjoying yourself at //my// expense,” she spits curtly. Her voice is flaring with a tide of trawling bitterness. Selena sighs with a netter’s anxiety, trying to convince herself she can pull this stunt up out of the water and leave here with her pride in one piece. “I didn’t get to where I am now without knowing how to provoke. Did you really doubt that part of me?” “I expected no less. But you O5s…well, you’ve never been known for your spoken eloquence, have you?” “Depends on who you ask. You sound ten years behind the times, so I’m assuming you asked the G.O.C., and that D.C. Al Fine gave whatever backstabber you paid an earful about how blunt we like to be with their ambassadors.” Ha, those guys again. Selena wonders to herself how they managed to survive after courting the fury of Percival so thoroughly. Maybe she too has a chance then? Percival leers into her, stomping her foot. Her teeth grit hard enough to shatter. “Assuming I’d pay even a rat to get near that sophomoric bottom-feeder—” Selena knows the perfect thing to say next. It’s time to fully close this book and move on, so she can go back to normalcy, to her station, to the purpose she took retirement for in the first place. “Oh? Really? Do tell me how you deal with them then. They’ve tightened their administrative channels a considerable amount since that pathetic dumbass in ‘98 tried murking you.” She smirks, the words hanging in the air with steel-coated interfaces until Percival’s hand impales it completely. Or, to be more accurate—throws it. The pitcher whizzes past Selena’s head. Twitch-reflexes don’t save her in time, and Percival rushes her down with a lunging fist before she can even register the change in position. “…Good to know your mouth just doesn’t stop once it’s been opened, Ms. Seven. Is this what you used to do everyday? Hm? Digging your spade into fresh earth without consideration for what lurks beneath? Amounting to nothing more than a mere annoyance, despite all you’ve been given?” Oh no. Percival’s hand balls her collar, slamming her against the pillar and lifting her up off the ground. Selena gasps, grimacing as she kicks her feet trying to free herself. She was already a foot shorter than Percival, so this really wasn’t helping. That haughty voice banshee-laughs as it plunges a fist at her throat now, nails fully sheathed into claws. Selena spits, retaliating by clamping her own hands over Percival’s wrist with the correct angles and force to break it counterclockwise before she can squeeze too tightly. The remnants of her Internal Affairs training. Being pinned wasn’t a death sentence if your enemy was an idiot and didn’t immobilize your hands first. All she has to do is keep this up for long enough. Long enough that those fingers will slip, long enough that the pain overwhelms her. Percival tries to squeeze tighter, but Selena’s grunting efforts stop that quickly. She winces, just the tiniest bit, trying to press her claws into skin now. Trying to draw blood, most likely, because she’s dangerously close to her jugular veins. “…Did you perhaps get too comfortable here?” Beads of sweat fall down Selena’s brow like rain. She sucks in moist air, gagging at how it beads in her trachea, but she has no other option to keep resisting. All she has to do is keep up this stance, no matter how long it takes. This will keep her entertained, keep her from striking her in a more aggressive manner. It was the most humiliating defensive position, ever, in the history of anything she’d ever done, but today was already full of new lows. What was another one? Age takes its toll, though. A minute of tension and already her legs are burning, her arms searing with a kind of pain once reserved for choking insubordination out in the most literal sense. Lactic acid eats at the muscles in her wrist, the tension in her face worming its way down her neck. Her kicking slows as Percival’s smile widens. Her smile widens into something unlike anything Selena has seen today—it’s an open-mouth grin, revealing from the background of her dark throat fangs that are longer than a cobra’s, translucent on the ends. They glitter against the faint pulsing of Sarkic runes that run like branches of worms, writhing in pure, spasmodic agony. …This is the same strength she sought to kill her with once, isn’t it? The strength she chased her down with until the G.O.C agent intervened. An all-rushing, fox-hunting tenacity reserved for prey, for the disrespectful, for the ants mucking up her ideals of beauty. For the vagrants, the unfortunate, the inconsolable. A deeply rooted, old-school sense of violence that buoyed the bloody rituals she performed behind closed doors, likely extracted from the experiences of not just colonial-era London, but feudal savagery as a whole. Such gave her the courage to use her teeth like forks and her tongue like a spoon, her mouth like a plate and her throat as Hell. That must have been why she was even eager to chase Selena down in the first place, unlike her more reserved and hands-off colleagues. Percival had, quite literally, thousands of arrest warrants on her head from the G.O.C for “profane violations of the human body” and cannibalism, a record the O5 council sometimes joked about giving her a medal for. //Better that crazy Europhile than us,// O5-01 once said. Ten seconds. Selena sucks in air, her glasses wobbling. Twenty. Percival’s eyes narrow as she begins craning her hand against Selena’s slowly slipping grip. Thirty, and her hands finally loosen. She whimpers and slumps her head back as the sweat from her palms smears across black rayon. Exertional fatigue takes over, foaming everywhere it possibly can. Finally, just when she thinks she’s just about to pass out, a blush gathers slowly on Percival’s face, no longer struggling against the weight of her foundation. A bead of sweat falls, dragging small clumps of almost pearlescent white, revealing blue paper-thin veins. Selena’s disbelief at such bloodlust forces her to look up. It forces her to look into Percival’s eyes with a clarity no longer choking with rose hues or her own self-hatred. //There you are,// she thinks, a horror setting in her stomach that breeds like a rabbit knowing of its slaughter. //There’s the Percival Darke that tried to kill me.// [[/div]]	2024-12-21T00:26:00	[ "lgbtq", "marshall-carter-and-dark", "percival-darke", "romance", "slice-of-life", "tale" ]	To Love a Snake With Blue Eyes - SCP Foundation	16	[ "pierce-the-velvet", "scp-6629" ]	[ "top-rated-pages-by-month", "tales-by-year", "marshall-carter-and-dark-hub", "adamantine-temptations-hub", "news" ]	[]	1458038443	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/to-love-a-snake-with-blue-eyes
to-make-a-deal-with-a-goddess	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div style="display: none"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">+ CODE</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">- CODE</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div style="text-align: left;"> <div class="code"> <div class="hl-main"> <pre><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BLANKSTYLE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CSS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">2021</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">Wikidot</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">Theme</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">By</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Placeholder</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">McD</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">HarryBlank</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Based</span><span class="hl-code"> on: </span><span class="hl-identifier">Paperstack</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Penumbra</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Montserrat</span><span class="hl-special">:ital</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">wght</span><span class="hl-var">@0</span><span class="hl-code">,800;1,800&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.9</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">1.6</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#container-wrap</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'Montserrat', </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-title, "R\</span><span class="hl-number">0026</span><span class="hl-code"> C SITE-43")</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">400</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-subtitle, "SUBVERTING COMMON PRACTICE")</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">700</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 707</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">a:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">1.6</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-title</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#footer</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#footer</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#efefef</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.empty</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#999999</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem!important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">7.9</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'Montserrat', </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.45</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#extra-div-1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">160</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Ablankstyle/</span><span class="hl-number">43</span><span class="hl-code">Head.png')</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> contain</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 707</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#extra-div-1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">body</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> linear-gradient( to </span><span class="hl-string">bottom</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">200</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">200</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-special">:root</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">timeScale:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">timeDelay:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">posX:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">358</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">13</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">fnLinger:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">12</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.35</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#DDD</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.open-menu</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 767</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-identifier">target</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">black</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FDF6D7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-var">#D7EFE7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.resources</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-var">#F5D8E0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.creditRate</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">PAGE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">RATING</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-points</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anchor</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> sticky</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.14</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc((</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vw - </span><span class="hl-number">870</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">)/</span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vh - </span><span class="hl-number">18</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">103.5</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 1290</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">visibility:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">h2:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">0.9</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">YUI</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TAB</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BASE</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">YUI</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TAB</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CUSTOMIZATION</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-wrap:</span><span class="hl-code"> wrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">.125</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">UNSELECTED</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#efefef</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">HOVER</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Listitem</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">relative</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-bottom</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">align-items:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.35</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.75</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> ellipsis</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">white-space:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">nowrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Selection</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">SELECTED</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:active</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">SCROLLBAR</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-track</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-thumb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#CCC</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-thumb</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#EEE</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">CENTER</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">IMAGES</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ON</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MOBILE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">courtesy</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">of</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">PeppersGhost</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.imagediv</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">right</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 540</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.imagediv</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">only</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">screen</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 600</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block.block-right</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">ACS-COLORED</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TABLE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">DIVS</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#D7EFE7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#D8ECF4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FDF6D7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFDABF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#F5D8E0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">146</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.wiki-content-table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-collapse:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">separate</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">img</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.top-left-box</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">.item</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">WORDS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">NO</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">LONGER</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BROKEN</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">THE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CROQUEMBOUCHE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">HAS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">SPOKEN</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">word-break:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">normal</span><span class="hl-code"> !important </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.avatar-hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#breadcrumbs</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.pseudocrumbs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> -- </span><span class="hl-identifier">FANCY</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">THINGS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">from</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Woedenaz</span><span class="hl-code">'</span><span class="hl-identifier">s</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Dustjacket</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> -- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fancyhr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--bright-accent), </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-source:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Aflopstyle-dark/wl_hr.png')</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> round round</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-slice:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-code"> fill</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fancyborder</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Aflopstyle-dark/wl_border.png') </span><span class="hl-number">600</span><span class="hl-code"> round</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span></pre></div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc0"><span>Running Up That Hill</span></h1> <h2 id="toc1"><span>(To Make A Deal with a Goddess)</span></h2> </div> <p>Lake Huron bursts open like a bomb going off, massive wings rise from the depths and five heads rear skyward. Waves are sent across its waters at the sheer force of the wingbeats, as the beast surges from the Earth — millennia worth of dust and dirt shakes free from shining scales. The dragon's rise casts down a veritable hurricane of the lake's frigid water, powerful hind limbs pushing off against the lake bottom as those tattered wings finally find traction against the air, and the great Goddess ascends.</p> <p>Doctor Brenda Corbin can hear the shrill, blaring screams of Site-43’s alarm as <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-5866">SCP-5866</a> rises higher, but — against the whipping winds and showers of cold mist — she does not care. She is behind those five, colorful serpentine heads, gripping a jagged spike for support as she stands upon the shoulder of a Goddess.</p> <p><strong><em>"They will try to come for us."</em></strong> Tiamat’s voice rung warm in her mind — no longer the weary whisper it was in their first meeting — it was a deep and powerful rumble. <strong><em>"But they will fail."</em></strong></p> <p>“I made sure of that.” Doctor Corbin replies in tandem, her eyes raising up to briefly catch the golden gaze of two of the heads, "They'll have bigger things to handle than us, now."</p> <p>The air vibrated with a pleased purr, as Tiamat rose higher into the sky.</p> <p>From up here, Site-43 and the great lake look oh-so small.</p> <p>Perhaps it always was.</p> <p>She will be a doctor no more. No more will she walk linoleum halls day after day, no more would she aid in holding the key to a million cages. She will <em>live,</em> instead, and as Lake Huron’s waters still thrash and writhe in the wake of Tiamat’s rise, she knew it was the opening of Pandora’s Box.</p> <p>She made sure Tiamat bore the containment class of her namesake for good reason.</p> <p>A last message left before departure.</p> <p>Brenda takes in a deep breath amongst the clouds and the golden glow of the setting sun, the air felt <em>fresh</em> for the first time in years. It is a breathless chuckle that slips from her lips.</p> <p>Against that same gold-orange-pink of the setting sun Tiamat’s multicolored scales glimmer a variable rainbow. Healthy, bright, <em>powerful.</em></p> <p>Brenda smiles, and leans against one of the dragon's necks.</p> <p>“Where are we going..?” she asks quietly. The adrenaline of their escape is quickly fading to exhaustion, an ache in her limbs and down her back is spreading. In spite of it, there is relief in her sigh.</p> <p><strong><em>"Admittedly, I am unsure,"</em></strong> Tiamat replies. <strong><em>"The world does not look as I remember."</em></strong></p> <p>She pauses, considers, Brenda looks up at the dragon.</p> <p>“North. Try to head North. The further you go, the less people there will be. It could be a safe spot to remain for a bit.”</p> <p><strong><em>"Wise,"</em></strong> Tiamat hums in response. <strong><em>"Will you be able to brave the cold?"</em></strong></p> <p>“I’ll manage,” she gives a chuckle, “These old bones have bore worse. Being a bit chilly is a small price to pay.” The dragon's own warmth pushes against the cold atmosphere, and it grants a reprieve from the worst of the cold.</p> <p>One of Tiamat’s heads ducks in a nod, as she shifts in the air, and swiftly sets off. She flies above the clouds, the world rushing along below them. Brenda stays against the dragon's neck, barricading herself slightly from the whirling of the wind. Amongst the rhythmic sound of wingbeats, and a heavy exhaustion weighing down on her shoulders from the escape, she finds her eyes drifting shut. It would be a lie to say that the last few nights had been <em>fruitful</em> in her efforts to sleep. Those nights were spent staring up at the ceiling, at the blank white that made those floaters in her eyes stand out, and while her body was always tired, her mind buzzed bright in conversation with the very Goddess she now was flying alongside.</p> <p>It was not a true, proper sleep that she falls into, but more akin to the dozing-off one may do on a long car ride — as the world hushes and grows blurred, and time melts away.</p> <p>She only snaps back to proper awareness some time later when the rhythm of Tiamat's wingbeats shifts, and the air seems to change. Blinking bleary against the cold air, Brenda shakes out her head, and raises her gaze to the dragon.</p> <p>"Is something the matter?" she murmurs. Upon inspection, they are getting close to the ground. The Goddess has angled her wings, beginning to descend.</p> <p><strong><em>"I have not used my wings in millennia,"</em></strong> Tiamat rumbles. <strong><em>"We are not being followed, and thus I shall rest. It seems like you need it, too."</em></strong> There's a hint of amusement in her tone.</p> <p>"Very well," Brenda replies with a nod, a faint chuckle in her voice.</p> <p><strong><em>"Steady thy grip,"</em></strong> the dragon says, before the descent grows far faster. Brenda adjusts her position, and grips her hands around one of the rough spines down Tiamat's neck. All five had different little rows of them — some webbed like a fish's fins, others just rows of sharp, bony spurs.</p> <p>If Brenda had to venture a guess of where they were, by the mountains, she would estimate the far Northern portion of the Rockies. Up towards Alaska. Which means they did not go <em>exactly</em> North, but it was… close enough? On the plus side of things, the Great Lakes were practically upon the other side of the continent, alongside any possible pursuit. There is not a single fleck of a city's shimmer in sight, aside from the faint glow of light pollution on the horizon down to the South — but even that is far off. It gives her relief, to know they were at least temporarily far from the Foundation's reach.</p> <p>With a mighty <em>thud</em>, Tiamat lands within the clearing. Her tail sweeps over the grass as she turns in a slight circle, ten eyes surveying the land. Brenda too, raises her gaze.</p> <p>It is a large, open field of tall grass and the occasional shrub — all surrounded by trees. Large pines line the horizon, rising up the mountains in dotted clusters. It looks like a spot carved once by an ancient river, which left them in something perhaps akin to an eroded valley. The mountain's tips were dosed in white, and the snow glow from the setting sun made them glitter golden-pink.</p> <p>Tiamat crouches low, allowing Brenda to slip off her shoulder and onto the ground below. She lands heavily, with a grunt, and stretches — joints stiff from both the cold and travel. She brushes against the cool, tall grass. A light breeze ripples them like the waters of the lakeshore they had fled from.</p> <p>"How long do you think you'll need to rest?" Brenda asks as she scans the clearing.</p> <p><strong><em>"Not long,"</em></strong> replies Tiamat, <strong><em>"but what of you? How long do you require rest?"</em></strong></p> <p>Brenda pauses, "I don't know." despite the exhaustion in her, there's still an underlying sort of excitement. A quiet giddiness and shock at… everything. Everything that has occurred in past hours, the culmination of their weeks of planning. Their <em>success.</em></p> <p>Brenda turns her gaze to Tiamat, to finally look at the great Goddess and take her in at full glory. Free from the Earth and lake, alive and well. Tiamat seems to notice this, making an amused hum as she shifts to sit on her haunches — wings tucking inwards.</p> <p>As expected, her five heads are chromatic. Red, green, blue, black, white — but the multi-coloration does not stop at the heads. Down her back these five colors trail in stripes, before coiling in loops around her tail to create a prismatic bands of colors, and ending in a glimmering, sharp spade at the tail's tip.</p> <p>Without thinking, she places a hand on Tiamat's wing — runs her fingers across the scaly membrane that stretches between the wing fingers. It's smoother than the dragon's scales, like a bat's wings, and the red deepens in coloration towards the tips. The membrane is torn and tattered in places, a show of just how… ancient the being before her was.</p> <p><strong><em>"…you think I am beautiful…"</em></strong> it is not a question, but a quiet, almost surprised statement. Information picked from her mind.</p> <p>A chuckle, "Reading my thoughts?" she raises an eyebrow. She's not bothered by it, the two made ample use of Tiamat's telepathy, but there's something that makes her face burn. Embarrassment?</p> <p><strong><em>"You grew quiet. I grew curious."</em></strong></p> <p>Brenda realizes just why her face feels flushed, and looks away. She clears her throat, and rubs the side of her face. The dragon's scales had been pleasantly warm, especially against the cold night.</p> <p>"I… cannot deny…" She opens and closes her mouth a few time — fails to produce further words, in a almost startled, flustered sort of manner.</p> <p><strong><em>"You are first in millennia to see me in full."</em></strong> Tiamat says, <strong><em>"though I do not think I have appeared quite like this before."</em></strong> She was some sort of combination of previous depictions of her — serpentine and draconic, with heads like five horned snakes, a pair of wings, a pair of legs, a tail with a spade tip. Wyvern-like, in a way.</p> <p>"And that is an honor. You're… <em>wonderful.</em> It's all wonderful." Brenda finds herself smiling, "that it… it worked. We restored you."</p> <p><strong><em>"You restored me, Brenda."</em></strong> The great dragon exhales, five puffs of warm air condensing against the cold.</p> <p><strong><em>"I owe this all to you,"</em></strong> her voice rumbles, <strong><em>"my return to life. The glorious reclamation of my ascension. It is far more than I ever imagined. It is living."</em></strong> The last word comes with another exhale, like a breath of excitement. The dragon's tail slowly swishes against the grass, meters behind her.</p> <p>"It far beats bones in the dirt, does it not?" Brenda chuckles lightly, sitting down heavily in the grass, just beyond Tiamat's talons. "I think we're… even, in our 'pact'. I helped you, and you helped me. We're both free."</p> <p><strong><em>"…Even."</em></strong> Tiamat echoes, the dragon rests her heads against the grass — the red one snakes forward slightly so that her eye resides next to Brenda. <strong><em>"I would never have imagined to find myself even with one of mortal ilk. But it is something I have found myself… welcoming. I enjoy you, Brenda."</em></strong></p> <p>The words bring a warmth to her face, that same as before. There's a fondness in her eyes as she then turns her head to meet Tiamat's gaze.</p> <p>"I enjoy you too, Tiamat," she smiles, "I am glad that we are here — that we got out of there — together." Part of the newfound freedom is overwhelming, the lack of any clear options laid out before them as they sit here in the wild on a cold night. She does not know where they will end up from here, whether they find a place, forge one, or return to wandering. The cold bite of the night air makes her shiver, and she rubs her arm as if that will dispel the goosebumps. Her limbs feel stiff against the elements, a tiredness weighs on old bones.</p> <p>Tiamat watches, the head closest to Brenda studies her carefully as she sits and thinks. After a moment, the Goddess breaks the silence.</p> <p><strong><em>"May I gift you something, Brenda?"</em></strong></p> <p>She tilts her head, "A gift?" Brenda turns her body to face Tiamat's central head — met with scales and a glimmering, emerald eye. "I don't know what more you possibly could give me, after all you already have."</p> <p><strong><em>"There's one last thing,"</em></strong> Tiamat says with a chuckle, <strong><em>"for it would be selfish of me not to share with you."</em></strong></p> <p>Brenda keeps her head tilted, as the Goddess continues.</p> <p><strong><em>"You are mortal. Fragile. Even now the cold bites at your limbs and weakens your breath."</em></strong> Tiamat speaks softly, gently, <strong><em>"May I share with you some of myself? To keep out the cold, to strengthen you."</em></strong> There is something heavy to her words, the offer carries more significance than just an offering of warmth against a cold night.</p> <p>And Brenda realizes that.</p> <p>"You… are offering to share with me your own power?"</p> <p><strong><em>"Indeed I am,"</em></strong> Tiamat hums, <strong><em>"While I cannot forever fend off inevitability, I can grant you strength. Grant longevity. I can share with you what you spent months helping me regain."</em></strong></p> <p>"You do not have to feel obligated," Brenda says gently, "we are even."</p> <p><strong><em>"This comes not of obligation."</em></strong> Tiamat's tone is low, warm. There's a careful sort of gentleness to it, and Brenda can feel that from the Goddess' mind. It comes not of a need to repay, not of an obligation, but of care. Of respect.</p> <p>"Ok," she replies, "I will accept your gift."</p> <p>Tiamat jaws part slightly, like a smile.</p> <p>Brenda pushes herself to her feet and stands, as Tiamat does as well. The dragon sits back on her haunches, and unfurls her wings a bit — but instead of taking off, she lowers her five great heads down to Brenda's level. The central red head moves closer, and Brenda closes the gap between them. Both of her hands come to rest against warm scales, and with a shuttering exhale she presses her forehead against Tiamat's snout.</p> <p>"I'm ready," she breathes.</p> <p>Though her eyes are closed, she can see from behind her own eyelids that a light has spread across Tiamat's scales.</p> <p>A warmth pulses through her chest, it starts out small — like striking sparks from a stone, but then those sparks find tinder and it starts to grow. To glow. It is not a fire that scorches, that blackens, it is a fire that burns with <em>life.</em> It is a spreading heat like a gentle campfire, or water warmed by a summer sun.</p> <p>Though her eyes are closed, she still <em>sees</em> — glimpses of memories from the mind of a Goddess. Of battle, of bloodshed, of deep waters and streams, of gods and men and monsters. Mythology, stories, thoughts. She could see the influence that she and the Foundation had wrought. Could feel the great power beneath her fingertips. Thrumming and humming like a great, wonderful heartbeat.</p> <img alt="didwekissthatnight.png" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/to-make-a-deal-with-a-goddess/didwekissthatnight.png"/> <p>And in response, she pours something in return. A gentle brook, carrying old memories and new feelings like a stream does vibrant leaves — a reciprocated gift. Of running through fields as a teen, of dancing under a night sky, laughter shared with old friends and family.</p> <p>A first kiss to a lover long gone decades ago upon a stony beach.</p> <p>Her face rests against glowing scales. A purr vibrates through her very bones.</p> <p>A sharing of essence. A sharing of power, of <em>divinity.</em> For there is something divine their act. In the magic that Tiamat pours into her heart. The warmth hums at her fingertips, too. The stiffness and chill of the cold air has melted away entirely. Her exhaustion from earlier has ebbed, it feels like air comes easier. It is bright, it is wonderful, it is warm like an embrace.</p> <p>Brenda opens her eyes, and stares up into Tiamat's ten.</p> <p>"I… I think I love you."</p> <p><strong><em>"And I, you."</em></strong></p> <p>There is branching, glowing light across Tiamat's scales and along her own arms — shining underneath her clothes. Myriads of swirls — pulsing color and light — like paths carved by a meandering stream. Brenda briefly closes her eyes again to rest her head against Tiamat's. She can feel the dragon give a long, relaxed exhale.</p> <p>With a breathless chuckle, face flushed from more than just the newfound shared energy, Brenda takes a step back. The glow from Tiamat fades, wisping off into the night and rising into the sky like multi-colored fireflies. The two of them watch those glimmering motes, as they float off and join the heavens above. The bright, sparkling stars. Tiamat stares upwards, she blinks, one of her heads blinking and rising up a bit higher.</p> <p><strong><em>"The stars are so bright."</em></strong> There's awe in Tiamat's tone. <strong><em>"The world has become so different than the one that I knew."</em></strong></p> <p>"This world has grown smaller, I think." The response comes with a slight sigh.</p> <p><strong><em>"I do not think it shall stay that way forever. The waters still roar with change. No monolith lasts eternal."</em></strong></p> <p>"You seem to, after all these centuries."</p> <p>A series of low chuffs, a laugh, <strong><em>"I do, and do not,"</em></strong> replies the dragon, <strong><em>"but I am not eternal, not the way I am. My nature lends me to be as fluid as the sea. Eternity is to rot in stagnation, but change? Change is renewal, Brenda."</em></strong></p> <p>"Do you think this world can change?"</p> <p><em><strong>"It must. All things must."</strong></em></p> <p>She gives a small smile. "…Good."</p> <p>There is a pause. The two of them lapse into a comfortable silence, as though they have known each other for years. Brenda shifts her hand, and places it on the large and warm snout that has come to lay by her side. Her fingers run over glittering scales as she strokes them in slow, gentle movements.</p> <p><strong><em>"Do you want to see something beautiful, Brenda?"</em></strong></p> <p>"More beautiful than what I already behold?"</p> <p>There is a laugh in her mind — warm and low, and the serpent before her makes a rumble so great it vibrated in her bones. She looks up at her with a smile.</p> <p><strong><em>"You flatter me so."</em></strong></p> <p>She smiles, chuckles. "Do show me."</p> <p>Brenda takes a few steps back as Tiamat rises to her talons.</p> <p>The dragon rears up, so that she can unfold her wings — the moon above becomes blotted out by the great shadow cast, as Tiamat turns all five heads to the heavens and bursts into the air with single leap.</p> <p>Brenda turns in a tight circle, watches as the Goddess ascends into the night sky. Higher and higher, iridescent scales glimmering in moon and starlight, the dragon turns in the air once, twice —</p> <p><strong><em>"Let me show you what I can really do."</em></strong></p> <p>— and the heavens above burst into light.</p> <p>From five maws comes five streams of energy — and with it Tiamat paints the night sky in every color that Brenda can imagine. Vibrant red guided by rightmost head, a slow and methodical swirl burns that pattern into the sky.</p> <p>Reds, golds, greens, blues, purples — and even after Tiamat closes her jaws their light remains. They glimmered and mingled amongst the stars, like aurora borealis that Brenda had only seen in photos.</p> <p>And it was breathtaking.</p> <img alt="lightthesky.png" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/to-make-a-deal-with-a-goddess/lightthesky.png"/> <p>From the ground, Brenda found herself cheering and hollering until her voice grew sore. A fist pumped towards the sky as she watches the Goddess dance. Tiamat tucks in her wings and drops into a dive, flames gathering in each maw, and just before she would hit the earth those great wings snap open in a vibrant display as the light from the fire glimmers along the webbing.</p> <p>Brenda steels herself against the force of the wind as the dragon swoops over her head, and laughs harder than she'd ever has. Tiamat swirls into the sky once more, five roars piercing through the night. A sixth cry of jubilance joins her.</p> <p>It was of victory, of pride, of <em>freedom.</em></p> <p>And the night shone with every color of magic imaginable.</p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/to-make-a-deal-with-a-goddess">Running Up That Hill (To Make A Deal with a Goddess)</a>" by Dino—Draws, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/to-make-a-deal-with-a-goddess">https://scpwiki.com/to-make-a-deal-with-a-goddess</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> didwekissthatnight.png, lightthesky.png<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dino-draws" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8229577); return false;"><img alt="Dino--Draws" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=8229577&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730032452" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=8229577)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dino-draws" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8229577); return false;">Dino--Draws</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/to-make-a-deal-with-a-goddess">SCP Foundation Wiki</a></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module rate]] [[/>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:blankstyle">:scp-wiki:theme:blankstyle</a>]] [[=]] + Running Up That Hill ++ (To Make A Deal with a Goddess) [[/=]] Lake Huron bursts open like a bomb going off, massive wings rise from the depths and five heads rear skyward. Waves are sent across its waters at the sheer force of the wingbeats, as the beast surges from the Earth — millennia worth of dust and dirt shakes free from shining scales. The dragon's rise casts down a veritable hurricane of the lake's frigid water, powerful hind limbs pushing off against the lake bottom as those tattered wings finally find traction against the air, and the great Goddess ascends. Doctor Brenda Corbin can hear the shrill, blaring screams of Site-43’s alarm as [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-5866 SCP-5866] rises higher, but — against the whipping winds and showers of cold mist — she does not care. She is behind those five, colorful serpentine heads, gripping a jagged spike for support as she stands upon the shoulder of a Goddess. //"They will try to come for us."// Tiamat’s voice rung warm in her mind — no longer the weary whisper it was in their first meeting — it was a deep and powerful rumble. //"But they will fail."// “I made sure of that.” Doctor Corbin replies in tandem, her eyes raising up to briefly catch the golden gaze of two of the heads, "They'll have bigger things to handle than us, now." The air vibrated with a pleased purr, as Tiamat rose higher into the sky. From up here, Site-43 and the great lake look oh-so small. Perhaps it always was. She will be a doctor no more. No more will she walk linoleum halls day after day, no more would she aid in holding the key to a million cages. She will //live,// instead, and as Lake Huron’s waters still thrash and writhe in the wake of Tiamat’s rise, she knew it was the opening of Pandora’s Box. She made sure Tiamat bore the containment class of her namesake for good reason. A last message left before departure. Brenda takes in a deep breath amongst the clouds and the golden glow of the setting sun, the air felt //fresh// for the first time in years. It is a breathless chuckle that slips from her lips. Against that same gold-orange-pink of the setting sun Tiamat’s multicolored scales glimmer a variable rainbow. Healthy, bright, //powerful.// Brenda smiles, and leans against one of the dragon's necks. “Where are we going..?” she asks quietly. The adrenaline of their escape is quickly fading to exhaustion, an ache in her limbs and down her back is spreading. In spite of it, there is relief in her sigh. //"Admittedly, I am unsure,"// Tiamat replies. //"The world does not look as I remember."// She pauses, considers, Brenda looks up at the dragon. “North. Try to head North. The further you go, the less people there will be. It could be a safe spot to remain for a bit.” //"Wise,"// Tiamat hums in response. //"Will you be able to brave the cold?"// “I’ll manage,” she gives a chuckle, “These old bones have bore worse. Being a bit chilly is a small price to pay.” The dragon's own warmth pushes against the cold atmosphere, and it grants a reprieve from the worst of the cold. One of Tiamat’s heads ducks in a nod, as she shifts in the air, and swiftly sets off. She flies above the clouds, the world rushing along below them. Brenda stays against the dragon's neck, barricading herself slightly from the whirling of the wind. Amongst the rhythmic sound of wingbeats, and a heavy exhaustion weighing down on her shoulders from the escape, she finds her eyes drifting shut. It would be a lie to say that the last few nights had been //fruitful// in her efforts to sleep. Those nights were spent staring up at the ceiling, at the blank white that made those floaters in her eyes stand out, and while her body was always tired, her mind buzzed bright in conversation with the very Goddess she now was flying alongside. It was not a true, proper sleep that she falls into, but more akin to the dozing-off one may do on a long car ride -- as the world hushes and grows blurred, and time melts away. She only snaps back to proper awareness some time later when the rhythm of Tiamat's wingbeats shifts, and the air seems to change. Blinking bleary against the cold air, Brenda shakes out her head, and raises her gaze to the dragon. "Is something the matter?" she murmurs. Upon inspection, they are getting close to the ground. The Goddess has angled her wings, beginning to descend. //"I have not used my wings in millennia,"// Tiamat rumbles. //"We are not being followed, and thus I shall rest. It seems like you need it, too."// There's a hint of amusement in her tone. "Very well," Brenda replies with a nod, a faint chuckle in her voice. //"Steady thy grip,"// the dragon says, before the descent grows far faster. Brenda adjusts her position, and grips her hands around one of the rough spines down Tiamat's neck. All five had different little rows of them -- some webbed like a fish's fins, others just rows of sharp, bony spurs. If Brenda had to venture a guess of where they were, by the mountains, she would estimate the far Northern portion of the Rockies. Up towards Alaska. Which means they did not go //exactly// North, but it was... close enough? On the plus side of things, the Great Lakes were practically upon the other side of the continent, alongside any possible pursuit. There is not a single fleck of a city's shimmer in sight, aside from the faint glow of light pollution on the horizon down to the South -- but even that is far off. It gives her relief, to know they were at least temporarily far from the Foundation's reach. With a mighty //thud//, Tiamat lands within the clearing. Her tail sweeps over the grass as she turns in a slight circle, ten eyes surveying the land. Brenda too, raises her gaze. It is a large, open field of tall grass and the occasional shrub -- all surrounded by trees. Large pines line the horizon, rising up the mountains in dotted clusters. It looks like a spot carved once by an ancient river, which left them in something perhaps akin to an eroded valley. The mountain's tips were dosed in white, and the snow glow from the setting sun made them glitter golden-pink. Tiamat crouches low, allowing Brenda to slip off her shoulder and onto the ground below. She lands heavily, with a grunt, and stretches -- joints stiff from both the cold and travel. She brushes against the cool, tall grass. A light breeze ripples them like the waters of the lakeshore they had fled from. "How long do you think you'll need to rest?" Brenda asks as she scans the clearing. //"Not long,"// replies Tiamat, //"but what of you? How long do you require rest?"// Brenda pauses, "I don't know." despite the exhaustion in her, there's still an underlying sort of excitement. A quiet giddiness and shock at... everything. Everything that has occurred in past hours, the culmination of their weeks of planning. Their //success.// Brenda turns her gaze to Tiamat, to finally look at the great Goddess and take her in at full glory. Free from the Earth and lake, alive and well. Tiamat seems to notice this, making an amused hum as she shifts to sit on her haunches -- wings tucking inwards. As expected, her five heads are chromatic. Red, green, blue, black, white -- but the multi-coloration does not stop at the heads. Down her back these five colors trail in stripes, before coiling in loops around her tail to create a prismatic bands of colors, and ending in a glimmering, sharp spade at the tail's tip. Without thinking, she places a hand on Tiamat's wing -- runs her fingers across the scaly membrane that stretches between the wing fingers. It's smoother than the dragon's scales, like a bat's wings, and the red deepens in coloration towards the tips. The membrane is torn and tattered in places, a show of just how... ancient the being before her was. //"...you think I am beautiful..."// it is not a question, but a quiet, almost surprised statement. Information picked from her mind. A chuckle, "Reading my thoughts?" she raises an eyebrow. She's not bothered by it, the two made ample use of Tiamat's telepathy, but there's something that makes her face burn. Embarrassment? //"You grew quiet. I grew curious."// Brenda realizes just why her face feels flushed, and looks away. She clears her throat, and rubs the side of her face. The dragon's scales had been pleasantly warm, especially against the cold night. "I... cannot deny..." She opens and closes her mouth a few time -- fails to produce further words, in a almost startled, flustered sort of manner. //"You are first in millennia to see me in full."// Tiamat says, //"though I do not think I have appeared quite like this before."// She was some sort of combination of previous depictions of her -- serpentine and draconic, with heads like five horned snakes, a pair of wings, a pair of legs, a tail with a spade tip. Wyvern-like, in a way. "And that is an honor. You're... //wonderful.// It's all wonderful." Brenda finds herself smiling, "that it... it worked. We restored you." //"You restored me, Brenda."// The great dragon exhales, five puffs of warm air condensing against the cold. //"I owe this all to you,"// her voice rumbles, //"my return to life. The glorious reclamation of my ascension. It is far more than I ever imagined. It is living."// The last word comes with another exhale, like a breath of excitement. The dragon's tail slowly swishes against the grass, meters behind her. "It far beats bones in the dirt, does it not?" Brenda chuckles lightly, sitting down heavily in the grass, just beyond Tiamat's talons. "I think we're... even, in our 'pact'. I helped you, and you helped me. We're both free." //"...Even."// Tiamat echoes, the dragon rests her heads against the grass -- the red one snakes forward slightly so that her eye resides next to Brenda. //"I would never have imagined to find myself even with one of mortal ilk. But it is something I have found myself... welcoming. I enjoy you, Brenda."// The words bring a warmth to her face, that same as before. There's a fondness in her eyes as she then turns her head to meet Tiamat's gaze. "I enjoy you too, Tiamat," she smiles, "I am glad that we are here -- that we got out of there -- together." Part of the newfound freedom is overwhelming, the lack of any clear options laid out before them as they sit here in the wild on a cold night. She does not know where they will end up from here, whether they find a place, forge one, or return to wandering. The cold bite of the night air makes her shiver, and she rubs her arm as if that will dispel the goosebumps. Her limbs feel stiff against the elements, a tiredness weighs on old bones. Tiamat watches, the head closest to Brenda studies her carefully as she sits and thinks. After a moment, the Goddess breaks the silence. //"May I gift you something, Brenda?"// She tilts her head, "A gift?" Brenda turns her body to face Tiamat's central head -- met with scales and a glimmering, emerald eye. "I don't know what more you possibly could give me, after all you already have." //"There's one last thing,"// Tiamat says with a chuckle, //"for it would be selfish of me not to share with you."// Brenda keeps her head tilted, as the Goddess continues. //"You are mortal. Fragile. Even now the cold bites at your limbs and weakens your breath."// Tiamat speaks softly, gently, //"May I share with you some of myself? To keep out the cold, to strengthen you."// There is something heavy to her words, the offer carries more significance than just an offering of warmth against a cold night. And Brenda realizes that. "You... are offering to share with me your own power?" //"Indeed I am,"// Tiamat hums, //"While I cannot forever fend off inevitability, I can grant you strength. Grant longevity. I can share with you what you spent months helping me regain."// "You do not have to feel obligated," Brenda says gently, "we are even." //"This comes not of obligation."// Tiamat's tone is low, warm. There's a careful sort of gentleness to it, and Brenda can feel that from the Goddess' mind. It comes not of a need to repay, not of an obligation, but of care. Of respect. "Ok," she replies, "I will accept your gift." Tiamat jaws part slightly, like a smile. Brenda pushes herself to her feet and stands, as Tiamat does as well. The dragon sits back on her haunches, and unfurls her wings a bit -- but instead of taking off, she lowers her five great heads down to Brenda's level. The central red head moves closer, and Brenda closes the gap between them. Both of her hands come to rest against warm scales, and with a shuttering exhale she presses her forehead against Tiamat's snout. "I'm ready," she breathes. Though her eyes are closed, she can see from behind her own eyelids that a light has spread across Tiamat's scales. A warmth pulses through her chest, it starts out small -- like striking sparks from a stone, but then those sparks find tinder and it starts to grow. To glow. It is not a fire that scorches, that blackens, it is a fire that burns with //life.// It is a spreading heat like a gentle campfire, or water warmed by a summer sun. Though her eyes are closed, she still //sees// -- glimpses of memories from the mind of a Goddess. Of battle, of bloodshed, of deep waters and streams, of gods and men and monsters. Mythology, stories, thoughts. She could see the influence that she and the Foundation had wrought. Could feel the great power beneath her fingertips. Thrumming and humming like a great, wonderful heartbeat. [[image didwekissthatnight.png]] And in response, she pours something in return. A gentle brook, carrying old memories and new feelings like a stream does vibrant leaves -- a reciprocated gift. Of running through fields as a teen, of dancing under a night sky, laughter shared with old friends and family. A first kiss to a lover long gone decades ago upon a stony beach. Her face rests against glowing scales. A purr vibrates through her very bones. A sharing of essence. A sharing of power, of //divinity.// For there is something divine their act. In the magic that Tiamat pours into her heart. The warmth hums at her fingertips, too. The stiffness and chill of the cold air has melted away entirely. Her exhaustion from earlier has ebbed, it feels like air comes easier. It is bright, it is wonderful, it is warm like an embrace. Brenda opens her eyes, and stares up into Tiamat's ten. "I... I think I love you." //"And I, you."// There is branching, glowing light across Tiamat's scales and along her own arms -- shining underneath her clothes. Myriads of swirls -- pulsing color and light -- like paths carved by a meandering stream. Brenda briefly closes her eyes again to rest her head against Tiamat's. She can feel the dragon give a long, relaxed exhale. With a breathless chuckle, face flushed from more than just the newfound shared energy, Brenda takes a step back. The glow from Tiamat fades, wisping off into the night and rising into the sky like multi-colored fireflies. The two of them watch those glimmering motes, as they float off and join the heavens above. The bright, sparkling stars. Tiamat stares upwards, she blinks, one of her heads blinking and rising up a bit higher. //"The stars are so bright."// There's awe in Tiamat's tone. //"The world has become so different than the one that I knew."// "This world has grown smaller, I think." The response comes with a slight sigh. //"I do not think it shall stay that way forever. The waters still roar with change. No monolith lasts eternal."// "You seem to, after all these centuries." A series of low chuffs, a laugh, //"I do, and do not,"// replies the dragon, //"but I am not eternal, not the way I am. My nature lends me to be as fluid as the sea. Eternity is to rot in stagnation, but change? Change is renewal, Brenda."// "Do you think this world can change?" //"It must. All things must."// She gives a small smile. "...Good." There is a pause. The two of them lapse into a comfortable silence, as though they have known each other for years. Brenda shifts her hand, and places it on the large and warm snout that has come to lay by her side. Her fingers run over glittering scales as she strokes them in slow, gentle movements. //"Do you want to see something beautiful, Brenda?"// "More beautiful than what I already behold?" There is a laugh in her mind -- warm and low, and the serpent before her makes a rumble so great it vibrated in her bones. She looks up at her with a smile. //"You flatter me so."// She smiles, chuckles. "Do show me." Brenda takes a few steps back as Tiamat rises to her talons. The dragon rears up, so that she can unfold her wings -- the moon above becomes blotted out by the great shadow cast, as Tiamat turns all five heads to the heavens and bursts into the air with single leap. Brenda turns in a tight circle, watches as the Goddess ascends into the night sky. Higher and higher, iridescent scales glimmering in moon and starlight, the dragon turns in the air once, twice -- //"Let me show you what I can really do."// -- and the heavens above burst into light. From five maws comes five streams of energy -- and with it Tiamat paints the night sky in every color that Brenda can imagine. Vibrant red guided by rightmost head, a slow and methodical swirl burns that pattern into the sky. Reds, golds, greens, blues, purples -- and even after Tiamat closes her jaws their light remains. They glimmered and mingled amongst the stars, like aurora borealis that Brenda had only seen in photos. And it was breathtaking. [[image lightthesky.png]] From the ground, Brenda found herself cheering and hollering until her voice grew sore. A fist pumped towards the sky as she watches the Goddess dance. Tiamat tucks in her wings and drops into a dive, flames gathering in each maw, and just before she would hit the earth those great wings snap open in a vibrant display as the light from the fire glimmers along the webbing. Brenda steels herself against the force of the wind as the dragon swoops over her head, and laughs harder than she'd ever has. Tiamat swirls into the sky once more, five roars piercing through the night. A sixth cry of jubilance joins her. It was of victory, of pride, of //freedom.// And the night shone with every color of magic imaginable. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] > Filename: didwekissthatnight.png, lightthesky.png > Author: [[user Dino--Draws]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/to-make-a-deal-with-a-goddess SCP Foundation Wiki] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-06-27T20:03:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "fantasy", "heartwarming", "lgbtq", "on-guard-43", "pridefest2024", "romance", "tale" ]	Running Up That Hill (To Make A Deal with a Goddess) - SCP Foundation	36	[ "scp-5866", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "pridefest" ]	[ "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/to-make-a-deal-with-a-goddess/didwekissthatnight.png", "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/to-make-a-deal-with-a-goddess/lightthesky.png" ]	1454331185	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/to-make-a-deal-with-a-goddess
to-serve-deer	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="preview"> <p>All Life Hungers</p> </div> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=1&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Agolden-feast/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <div style="text-align: left;"> <p>⚠️ <strong>Content warning:</strong> This article references the following topics:</p> <ul> <li>Cannibalism</li> </ul> <p>To Serve Deer by <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/prismal" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8779219); return false;"><img alt="Prismal" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=8779219&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1736385059" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=8779219)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/prismal" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8779219); return false;">Prismal</a></span> and <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/astersquill" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8392064); return false;"><img alt="AstersQuill" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=8392064&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1736385059" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=8392064)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/astersquill" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8392064); return false;">AstersQuill</a></span><br/> - <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/prismal">Prismal's Author Page</a><br/> - <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/aster-s-forest-grotto">Aster's Author Page</a></p> </div> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <div class="content-warning creditRate">⚠️ content warning <span class="content-warning-arrow"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></div> </div> <br/> <div style="text-align: justify;"> <p>Anniversaries, you'd been taught, were days meant to celebrate milestones within a relationship, with couples often partaking in some sort of festivity in recognition of their love. While this wasn't anything particularly new to you, due to the nature of your respective… confinements, you and Hana were previously unable to celebrate such an event.</p> <p>Until today.</p> <p>A warm breeze drifts across the quad as you walk down the grand steps of the library, canvas tote softly tapping at your side as you descend. The sun weaves between white and grey clouds, providing just enough warmth and light to be comfortable, while being neither overbearing nor overwhelming. The concrete <em>clicks</em> and <em>clacks</em> as your hooves make contact. On a normal day, you would let the melody of your gait carry you back to your apartment, a gentle song to help ease you into your afternoon nap.</p> <p>You feel your ear flick and turn, picking up the sound of someone or something trying to approach you both quickly and quietly. In the past, the sound of footsteps behind you would have caused you to flee and hide, but now you stay your course, albeit with a building sense of anxiousness in your chest. You're getting better, you think; not everything is out to harm you, and the days of being chased by your handlers are long past.</p> <p>"Hey, stranger."</p> <p>Hana Thompson, your knight, your love, joins you on the sidewalk, her footfalls adding a new rhythm to your melody.</p> <p>"Hana! How are you doing today?"</p> <p>"I'm doing good, but you could help make my day even better."</p> <p>Hana wore a mischievous smile on her face, almost goading you to push further.</p> <p>"Oh? How can I do that?"</p> <p>She takes a few larger steps forward before turning and stopping in front of you on the path. She holds out her hands to you. You hesitate before reluctantly taking them.</p> <p>"Since we haven't been able to celebrate our anniversary, I thought it would be nice to get dinner. A nice dinner. And you'll <em>never</em> guess where I got a reservation."</p> <p>You think she lets the last sentence hang in the air, creating an almost dramatic atmosphere to the question before she provides an answer. Her eyes, however, tell a different story, scanning your face, waiting for a reply.</p> <p>"So… are you going to guess?"</p> <p>Your face burns with embarrassment.</p> <p>"Oh! Apologies. I thought I could not— sorry. I am not sure."</p> <p>"I got reservations to <em>Chez Ambrose</em>! The school paper wants us to write a review on it, and fancy dinners are better in pairs, so I thought I would ask you to tag along for a date." She pauses. "If you want, of course. No pressure."</p> <p>You've never been to a "fancy" restaurant before, though you have indeed been to what you learned to be restaurants. With the modifier, you inferred that there would be a new set of expectations to fit into, a mold of behavior that would be considered acceptable. A feeling began to burn deep within you, shame, fear, but you felt as if there was no good reason to deny her. She was so excited, and you would feel even worse for letting her down.</p> <p>"S-sure. I would love to."</p> <p>Hana smiles, letting go of your hands.</p> <p>"Perfect, it's a date then! I'll pick you up around… 5:30-6:00? Be sure to dress your best!"</p> <p>She starts to head towards a collection of academic buildings, nearly skipping down the path. She's not 10 feet away from you when she stops and turns around to call out to you.</p> <p>"And come hungry!"</p> <hr/> <div class="chaz"> <p>All life hungers. From common cattle grazing at verdant pastures, to zephyr supping on the cool breeze of a brisk winter. Food has been a fundamental aspect of my life since the moment I was born, smelling the processed meals in the hospital room, thirsting for my mother's milk.</p> <p>As a baby, I crawled the earth in search of summer truffles amongst the swine of my family's <em>Languedoc-Roussillon</em> estate. When I could walk, I chased Japanese quail along the frigid shores of Lake Baikal. As a trailblazing adolescent, I braved the Adriatic alone in hunt of Beluga caviar and Monk sea liver. Now, in my prime, I hold in my hands several realities worth of exotic ingredients; a paramount of the palette, a commodore of cuisine. And yet, I remain hungry for more.</p> <p>I've dedicated my life, and considerable fortune, to satisfying this hunger, both in myself and the teeming masses.</p> <p>As the martial artist spends years mastering their physical strength, it is I who has wrangled those same bulls, muscular and ferocious, that are ground into the beef that sustains them.</p> <p>As the tortured artist brings to life their canvas with each bristled brush stroke, it is I who has seen the color fade from the squids and fish living in places named after death itself.</p> <p>As the erotic poet indulges in the joys of the flesh, commenting on their "love", it is I who knows loves best. It is I who gasps in pleasure as they marinate in their own fluids, tasting every part of them, sucking the marrow until they are bone dry.</p> <p>Hunger masters them, as it masters me.</p> <p>So when presented with something new, a delicacy from beyond the known worlds, a true prospect to break the gustatory mold, who am I to deny my hunger?</p> <p>Well to that I can only say <em>je n'ai pas assez mangé.</em></p> </div> <hr/> <p>As you step through the unassuming doorway at the center of town, the sound of cars and the smell of pollution immediately leaves you. Greenery surrounds you on all sides, trees and vines carrying fruit, content and well-cared for. The warm evening sun beams, crisp pristine air tickles your face, and the chirping of birds charms your ears, causing them to flick and follow as they fly through the air in pairs.</p> <p>For a moment, you can only stand in awe. You have only been in a place like this once before, and you did not know it was possible to replicate nor re-enter such a space without great physical toll.<br/> Your knight smiles at you, crinkling her nose the way only she does.</p> <p>"Cool, huh? I thought you might like it."</p> <p>As you continue to take it all in, Hana motions for your arm, and with a nod, gently grabs it, escorting you to the hostess stand.</p> <p>"Reservation for Thompson, party of two?"</p> <p>The hostess' eyes linger just a moment too long, curiously scanning you, causing you to cringe. You want to shrink away. She leads you to a table for two outdoors, a corner table near the railing over which you can gaze out onto the manifested expanse.</p> <p>Your waiter soon arrives, greeting you with a smile. He returns with water in chilled glasses, adorned with mint leaves and small, viney flowers, menus with gold leaf text etched into stained oak, and sterile white paper with mechanical black text.</p> <p>Hana raises an eyebrow as she takes the paper in her hand.</p> <p>"Ambrose Restauranters is not responsible for any injuries accrued at Chez Ambrose, up to and including <em>death</em>?"</p> <p>The waiter chuckles softly.</p> <p>"With the unique degree of dining experienced at Ambrose Restaurants, there's always some risk associated. You can't very well know if you'll be allergic to our kaiju caviar without trying it, after all."</p> <p>Hana glances at the paper with suspicion for a moment. You watch as she holds the document closer to her face.</p> <p>"Weird, but alright. As long as you aren't planning on having <em>us</em> for dinner."</p> <p>The waiter titters as Hana signs the paper. He turns his gaze over to you. It's hollow behind the exaggerated smile, like a hawk awaiting your next move.</p> <p>You follow suit, noticing the bright red of the pen.</p> <p>"Excellent!" The man says, snatching the papers from you with almost too much enthusiasm. "I'll allow you a moment to look through the menu before we start tonight's fare." The waiter hurriedly turns and walks towards the kitchen, the rehearsed <em>click</em> of his footfalls fading away into the distance. Across the table, you see Hana hard at work. Her menu sat next to her plate, and on the other side of the table, in a spot afforded to guests' wallets or purses, she wrote in a small, lined notebook. You can hear her mumble to herself as she writes.</p> <p>"Food is served <em>à la russe</em>… a tasting menu of forbidden fruit is served alongside a fern flower salad, Crommyon onion soup is served before the appetizer of—" She pauses. "Meri, does your menu say anything about the entrée? Mine seems to be missing a description."</p> <p>You look at your own menu, scouring through each option before arriving at what you think Hana is talking about. The only words there are "Chef's Surprise."</p> <p>All of a sudden, a chill runs down your back, your hairs standing on end. You feel altogether exposed in an unusual way. This wind doesn't carry with it the usual <span style="text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #BC3030;"><span style="color: red">laughter</span></span> or <span style="text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #BC3030;"><span style="color: red">echoes</span></span> you're used to, however. No, this is something completely different. You cross your arms, holding yourself close.</p> <p>"Cold?" Hana asks, her chair already slightly pulled out from the table.</p> <p>"I s-suppose so, thank you."</p> <p>She removes her baby blue jacket from the back of her chair and walks to your side of the table. In a careful motion, both avoiding your antlers and the slender glass she referred to earlier as a "flute," she wraps you in her jacket. It smells like her perfume, pomegranate. The new pressure around your shoulders brings you comfort. More importantly, you feel safe, protected.</p> <p>Hana takes her seat, and you look back at your menu, trying to see what else the night would have in store. You idly tap your fingers on the table, your hand placed further out than you expected. Another's fingers lightly slide against yours, and your eyes meet Hana's. You nod, and she takes your fingers in hers. The birds are singing, the evening sun, hanging just on the horizon, shines on your face, you have butterflies in your heart as your girlfriend squeezes your hand. All is right in the world.</p> <p>Yet with each <em>click</em> and <em>whoosh</em> from the kitchen, you can't help but feel eyes drilling into the back of your head, studying you and your every move.</p> <hr/> <div class="chaz"> <p>There is no better way to show your appreciation to your ingredients than in your process of collecting them. What courtesy to the earth to deprive the vines of all their fruit? What courtesy to the ocean to pluck out lobsters bustling with eggs? What courtesy to the sky to stone two birds when one would suffice? I've shed countless tears collecting mushrooms off of fallen trees, lamenting the loss of nitrogen that would have been used to sustain the ecosystem.</p> <p>But such is the nature of consumption; populations that overconsume eventually find themselves dying out. It is here where I find the justification of my work, a means to abate the suffering of an environment that already provides me with far more than I deserve.</p> <p>No wonder, then, that I relish in the thrill of the hunt.</p> <p>There's nothing more grounding to the cycle of life than holding the hand of Death, pointing at your prey, and begging nearly on your hands and knees to take its life like a child asking their parents for a sweet.</p> <p>The act of stalking your prey across wide, winding plains, luring it closer with bait in form of meat or berry, coating yourself in its musk, you begin to learn about the life of your prey, as if they invited you into their home. As you watch it enter the clearing, standing mere feet in front of you, you are finally able to put a face to the name. The skin tells a cave wall story of it's triumphs, how it has dodged its pursuers until this very moment, how it would have continued living if you were not there to feast on it.</p> <p>The emotion is intoxicating, and by the time you let loose the arrow (guns are far too loud, and it would be rude to disturb the other inhabitants of the space), it's as if you would be shooting a member of your family, your own blood!</p> <p>Of course, I am no stranger to this; my father had me name all the animals under our care. I still remember the names of all the chickens who selflessly gave their feathers to me, (Charlie, Perrault, Augustine) and I keep them close to me in embroidered throw pillows. This is the feeling I strive to recreate across my dining experiences, something I want to instill in my guests with every cut of prime rib or collard green.</p> <p>After all, if the tables were turned, I should think we would all hope to be treated with the same level of respect; I wish only for my name to be remembered by my consumer as I sustain them for as long as I may linger in their digestive tract. And I am sure I shall make a hearty meal indeed.</p> </div> <hr/> <p>Part way through the second course, the waiter returns with an assortment of nuts. It sits on an ornate, rectangular plate, and it causes your somewhat full stomach to rumble.</p> <p>"-Carnuti nut platter and a request, courtesy of Chef Ambrose."</p> <p>Hana scratches down some notes in her notepad before turning to the waiter.</p> <p>"A request? Did the newspaper put in any requests with our reservation?"</p> <p>"Chef Ambrose would like to <span class="cycling">meet</span><span class="cycling">meet</span><span class="cycling">meet</span><span class="cycling">meet</span><span class="cycling">meet</span><span class="cycling">meat</span> you."</p> <p>You're somewhat puzzled. In the restaurants you've been to before the chefs were either already visible (though too hard at work to pay you any mind), or only came out to address guests that were making a fuss about their food.</p> <p><em>Is this a common thing in restaurants? Have we done something wrong? Have <strong>I</strong> done something wrong?</em></p> <p>You look at Hana, lost in conversation with the waiter, nodding with a smile before he returns to the kitchen.</p> <p><em>The chef might have heard she was doing a review and wanted to give her an interview to include. I hope I don't scare him away.</em></p> <p>A door opens on the far side of the restaurant, and the waiter stands for a moment before talking to a man seemingly dressed for a time long gone. He looks like a mix between a hunter and a bard, covered in furs and fabrics that never even appeared in Rights' book of textiles. He's bug-eyed, short, and a pencil-thin mustache hugs the top of his lip, covered in beads of sweat like morning dew on grass. His eyes meet yours, and his lips curl into a smile. You freeze.</p> <p>"H-hana. I think I am going to excuse myself to the restroom."</p> <p>"No worries." She pauses. "Are you feeling alright? You look like you've seen a ghost." She leans forward, whispering to you. "Is <span style="text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #BC3030;"><span style="color: red">It</span></span> here?"</p> <p>"No no, I think I just had something that upset my stomach. I will be back soon."</p> <p>She leans back in her chair, a slight relic of worry lingering in her expression.</p> <p>"Got it. Just let me know if you need anything, yeah?"</p> <p>You nod and begin to head towards the restroom, taking several small steps across the hardwood floor. The other diners pay you no mind, but you try to speed by them regardless; you don't want them to stare, nor do you want to bring their attention to the pair of hooves partially hidden behind the white hem of your dress.</p> <p>And still, someone stares. You feel your heart pound against your chest, and your breaths do little to cease the discordant melody, a feeling nostalgic in the worst of ways. You were long past your days of jumping at <span style="text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #BC3030;"><span style="color: red">shadows</span></span>, you'd made peace with the <span style="text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #BC3030;"><span style="color: red">sickness</span></span> that afflicted you, and the visitors, for the most part, let you be.</p> <p>But here, now, in the halls of this faux oasis, you, Meri Clef, were being hunted.</p> <hr/> <div class="chaz"> <p>Shank and tenderloin and shoulder. Hind and brisket and backstrap.</p> <p>In my book <em>On the Preparation of Extrareality Humanoids</em>, ungulate humanoids are noted to retain the flavor and texture of their non-humanoid counterparts, with the added bonus of allowing for additional cuts for guests who are more partial to human flesh.</p> <p>Breast and heart and liver. Palm and sole and kidney.</p> <p>And here, right before my eyes, wandering right into my sights, the perfect specimen. Young, lean, and of a particularly picky diet. A crown of winding antlers to divvy into roasted bone marrow, soup from its hooves, its legs smoked and aged and served in paper-thin sheets.</p> <p>I would relish the opportunity to put it under the knife, whispering calm and supportive words while it purges. And then, I would return it to nature, to feed the fields outside so that it may provide for others long after the meat was picked clean from its body and its fat completely rendered away.</p> </div> <hr/> <p>Sitting next to Chef Chaz Ambrose, Hana Thompson is having the night of her life.</p> <p>It was rare for restaurant reviews to go <em>this</em> well, especially when, in the past, she heard horror stories of experiences from her colleagues, leading to the entirety of the college being blacklisted from a place of dining over the tiniest perceived slight. And on the topic of her date, Hana was quite proud with what she was able to accomplish. Besides the chills, Meri felt oddly at peace, protected from the <span style="text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #BC3030;"><span style="color: red">shadow</span></span> that often plagued her in nature.</p> <p>The day could not get any better.</p> <p>"…So, Chef Ambrose, what would you say motivates you in your cooking?"</p> <p>"Don't worry about the formalities, my dear, just call me Chaz! Oh, but that is a good question."</p> <p>Chaz ponders a moment.</p> <p>"Have you ever heard, Hana, of the <em><a href="/scp-5579">Faisan Pathétique</a></em>?"</p> <p>Hana shakes her head.</p> <p>"I should expect not, it's an exceptionally rare delicacy, sourced from one single farm in all the worlds. I first tasted the fowl when dining at the Dark Estate. I had a less refined pallet in those days, I'm ashamed to admit. upon consuming the meat of this glorious bird, I did not give it the reverence it deserved. I found it…. chewy, and a tad dry. I did not linger on the flavor long yet…, even then I sensed <em>something</em>. Some small, <em>je ne sais quoi</em>. Something in the texture, or the scent, or the atmosphere…. I knew not what it was."</p> <p>"I learned later that the <em>Faisant Pathétique</em>, unique of all earthly phaesants, understands, and I mean <em>truly</em> understands its place in the world. The consequence of its death, the destiny of its entrails, what it was bred and raised and died for. In the moment of its death it sees the entirety of the food chain, and its place in it. And then it is butchered, cooked, and eaten."</p> <p>"Wow, that's…. intense." Hana croaks, lost for words.</p> <p>Chaz laughs.</p> <p>"Indeed it is. And that intensity is <em>exactly</em> what I bring to my gastronomy. To make anything but the finest dish from these magnificent birds' sacrifice… To me, it is unimaginable. As a chef, I have a duty, not only to the gourmet, but to what lies on their plate. I've been to this farm, butchered these pheasants, heard their death cries, watched their eyes as the moment of realization came, and their life left them. I acknowledge their sacrifice, and use it for all its worth. To do otherwise would be a disservice."</p> <p>"I never would have thought there was this much… depth when it came to cooking. It seems like you have it down to a science."</p> <p>"Some may call it a science, others art, or even magic, but to me it is simply life. All things eat, after all, but one of the few things separating us from eating over being eaten is mastery and understanding of each and every ingredient."</p> <p>Hana struggles to note down his response in a book already filled to the margins with stories and anecdotes about the chef's life. In the distance, she sees Meri returning from the restroom. She stops, seemingly frozen, at the door to the outside patio. Her pupils widen.</p> <p>"Oh! Meri!" Hana waves, motioning for her partner to join them. She approaches slowly, keeping as close to the wall as she can before crossing the threshold to return to her chair. Her eyes don't leave Chef Ambrose.</p> <p>"Meri, this is Che— Chaz Ambrose. He's the head chef. We're just finishing up the interview, if you had any questions you wanted to ask him."</p> <p>Meri silently takes her seat, hands gripping the arms of her chair. She flinches when Chaz raises a hand to wave at her. A silence hangs over the trio.</p> <p>"Actually, Ms. Thompson, if I may ask a question of my own?"</p> <p>"Yes, of course. Please ask away."</p> <p>"As you could probably tell, this restaurant is unlike any you have ever seen before. Indeed, it is the goal of every Ambrose restaurant to provide an experience unique to anywhere else across the realities." He motions to the room around him. "Tonight, we revel in the bounty of the forest, relishing as organisms big and small dance on our palettes before finally resting in our stomach to be digested. The entrée, as I'm sure you have noticed, has been hidden. It's suspenseful, it adds to the spectacle of the night, but only for a select few. Many of the diners here already know what the surprise is; the perfect picture of the forest's grace, the humble deer."</p> <p>Hana puts down her pen and turns her head.</p> <p>"Don't you think it's in poor taste to serve deer to someone that's, you know," Hana motions at Meri, "half-deer?"</p> <p>Meri shrinks in her chair.</p> <p>"I don't think the taste is poor at all, Ms. Thompson. Ungulate humanoids have been served as a delicacy for generations now. I don't see why tonight would be any different."</p> <p>Hana looks into Chaz's beady, bug-like eyes and begins laughing, almost hysterically. The rest of the dining room is silent beside her, as if time completely stopped and everyone, everything, even the still living critters that squirmed across some of the plates, ceased entirely. She looks to the other two people at her table. Meri sits, frozen, her ears out at attention. Chaz leans forward in his chair, chuckling but to a completely different thought.</p> <p>"That was an <em>interesting</em> joke, chef. I almost thought you were being serious there."</p> <p>"I am."</p> <p>Chaz goes stone-faced, serious. Hana looks into his eyes and sees nothing human there.</p> <p>"Sorry, are you saying you want to <em>eat</em> my girlfriend?"</p> <p>Chaz gets up from his chair before kneeling in front of Hana, taking hold of both of her hands.</p> <p>"Ms. Thompson, I'm saying it would be an <em>honor</em> to eat your girlfriend."</p> <p>Hana shoots up from the table, nearly knocking over her scarlet-filled glass. She positions herself between Chaz and Meri, still frozen in her seat.</p> <p>"You're a monster. How can you sit there and think of eating a living breathing person? The people that pay your rent no less."</p> <p>Chaz laughs, looking up at Hana with a toothy smirk.</p> <p>"My menus are made weeks in advance, Ms. Thompson. Sourcing ingredients is a careful endeavor that, besides the other required resources, takes time. It is no accident that you and your partner are here tonight. And with this," a waiter rushes over, holding a pair of white papers. "With this you have already given yourselves up to be part of the menu."</p> <p>He stands up, smoothing out his outfit. From a scabbard resting lazily on his hip, he produces the long steel blade of a Bowie knife.</p> <p>"As I am a gracious host, I will be allowing you a head start. You would be surprised how much flavor fear adds to the meat."</p> <p>Hana collects her notebook and nearly lifts Meri from the chair before dragging her deeper into the restaurant. A discordant choir, counting down from '30' rings through the hollow walls, as Chaz Ambrose's hunt begins.</p> <hr/> <div class="chaz"> <p>I was 20 when I hunted my first man. I'd slaughtered and prepared humanoids before, of course; prepared turtle soup in the skull of a kappa, deep fried angel wings in boiling oil. But this was different.</p> <p>My earliest encounter with my prey was during a jaunt in the park. I was in a slump, seeking serenity in nature, before I was interrupted with the polite but commanding sound of "on your left," and the crescendo of footfalls next to me. He was breathing heavily, muscles rippling, sweat glistening on his bearded lips. He was gorgeous, almost the perfect specimen. I was left stunned, drooling at the sight. I just had to have him.</p> <p>And from that day on, my hunt began. I examined his routine, the route of his daily run, his place of work. I stalked his, his friend's, and his family's social circles, shadowed his walk home. I tirelessly experimented to find the cologne he wore, the food he ate, and made his smell my own.</p> <p>Slowly, inexorably, I integrated myself into his ecosystem, became a fixture in his habitat. A smile, a wave, a laugh, a chat, a loving embrace. I wore the camouflage and cried the siren call of an unremarkable human.</p> <p>And then, one day, in the park where we first met, we sat on a bench. The sun rose, and we gazed deeply into each others eyes, until finally, we kissed. All the tension I was holding back, all the tension that made my very heart feel like the string of a bow was finally released. Our mouths were as one for what seemed like hours, grunting and panting like animals, hot breath intermingling, the taste of his tongue on mine and mine on his. Finally, it reached a crescendo. With one last inhale, I separated from him, our faces red from exertion and loving frustration, and he barred his neck, complete trust on his expression.</p> <p>I lunged, alabaster teeth ripping into his throat, giving to him a final act of love. A kiss of death.</p> <p>Hot, salted blood filed my mouth as I tore through the rippling musculature of my still-living meal, a look of betrayal and confusion on his face as life slowly faded from his eyes. Even in death he was perfect; no noise, little mess. Then, I got to work: hanging him, skinning him, cutting him from neck to groin. Severing the tendons, deboning the meat, chopping him into little pieces and throwing him in a pot to broil. When finally I had butchered him completely, his tears gave his eyeballs the perfect salinity.</p> <p>There have been many others since then. I've ran with lycanthropic packs deep within fabled woods, and dined with the <a href="/scp-3288">Habsburgs</a>, ogresque monarchs who sought other pleasures than those afforded by wealth. (I've even opened a rather successful <a href="/ambrose-transylvania">vampire establishment</a>, if I do say so myself). But even with that, I often think fondly of my first time, of that man in the park. I don't think I'll ever forget him.</p> </div> <hr/> <p>Your shoulder burns with pain as Hana drags you along the winding, vineyard halls of the shifting restaurant. You pass over knotted wood and brick and stone, hooves scraping across the different surfaces. Through the cacophony, Hana curses to herself softly in front of you before looking back momentarily.</p> <p>"Fuck. I'm— I'm so sorry, Meri. I didn't know— didn't know he was fucking <em>insane</em>. I would've never brought you tonight if—."</p> <p>You open your mouth to respond but she turns away, tugging you into an adjacent hallway. She leans over, placing her hands on her knees as she attempts to catch her breath. In the distance you can hear echoing voices call out to you, a starving parish singing songs of your demise. The noise overwhelms you, each consonant and howling vowel bounces around your head, forcing you to kneel down with your hands on your ears.</p> <p>Then, a different noise.</p> <p>On a nearby display, a polished suit of armor stands. Its surface reflects back you for a moment, before your frightened grin twists into a smile.</p> <p><span style="text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #BC3030;"><span style="color: red"><em>"Oh how <strong>lovely</strong> it is, the thrill of the hunt. The rush of blood in the heart, the pumping of adrenaline through the body, the salivating hunger of release. You know that feeling intimately, don't you, child?</em></span></span></p> <p>You shake your head, your vision becoming clouded with tears.</p> <p><em>Not here. Not now. Please, no, this cannot be happening.</em></p> <p><span style="text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #BC3030;"><em><span style="color: red">"Your knight looks to defend you, <strong>princess</strong>. But what is a knight without its sword? Chivalry will not be the air your lungs need to outrun them, <strong>loyalty</strong> will not save you as they splay you on a table and tear you apart. <strong>She</strong> led you here, <strong>she</strong> will be the cause of your fall."</span></em></span></p> <p>"No. No she did not know. She would never hurt me. She promised to protect me."</p> <p>You look up from the floor momentarily as Hana frantically moves through the space around you. She attempts to pry loose a heavy sword from a nearby display, but the weapon is stuck.</p> <p><span style="text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #BC3030;"><em><span style="color: red">"Did you think you would both leave as you arrived? Even if you escape, she will take your place."</span></em></span></p> <p>You watch your <span style="text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #BC3030;"><span style="color: red">shadow</span></span> dissipate from the armor, reappearing before you from a newly rotted patch in the floor. It sloughs off loose branches and mushrooms as it kneels before you, lifting your face to meet its eyes with one of its clawed fingers.</p> <p><span style="text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #BC3030;"><em><span style="color: red">"But <strong>you</strong> can save her, Meri. <strong>Only</strong> you can save her now. You know what you need to do."</span></em></span></p> <p>You shake your head.</p> <p>"No there has to be another way, there has to."</p> <p>The <span style="text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #BC3030;"><span style="color: red">shadow</span></span> laughs as it slowly sinks into the floor before you, the wood rotting away into clumps of soil. Bile rises in your throat, and you struggle to hold it in. In the distance, you hear the screeching voice of the Chef, getting louder and louder until—</p> <p>A hand on your shoulder. <em>Hana's</em> hand on your shoulder.</p> <p>"We need to keep moving, Meri. There has to be an exit somewhere. Do pocket realities have fire exits? Whatever."</p> <p>She helps you up and once again begins dragging you down the winding hallway. In a split second, you believe you see what looks like a large stained glass window, a chance to leave.</p> <p>"Hana! Left!"</p> <p>Hana turns her head before swinging the two of you around the corner. For a moment the fear disappears. You would beat this, you would escape and be safe, you would be able to face your fear.</p> <p>"<em>Now!</em>"</p> <p>You and Hana narrowly roll aside as a chandelier shatters on the wooden floor below, a million shards of glass rain around you. The biting pain of hundreds of cuts stings your legs and you can't help but yell out. A crowd grows in front of you, forming a semicircle around the corner you now find your back to. The Hunter strides forward, slowly clapping.</p> <p>"It is with utmost sincerity that I thank you for the show you put on tonight, for my patrons and I. You have given us quite a run for our money, but alas, all shows must come to an end."</p> <p>Hana stumbles off the ground in front of you, gripping a fire poker shakily with two hands. A thin stream of blood runs down the side of her face.</p> <p>"I-I won't let you hurt her, you snob. You'll have to kill me."</p> <p>She turns just slightly to glance at you with one eye. Her glare is fierce, determined. The blue streak of her parted hair sticks with sweat to her forehead.</p> <p><em>Hana please you can not die. Not for me.</em></p> <p>Chaz takes a handkerchief out from his vest pocket and wipes his eyes.</p> <p>"Oh how romantic. I have to say, this is the first time I've been brought to tears during a hunt." He shifts his gaze to Hana. "I will make the killing blow swift, knight. There will be no need to make her suffer."</p> <p>Hana plants her feet, tightening her grip on the fire poker. Chaz sighs and once more brandishes his knife. He holds it out in front of him.</p> <p>You can do naught but watch through teary eyes as Chaz makes short work of your beloved knight. Through choked sobs you stare, horrified, as with a flick of his wrist, tempered steel scrapes against rod iron, catching the hook of the poker. In a <em>woosh</em> the crude weapon arcs through the air. A shift of his legs, swift sliding of a foot, and Hana's legs are sent skyward, as she falls with a sickening thump. A pair of waiters rush over to pin her down. Somewhere <span style="text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #BC3030;"><span style="color: red">the wind</span></span> laughs.</p> <p>"And then, there was one. You won't fault me for enjoying this a little, will you? It is only natural-" A burning feeling builds within you, as if a pot filled with fear, guilt and regret threatens to boil over. The bottom of your vision begins to turn a <span style="text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #BC3030;"><span style="color: red">deep crimson</span></span>.</p> <p>"I'm the hunter and you are the prey. The only difference is that we can reason with each other on a deeper level. I <em>am</em> reasonable, though." You watch as he walks over to Hana, the cold metal of the knife touching the side of her neck. "Most guests are used to substitutions as needed. I will let you choose: your life or hers." Hana yells out, but is gagged by one of the waiters.</p> <p><span style="text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #000000;"><em><span style="color: #8f1d1e">I am not going to let him hurt you, Hana. I am not going to let <strong>anyone</strong> hurt you.</span></em></span></p> <p>"So what will it be? Will you take your place in the cycle, or will you let your knight die?"</p> <p><span style="text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #BC3030;"><span style="color: #8f1d1e">The ground around you begins to fester and the distinct smell of rot and ammonia slowly seeps in.</span> <span style="color: #b41c1c">Tendrils of mycellium begin to wrap around your arms and legs as small toadstools sprout from your antlers.</span> <span style="color: #d91a1a">Your nails grow out into grotesque claws.</span> <span style="color: red">You see only <strong>red</strong> now, and something deep within you draws your frown into a smile.</span></span></p> <p><span style="text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #BC3030;"><span style="color: red">"I am <em>no</em> prey." You laugh. "I <em>am</em> nature in its purest form, and I have come to remove you from this cycle."</span></span></p> <p>Chaz grins, readying himself.</p> <p>"Very well. Your skull will make for a <em>wonderful</em> trophy."</p> <hr/> <p>It's an odd experience to be a passenger in your own body. You make sounds, movements, say words that you're not even sure you know the meaning of, but you yourself are not in control. All you can do is watch in the theatre of your mind.</p> <p>Meri Clef was no longer in control. Instead, something <span style="text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #BC3030;"><span style="color: red">else</span></span> entirely.</p> <p>But here, floating in this space, all you can do is cry. You feel as if you ruined <em>everything</em> tonight, all because you could not fit your role. Because <em>you</em> choose to be different.</p> <p>You thought you were special.</p> <p>And now, you lost the chance to make things right. There's a <span style="text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #BC3030;"><span style="color: red">monster</span></span> out there, it's you. You're something that deserves to be hunted, something that deserves to be torn apart and feasted on. People don't forgive monsters, they seldom forget them either. If only you had just done what was rig—</p> <p>You open your eyes to drink in the space around you. You're underwater but you can breath fine. Your arms and legs, your whole body is much heavier than you're used to, but it's you, Meri Clef. Unremarkable you. The visions outside pass as a blur, too fast to recognize faces, too loud to hear voices. You think you'll rest here just a little bit longer. There's nothing waiting out there for you anymore besides eyes of pity and fear. Even Hana, your knight, won't look at you the same.</p> <p>It took you so long to tell her you loved her, a concept so foreign to you but so familiar to the characters of the stories you read. And even still, you flinch when she tries to hold your hand or hug you. She <em>loves</em> you, but you can't accept it. You fear the hurt of attachment.</p> <p><em>No matter</em> you think. <em>Everything will end after tonight, when she sees me for what I truly am.</em></p> <p>You close your eyes.</p> <p><em>Maybe it would be fine to stay here for a while. It is safe here, I feel no—</em></p> <p>There's a sharp pain in your side, and your vision begins to go fuzzy. You watch as the image of the outside world gets pulled into view.</p> <p>You are Meri Clef once again.</p> <hr/> <p><span style="text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #BC3030;"><span style="color: red">You howl as the knife plunges into your side, burning like a hot iron that cools only as your blood begins to seep out. An inhuman sound, crossed between gurgling and howling leaves you as you begin to tear at</span></span> Chaz's <span style="text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #BC3030;"><span style="color: red">torso. Your nails dig into leather and linen and metallic buttons, breaking against his skin. It feels warm, wet, and you watch as the hunter's face grows paler and paler. The two of you were locked in a spiral of death and destruction, tearing at the seams of each other and the room around you. Ornate display cases and manicured plants laid broken and bent in impossible ways, while the two of you are stained red with blood; both your own and the other's.</span></span></p> <p><span style="text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #BC3030;"><span style="color: #d91a1a">When you're finally able to knock him to the ground, pinned hard to the stone beneath you, you grin in victory. Your mind runs wild with the thought of tearing the man apart, leaving him bloody and broken in front of the testament to his life's work.</span></span></p> <p><span style="text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #BC3030;"><span style="color: #b41c1c">Your body aches with soreness, your slashes slowing until you're practically batting at his chest with the bottom of your fists. There is little triumph in your victory. Your white dress is stained nearly entirely red, a deeper crimson building where he was able to nick or slash you, ever-dampening with the beat of your heart. You're cold, so very cold. Blood pools out from your mouth and nose while tears, ones you could barely feel above the adrenaline, cut clean lines through your grime-covered face. You're almost ready to deliver the final blow when the blade enters your side, and you respond likewise. It's over for</span> <span style="color: red">you</span> <span style="color: #b41c1c">now. Soon</span></span> she <span style="text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #BC3030;"><span style="color: #b41c1c">will return to be punished by the mess</span> <span style="color: red">you've</span> <span style="color: #b41c1c">created.</span></span></p> <p><span style="text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #000000;"><span style="color: #8f1d1e">"I will <em>kill</em> you! I will scatter you across—</span></span> across uh."</p> <p>A blade is stuck in your side like the thorny reminder of a rose. You look down at the man below you, your hand wrapped around his throat. He looks tired, bewildered, nearly out of breath himself. In his eyes you come to and understanding; the hunt is over. You've won.</p> <p>You fall to the ground next to you, breathing slow. Your vision pulses white with pain, but yet no tears come to you. Through a hole in the ceiling, one you assume was made by your hand, you see stars. You know the names of each of them, their stories too. Maybe you'll be joining them soon.</p> <p>You begin to close your eyes as the world goes quiet. Someone holds you, calls out to you, but you're too tired to answer.</p> <p><em>Maybe I will just rest for a while</em> you think.</p> <p>You smile as the world slowly fades to black…</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>You slowly wake up in Hana's arms. The two of you sit on the floor, steeped in a deep pool of blood. She has a bandage on her head and her eyes are puffy and red. You attempt to lift your head to look around but only a crowd remains around you. A silver blade lays on the ground next to you, covered nearly to the hilt with a dark crimson.</p> <p>A sudden, sharp ache burns where he inserted the blade, and you scream.</p> <p>"<em>Shhhh</em> it's alright, Meri. It's okay. You're going to be fine."</p> <p>Hana looks down at you. She holds a heavy cloth to your side, as if she's the only thing stopping your insides from flowing out.</p> <p>"Hana…" You groan. "I love you."</p> <p>She smiles and turns away, wiping her eyes with her free hand. She takes your hand. You don't flinch. There's another question you want to ask, one that lurks deep down in the deepest depths of your core, one that you're afraid to hear the answer to. She whispers to you for what feels like hours as you pass in and out of consciousness. She talks about memories of your travels, of vibrant butterflies, of small dorm room meals. You can hear choked back tears in her words, hiding a feeling you know too well: fear.</p> <p>After some time you're able to sit up against a wall. Hana half-frantically buzzes around you, checking your bandages and whispering affirmations that carry with them a much deeper sadness.</p> <p>The crowd has begun to trickle away before finally only Chaz and a collection of waiters remains. He looks nearly untouched outside of a few out of place strands of hair. His wounds have all disappeared, and he is cloaked in the crisp white of a chef's coat. He cautiously walks over, his eyes locked with Hana's.</p> <p>"As per the waiver you signed, you are free to leave, with one caveat."</p> <p>You watch as Hana begins to reach for the fire poker. Chaz holds up a hand and shakes his head.</p> <p>"No, there will be no more harm done to either of you here." He signals one of the waiters forward, and he places before you two intricately decorated plates. "Our specialty ambrosia, on the house."</p> <p>Hana stares at the plate, looks at you, and then looks at Chaz.</p> <p>"Is this some sort of joke? You trap us here, stab my girlfriend, and you think that can be made better with free dessert? How do we know you didn't poison this?"</p> <p>Chaz scoffs, holding a hand to his chest, offended.</p> <p>"How dare you accuse me of <em>poison</em>? If I wanted to poison you, do you not think I would have done so earlier? Where is the honor in that? Poison does nothing but spoil the meat." Chaz takes a deep breath. "No, I do not use <em>poison</em>. This final course is meant to rejuvenate you, to purge yourself of any toxins and heal any ailments you may have entered the restaurant with."</p> <p>There's a pause. You watch as Hana slowly lifts one of the plates off the floor and prods the ambrosia with her fork. She takes a small slice from the corner and cautiously places it in her mouth.</p> <p>"<em>Woah</em>. This is amazing."</p> <p>"I appreciate your compliment to my food." Chaz bows. "Ms. Thompson. Ms. Clef. Thank you for dining at Chez Ambrose." He begins to walk away, but stops and looks at you one last time. "Deer pupils are a delicacy in some places, Ms. Clef. I was looking forward to preparing them tonight. Should we ever meet again, I'll be ready." Before you or Hana can respond, he disappears down the hallway, heading back towards the kitchen.</p> <p>You attempt to will your body to grab the plate, but you're unable to. You're exhausted, your chest and arms and legs a hundred times heavier than normal. Hana, noticing this, picks up your plate and cuts you a sizeable piece. It smells of sweet sugar and berries and your stomach growls at the sight. You weakly open your mouth, the ambrosia melts on your tongue.</p> <p>It's the most delicious thing you've ever eaten.</p> <hr/> <div class="blockquote"> <div style="text-align: center"> <div class="unmargined" style="font-family: 'Cinzel'; font-size: 300%; margin: 2px 0 5px;"> <p>Serena Verdae Herald</p> </div> <div class="unmargined" style="font-family: 'PinyonScriptRegular'; font-size: 175%; margin: 2px 0 5px;"> <p><em>Truth Across Realities</em></p> </div> <div class="unmargined" style="font-family: serif; font-size: 105%; border-top-style: solid; border-bottom-style: solid;"> <table style="border: none; width: 100%;"> <tr> <td style="text-align: left;">PROVIDENCE, RI</td> <td style="text-align: left;">03/13/2020</td> <td style="text-align: right;">FREE</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div> <div class="twopanel"> <div class="bit"> <div style="text-align: justify"> <p><span><span style="font-size:125%;"><strong>A Reminder of Acceptable Behavior</strong></span></span><br/> <span><span style="font-size:75%;"><em>By Serena Verdae College Residence Life</em></span></span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Recently, there has been an uptick in the amount of Resident Assistant calls to the student dorm buildings for rule violations. Please note that while student dorms are catered to the needs of the individual student, there are strict rules for the following:</p> <ul> <li>Using a homunculus or familiar to steal food from other students;</li> <li>Smoking;</li> <li>Using College property as offerings of worship or as part of a pact;</li> </ul> <p>We encourage all students to refresh themselves on the rules so we can all have a healthy, productive semester.</p> </div> <div style="text-align: justify"> <p><span><span style="font-size:125%;"><strong>Update: Investigation Into Extrareality Incursion</strong></span></span><br/> <span><span style="font-size:75%;"><em>By: Serena Verdae Department of Public Safety</em></span></span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> There have been new developments last semester's extrareality incursion event that caused the death of one student and injured two others during Serena Verdae's fall theatre production. A collection of documentation and belongings were found, believed to be under the ownership of Professor…</p> <p><strong>Read More on Page 6</strong></p> </div> </div> <div class="bit"> <div style="text-align: justify"> <p><span><span style="font-size:125%;"><strong>A Review of Chez Ambrose: A Meal to Die For?</strong></span></span><br/> <span><span style="font-size:75%;"><em>By Hana Thompson</em></span></span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Recently, I had the honor to dine at Chez Ambrose, an Ambrose location local to the Providence area. Presenting itself as a vineyard with a hunting manor, the "visionary" Chaz Ambrose catered the night's dishes to "Bounty of the Forest," with the entrée being my girlfriend, Meri Clef. Although being hunted put a damper on our experience to the night, after defeating Chef Ambrose in a one-on-one duel, my girlfriend and I were given a free dessert.</p> <p><strong>Ratings:</strong><br/> <strong>Ambiance:</strong> 5/5<br/> <strong>Food:</strong> 5/5<br/> <strong>Drink:</strong> 5/5<br/> <strong>Customer Service:</strong> 1/5</p> <p><strong>Final Thoughts:</strong> Chez Ambrose offers a dining experience that can't be found anywhere else in the Providence Area. As long as you read the waiver carefully (yes you have to sign a waiver to dine there) and manage to keep yourself off the menu, you'll have a wonderful night.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <br/> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/to-serve-deer">To Serve Deer</a>" by Prismal, AstersQuill, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/to-serve-deer">https://scpwiki.com/to-serve-deer</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	===== [[include <a href="/component:preview">component:preview</a> text=All Life Hungers]] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:golden-feast">:scp-wiki:theme:golden-feast</a>]] [[module css]] @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Cinzel'); @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Anton'); @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Pinyon+Script'); @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Prata&display=swap'); .twopanel { display: flex; flex-flow: row wrap; justify-content: space-between; } .bit { flex-basis: 48%; } @media only screen and (max-width: 768px) { .twopanel {flex-direction: row-reverse;} .bit {flex-basis: 100%;} } .chaz { font-family: "Prata", serif; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; background-image: url( http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/scp-8166/paper-min%5B1%5D.png); font-size: 105%; box-sizing: border-box; border: 2vw solid rgba(0,0,0,0.5); border-image: url('https://wanderers-library.wikidot.com/local--files/component:dustjacket-theme/wl_border.png') 600 round; border-image-width: 6; padding: 2vw; outline: 2px solid purple; } .cycling { width:0; display: inline-flex; overflow: hidden; animation-name: cycle; animation-fill-mode: forwards; animation-iteration-count: infinite; animation-duration: 1s; } .cycling:nth-child(2) { animation-delay: 0.16666s;} .cycling:nth-child(3) { animation-delay: 0.33333s;} .cycling:nth-child(4) { animation-delay: 0.5s;} .cycling:nth-child(5) { animation-delay: 0.66666s;} .cycling:nth-child(6) { animation-delay: 0.83333s;} @keyframes cycle{ 0% { width:auto } 16.6% { width:auto } 16.7% { width:0 } 100% { width:0 } } [[/module]] [[>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] [[<]] ⚠️ Content warning: This article references the following topics: * Cannibalism To Serve Deer by [[user Prismal]] and [[user AstersQuill]] - [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/prismal Prismal's Author Page] - [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/aster-s-forest-grotto Aster's Author Page] [[/<]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:end">:scp-wiki:info:end</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:info-cw">:scp-wiki:component:info-cw</a>]] [[/>]] [[==]] Anniversaries, you'd been taught, were days meant to celebrate milestones within a relationship, with couples often partaking in some sort of festivity in recognition of their love. While this wasn't anything particularly new to you, due to the nature of your respective... confinements, you and Hana were previously unable to celebrate such an event. Until today. A warm breeze drifts across the quad as you walk down the grand steps of the library, canvas tote softly tapping at your side as you descend. The sun weaves between white and grey clouds, providing just enough warmth and light to be comfortable, while being neither overbearing nor overwhelming. The concrete //clicks// and //clacks// as your hooves make contact. On a normal day, you would let the melody of your gait carry you back to your apartment, a gentle song to help ease you into your afternoon nap. You feel your ear flick and turn, picking up the sound of someone or something trying to approach you both quickly and quietly. In the past, the sound of footsteps behind you would have caused you to flee and hide, but now you stay your course, albeit with a building sense of anxiousness in your chest. You're getting better, you think; not everything is out to harm you, and the days of being chased by your handlers are long past. "Hey, stranger." Hana Thompson, your knight, your love, joins you on the sidewalk, her footfalls adding a new rhythm to your melody. "Hana! How are you doing today?" "I'm doing good, but you could help make my day even better." Hana wore a mischievous smile on her face, almost goading you to push further. "Oh? How can I do that?" She takes a few larger steps forward before turning and stopping in front of you on the path. She holds out her hands to you. You hesitate before reluctantly taking them. "Since we haven't been able to celebrate our anniversary, I thought it would be nice to get dinner. A nice dinner. And you'll //never// guess where I got a reservation." You think she lets the last sentence hang in the air, creating an almost dramatic atmosphere to the question before she provides an answer. Her eyes, however, tell a different story, scanning your face, waiting for a reply. "So... are you going to guess?" Your face burns with embarrassment. "Oh! Apologies. I thought I could not-- sorry. I am not sure." "I got reservations to //Chez Ambrose//! The school paper wants us to write a review on it, and fancy dinners are better in pairs, so I thought I would ask you to tag along for a date." She pauses. "If you want, of course. No pressure." You've never been to a "fancy" restaurant before, though you have indeed been to what you learned to be restaurants. With the modifier, you inferred that there would be a new set of expectations to fit into, a mold of behavior that would be considered acceptable. A feeling began to burn deep within you, shame, fear, but you felt as if there was no good reason to deny her. She was so excited, and you would feel even worse for letting her down. "S-sure. I would love to." Hana smiles, letting go of your hands. "Perfect, it's a date then! I'll pick you up around... 5:30-6:00? Be sure to dress your best!" She starts to head towards a collection of academic buildings, nearly skipping down the path. She's not 10 feet away from you when she stops and turns around to call out to you. "And come hungry!" ----- [[div class="chaz"]] All life hungers. From common cattle grazing at verdant pastures, to zephyr supping on the cool breeze of a brisk winter. Food has been a fundamental aspect of my life since the moment I was born, smelling the processed meals in the hospital room, thirsting for my mother's milk. As a baby, I crawled the earth in search of summer truffles amongst the swine of my family's //Languedoc-Roussillon// estate. When I could walk, I chased Japanese quail along the frigid shores of Lake Baikal. As a trailblazing adolescent, I braved the Adriatic alone in hunt of Beluga caviar and Monk sea liver. Now, in my prime, I hold in my hands several realities worth of exotic ingredients; a paramount of the palette, a commodore of cuisine. And yet, I remain hungry for more. I've dedicated my life, and considerable fortune, to satisfying this hunger, both in myself and the teeming masses. As the martial artist spends years mastering their physical strength, it is I who has wrangled those same bulls, muscular and ferocious, that are ground into the beef that sustains them. As the tortured artist brings to life their canvas with each bristled brush stroke, it is I who has seen the color fade from the squids and fish living in places named after death itself. As the erotic poet indulges in the joys of the flesh, commenting on their "love", it is I who knows loves best. It is I who gasps in pleasure as they marinate in their own fluids, tasting every part of them, sucking the marrow until they are bone dry. Hunger masters them, as it masters me. So when presented with something new, a delicacy from beyond the known worlds, a true prospect to break the gustatory mold, who am I to deny my hunger? Well to that I can only say //je n'ai pas assez mangé.// [[/div]] ----- As you step through the unassuming doorway at the center of town, the sound of cars and the smell of pollution immediately leaves you. Greenery surrounds you on all sides, trees and vines carrying fruit, content and well-cared for. The warm evening sun beams, crisp pristine air tickles your face, and the chirping of birds charms your ears, causing them to flick and follow as they fly through the air in pairs. For a moment, you can only stand in awe. You have only been in a place like this once before, and you did not know it was possible to replicate nor re-enter such a space without great physical toll. Your knight smiles at you, crinkling her nose the way only she does. "Cool, huh? I thought you might like it." As you continue to take it all in, Hana motions for your arm, and with a nod, gently grabs it, escorting you to the hostess stand. "Reservation for Thompson, party of two?" The hostess' eyes linger just a moment too long, curiously scanning you, causing you to cringe. You want to shrink away. She leads you to a table for two outdoors, a corner table near the railing over which you can gaze out onto the manifested expanse. Your waiter soon arrives, greeting you with a smile. He returns with water in chilled glasses, adorned with mint leaves and small, viney flowers, menus with gold leaf text etched into stained oak, and sterile white paper with mechanical black text. Hana raises an eyebrow as she takes the paper in her hand. "Ambrose Restauranters is not responsible for any injuries accrued at Chez Ambrose, up to and including //death//?" The waiter chuckles softly. "With the unique degree of dining experienced at Ambrose Restaurants, there's always some risk associated. You can't very well know if you'll be allergic to our kaiju caviar without trying it, after all." Hana glances at the paper with suspicion for a moment. You watch as she holds the document closer to her face. "Weird, but alright. As long as you aren't planning on having //us// for dinner." The waiter titters as Hana signs the paper. He turns his gaze over to you. It's hollow behind the exaggerated smile, like a hawk awaiting your next move. You follow suit, noticing the bright red of the pen. "Excellent!" The man says, snatching the papers from you with almost too much enthusiasm. "I'll allow you a moment to look through the menu before we start tonight's fare." The waiter hurriedly turns and walks towards the kitchen, the rehearsed //click// of his footfalls fading away into the distance. Across the table, you see Hana hard at work. Her menu sat next to her plate, and on the other side of the table, in a spot afforded to guests' wallets or purses, she wrote in a small, lined notebook. You can hear her mumble to herself as she writes. "Food is served //à la russe//... a tasting menu of forbidden fruit is served alongside a fern flower salad, Crommyon onion soup is served before the appetizer of--" She pauses. "Meri, does your menu say anything about the entrée? Mine seems to be missing a description." You look at your own menu, scouring through each option before arriving at what you think Hana is talking about. The only words there are "Chef's Surprise." All of a sudden, a chill runs down your back, your hairs standing on end. You feel altogether exposed in an unusual way. This wind doesn't carry with it the usual [[span style="text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #BC3030;"]]##red\|laughter##[[/span]] or [[span style="text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #BC3030;"]]##red\|echoes##[[/span]] you're used to, however. No, this is something completely different. You cross your arms, holding yourself close. "Cold?" Hana asks, her chair already slightly pulled out from the table. "I s-suppose so, thank you." She removes her baby blue jacket from the back of her chair and walks to your side of the table. In a careful motion, both avoiding your antlers and the slender glass she referred to earlier as a "flute," she wraps you in her jacket. It smells like her perfume, pomegranate. The new pressure around your shoulders brings you comfort. More importantly, you feel safe, protected. Hana takes her seat, and you look back at your menu, trying to see what else the night would have in store. You idly tap your fingers on the table, your hand placed further out than you expected. Another's fingers lightly slide against yours, and your eyes meet Hana's. You nod, and she takes your fingers in hers. The birds are singing, the evening sun, hanging just on the horizon, shines on your face, you have butterflies in your heart as your girlfriend squeezes your hand. All is right in the world. Yet with each //click// and //whoosh// from the kitchen, you can't help but feel eyes drilling into the back of your head, studying you and your every move. ----- [[div class="chaz"]] There is no better way to show your appreciation to your ingredients than in your process of collecting them. What courtesy to the earth to deprive the vines of all their fruit? What courtesy to the ocean to pluck out lobsters bustling with eggs? What courtesy to the sky to stone two birds when one would suffice? I've shed countless tears collecting mushrooms off of fallen trees, lamenting the loss of nitrogen that would have been used to sustain the ecosystem. But such is the nature of consumption; populations that overconsume eventually find themselves dying out. It is here where I find the justification of my work, a means to abate the suffering of an environment that already provides me with far more than I deserve. No wonder, then, that I relish in the thrill of the hunt. There's nothing more grounding to the cycle of life than holding the hand of Death, pointing at your prey, and begging nearly on your hands and knees to take its life like a child asking their parents for a sweet. The act of stalking your prey across wide, winding plains, luring it closer with bait in form of meat or berry, coating yourself in its musk, you begin to learn about the life of your prey, as if they invited you into their home. As you watch it enter the clearing, standing mere feet in front of you, you are finally able to put a face to the name. The skin tells a cave wall story of it's triumphs, how it has dodged its pursuers until this very moment, how it would have continued living if you were not there to feast on it. The emotion is intoxicating, and by the time you let loose the arrow (guns are far too loud, and it would be rude to disturb the other inhabitants of the space), it's as if you would be shooting a member of your family, your own blood! Of course, I am no stranger to this; my father had me name all the animals under our care. I still remember the names of all the chickens who selflessly gave their feathers to me, (Charlie, Perrault, Augustine) and I keep them close to me in embroidered throw pillows. This is the feeling I strive to recreate across my dining experiences, something I want to instill in my guests with every cut of prime rib or collard green. After all, if the tables were turned, I should think we would all hope to be treated with the same level of respect; I wish only for my name to be remembered by my consumer as I sustain them for as long as I may linger in their digestive tract. And I am sure I shall make a hearty meal indeed. [[/div]] ----- Part way through the second course, the waiter returns with an assortment of nuts. It sits on an ornate, rectangular plate, and it causes your somewhat full stomach to rumble. "-Carnuti nut platter and a request, courtesy of Chef Ambrose." Hana scratches down some notes in her notepad before turning to the waiter. "A request? Did the newspaper put in any requests with our reservation?" "Chef Ambrose would like to [[span class="cycling"]]meet[[/span]][[span class="cycling"]]meet[[/span]][[span class="cycling"]]meet[[/span]][[span class="cycling"]]meet[[/span]][[span class="cycling"]]meet[[/span]][[span class="cycling"]]meat[[/span]] you." You're somewhat puzzled. In the restaurants you've been to before the chefs were either already visible (though too hard at work to pay you any mind), or only came out to address guests that were making a fuss about their food. //Is this a common thing in restaurants? Have we done something wrong? Have I done something wrong?// You look at Hana, lost in conversation with the waiter, nodding with a smile before he returns to the kitchen. //The chef might have heard she was doing a review and wanted to give her an interview to include. I hope I don't scare him away.// A door opens on the far side of the restaurant, and the waiter stands for a moment before talking to a man seemingly dressed for a time long gone. He looks like a mix between a hunter and a bard, covered in furs and fabrics that never even appeared in Rights' book of textiles. He's bug-eyed, short, and a pencil-thin mustache hugs the top of his lip, covered in beads of sweat like morning dew on grass. His eyes meet yours, and his lips curl into a smile. You freeze. "H-hana. I think I am going to excuse myself to the restroom." "No worries." She pauses. "Are you feeling alright? You look like you've seen a ghost." She leans forward, whispering to you. "Is [[span style="text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #BC3030;"]]##red\|It##[[/span]] here?" "No no, I think I just had something that upset my stomach. I will be back soon." She leans back in her chair, a slight relic of worry lingering in her expression. "Got it. Just let me know if you need anything, yeah?" You nod and begin to head towards the restroom, taking several small steps across the hardwood floor. The other diners pay you no mind, but you try to speed by them regardless; you don't want them to stare, nor do you want to bring their attention to the pair of hooves partially hidden behind the white hem of your dress. And still, someone stares. You feel your heart pound against your chest, and your breaths do little to cease the discordant melody, a feeling nostalgic in the worst of ways. You were long past your days of jumping at [[span style="text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #BC3030;"]]##red\|shadows##[[/span]], you'd made peace with the [[span style="text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #BC3030;"]]##red\|sickness##[[/span]] that afflicted you, and the visitors, for the most part, let you be. But here, now, in the halls of this faux oasis, you, Meri Clef, were being hunted. ----- [[div class="chaz"]] Shank and tenderloin and shoulder. Hind and brisket and backstrap. In my book //On the Preparation of Extrareality Humanoids//, ungulate humanoids are noted to retain the flavor and texture of their non-humanoid counterparts, with the added bonus of allowing for additional cuts for guests who are more partial to human flesh. Breast and heart and liver. Palm and sole and kidney. And here, right before my eyes, wandering right into my sights, the perfect specimen. Young, lean, and of a particularly picky diet. A crown of winding antlers to divvy into roasted bone marrow, soup from its hooves, its legs smoked and aged and served in paper-thin sheets. I would relish the opportunity to put it under the knife, whispering calm and supportive words while it purges. And then, I would return it to nature, to feed the fields outside so that it may provide for others long after the meat was picked clean from its body and its fat completely rendered away. [[/div]] ----- Sitting next to Chef Chaz Ambrose, Hana Thompson is having the night of her life. It was rare for restaurant reviews to go //this// well, especially when, in the past, she heard horror stories of experiences from her colleagues, leading to the entirety of the college being blacklisted from a place of dining over the tiniest perceived slight. And on the topic of her date, Hana was quite proud with what she was able to accomplish. Besides the chills, Meri felt oddly at peace, protected from the [[span style="text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #BC3030;"]]##red\|shadow##[[/span]] that often plagued her in nature. The day could not get any better. "...So, Chef Ambrose, what would you say motivates you in your cooking?" "Don't worry about the formalities, my dear, just call me Chaz! Oh, but that is a good question." Chaz ponders a moment. "Have you ever heard, Hana, of the //[[[SCP-5579\| Faisan Pathétique]]]//?" Hana shakes her head. "I should expect not, it's an exceptionally rare delicacy, sourced from one single farm in all the worlds. I first tasted the fowl when dining at the Dark Estate. I had a less refined pallet in those days, I'm ashamed to admit. upon consuming the meat of this glorious bird, I did not give it the reverence it deserved. I found it.... chewy, and a tad dry. I did not linger on the flavor long yet..., even then I sensed //something//. Some small, //je ne sais quoi//. Something in the texture, or the scent, or the atmosphere.... I knew not what it was." "I learned later that the //Faisant Pathétique//, unique of all earthly phaesants, understands, and I mean //truly// understands its place in the world. The consequence of its death, the destiny of its entrails, what it was bred and raised and died for. In the moment of its death it sees the entirety of the food chain, and its place in it. And then it is butchered, cooked, and eaten." "Wow, that's.... intense." Hana croaks, lost for words. Chaz laughs. "Indeed it is. And that intensity is //exactly// what I bring to my gastronomy. To make anything but the finest dish from these magnificent birds' sacrifice... To me, it is unimaginable. As a chef, I have a duty, not only to the gourmet, but to what lies on their plate. I've been to this farm, butchered these pheasants, heard their death cries, watched their eyes as the moment of realization came, and their life left them. I acknowledge their sacrifice, and use it for all its worth. To do otherwise would be a disservice." "I never would have thought there was this much... depth when it came to cooking. It seems like you have it down to a science." "Some may call it a science, others art, or even magic, but to me it is simply life. All things eat, after all, but one of the few things separating us from eating over being eaten is mastery and understanding of each and every ingredient." Hana struggles to note down his response in a book already filled to the margins with stories and anecdotes about the chef's life. In the distance, she sees Meri returning from the restroom. She stops, seemingly frozen, at the door to the outside patio. Her pupils widen. "Oh! Meri!" Hana waves, motioning for her partner to join them. She approaches slowly, keeping as close to the wall as she can before crossing the threshold to return to her chair. Her eyes don't leave Chef Ambrose. "Meri, this is Che-- Chaz Ambrose. He's the head chef. We're just finishing up the interview, if you had any questions you wanted to ask him." Meri silently takes her seat, hands gripping the arms of her chair. She flinches when Chaz raises a hand to wave at her. A silence hangs over the trio. "Actually, Ms. Thompson, if I may ask a question of my own?" "Yes, of course. Please ask away." "As you could probably tell, this restaurant is unlike any you have ever seen before. Indeed, it is the goal of every Ambrose restaurant to provide an experience unique to anywhere else across the realities." He motions to the room around him. "Tonight, we revel in the bounty of the forest, relishing as organisms big and small dance on our palettes before finally resting in our stomach to be digested. The entrée, as I'm sure you have noticed, has been hidden. It's suspenseful, it adds to the spectacle of the night, but only for a select few. Many of the diners here already know what the surprise is; the perfect picture of the forest's grace, the humble deer." Hana puts down her pen and turns her head. "Don't you think it's in poor taste to serve deer to someone that's, you know," Hana motions at Meri, "half-deer?" Meri shrinks in her chair. "I don't think the taste is poor at all, Ms. Thompson. Ungulate humanoids have been served as a delicacy for generations now. I don't see why tonight would be any different." Hana looks into Chaz's beady, bug-like eyes and begins laughing, almost hysterically. The rest of the dining room is silent beside her, as if time completely stopped and everyone, everything, even the still living critters that squirmed across some of the plates, ceased entirely. She looks to the other two people at her table. Meri sits, frozen, her ears out at attention. Chaz leans forward in his chair, chuckling but to a completely different thought. "That was an //interesting// joke, chef. I almost thought you were being serious there." "I am." Chaz goes stone-faced, serious. Hana looks into his eyes and sees nothing human there. "Sorry, are you saying you want to //eat// my girlfriend?" Chaz gets up from his chair before kneeling in front of Hana, taking hold of both of her hands. "Ms. Thompson, I'm saying it would be an //honor// to eat your girlfriend." Hana shoots up from the table, nearly knocking over her scarlet-filled glass. She positions herself between Chaz and Meri, still frozen in her seat. "You're a monster. How can you sit there and think of eating a living breathing person? The people that pay your rent no less." Chaz laughs, looking up at Hana with a toothy smirk. "My menus are made weeks in advance, Ms. Thompson. Sourcing ingredients is a careful endeavor that, besides the other required resources, takes time. It is no accident that you and your partner are here tonight. And with this," a waiter rushes over, holding a pair of white papers. "With this you have already given yourselves up to be part of the menu." He stands up, smoothing out his outfit. From a scabbard resting lazily on his hip, he produces the long steel blade of a Bowie knife. "As I am a gracious host, I will be allowing you a head start. You would be surprised how much flavor fear adds to the meat." Hana collects her notebook and nearly lifts Meri from the chair before dragging her deeper into the restaurant. A discordant choir, counting down from '30' rings through the hollow walls, as Chaz Ambrose's hunt begins. ----- [[div class="chaz"]] I was 20 when I hunted my first man. I'd slaughtered and prepared humanoids before, of course; prepared turtle soup in the skull of a kappa, deep fried angel wings in boiling oil. But this was different. My earliest encounter with my prey was during a jaunt in the park. I was in a slump, seeking serenity in nature, before I was interrupted with the polite but commanding sound of "on your left," and the crescendo of footfalls next to me. He was breathing heavily, muscles rippling, sweat glistening on his bearded lips. He was gorgeous, almost the perfect specimen. I was left stunned, drooling at the sight. I just had to have him. And from that day on, my hunt began. I examined his routine, the route of his daily run, his place of work. I stalked his, his friend's, and his family's social circles, shadowed his walk home. I tirelessly experimented to find the cologne he wore, the food he ate, and made his smell my own. Slowly, inexorably, I integrated myself into his ecosystem, became a fixture in his habitat. A smile, a wave, a laugh, a chat, a loving embrace. I wore the camouflage and cried the siren call of an unremarkable human. And then, one day, in the park where we first met, we sat on a bench. The sun rose, and we gazed deeply into each others eyes, until finally, we kissed. All the tension I was holding back, all the tension that made my very heart feel like the string of a bow was finally released. Our mouths were as one for what seemed like hours, grunting and panting like animals, hot breath intermingling, the taste of his tongue on mine and mine on his. Finally, it reached a crescendo. With one last inhale, I separated from him, our faces red from exertion and loving frustration, and he barred his neck, complete trust on his expression. I lunged, alabaster teeth ripping into his throat, giving to him a final act of love. A kiss of death. Hot, salted blood filed my mouth as I tore through the rippling musculature of my still-living meal, a look of betrayal and confusion on his face as life slowly faded from his eyes. Even in death he was perfect; no noise, little mess. Then, I got to work: hanging him, skinning him, cutting him from neck to groin. Severing the tendons, deboning the meat, chopping him into little pieces and throwing him in a pot to broil. When finally I had butchered him completely, his tears gave his eyeballs the perfect salinity. There have been many others since then. I've ran with lycanthropic packs deep within fabled woods, and dined with the [[[scp-3288\| Habsburgs]]], ogresque monarchs who sought other pleasures than those afforded by wealth. (I've even opened a rather successful [[[ambrose-transylvania\|vampire establishment]]], if I do say so myself). But even with that, I often think fondly of my first time, of that man in the park. I don't think I'll ever forget him. [[/div]] ----- Your shoulder burns with pain as Hana drags you along the winding, vineyard halls of the shifting restaurant. You pass over knotted wood and brick and stone, hooves scraping across the different surfaces. Through the cacophony, Hana curses to herself softly in front of you before looking back momentarily. "Fuck. I'm-- I'm so sorry, Meri. I didn't know-- didn't know he was fucking //insane//. I would've never brought you tonight if--." You open your mouth to respond but she turns away, tugging you into an adjacent hallway. She leans over, placing her hands on her knees as she attempts to catch her breath. In the distance you can hear echoing voices call out to you, a starving parish singing songs of your demise. The noise overwhelms you, each consonant and howling vowel bounces around your head, forcing you to kneel down with your hands on your ears. Then, a different noise. On a nearby display, a polished suit of armor stands. Its surface reflects back you for a moment, before your frightened grin twists into a smile. [[span style="text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #BC3030;"]]##red\|//"Oh how lovely it is, the thrill of the hunt. The rush of blood in the heart, the pumping of adrenaline through the body, the salivating hunger of release. You know that feeling intimately, don't you, child?//##[[/span]] You shake your head, your vision becoming clouded with tears. //Not here. Not now. Please, no, this cannot be happening.// [[span style="text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #BC3030;"]]//##red\|"Your knight looks to defend you, princess. But what is a knight without its sword? Chivalry will not be the air your lungs need to outrun them, loyalty will not save you as they splay you on a table and tear you apart. She led you here, she will be the cause of your fall."##//[[/span]] "No. No she did not know. She would never hurt me. She promised to protect me." You look up from the floor momentarily as Hana frantically moves through the space around you. She attempts to pry loose a heavy sword from a nearby display, but the weapon is stuck. [[span style="text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #BC3030;"]]//##red\|"Did you think you would both leave as you arrived? Even if you escape, she will take your place."##//[[/span]] You watch your [[span style="text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #BC3030;"]]##red\|shadow##[[/span]] dissipate from the armor, reappearing before you from a newly rotted patch in the floor. It sloughs off loose branches and mushrooms as it kneels before you, lifting your face to meet its eyes with one of its clawed fingers. [[span style="text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #BC3030;"]]//##red\|"But you can save her, Meri. Only you can save her now. You know what you need to do."##//[[/span]] You shake your head. "No there has to be another way, there has to." The [[span style="text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #BC3030;"]]##red\|shadow##[[/span]] laughs as it slowly sinks into the floor before you, the wood rotting away into clumps of soil. Bile rises in your throat, and you struggle to hold it in. In the distance, you hear the screeching voice of the Chef, getting louder and louder until-- A hand on your shoulder. //Hana's// hand on your shoulder. "We need to keep moving, Meri. There has to be an exit somewhere. Do pocket realities have fire exits? Whatever." She helps you up and once again begins dragging you down the winding hallway. In a split second, you believe you see what looks like a large stained glass window, a chance to leave. "Hana! Left!" Hana turns her head before swinging the two of you around the corner. For a moment the fear disappears. You would beat this, you would escape and be safe, you would be able to face your fear. "//Now!//" You and Hana narrowly roll aside as a chandelier shatters on the wooden floor below, a million shards of glass rain around you. The biting pain of hundreds of cuts stings your legs and you can't help but yell out. A crowd grows in front of you, forming a semicircle around the corner you now find your back to. The Hunter strides forward, slowly clapping. "It is with utmost sincerity that I thank you for the show you put on tonight, for my patrons and I. You have given us quite a run for our money, but alas, all shows must come to an end." Hana stumbles off the ground in front of you, gripping a fire poker shakily with two hands. A thin stream of blood runs down the side of her face. "I-I won't let you hurt her, you snob. You'll have to kill me." She turns just slightly to glance at you with one eye. Her glare is fierce, determined. The blue streak of her parted hair sticks with sweat to her forehead. //Hana please you can not die. Not for me.// Chaz takes a handkerchief out from his vest pocket and wipes his eyes. "Oh how romantic. I have to say, this is the first time I've been brought to tears during a hunt." He shifts his gaze to Hana. "I will make the killing blow swift, knight. There will be no need to make her suffer." Hana plants her feet, tightening her grip on the fire poker. Chaz sighs and once more brandishes his knife. He holds it out in front of him. You can do naught but watch through teary eyes as Chaz makes short work of your beloved knight. Through choked sobs you stare, horrified, as with a flick of his wrist, tempered steel scrapes against rod iron, catching the hook of the poker. In a //woosh// the crude weapon arcs through the air. A shift of his legs, swift sliding of a foot, and Hana's legs are sent skyward, as she falls with a sickening thump. A pair of waiters rush over to pin her down. Somewhere [[span style="text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #BC3030;"]]##red\|the wind##[[/span]] laughs. "And then, there was one. You won't fault me for enjoying this a little, will you? It is only natural-" A burning feeling builds within you, as if a pot filled with fear, guilt and regret threatens to boil over. The bottom of your vision begins to turn a [[span style="text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #BC3030;"]]##red\|deep crimson##[[/span]]. "I'm the hunter and you are the prey. The only difference is that we can reason with each other on a deeper level. I //am// reasonable, though." You watch as he walks over to Hana, the cold metal of the knife touching the side of her neck. "Most guests are used to substitutions as needed. I will let you choose: your life or hers." Hana yells out, but is gagged by one of the waiters. [[span style="text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #000000;"]]//##8F1D1E\|I am not going to let him hurt you, Hana. I am not going to let anyone hurt you.##//[[/span]] "So what will it be? Will you take your place in the cycle, or will you let your knight die?" [[span style="text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #BC3030;"]]##8F1D1E\|The ground around you begins to fester and the distinct smell of rot and ammonia slowly seeps in.## ##B41C1C\|Tendrils of mycellium begin to wrap around your arms and legs as small toadstools sprout from your antlers.## ##D91A1A\|Your nails grow out into grotesque claws.## ##red\|You see only red now, and something deep within you draws your frown into a smile.##[[/span]] [[span style="text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #BC3030;"]]##red\|"I am //no// prey." You laugh. "I //am// nature in its purest form, and I have come to remove you from this cycle."##[[/span]] Chaz grins, readying himself. "Very well. Your skull will make for a //wonderful// trophy." ----- It's an odd experience to be a passenger in your own body. You make sounds, movements, say words that you're not even sure you know the meaning of, but you yourself are not in control. All you can do is watch in the theatre of your mind. Meri Clef was no longer in control. Instead, something [[span style="text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #BC3030;"]]##red\|else##[[/span]] entirely. But here, floating in this space, all you can do is cry. You feel as if you ruined //everything// tonight, all because you could not fit your role. Because //you// choose to be different. You thought you were special. And now, you lost the chance to make things right. There's a [[span style="text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #BC3030;"]]##red\|monster##[[/span]] out there, it's you. You're something that deserves to be hunted, something that deserves to be torn apart and feasted on. People don't forgive monsters, they seldom forget them either. If only you had just done what was rig-- You open your eyes to drink in the space around you. You're underwater but you can breath fine. Your arms and legs, your whole body is much heavier than you're used to, but it's you, Meri Clef. Unremarkable you. The visions outside pass as a blur, too fast to recognize faces, too loud to hear voices. You think you'll rest here just a little bit longer. There's nothing waiting out there for you anymore besides eyes of pity and fear. Even Hana, your knight, won't look at you the same. It took you so long to tell her you loved her, a concept so foreign to you but so familiar to the characters of the stories you read. And even still, you flinch when she tries to hold your hand or hug you. She //loves// you, but you can't accept it. You fear the hurt of attachment. //No matter// you think. //Everything will end after tonight, when she sees me for what I truly am.// You close your eyes. //Maybe it would be fine to stay here for a while. It is safe here, I feel no--// There's a sharp pain in your side, and your vision begins to go fuzzy. You watch as the image of the outside world gets pulled into view. You are Meri Clef once again. ----- [[span style="text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #BC3030;"]]##red\|You howl as the knife plunges into your side, burning like a hot iron that cools only as your blood begins to seep out. An inhuman sound, crossed between gurgling and howling leaves you as you begin to tear at##[[/span]] Chaz's [[span style="text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #BC3030;"]]##red\|torso. Your nails dig into leather and linen and metallic buttons, breaking against his skin. It feels warm, wet, and you watch as the hunter's face grows paler and paler. The two of you were locked in a spiral of death and destruction, tearing at the seams of each other and the room around you. Ornate display cases and manicured plants laid broken and bent in impossible ways, while the two of you are stained red with blood; both your own and the other's.##[[/span]] [[span style="text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #BC3030;"]]##D91A1A\|When you're finally able to knock him to the ground, pinned hard to the stone beneath you, you grin in victory. Your mind runs wild with the thought of tearing the man apart, leaving him bloody and broken in front of the testament to his life's work.##[[/span]] [[span style="text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #BC3030;"]]##B41C1C\|Your body aches with soreness, your slashes slowing until you're practically batting at his chest with the bottom of your fists. There is little triumph in your victory. Your white dress is stained nearly entirely red, a deeper crimson building where he was able to nick or slash you, ever-dampening with the beat of your heart. You're cold, so very cold. Blood pools out from your mouth and nose while tears, ones you could barely feel above the adrenaline, cut clean lines through your grime-covered face. You're almost ready to deliver the final blow when the blade enters your side, and you respond likewise. It's over for## ##red\|you## ##B41C1C\|now. Soon##[[/span]] she [[span style="text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #BC3030;"]]##B41C1C\|will return to be punished by the mess## ##red\|you've## ##B41C1C\|created.##[[/span]] [[span style="text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #000000;"]]##8F1D1E\|"I will //kill// you! I will scatter you across--##[[/span]] across uh." A blade is stuck in your side like the thorny reminder of a rose. You look down at the man below you, your hand wrapped around his throat. He looks tired, bewildered, nearly out of breath himself. In his eyes you come to and understanding; the hunt is over. You've won. You fall to the ground next to you, breathing slow. Your vision pulses white with pain, but yet no tears come to you. Through a hole in the ceiling, one you assume was made by your hand, you see stars. You know the names of each of them, their stories too. Maybe you'll be joining them soon. You begin to close your eyes as the world goes quiet. Someone holds you, calls out to you, but you're too tired to answer. //Maybe I will just rest for a while// you think. You smile as the world slowly fades to black... @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ You slowly wake up in Hana's arms. The two of you sit on the floor, steeped in a deep pool of blood. She has a bandage on her head and her eyes are puffy and red. You attempt to lift your head to look around but only a crowd remains around you. A silver blade lays on the ground next to you, covered nearly to the hilt with a dark crimson. A sudden, sharp ache burns where he inserted the blade, and you scream. "//Shhhh// it's alright, Meri. It's okay. You're going to be fine." Hana looks down at you. She holds a heavy cloth to your side, as if she's the only thing stopping your insides from flowing out. "Hana..." You groan. "I love you." She smiles and turns away, wiping her eyes with her free hand. She takes your hand. You don't flinch. There's another question you want to ask, one that lurks deep down in the deepest depths of your core, one that you're afraid to hear the answer to. She whispers to you for what feels like hours as you pass in and out of consciousness. She talks about memories of your travels, of vibrant butterflies, of small dorm room meals. You can hear choked back tears in her words, hiding a feeling you know too well: fear. After some time you're able to sit up against a wall. Hana half-frantically buzzes around you, checking your bandages and whispering affirmations that carry with them a much deeper sadness. The crowd has begun to trickle away before finally only Chaz and a collection of waiters remains. He looks nearly untouched outside of a few out of place strands of hair. His wounds have all disappeared, and he is cloaked in the crisp white of a chef's coat. He cautiously walks over, his eyes locked with Hana's. "As per the waiver you signed, you are free to leave, with one caveat." You watch as Hana begins to reach for the fire poker. Chaz holds up a hand and shakes his head. "No, there will be no more harm done to either of you here." He signals one of the waiters forward, and he places before you two intricately decorated plates. "Our specialty ambrosia, on the house." Hana stares at the plate, looks at you, and then looks at Chaz. "Is this some sort of joke? You trap us here, stab my girlfriend, and you think that can be made better with free dessert? How do we know you didn't poison this?" Chaz scoffs, holding a hand to his chest, offended. "How dare you accuse me of //poison//? If I wanted to poison you, do you not think I would have done so earlier? Where is the honor in that? Poison does nothing but spoil the meat." Chaz takes a deep breath. "No, I do not use //poison//. This final course is meant to rejuvenate you, to purge yourself of any toxins and heal any ailments you may have entered the restaurant with." There's a pause. You watch as Hana slowly lifts one of the plates off the floor and prods the ambrosia with her fork. She takes a small slice from the corner and cautiously places it in her mouth. "//Woah//. This is amazing." "I appreciate your compliment to my food." Chaz bows. "Ms. Thompson. Ms. Clef. Thank you for dining at Chez Ambrose." He begins to walk away, but stops and looks at you one last time. "Deer pupils are a delicacy in some places, Ms. Clef. I was looking forward to preparing them tonight. Should we ever meet again, I'll be ready." Before you or Hana can respond, he disappears down the hallway, heading back towards the kitchen. You attempt to will your body to grab the plate, but you're unable to. You're exhausted, your chest and arms and legs a hundred times heavier than normal. Hana, noticing this, picks up your plate and cuts you a sizeable piece. It smells of sweet sugar and berries and your stomach growls at the sight. You weakly open your mouth, the ambrosia melts on your tongue. It's the most delicious thing you've ever eaten. ----- [[div class="blockquote"]] [[div style="text-align: center"]] [[div class="unmargined" style="font-family: 'Cinzel'; font-size: 300%; margin: 2px 0 5px;"]] Serena Verdae Herald [[/div]] [[div class="unmargined" style="font-family: 'PinyonScriptRegular'; font-size: 175%; margin: 2px 0 5px;"]] //Truth Across Realities// [[/div]] [[div class="unmargined" style="font-family: serif; font-size: 105%; border-top-style: solid; border-bottom-style: solid;"]] [[table style="border: none; width: 100%;"]] [[row]] [[cell style="text-align: left;"]] PROVIDENCE, RI [[/cell]] [[cell style="text-align: left;"]] 03/13/2020 [[/cell]] [[cell style="text-align: right;"]] FREE [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[/table]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div class="twopanel"]] [[div class="bit"]] [[div style="text-align: justify"]] [[span style:"serif"]][[size 125%]]A Reminder of Acceptable Behavior[[/size]][[/span]] [[span style:"serif"]][[size 75%]]//By Serena Verdae College Residence Life//[[/size]][[/span]] @@ @@ Recently, there has been an uptick in the amount of Resident Assistant calls to the student dorm buildings for rule violations. Please note that while student dorms are catered to the needs of the individual student, there are strict rules for the following: * Using a homunculus or familiar to steal food from other students; * Smoking; * Using College property as offerings of worship or as part of a pact; We encourage all students to refresh themselves on the rules so we can all have a healthy, productive semester. [[/div]] [[div style="text-align: justify"]] [[span style:"serif"]][[size 125%]]Update: Investigation Into Extrareality Incursion[[/size]][[/span]] [[span style:"serif"]][[size 75%]]//By: Serena Verdae Department of Public Safety//[[/size]][[/span]] @@ @@ There have been new developments last semester's extrareality incursion event that caused the death of one student and injured two others during Serena Verdae's fall theatre production. A collection of documentation and belongings were found, believed to be under the ownership of Professor... Read More on Page 6 [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div class="bit"]] [[div style="text-align: justify"]] [[span style:"serif"]][[size 125%]]A Review of Chez Ambrose: A Meal to Die For?[[/size]][[/span]] [[span style:"serif"]][[size 75%]]//By Hana Thompson//[[/size]][[/span]] @@ @@ Recently, I had the honor to dine at Chez Ambrose, an Ambrose location local to the Providence area. Presenting itself as a vineyard with a hunting manor, the "visionary" Chaz Ambrose catered the night's dishes to "Bounty of the Forest," with the entrée being my girlfriend, Meri Clef. Although being hunted put a damper on our experience to the night, after defeating Chef Ambrose in a one-on-one duel, my girlfriend and I were given a free dessert. Ratings: Ambiance: 5/5 Food: 5/5 Drink: 5/5 Customer Service: 1/5 Final Thoughts: Chez Ambrose offers a dining experience that can't be found anywhere else in the Providence Area. As long as you read the waiver carefully (yes you have to sign a waiver to dine there) and manage to keep yourself off the menu, you'll have a wonderful night. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/==]] [[=]] [[module rate]] [[/=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=Prismal, AstersQuill]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-10-02T22:07:00	[ "_licensebox", "ambrose-restaurant", "bittersweet", "bleak", "chase", "chaz-ambrose", "co-authored", "eventyr", "fantasy", "first-person", "iris-thompson", "scarlet-king", "second-person", "tale", "teenage-gaea" ]	To Serve Deer - SCP Foundation	42	[ "prismal", "aster-s-forest-grotto", "scp-5579", "scp-3288", "ambrose-transylvania", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "cotsk-hub", "ambrose-restaurant-hub" ]	[]	1456966747	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/to-serve-deer
to-the-vastness-of-eternity	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <br/> A man stood at the window, looking out over a world that had grown cold and barren. The streets were empty, and the dim lights flickered weakly. Where once a vast city had teemed with life, now only cobblestone pavements and the occasional bird remained, swiftly silenced by the surrounding stillness. It was perfect. Silent. <p>From the corner of his eye, he watched as the first of many trucks began to leave the building he was standing in. The citizens of this city were safer in their homes. It was better that way. They would be provided with everything they needed: food, shelter, electricity. A small smile crept onto his lips. Under his guidance, they had achieved everything. They had finally earned the recognition they deserved. They had proven they weren’t just some joke to the world. Who was laughing now?</p> <p>Suddenly, a heavy thud sounded behind him. He turned away from the window, his pupils dilating in shock. His bodyguard had collapsed, dead. From the shadowed doorway, a figure emerged—darkness itself seemed to cling to it. The figure was draped in a black suit, polished dress shoes, and a bowler hat. Its face, though familiar in form, was devoid of detail. The man knew there were features, but even as he squinted, they remained unknown, hidden as if by some trick of the light.</p> <p>The figure casually patted down its clothes, like someone brushing off dust after a long day, and stepped over the lifeless body of the guard.</p> <p>"Director of the UIU, I presume?" The figure's voice was unnervingly calm, though it didn’t bother to look directly at him. "Well, no, I know who you are. 'Presume' wouldn’t be the right word."</p> <p>The man retreated instinctively, but soon found himself pressed against the cold glass wall he'd been gazing through moments ago. A primal fear began to stir in him, something deep and long dormant. The figure continued forward.</p> <p>"You know," the figure began again, "it took some time getting in here." The man’s breath quickened. No, it couldn’t end like this—not after everything he’d done. "Though, in the end, I suppose it was worth it."</p> <p>The man’s hand shot into his overcoat, desperately reaching for his gun, but his fingers found only empty space. Panic surged through him as his eyes darted up to see the figure calmly holding the very weapon he’d been grabbing for.</p> <p>"Surprised they let someone like you join their club," the figure remarked, and the man clenched his fists reflexively as his weapon clattered to the floor.</p> <p>"P-please…" the director stammered, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I—"</p> <p>"I know why you did this," the figure interrupted smoothly. "I'm not here to judge you. I'm simply here to set the world right. And unfortunately, you’re the first step in that process. Think of it as your sins finally catching up to you."</p> <p>The figure now stood just inches away.</p> <p>"This won’t hurt," it said softly, raising a finger to its lips in a shushing gesture. "So don’t scream."<br/> The man wanted to run, wanted to fight back, but his body betrayed him. He felt paralyzed, gripped by an innate fear, overwhelming terror. His muscles locked as the figure placed a hand on his head, forcing him to meet its empty gaze.</p> <p>"Relax," the figure whispered. "I’m just going to show you what comes next."</p> <p>And in that moment, the man saw everything. He saw the future—not just one future, but all futures. Every possibility, every impossibility, stretched out before him in endless variations. He watched the universe die and be reborn, again and again and again. He saw himself die countless times. He saw into the mind of a being made of nothingness. His mind shattered under the weight of it all, and he couldn’t stop the scream that tore from his throat.</p> <p>No one came to his aid as the director of the UIU slumped to the ground, lifeless. His body was intact, but his mind had been utterly destroyed. The figure kicked the body once before turning back toward the shadows from which it had emerged.</p> <p>It had gone as expected. No human mind was meant to glimpse the vastness of eternity. The sheer weight of that knowledge was enough to break anyone.</p> <p>With a final glance, the figure stepped over the guard's body once more, crossed a name off of a list, and vanished into the darkness. Nobody could survive that.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong><a href="/who-am-i-to-look-into-a-mirror">Who Am I to Look into a Mirror?</a> »</strong></p> </div> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] A man stood at the window, looking out over a world that had grown cold and barren. The streets were empty, and the dim lights flickered weakly. Where once a vast city had teemed with life, now only cobblestone pavements and the occasional bird remained, swiftly silenced by the surrounding stillness. It was perfect. Silent. From the corner of his eye, he watched as the first of many trucks began to leave the building he was standing in. The citizens of this city were safer in their homes. It was better that way. They would be provided with everything they needed: food, shelter, electricity. A small smile crept onto his lips. Under his guidance, they had achieved everything. They had finally earned the recognition they deserved. They had proven they weren’t just some joke to the world. Who was laughing now? Suddenly, a heavy thud sounded behind him. He turned away from the window, his pupils dilating in shock. His bodyguard had collapsed, dead. From the shadowed doorway, a figure emerged—darkness itself seemed to cling to it. The figure was draped in a black suit, polished dress shoes, and a bowler hat. Its face, though familiar in form, was devoid of detail. The man knew there were features, but even as he squinted, they remained unknown, hidden as if by some trick of the light. The figure casually patted down its clothes, like someone brushing off dust after a long day, and stepped over the lifeless body of the guard. "Director of the UIU, I presume?" The figure's voice was unnervingly calm, though it didn’t bother to look directly at him. "Well, no, I know who you are. 'Presume' wouldn’t be the right word." The man retreated instinctively, but soon found himself pressed against the cold glass wall he'd been gazing through moments ago. A primal fear began to stir in him, something deep and long dormant. The figure continued forward. "You know," the figure began again, "it took some time getting in here." The man’s breath quickened. No, it couldn’t end like this—not after everything he’d done. "Though, in the end, I suppose it was worth it." The man’s hand shot into his overcoat, desperately reaching for his gun, but his fingers found only empty space. Panic surged through him as his eyes darted up to see the figure calmly holding the very weapon he’d been grabbing for. "Surprised they let someone like you join their club," the figure remarked, and the man clenched his fists reflexively as his weapon clattered to the floor. "P-please..." the director stammered, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I—" "I know why you did this," the figure interrupted smoothly. "I'm not here to judge you. I'm simply here to set the world right. And unfortunately, you’re the first step in that process. Think of it as your sins finally catching up to you." The figure now stood just inches away. "This won’t hurt," it said softly, raising a finger to its lips in a shushing gesture. "So don’t scream." The man wanted to run, wanted to fight back, but his body betrayed him. He felt paralyzed, gripped by an innate fear, overwhelming terror. His muscles locked as the figure placed a hand on his head, forcing him to meet its empty gaze. "Relax," the figure whispered. "I’m just going to show you what comes next." And in that moment, the man saw everything. He saw the future—not just one future, but all futures. Every possibility, every impossibility, stretched out before him in endless variations. He watched the universe die and be reborn, again and again and again. He saw himself die countless times. He saw into the mind of a being made of nothingness. His mind shattered under the weight of it all, and he couldn’t stop the scream that tore from his throat. No one came to his aid as the director of the UIU slumped to the ground, lifeless. His body was intact, but his mind had been utterly destroyed. The figure kicked the body once before turning back toward the shadows from which it had emerged. It had gone as expected. No human mind was meant to glimpse the vastness of eternity. The sheer weight of that knowledge was enough to break anyone. With a final glance, the figure stepped over the guard's body once more, crossed a name off of a list, and vanished into the darkness. Nobody could survive that. [[div class="footer-wikiwalk-nav"]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]] [[/div]] [[=]] [[[ Who Am I to Look into a Mirror?]]] >> [[/=]]	2024-09-30T12:18:00	[ "nobody", "spy-fiction", "tale", "unusual-incidents-unit" ]	To The Vastness of Eternity - SCP Foundation	4	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide", "who-am-i-to-look-into-a-mirror" ]	[ "nobody-hub" ]	[]	1456954053	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/to-the-vastness-of-eternity
tomorrow-and-tomorrow-and-tomorrow	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <p>⚠️ <strong>Content warning:</strong> Panic Attacks and Descriptions of Violence</p> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <div class="content-warning creditRate">⚠️ content warning <span class="content-warning-arrow"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></div> <p><em><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/nobody-runs-site-19">previously</a></em></p> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/yesterday">The world is burning, but you already know that part</a>. There’s something almost beautiful about watching the fires from a distance. Clef knows he’ll soon be burning too, but at least he can enjoy the view until then.</p> <p>Adams is dead, killed on an Alpha-9 mission, <em>so Clef is told</em>. And Draven… He never did find out where the kid went. It isn’t important anymore, they were always disposable assets to the Foundation. Clef considers them lucky, at least they got out of here. Clef’s seeing this shipwreck to the end.</p> <p>"O5-12 has arrived to see you," his new assistant informs.</p> <p>"Tell him to fuck off," Clef says.</p> <p>"Sending him in now," his assistant replies.</p> <p>It really is beautiful out. He should be doing something about this but… he’s so tired. He’s been tired for as long as he can remember.</p> <p>Twelve enters alone.</p> <p>Clef doesn't bother turning around to greet him. "So what the hell do you want?"</p> <p>"Is this how you talk to all the O5s?" <em>Hey wait-</em></p> <p>Clef turns around, narrowing his eyes at Twelve. “Oh, it’s you…”</p> <p>O5-12, who was once a man named Troy Lament, smiles. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, it never did. The world is ending, and some aren’t seeing the big finale. The list is handwritten.</p> <p>Right there, on the bottom of the list. It couldn’t be an accident.</p> <p>"Your people fucked up here. Kondraki's been dead over a decade. Someone… shot him in the head."</p> <p>Twelve just smiles.</p> <p><em>They knew. All of them knew, they always did. They always fucking did</em>.</p> <p>…</p> <p><span style="text-decoration: line-through;"><span style="color:#990000;">Andrews Bjornsen</span></span></p> <p><span style="text-decoration: line-through;"><span style="color:#990000;">Karlyle Aktus</span></span></p> <p><span style="text-decoration: line-through;"><span style="color:#990000;">Kate McTiriss</span></span></p> <p><span style="text-decoration: line-through;"><span style="color:#990000;">Zyn Kiryu</span></span></p> <p><span style="text-decoration: line-through;"><span style="color:#990000;">Ralph Roget</span></span></p> <p><span style="text-decoration: line-through;"><span style="color:#990000;">Avery Solace</span></span></p> <p><span style="text-decoration: line-through;"><span style="color:#990000;">Rose Labelle</span></span></p> <p><span style="text-decoration: line-through;"><span style="color:#990000;">Quikngruvn Halifax</span></span></p> <p><span style="text-decoration: line-through;"><span style="color:#990000;">Maria Jones</span></span></p> <p><span style="text-decoration: line-through;"><span style="color:#990000;">Chelsea Elliott</span></span></p> <p><span style="text-decoration: line-through;"><span style="color:#990000;">Simon Glass</span></span></p> <p><span style="text-decoration: line-through;"><span style="color:#990000;">Django Bridge</span></span></p> <p><span style="text-decoration: line-through;"><span style="color:#990000;">Everett Mann</span></span></p> <p>They’re all just names. Maybe some of them used to be friends. Doesn’t matter anymore.</p> <p>There’s a gap in the list, a notable space between Everett Mann and Kain Pathos Crow. It’s a strange placement for a gap, standing out among the closely knit scribbled names. Charles Gears is supposed to go there, but of course, Nobody knows who Charles Gears is anymore.</p> <p>Nobody is sitting in the director’s office. He looks like how Clef feels, if maybe a bit cleaner. A gun sits on the desk beside him. Clef freezes in the doorway.</p> <p>Nobody doesn’t look at him, the only sound is the soft scratch of pen to paper and the distant roar of the end of the world. It’s almost serene, he could get lost in this moment. Part of him has already been lost in his moment.</p> <p>“There’s no need to hesitate,” says Nobody. He says it so casually. Clef looks him in the eyes and sees the flickering reflection of light pouring in through the window.</p> <p>"I realize you are here to carry out my scheduled execution. My affairs are in order. I have done the same for Doctor Crow. I would have carried out the deed myself, but I was informed the process needed to be executed either directly or indirectly by you."</p> <p>Clef chuckles, he’s not sure at what specifically. Maybe it’s how he says the word <em>execution. Execution</em>, like Clef is some sort of revolutionaire, and not a trained attack dog.</p> <p>“Is that it?” Clef isn’t sure who he’s asking. Of <em>course</em> that’s it. He kills Nobody, the O5s smash the big red reset button, nothing Clef has gone through for the past… nothing before or after this moment will have ever mattered.</p> <p>Nobody nudges the pistol towards Clef. Clef wonders, vaguely, if it’s the same gun he used on Kondraki. It probably isn’t, but the thought crosses his mind. He approaches the desk in the manner of someone approaching a rotted corpse.</p> <p>“I would have liked to do more to help cover your tracks, but…” Nobody trails off, eyes drifting from Clef to the floor. He slides open a drawer and holds out a package. “The coordinates for the current location of Dr. Kondraki."</p> <p>“How long…” Clef decides not to finish that question, it wouldn’t make him feel better. He stares at the package for several long moments before taking it. It doesn’t feel real, but then again, what does?</p> <p>"I do have a last request." He stands and presses a vial into Clef’s hand. “For Kain… It’ll make his death quick and happy. I… he left a note for you in his office.”</p> <p>“I don’t understand.”</p> <p>"I've already put him into a coma…” Nobody winces. “He wouldn’t want you to have to see him when you did this. His body is in a closed kennel with an IV hook up. You need only insert this into the IV."</p> <p>Clef stares at him, Nobody stares back. Both fail to find their words.</p> <p>Clef puts the vial and package in his pockets. He looks around, surveying the neat office space. It’s almost completely empty, as clean as a well used room could be. Everything exactly in its place.</p> <p>“Are you happy like this?”</p> <p>“It doesn’t hurt.”</p> <p>“That’s not what I asked.”</p> <p>Nobody doesn’t say a word. Clef sighs.</p> <p>“Come get a drink with me,” he says, very suddenly.</p> <p>“What?”</p> <p>“Come get a drink with me,” Clef repeats.</p> <p>“I… can’t.”</p> <p>“Why not? The world’s on fire, everyone’s gonna be fucking dead in like two weeks, either I shoot you now or I do it later. There’s nothing left for us here.”</p> <p>“I don’t know what you want…”</p> <p>“I think I’ve made my <em>wants</em> as clear as possible.”</p> <p>Another silence, followed by floorboards creaking as Nobody steps towards him. Clef nods, once, and they leave Site-19 together.</p> <p>…</p> <p>The streets are empty, even the veiled citizens can sense the end times. Perfectly fine by Clef. His truck takes several tries to start up, and he cruises through the ghost town with Nobody in the passenger’s seat.</p> <p><em>The Bitter End</em>’s neon sign hasn’t worked for years, it only occasionally offers a few disjointed flickers. The lights are on, but no one’s inside. Clef takes out Nobody’s pistol, sticks a bullet in the lock, and kicks the front door open. It looks like the aftermath of a riot, the floor hidden under a layer of grime.</p> <p>Clef hops over the bar, finding two unbroken bottles of beer. He pulls off the caps with his teeth and hands one to Nobody. Nobody looks like he’s never held a bottle in his life. Clef smacks them together in a mock toast and they both drink.</p> <p>“Aren’t you gonna say something?”</p> <p>“I have no lines left…” The script has ended, he was supposed to die back in his office.</p> <p>Come on…” his voice verges on desperation.</p> <p>“I’m not sure what you want from me anymore.”</p> <p><em>I hate you,</em> Clef does not say. <em>You hurt me,</em> he doesn’t say that either. <em>Something changed, you slipped through my fingers and I don’t even know when,</em> he would never say. <em>I miss you,</em> he feels echo around the hole where his heart once sat. <em>I love you</em>.</p> <p>“I’m tired,” he finally settles on. “I’ve <em>been</em> tired for so, so, so <em>fucking</em> long. Before you, before… before Konny, before the Foundation. I’m just… so tired.” He puts his face in his hands and chuckles, a scratchy, broken sound.</p> <p>Nobody shifts. “Seems… fitting things end here. Right where things began.”</p> <p>“Did things begin here? … That’s funny actually, I like a good full circle.” He leans in, resting his head against Nobody’s chest. “The Bitter End, hehehe, I just thought about it.”</p> <p>Nobody rests his hand on the back of Clef’s head, like Clef is some sort of dog. Not a bad feeling. Nobody can only stare off into the distance.</p> <p>“Did we… deserve this?” Clef asks.</p> <p>“Would it be easier if we did?”</p> <p>The stool squeaks as Clef straightens out. “I don’t know. Aren’t you supposed to know things in the end? Isn’t there supposed to be closure?”</p> <p>Nobody opens his mouth, only to be cut off by Clef jamming their faces together. He leans back, propping himself up with the countertop. It’s not a good kiss, but it’s an eager one, and Nobody matches the desperation.</p> <p>For the full minute the kiss lasts, Clef can forget everything. If nothing will ever matter again, then Clef can stay in this moment. The world can end tomorrow for all he cares.</p> <p>He pulls back and observes the dusting on pink on Nobody’s cheeks. Neither moves, neither dares to. Just as quickly, the trance slips, and Clef remembers what he has to do.</p> <p>“It shouldn’t have to end like this.” He drags his knuckles against the side of Nobody’s face. Nobody closes his eyes, for a moment gone from this world.</p> <p>“It was always going to end like this,” he says, distantly. “The end was the first thing written.”</p> <p>Clef snorts. “Feeling poetic tonight, aren’t we?”</p> <p>“I’ve had… quite a bit of time to contemplate this… contemplate everything I did… you have every right to still be mad with me.”</p> <p>“I was never… <em>augh</em>, I was never mad at you. I thought I was, I thought I was <em>so</em> fucking angry, but it was never you.” He laughs, wiping away the few tears at the corners of his eyes. “I’ll give you one thing, you fucked me up <em>bad</em>, but I think I fucked you up too… I guess we’ll know better for next time, huh?”</p> <p>Nobody tilts his head to one side and nods slowly. “Next time…”</p> <p>As the same thought passes through both minds, they stand up, abandoning their drinks.</p> <p>“Goodbye… Charles.” Clef stands on his tiptoes to peck him on the lips. "You were the best of us."</p> <p>“Goodbye, doctor. It has been a pleasure.”</p> <p><em>A pleasure…</em> yeah right.</p> <p>Clef lets himself believe it.</p> <p>And then he pulls the trigger.</p> <p>Gears hits the ground, the death nearly instant. Clef may be shaky, but he knows his stuff.</p> <p>He turns the lights off on the way out.</p> <p>…</p> <p>When Clef steps into Gears’s <span style="color:#0099ff;">house</span>, the door creaks, echoing through long and empty halls. His footsteps kick up a layer of dust. It’s been a long time since anyone has lived here.</p> <p>He finds a corner in the kitchen and has a seat, resting his head against the cabinets. He lets his eyes close, the sound the <span style="color:#0099ff;">house</span> washes over him. A wind passes by, causing the front door to sway.</p> <p><em>What is he waiting for?</em> He asks himself. He’s not sure why he thought there would be something here for him. It’s just a <span style="color:#0099ff;">house</span>. <em>Just a <span style="color:#0099ff;">house</span></em>… Its only companion dead.</p> <p><em>Right</em>, he had another reason to come here. He stands up and returns to his truck. Four tanks of gasoline wait for him. He grabs one and begins making a slow, and methodical circle around the house.</p> <p>He pours a tank on the floor, splashes the wall, until he’s emptied all four tanks and he’s sure every inch is soaked. The <span style="color:#0099ff;">house</span> makes no sign of protest, even as Clef steps outside and pulls out his lighter.</p> <p>The fire can be seen from Site-19, but no one’s ever lived in that place, so they pay it no mind. More important work to be done.</p> <p>If Clef can do one thing right, he hopes he helped his friend to rest.</p> <p>…</p> <p>The bus driver gives him an odd look as Clef explains where he wants to be dropped off. Maybe it’s because it’s the middle of nowhere, maybe it’s because Clef is covered in blood and vomit and is carrying a shotgun. It’s well past midnight by the time they stop. Clef is the only one on board. He tips his hat to the driver on his way off, only polite.</p> <p>A cold breeze brushes past, it feels nice against his too warm face. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and holds it. The bus drives off behind him, the crickets chirp, a moth <em>tap tap taps</em> against the light overhead. Gears’s pistol in his pocket, one bullet in his shotgun, one last confrontation to be had.</p> <p>Clef observes the shack from a distance. It’s small, cozy even, surrounded by forest. It was quite a walk from here to the nearest road. Exactly the sort of place Kondraki would love. It hurts to look at.</p> <p>Clef steps into the clearing <em>and he’s sitting in a fold-out chair before a lake, watching how the moon’s reflection ripples across the peaceful surface. At the hissing sound of a beer can, Clef glances at Kondraki. Kondraki licks the foam off his hands and the side of the can, looking stupid while doing so. Clef sips at his drink.</em></p> <p><em>Kondraki scoots his chair a little closer to Clef. They lean against each other. Neither says a word, afraid to break the strange peace that’s passed over both of them. Clef doesn’t think about how vulnerable he feels right now.</em></p> <p><em>“Clef?” Kondraki’s breath stinks of beer.</em></p> <p><em>“Hm?”</em></p> <p><em>“‘M tired…”</em></p> <p><em>Clef glances at Kondraki’s watch. They’re both up far too late. He looks around, taking mental note of all of the crushed up cans they’ve left on the ground. Kondraki’s eyes are closed, he looks a million miles away.</em></p> <p><em>“Okay,” Clef says, getting to his feet with some effort, “that’s enough, let’s get you home.”</em></p> <p><em>Kondraki mumbles something as Clef tugs him to his feet. They stumble along in tandem, both of them dragging their chairs behind them. They pack up in Clef’s truck, Clef lets the heater warm up before he drives.</em></p> <p><em>Clef’s cabin is right next to their lake shore drinking spot. Clef thinks about driving Kondraki all the way home and back and feels a headache coming on. He pulls up into his driveway and nudges Kondraki awake.</em></p> <p><em>Little Shit excitedly scrambles up to Kondraki, barrelling face first into his shin. He leans down to pet its head, ruffling up its greasy fur.</em></p> <p><em>“Meow!”</em></p> <p><em>“Merow?” Kondraki replies inquisitively.</em></p> <p><em>“Mow!”</em></p> <p><em>In Clef’s bedroom, they both make a pile of clothes on the floor and crawl into bed. The bed is hardly appropriate for two full grown men, but they make it work. Little Shit hops into bed and curls up between them, like a child crawling into bed with their parents.</em></p> <p><em>Kondraki leans in and pecks Clef on the lips. Clef is almost embarrassed by how chaste it is. Stupidly tender.</em></p> <p><em>“Hey Clef? What are we?”</em></p> <p><em>Clef chokes on nothing. “What kinda stupid ass question is that?”</em></p> <p><em>“I think it’s a perfectly reasonable question!”</em></p> <p><em>Clef scoffs and rolls his eyes. “What do you want us to be?”</em></p> <p><em>“Now who’s asking stupid questions!”</em></p> <p><em>A beat passes.</em></p> <p><em>“If I say something real sappy will it kill the mood?” Kondraki whispers. “Because I think I-”</em></p> <p>"YOU'RE WALKING IN THE WOODS. THERE'S NO ONE AROUND AND YOUR PHONE IS DEAD. OUT OF THE CORNER OF YOUR EYE YOU SPOT HIM-”</p> <p>A whisper: <em>“Troy Lament.”</em> It’s Kondraki’s voice.</p> <p>Clef violently flinches. He puts his hand over his heart. What an <em>absurd</em> thing to potentially kill him. He stares in disbelief for several minutes, stunned to silence.</p> <p>The front door of the shack hangs wide open, like the mouth of an animal. Surely Clef should feel relieved, Kondraki’s not an idiot, he’s long gone, and Clef doesn’t have to do this.</p> <p>A twitch in the shadows. So small he could have ignored it, could have told himself he didn’t see it. He could have walked away fully believing that Kondraki had left and that he wouldn’t be able to finish him off.</p> <p><em>“Oh, and now I'm going to believe a word that comes out of that polymorphic pie hole?”</em></p> <p>Clef grits his teeth. He’s too close to this to ever let it go, there was no other way for this to end. He swallows down his nausea and steps inside.</p> <p>The shadow moves quickly; Kondraki steps into the light, ripping Clef’s shotgun out of his hands.</p> <p>"Sit the fuck down!" He barks, and then, immediately- "You're not Lament."</p> <p><em>Oh God</em>, Clef feels like the wind has been forced out of him. Kondraki stands tall, casting a shadow over Clef. A billion words rush into his mind, none escape his lips. Kondraki shifts uncomfortably.</p> <p>He leans over the flick off the radio. "They sent <em>you</em>? Didn't think they'd have the balls. Figured it would be Lament. Best agent they actually consider expendable… you’ve… still got my coat."</p> <p>“You’re looking well, Kon,” Clef forces out. Kondraki gives him an odd look. Clef already looks like total shit, like a man who's been dragged unconscious through a sewer, he probably sounds like shit too, not that he can hear much over the roar of his own blood.</p> <p>"Keeping healthy," Kondraki says. "Hunt and gather. Strict workout regimen." He pats his stomach. "Important for living on the run. Gotta stay healthy. Always." He frowns, brows furrowed. "You let me take your gun."</p> <p>His eyes flick between Kondraki’s face and his shotgun. “Yeah.”</p> <p>“Why?”</p> <p>Clef shrugs.</p> <p>A bird claws in the distance. A river flows. The cracks in the sky get a little wider. The moon dips below the horizon. Kondraki sighs.</p> <p>“Why are you looking at me like that?”</p> <p>“You were dead,” Clef says, like Kondraki is an idiot. “Shot in the head. I saw your funeral. I filled your goddamn corpse full of lead!” Clef clutches his stomach, breaking out in a cold sweat. He trembles, he hates how he can’t control his own body.</p> <p>"I heard," Kondraki says, having the gaul to sound ashamed of himself. "Hear tell you missed most of the shots, too. Just like you." He laughs without humor. “Why are you here?”</p> <p>“Had to be.”</p> <p>“No, why are you <em>here?</em> I know you, <em>I know you</em>. You'd have never fallen for a trick like that, not in a million years." Kondraki takes a step forward, Clef takes a step back.</p> <p>“Guess I’m just tired.” Clef looks like someone who’s <em>more</em> than just tired, he looks empty.</p> <p>“What’s up with you?” Kondraki sets Clef’s shotgun down. “This isn’t like you. Normally you’d be all up in arms. Where’s your bite? You’re acting like-” Kondraki squints. “You’re acting just like…”</p> <p>Clef starts to laugh.</p> <p>“What’s so funny.”</p> <p>“You don’t even know who you want to compare to me!” Clef cackles, tears pouring down his face. He gasps sharply, his lungs burning with the effort. Kondraki backs up, face twisting into cold terror, though Clef can’t imagine what’s wrong. The walls creak and pull inwards, pushing Kondraki closer and closer to the center.</p> <p>“You have <em>no</em> idea what I’ve been through!” Clef screams. The walls crack, blood and mold and filthy water pools on the floor. “You don’t know who I am! What I’ve lost! You don’t even know what <em>you’ve</em> lost! And you have the audacity to-!”</p> <p><em>There is an important distinction that must be drawn between the words dissection and vivisection, a distinction that would appear to be lost on you.</em> “Up or down,” shouts the fish, “you have to choose!” <em>I still get nightmares, in fact I get them so often I should be used to them by now. I’m not.</em> When the dust clears, a figure is clear, surrounded by the twisted, mangled wreckage of the semi-truck, Andrea Adams stands tall, completely unharmed. <em>“I don’t understand what’s so important about this book,” Iris says. She reaches out to touch the top page but <span style="text-decoration: line-through;"><span style="color:#990000;">Meri’s</span></span> hand shoots out, grasping her wrist.</em> “I don’t think I like it here very much,” says the scorpion. “Why?” Responds the frog, “Because one day something’s going to eat you alive?” <strong><em>The Fish:</em></strong> <em>You only looked at the right. Never walked to it, you are stuck at the left.</em> The emerald cockroach wasp or jewel wasp will sting the cockroach in between the eyes, rendering the cockroach braindead, and thus, a suitable host for the mother’s eggs. <strong><em>Solange:</em></strong> <em>I want to help you. I want to comfort you, but I know I disgust you. I'm repulsive to you. And I know it because you disgust me. When slaves love one another, it's not love.</em> “Up or down,” shouts the frog, “you have to choose!” <span style="text-decoration: line-through;"><span style="color:#990000;"><em>LET ME TELL YOU HOW MUCH I'VE COME TO HATE YOU SINCE I BEGAN TO LIVE.</em></span></span> [<strong>Claire</strong> (<em>As Estragon</em>) and <strong>Solange</strong> (<em>As Vladimir</em>)] It may haunt itself, inventing ghosts to walk its floors, making friends with its shadow puppets, laughing and whispering to itself at the end of some quiet cul-de-sac. <em>“Do you trust me?”</em> Foundation registered reality anchor #4,345 wasn’t sure quite when it woke up. <em>“It’s been a pleasure,” says the jewel wasp. “You were always the best of us,” says the cockroach. And then he raises the gun.</em> Fix dad, fix dad, fix dad, fix dad, fix dad, you have to fix dad. <em>“Hahaha! Hell no!”</em> When the scorpion's eggs hatch, the larva will feast on the body of the frog. <em>“Why did you leave me?” Asks the <span style="color:#0099ff;">house</span>. “It’s in my nature,” answers Nobody.</em> “Look out the window,” Whateley commands, “we only see this once a year.” <em>The scorpion lines up his camera and snaps a picture of the manifestation.</em> <span style="text-decoration: line-through;"><span style="color:#990000;">You do not have a file on the deceased Foundation agent code-named Iceberg. No one has a file on the deceased Foundation agent code-named Iceberg.</span></span> <em>“You know,” begins the <span style="color:#0099ff;">house</span>, “I don’t think I like it here very much.”</em> <strong>This Is Not For You</strong>. <em>SCP-4231-B looks down and sees a fish swimming underneath A’s reflection.</em> “Have you ever tried… killing yourself?” <em>I have.</em> “What was it like?” <em>Factotum Network collapses, her blood soaking into the fine carpet.</em> The jewel wasp stings the scorpion between the eyes, rendering it braindead. <span style="text-decoration: line-through;"><span style="color:#990000;"><em>Thinking about writing an evil clears au where, following the loss of Kondraki and Iceberg, Clef and Gears throw themselves into the worst relationship ever.</em></span></span> “And did God hear?” He heard and did not stop the fall. <em>Alison scoops up her cat. “I won’t force you to come with me,” she says, sparing Draven one long look, “I’m just saying you’ll learn a lot more at a library than you ever will here.”</em> She drops to her knees, the Sheriff’s blood soaking into her stockings. “I have no mouth,” she says. <em>“And I must scream,” says the frog. “And I must scream,” says the fish. “And I must scream,” says the author. “And I must scream,” says L.S. “And I must scream,” says the Foundation. “And I must scream,” says then <span style="color:#0099ff;">house</span>. “And I must scream,” says the cockroach.</em> Clef collapses.</p> <p>Kondraki blinks away the terrified tears that threaten to spill over. He scrambles into a corner, hand over his too fast heart. He gasps, each quick breath felt like he was swallowing needles. His eyes dart around his shack. The walls aren’t full of mold, everything is exactly as it should be. Clef lays on the floor, face obscured.</p> <p>“Holy shit!” He wheezes. Crawling on his hands and knees, and kneels by Clef’s side. He rolls Clef over, gently brushing the back of his fingers against Clef’s beard. Clef breathes slowly and does not open his eyes. “I’m sorry,” Kondraki whispers. “I’m sorry I left you.”</p> <p>“‘M tired…” Clef mumbles, leaning into Kondraki’s touch. He smells of pine needles and tree sap. “I want to go home.”</p> <p>“Oh Alto…” he whispers, because he doesn’t know what else to say. “You know, I wasn't gonna let that bastard Lament kill me. But you… This is how it should be. This is how it should properly end. The two of us, together."</p> <p>Clef chuckles weakly. “Kondraki?”</p> <p>“Yes?”</p> <p>“I have something I need to tell you…”</p> <p>Kondraki opens his mouth, but he never gets a chance to say anything. In two seconds, Clef whips out Gears’s pistol and shoots him between the eyes, rendering him braindead.</p> <p>"You should've put a bullet through my skull, Kon," he says, watching as the last twitches of life settle down. "Why couldn't you just…"</p> <p><em>“-love you.”</em></p> <p><em>Clef blanches. “What?”</em></p> <p><em>“Don’t make me repeat it.”</em></p> <p><em>Clef snatches both sides of Kondraki’s face. “What did you say?”</em></p> <p><em>“I love you?”</em></p> <p><em>“You’re disgusting,” Clef says, tears twinkling in his eyes.</em></p> <p><em>Kondraki snorts. “We’re disgusting, Clef.”</em></p> <p><em>Clef sniffles grossly. “God, you’re awful. I think I</em> love you too.” Clef rests his head on the deadman’s chest. “I love you too.”</p> <p>Sunlight streams through the open door.</p> <p>…</p> <p>“Oh, it’s you,” Clef meant to put a little more force into it, but it just comes out uninterested. “You weren't on the list." He looks down at the sliver chains squeezing his body. It doesn’t hurt, it might even be comfortable under different circumstances.</p> <p>"Sloppy of them," she says. "Hello, Clef. My name is Sophia Light. You killed my ex-boyfriend. Prepare to die." She brandishes a thirteen inch chef’s knife.</p> <p>He forces out a snort at hurt reference. “Fitting… The final girl kills the monster at the end.” He sighs, staring wistfully at the Bloom. “I hate to end things like this but…” there’s nothing left for him to say.</p> <p>She grabs him by the shirt collar and lines up the tip of the knife with his windpipe.</p> <p>“You know that <span style="color:#0099ff;">house</span> that’s right next to SIte-19?” He asks.</p> <p>“The one you burned down?”</p> <p>“That’s the one. Do me a favor and make sure nobody ever buys that place.”</p> <p>She nods as if she understands, and then she plunges the knife through his throat.</p> <p>.</p> <p>.</p> <p>.</p> <p>[<strong>Dr. Gears</strong> (<em>as Gears</em>) steps into <strong>Dr. Clef’s</strong> (<em>as Clef</em>) office, holding a ratty jacket]</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> [Stiffly] “How are you feeling, Dr. Clef?”</p> <p><strong>Clef:</strong> [Manic] “Like a million bucks! You want something?”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “I wanted to check on you.”</p> <p><strong>Clef:</strong> “Well? You’ve checked on me.” [He leans over, chest to the desk, to wrap his fingers around the shotgun on the floor]</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> [He looks at the clock] “It’s well past your required hours. Are you in any state to get home?”</p> <p><strong>Clef:</strong> [Through his teeth] “I’m fine.”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> “I am…” [A pause] “I am concerned you are not in your right mind at the moment.”</p> <p><strong>Clef:</strong> “Oh I’m in my right mind alright!” [He slams the shotgun down on his desk, finger curled around the trigger] “I’m in the best mind I’ve ever been in!” [He blinks, expression twisting from a grin to a confused frown]</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> [Tense] “You are under the influence. I will take you home safely.”</p> <p><strong>Clef:</strong> [Clef looks at his shotgun and his office like it’s the first time he’s ever seen it. He lets the shotgun slip from his fingers] “Alright.” [A pause] “I would like to go home.”</p> <p><strong>Gears:</strong> [A nod] “Good.”</p> <p>[Gears approaches and takes Clef’s hand. Clef and Gears exit the office. End of Act I]</p> <div class="series-nav"> <p>« <strong><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/lets-get-you-home">Part 1</a></strong> \| <strong><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/i-need-you-to-leave">Part 2</a></strong> \| <strong><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/this-is-not-a-place-of-honor">Part 3</a></strong> \| <strong><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/nobody-runs-site-19">Part 4</a></strong> \| <strong>Finale</strong> <em>(you are here)</em> »</p> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/tomorrow-and-tomorrow-and-tomorrow">Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow Again</a>" by kingofmice, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/tomorrow-and-tomorrow-and-tomorrow">https://scpwiki.com/tomorrow-and-tomorrow-and-tomorrow</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] ⚠️ Content warning: Panic Attacks and Descriptions of Violence [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:end">:scp-wiki:info:end</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:info-cw">:scp-wiki:component:info-cw</a>]] [[module CSS]] .body-text { margin: 2% 13% 2% 9%; padding: 5px 20px 5px 20px; background-color: #f2f2f2; color: #111; } .text4desk { width: 70%; margin: auto; } @media only screen and (max-width: 600px) { .body-text { margin: 0% 4% 0% 4%; } .text4desk { width:100%; } } [[/module]] //[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/nobody-runs-site-19 previously]// [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/yesterday The world is burning, but you already know that part]. There’s something almost beautiful about watching the fires from a distance. Clef knows he’ll soon be burning too, but at least he can enjoy the view until then. Adams is dead, killed on an Alpha-9 mission, //so Clef is told//. And Draven… He never did find out where the kid went. It isn’t important anymore, they were always disposable assets to the Foundation. Clef considers them lucky, at least they got out of here. Clef’s seeing this shipwreck to the end. "O5-12 has arrived to see you," his new assistant informs. "Tell him to fuck off," Clef says. "Sending him in now," his assistant replies. It really is beautiful out. He should be doing something about this but… he’s so tired. He’s been tired for as long as he can remember. Twelve enters alone. Clef doesn't bother turning around to greet him. "So what the hell do you want?" "Is this how you talk to all the O5s?" //Hey wait-// Clef turns around, narrowing his eyes at Twelve. “Oh, it’s you…” O5-12, who was once a man named Troy Lament, smiles. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, it never did. The world is ending, and some aren’t seeing the big finale. The list is handwritten. Right there, on the bottom of the list. It couldn’t be an accident. "Your people fucked up here. Kondraki's been dead over a decade. Someone… shot him in the head." Twelve just smiles. //They knew. All of them knew, they always did. They always fucking did//. … --[[span style="color:#990000;"]]Andrews Bjornsen[[/span]]-- --[[span style="color:#990000;"]]Karlyle Aktus[[/span]]-- --[[span style="color:#990000;"]]Kate McTiriss[[/span]]-- --[[span style="color:#990000;"]]Zyn Kiryu[[/span]]-- --[[span style="color:#990000;"]]Ralph Roget [[/span]]-- --[[span style="color:#990000;"]]Avery Solace[[/span]]-- --[[span style="color:#990000;"]]Rose Labelle[[/span]]-- --[[span style="color:#990000;"]]Quikngruvn Halifax[[/span]]-- --[[span style="color:#990000;"]]Maria Jones [[/span]]-- --[[span style="color:#990000;"]]Chelsea Elliott[[/span]]-- --[[span style="color:#990000;"]]Simon Glass[[/span]]-- --[[span style="color:#990000;"]]Django Bridge [[/span]]-- --[[span style="color:#990000;"]]Everett Mann[[/span]]-- They’re all just names. Maybe some of them used to be friends. Doesn’t matter anymore. There’s a gap in the list, a notable space between Everett Mann and Kain Pathos Crow. It’s a strange placement for a gap, standing out among the closely knit scribbled names. Charles Gears is supposed to go there, but of course, Nobody knows who Charles Gears is anymore. Nobody is sitting in the director’s office. He looks like how Clef feels, if maybe a bit cleaner. A gun sits on the desk beside him. Clef freezes in the doorway. Nobody doesn’t look at him, the only sound is the soft scratch of pen to paper and the distant roar of the end of the world. It’s almost serene, he could get lost in this moment. Part of him has already been lost in his moment. “There’s no need to hesitate,” says Nobody. He says it so casually. Clef looks him in the eyes and sees the flickering reflection of light pouring in through the window. "I realize you are here to carry out my scheduled execution. My affairs are in order. I have done the same for Doctor Crow. I would have carried out the deed myself, but I was informed the process needed to be executed either directly or indirectly by you." Clef chuckles, he’s not sure at what specifically. Maybe it’s how he says the word //execution. Execution//, like Clef is some sort of revolutionaire, and not a trained attack dog. “Is that it?” Clef isn’t sure who he’s asking. Of //course// that’s it. He kills Nobody, the O5s smash the big red reset button, nothing Clef has gone through for the past… nothing before or after this moment will have ever mattered. Nobody nudges the pistol towards Clef. Clef wonders, vaguely, if it’s the same gun he used on Kondraki. It probably isn’t, but the thought crosses his mind. He approaches the desk in the manner of someone approaching a rotted corpse. “I would have liked to do more to help cover your tracks, but…” Nobody trails off, eyes drifting from Clef to the floor. He slides open a drawer and holds out a package. “The coordinates for the current location of Dr. Kondraki." “How long…” Clef decides not to finish that question, it wouldn’t make him feel better. He stares at the package for several long moments before taking it. It doesn’t feel real, but then again, what does? "I do have a last request." He stands and presses a vial into Clef’s hand. “For Kain… It’ll make his death quick and happy. I… he left a note for you in his office.” “I don’t understand.” "I've already put him into a coma…” Nobody winces. “He wouldn’t want you to have to see him when you did this. His body is in a closed kennel with an IV hook up. You need only insert this into the IV." Clef stares at him, Nobody stares back. Both fail to find their words. Clef puts the vial and package in his pockets. He looks around, surveying the neat office space. It’s almost completely empty, as clean as a well used room could be. Everything exactly in its place. “Are you happy like this?” “It doesn’t hurt.” “That’s not what I asked.” Nobody doesn’t say a word. Clef sighs. “Come get a drink with me,” he says, very suddenly. “What?” “Come get a drink with me,” Clef repeats. “I… can’t.” “Why not? The world’s on fire, everyone’s gonna be fucking dead in like two weeks, either I shoot you now or I do it later. There’s nothing left for us here.” “I don’t know what you want…” “I think I’ve made my //wants// as clear as possible.” Another silence, followed by floorboards creaking as Nobody steps towards him. Clef nods, once, and they leave Site-19 together. … The streets are empty, even the veiled citizens can sense the end times. Perfectly fine by Clef. His truck takes several tries to start up, and he cruises through the ghost town with Nobody in the passenger’s seat. //The Bitter End//’s neon sign hasn’t worked for years, it only occasionally offers a few disjointed flickers. The lights are on, but no one’s inside. Clef takes out Nobody’s pistol, sticks a bullet in the lock, and kicks the front door open. It looks like the aftermath of a riot, the floor hidden under a layer of grime. Clef hops over the bar, finding two unbroken bottles of beer. He pulls off the caps with his teeth and hands one to Nobody. Nobody looks like he’s never held a bottle in his life. Clef smacks them together in a mock toast and they both drink. “Aren’t you gonna say something?” “I have no lines left…” The script has ended, he was supposed to die back in his office. Come on…” his voice verges on desperation. “I’m not sure what you want from me anymore.” //I hate you,// Clef does not say. //You hurt me,// he doesn’t say that either. //Something changed, you slipped through my fingers and I don’t even know when,// he would never say. //I miss you,// he feels echo around the hole where his heart once sat. //I love you//. “I’m tired,” he finally settles on. “I’ve //been// tired for so, so, so //fucking// long. Before you, before… before Konny, before the Foundation. I’m just… so tired.” He puts his face in his hands and chuckles, a scratchy, broken sound. Nobody shifts. “Seems… fitting things end here. Right where things began.” “Did things begin here? … That’s funny actually, I like a good full circle.” He leans in, resting his head against Nobody’s chest. “The Bitter End, hehehe, I just thought about it.” Nobody rests his hand on the back of Clef’s head, like Clef is some sort of dog. Not a bad feeling. Nobody can only stare off into the distance. “Did we… deserve this?” Clef asks. “Would it be easier if we did?” The stool squeaks as Clef straightens out. “I don’t know. Aren’t you supposed to know things in the end? Isn’t there supposed to be closure?” Nobody opens his mouth, only to be cut off by Clef jamming their faces together. He leans back, propping himself up with the countertop. It’s not a good kiss, but it’s an eager one, and Nobody matches the desperation. For the full minute the kiss lasts, Clef can forget everything. If nothing will ever matter again, then Clef can stay in this moment. The world can end tomorrow for all he cares. He pulls back and observes the dusting on pink on Nobody’s cheeks. Neither moves, neither dares to. Just as quickly, the trance slips, and Clef remembers what he has to do. “It shouldn’t have to end like this.” He drags his knuckles against the side of Nobody’s face. Nobody closes his eyes, for a moment gone from this world. “It was always going to end like this,” he says, distantly. “The end was the first thing written.” Clef snorts. “Feeling poetic tonight, aren’t we?” “I’ve had… quite a bit of time to contemplate this… contemplate everything I did… you have every right to still be mad with me.” “I was never… //augh//, I was never mad at you. I thought I was, I thought I was //so// fucking angry, but it was never you.” He laughs, wiping away the few tears at the corners of his eyes. “I’ll give you one thing, you fucked me up //bad//, but I think I fucked you up too… I guess we’ll know better for next time, huh?” Nobody tilts his head to one side and nods slowly. “Next time…” As the same thought passes through both minds, they stand up, abandoning their drinks. “Goodbye… Charles.” Clef stands on his tiptoes to peck him on the lips. "You were the best of us." “Goodbye, doctor. It has been a pleasure.” //A pleasure…// yeah right. Clef lets himself believe it. And then he pulls the trigger. Gears hits the ground, the death nearly instant. Clef may be shaky, but he knows his stuff. He turns the lights off on the way out. … When Clef steps into Gears’s [[span style="color:#0099ff;"]]house[[/span]], the door creaks, echoing through long and empty halls. His footsteps kick up a layer of dust. It’s been a long time since anyone has lived here. He finds a corner in the kitchen and has a seat, resting his head against the cabinets. He lets his eyes close, the sound the [[span style="color:#0099ff;"]]house[[/span]] washes over him. A wind passes by, causing the front door to sway. //What is he waiting for?// He asks himself. He’s not sure why he thought there would be something here for him. It’s just a [[span style="color:#0099ff;"]]house[[/span]]. //Just a [[span style="color:#0099ff;"]]house[[/span]]//... Its only companion dead. //Right//, he had another reason to come here. He stands up and returns to his truck. Four tanks of gasoline wait for him. He grabs one and begins making a slow, and methodical circle around the house. He pours a tank on the floor, splashes the wall, until he’s emptied all four tanks and he’s sure every inch is soaked. The [[span style="color:#0099ff;"]]house[[/span]] makes no sign of protest, even as Clef steps outside and pulls out his lighter. The fire can be seen from Site-19, but no one’s ever lived in that place, so they pay it no mind. More important work to be done. If Clef can do one thing right, he hopes he helped his friend to rest. … The bus driver gives him an odd look as Clef explains where he wants to be dropped off. Maybe it’s because it’s the middle of nowhere, maybe it’s because Clef is covered in blood and vomit and is carrying a shotgun. It’s well past midnight by the time they stop. Clef is the only one on board. He tips his hat to the driver on his way off, only polite. A cold breeze brushes past, it feels nice against his too warm face. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and holds it. The bus drives off behind him, the crickets chirp, a moth //tap tap taps// against the light overhead. Gears’s pistol in his pocket, one bullet in his shotgun, one last confrontation to be had. Clef observes the shack from a distance. It’s small, cozy even, surrounded by forest. It was quite a walk from here to the nearest road. Exactly the sort of place Kondraki would love. It hurts to look at. Clef steps into the clearing //and he’s sitting in a fold-out chair before a lake, watching how the moon’s reflection ripples across the peaceful surface. At the hissing sound of a beer can, Clef glances at Kondraki. Kondraki licks the foam off his hands and the side of the can, looking stupid while doing so. Clef sips at his drink.// //Kondraki scoots his chair a little closer to Clef. They lean against each other. Neither says a word, afraid to break the strange peace that’s passed over both of them. Clef doesn’t think about how vulnerable he feels right now.// //“Clef?” Kondraki’s breath stinks of beer.// //“Hm?”// //“‘M tired…”// //Clef glances at Kondraki’s watch. They’re both up far too late. He looks around, taking mental note of all of the crushed up cans they’ve left on the ground. Kondraki’s eyes are closed, he looks a million miles away.// //“Okay,” Clef says, getting to his feet with some effort, “that’s enough, let’s get you home.”// //Kondraki mumbles something as Clef tugs him to his feet. They stumble along in tandem, both of them dragging their chairs behind them. They pack up in Clef’s truck, Clef lets the heater warm up before he drives.// //Clef’s cabin is right next to their lake shore drinking spot. Clef thinks about driving Kondraki all the way home and back and feels a headache coming on. He pulls up into his driveway and nudges Kondraki awake.// //Little Shit excitedly scrambles up to Kondraki, barrelling face first into his shin. He leans down to pet its head, ruffling up its greasy fur.// //“Meow!”// //“Merow?” Kondraki replies inquisitively.// //“Mow!”// //In Clef’s bedroom, they both make a pile of clothes on the floor and crawl into bed. The bed is hardly appropriate for two full grown men, but they make it work. Little Shit hops into bed and curls up between them, like a child crawling into bed with their parents.// //Kondraki leans in and pecks Clef on the lips. Clef is almost embarrassed by how chaste it is. Stupidly tender.// //“Hey Clef? What are we?”// //Clef chokes on nothing. “What kinda stupid ass question is that?”// //“I think it’s a perfectly reasonable question!”// //Clef scoffs and rolls his eyes. “What do you want us to be?”// //“Now who’s asking stupid questions!”// //A beat passes.// //“If I say something real sappy will it kill the mood?” Kondraki whispers. “Because I think I-”// "YOU'RE WALKING IN THE WOODS. THERE'S NO ONE AROUND AND YOUR PHONE IS DEAD. OUT OF THE CORNER OF YOUR EYE YOU SPOT HIM-” A whisper: //“Troy Lament.”// It’s Kondraki’s voice. Clef violently flinches. He puts his hand over his heart. What an //absurd// thing to potentially kill him. He stares in disbelief for several minutes, stunned to silence. The front door of the shack hangs wide open, like the mouth of an animal. Surely Clef should feel relieved, Kondraki’s not an idiot, he’s long gone, and Clef doesn’t have to do this. A twitch in the shadows. So small he could have ignored it, could have told himself he didn’t see it. He could have walked away fully believing that Kondraki had left and that he wouldn’t be able to finish him off. //“Oh, and now I'm going to believe a word that comes out of that polymorphic pie hole?”// Clef grits his teeth. He’s too close to this to ever let it go, there was no other way for this to end. He swallows down his nausea and steps inside. The shadow moves quickly; Kondraki steps into the light, ripping Clef’s shotgun out of his hands. "Sit the fuck down!" He barks, and then, immediately- "You're not Lament." //Oh God//, Clef feels like the wind has been forced out of him. Kondraki stands tall, casting a shadow over Clef. A billion words rush into his mind, none escape his lips. Kondraki shifts uncomfortably. He leans over the flick off the radio. "They sent //you//? Didn't think they'd have the balls. Figured it would be Lament. Best agent they actually consider expendable… you’ve… still got my coat." “You’re looking well, Kon,” Clef forces out. Kondraki gives him an odd look. Clef already looks like total shit, like a man who's been dragged unconscious through a sewer, he probably sounds like shit too, not that he can hear much over the roar of his own blood. "Keeping healthy," Kondraki says. "Hunt and gather. Strict workout regimen." He pats his stomach. "Important for living on the run. Gotta stay healthy. Always." He frowns, brows furrowed. "You let me take your gun." His eyes flick between Kondraki’s face and his shotgun. “Yeah.” “Why?” Clef shrugs. A bird claws in the distance. A river flows. The cracks in the sky get a little wider. The moon dips below the horizon. Kondraki sighs. “Why are you looking at me like that?” “You were dead,” Clef says, like Kondraki is an idiot. “Shot in the head. I saw your funeral. I filled your goddamn corpse full of lead!” Clef clutches his stomach, breaking out in a cold sweat. He trembles, he hates how he can’t control his own body. "I heard," Kondraki says, having the gaul to sound ashamed of himself. "Hear tell you missed most of the shots, too. Just like you." He laughs without humor. “Why are you here?” “Had to be.” “No, why are you //here?// I know you, //I know you//. You'd have never fallen for a trick like that, not in a million years." Kondraki takes a step forward, Clef takes a step back. “Guess I’m just tired.” Clef looks like someone who’s //more// than just tired, he looks empty. “What’s up with you?” Kondraki sets Clef’s shotgun down. “This isn’t like you. Normally you’d be all up in arms. Where’s your bite? You’re acting like-” Kondraki squints. “You’re acting just like…” Clef starts to laugh. “What’s so funny.” “You don’t even know who you want to compare to me!” Clef cackles, tears pouring down his face. He gasps sharply, his lungs burning with the effort. Kondraki backs up, face twisting into cold terror, though Clef can’t imagine what’s wrong. The walls creak and pull inwards, pushing Kondraki closer and closer to the center. “You have //no// idea what I’ve been through!” Clef screams. The walls crack, blood and mold and filthy water pools on the floor. “You don’t know who I am! What I’ve lost! You don’t even know what //you’ve// lost! And you have the audacity to-!” //There is an important distinction that must be drawn between the words dissection and vivisection, a distinction that would appear to be lost on you.// “Up or down,” shouts the fish, “you have to choose!” //I still get nightmares, in fact I get them so often I should be used to them by now. I’m not.// When the dust clears, a figure is clear, surrounded by the twisted, mangled wreckage of the semi-truck, Andrea Adams stands tall, completely unharmed. //“I don’t understand what’s so important about this book,” Iris says. She reaches out to touch the top page but --[[span style="color:#990000;"]]Meri’s[[/span]]-- hand shoots out, grasping her wrist.// “I don’t think I like it here very much,” says the scorpion. “Why?” Responds the frog, “Because one day something’s going to eat you alive?” //The Fish: You only looked at the right. Never walked to it, you are stuck at the left.// The emerald cockroach wasp or jewel wasp will sting the cockroach in between the eyes, rendering the cockroach braindead, and thus, a suitable host for the mother’s eggs. //Solange: I want to help you. I want to comfort you, but I know I disgust you. I'm repulsive to you. And I know it because you disgust me. When slaves love one another, it's not love.// “Up or down,” shouts the frog, “you have to choose!” --[[span style="color:#990000;"]]//LET ME TELL YOU HOW MUCH I'VE COME TO HATE YOU SINCE I BEGAN TO LIVE.//[[/span]]-- [Claire (//As Estragon//) and Solange (//As Vladimir//)] It may haunt itself, inventing ghosts to walk its floors, making friends with its shadow puppets, laughing and whispering to itself at the end of some quiet cul-de-sac. //“Do you trust me?”// Foundation registered reality anchor #4,345 wasn’t sure quite when it woke up. //“It’s been a pleasure,” says the jewel wasp. “You were always the best of us,” says the cockroach. And then he raises the gun.// Fix dad, fix dad, fix dad, fix dad, fix dad, you have to fix dad. //“Hahaha! Hell no!”// When the scorpion's eggs hatch, the larva will feast on the body of the frog. //“Why did you leave me?” Asks the [[span style="color:#0099ff;"]]house[[/span]]. “It’s in my nature,” answers Nobody.// “Look out the window,” Whateley commands, “we only see this once a year.” //The scorpion lines up his camera and snaps a picture of the manifestation.// --[[span style="color:#990000;"]]You do not have a file on the deceased Foundation agent code-named Iceberg. No one has a file on the deceased Foundation agent code-named Iceberg.[[/span]]-- //“You know,” begins the [[span style="color:#0099ff;"]]house[[/span]], “I don’t think I like it here very much.”// This Is Not For You. //SCP-4231-B looks down and sees a fish swimming underneath A’s reflection.// “Have you ever tried… killing yourself?” //I have.// “What was it like?” //Factotum Network collapses, her blood soaking into the fine carpet.// The jewel wasp stings the scorpion between the eyes, rendering it braindead. --[[span style="color:#990000;"]]//Thinking about writing an evil clears au where, following the loss of Kondraki and Iceberg, Clef and Gears throw themselves into the worst relationship ever.//[[/span]]-- “And did God hear?” He heard and did not stop the fall. //Alison scoops up her cat. “I won’t force you to come with me,” she says, sparing Draven one long look, “I’m just saying you’ll learn a lot more at a library than you ever will here.”// She drops to her knees, the Sheriff’s blood soaking into her stockings. “I have no mouth,” she says. //“And I must scream,” says the frog. “And I must scream,” says the fish. “And I must scream,” says the author. “And I must scream,” says L.S. “And I must scream,” says the Foundation. “And I must scream,” says then [[span style="color:#0099ff;"]]house[[/span]]. “And I must scream,” says the cockroach.// Clef collapses. Kondraki blinks away the terrified tears that threaten to spill over. He scrambles into a corner, hand over his too fast heart. He gasps, each quick breath felt like he was swallowing needles. His eyes dart around his shack. The walls aren’t full of mold, everything is exactly as it should be. Clef lays on the floor, face obscured. “Holy shit!” He wheezes. Crawling on his hands and knees, and kneels by Clef’s side. He rolls Clef over, gently brushing the back of his fingers against Clef’s beard. Clef breathes slowly and does not open his eyes. “I’m sorry,” Kondraki whispers. “I’m sorry I left you.” “‘M tired…” Clef mumbles, leaning into Kondraki’s touch. He smells of pine needles and tree sap. “I want to go home.” “Oh Alto…” he whispers, because he doesn’t know what else to say. “You know, I wasn't gonna let that bastard Lament kill me. But you… This is how it should be. This is how it should properly end. The two of us, together." Clef chuckles weakly. “Kondraki?” “Yes?” “I have something I need to tell you…” Kondraki opens his mouth, but he never gets a chance to say anything. In two seconds, Clef whips out Gears’s pistol and shoots him between the eyes, rendering him braindead. "You should've put a bullet through my skull, Kon," he says, watching as the last twitches of life settle down. "Why couldn't you just…" //“-love you.”// //Clef blanches. “What?”// //“Don’t make me repeat it.”// //Clef snatches both sides of Kondraki’s face. “What did you say?”// //“I love you?”// //“You’re disgusting,” Clef says, tears twinkling in his eyes.// //Kondraki snorts. “We’re disgusting, Clef.”// //Clef sniffles grossly. “God, you’re awful. I think I// love you too.” Clef rests his head on the deadman’s chest. “I love you too.” Sunlight streams through the open door. … “Oh, it’s you,” Clef meant to put a little more force into it, but it just comes out uninterested. “You weren't on the list." He looks down at the sliver chains squeezing his body. It doesn’t hurt, it might even be comfortable under different circumstances. "Sloppy of them," she says. "Hello, Clef. My name is Sophia Light. You killed my ex-boyfriend. Prepare to die." She brandishes a thirteen inch chef’s knife. He forces out a snort at hurt reference. “Fitting… The final girl kills the monster at the end.” He sighs, staring wistfully at the Bloom. “I hate to end things like this but…” there’s nothing left for him to say. She grabs him by the shirt collar and lines up the tip of the knife with his windpipe. “You know that [[span style="color:#0099ff;"]]house[[/span]] that’s right next to SIte-19?” He asks. “The one you burned down?” “That’s the one. Do me a favor and make sure nobody ever buys that place.” She nods as if she understands, and then she plunges the knife through his throat. . . . [Dr. Gears (//as Gears//) steps into Dr. Clef’s (//as Clef//) office, holding a ratty jacket] Gears: [Stiffly] “How are you feeling, Dr. Clef?” Clef: [Manic] “Like a million bucks! You want something?” Gears: “I wanted to check on you.” Clef: “Well? You’ve checked on me.” [He leans over, chest to the desk, to wrap his fingers around the shotgun on the floor] Gears: [He looks at the clock] “It’s well past your required hours. Are you in any state to get home?” Clef: [Through his teeth] “I’m fine.” Gears: “I am…” [A pause] “I am concerned you are not in your right mind at the moment.” Clef: “Oh I’m in my right mind alright!” [He slams the shotgun down on his desk, finger curled around the trigger] “I’m in the best mind I’ve ever been in!” [He blinks, expression twisting from a grin to a confused frown] Gears: [Tense] “You are under the influence. I will take you home safely.” Clef: [Clef looks at his shotgun and his office like it’s the first time he’s ever seen it. He lets the shotgun slip from his fingers] “Alright.” [A pause] “I would like to go home.” Gears: [A nod] “Good.” [Gears approaches and takes Clef’s hand. Clef and Gears exit the office. End of Act I] [[div class="series-nav"]] « [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/lets-get-you-home Part 1] \| [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/i-need-you-to-leave Part 2] \| [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/this-is-not-a-place-of-honor Part 3] \| [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/nobody-runs-site-19 Part 4] \| Finale //(you are here)// » [[/div]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-02-05T23:01:00	[ "_licensebox", "bleak", "doctor-clef", "doctor-gears", "doctor-kondraki", "tale" ]	Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow Again - SCP Foundation	19	[ "nobody-runs-site-19", "yesterday", "lets-get-you-home", "i-need-you-to-leave", "this-is-not-a-place-of-honor", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "no-love-hub" ]	[]	1452535790	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/tomorrow-and-tomorrow-and-tomorrow
treatise-on-multiversal-authorities	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="preview"> <p>Or: The Death of Jacob Monroe</p> </div> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=1&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Adark/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <div class="terminal"> <div class="text"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><span style="font-size:150%;"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">HELLO, TRAVELER.</span></span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">------</span><br/> Welcome.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">------</span></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div class="blockquote"> <p>Hello, Civilization or Private Organization. This is an automated message sent out by the SECURE, CONTAIN, AND PROTECT FOUNDATION<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-1" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-1')">1</a></sup><sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-2" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-2')">2</a></sup> on the detection of Type-A Wormholes in undetected areas or by unregistered groups, which are able to breach a universe's limits and allow multiversal travel.</p> <p>This message is sent on the authority and grace of the MULTIVERSAL CONFEDERATION OF TRAVELERS, of which the SCP FOUNDATION is a founding member and heavy contributor to the cause of. The CONFEDERATION is a collection of independent organizations and civilizations collected under the singular cause of regulating and allowing safe and easy multiversal travel. All aspiring members are required to contact one of the member organizations or universes. A list of prominent organizations that are part of the CONFEDERATION can be found below.</p> <blockquote> <p>UNIVERSE B11: SCP FOUNDATION<br/> UNIVERSE C3NTRA: THE CITADEL<br/> UNIVERSE 115TTY: VARIANCE CENTER<br/> UNIVERSE B4GB4K: THE BAGEL BAKERY<br/> UNIVERSE 4HSRIP: CROM DELIVERIES<br/> UNIVERSE LO33R5: DIAPHRAGM RESEARCH</p> </blockquote> <p>If you have been accepted for CONFEDERATION integration, you will need to keep in mind standard protocol for multiversal travel.</p> <ul> <li>A traveler is never to interfere in politics of another universe unless sanctioned by the CONFEDERATION.</li> <li>Travelers are to report any anomalies to the most convenient iteration of the SCP FOUNDATION for containment, unless an anomaly is deemed "normal" in that particular universe.</li> <li>The Wanderer's Library, <a href="http://backrooms-wiki.wikidot.com/">The Rooms Beyond Space</a>, The Fourth Wall, and other means of travel used by subversive organizations<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-3" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-3')">3</a></sup> such as The Serpent's Hand and The Wandsmen are not permitted for use by any CONFEDERATION personnel.</li> <li>Do not enter any universes without thaumaturgy, as it can be vital to multiversal transportation, and some of these universes have not advanced past a Type 1 Civilization, making it difficult to return.</li> </ul> <p>Outside of these rules, CONFEDERATION Members are largely free to go about their prior activities. It is advised that your organization watch for any subversive groups or individuals, as they are plentiful and liable to cause damage to the integrity of the CONFEDERATION. A guide to identifying subversive individuals is below.<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-4" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-4')">4</a></sup></p> <ul> <li>If an individual openly proclaims themself to be subversive or against the CONFEDERATION, they may be treated as a subversive individual and imprisoned or terminated as seen fit.</li> <li>If an individual questions the authority or other qualifications of the CONFEDERATION, they may be a subversive individual.</li> <li>If an individual is part of a subversive group listed on the full list, they can be treated as such.</li> </ul> <hr/> <p>If you have fully translated this message, and you still do not wish to join the CONFEDERATION for all the benefits that come with it, we of the CONFEDERATION urge you to reconsider. In the sea of enemies, the observers tend to be swept off the field much the same as the traitors, scum, and opposing soldiers.</p> <p>We will welcome you here at THE CONFEDERATION, or perhaps, one day, we will reconnect you with your God.</p> <p>Signed, FRITZ WILLIAM, Administrator of the SCP FOUNDATION.</p> <div class="footnotes-footer"> <div class="title">Footnotes</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-1"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-1')">1</a>. Also known as the SCP FOUNDATION, located in UNIVERSE B11. If you are a variation of the SCP FOUNDATION, your membership to the MCT will be prioritized.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-2"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-2')">2</a>. If you are not a humanoid or must decrypt the message from the UNIVERSE B11 language "UNIVERSAL COMMON", please notify this as you contact, as we may believe you to be an anomaly in need of containment.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-3"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-3')">3</a>. This includes other multiversal ways.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-4"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-4')">4</a>. A full list of known and suspected Subversive Organizations can be acquired on request.</div> </div> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div> </div> <p>There were 104,532,168 universes where Jacob Monroe existed, but this iteration had just returned to Universe B11, his home, after being branded a traitor by the self-branded "Multiversal Confederation of Travelers". Jacob sits up, rubbing his arms as he tries to drive the remaining feeling of tiredness from his body. He stretches, taking a sip of the day-old cup of water next to his bed. He had come to visit his family, to see how they were during the holiday season.</p> <p>He opened up his phone, sending a message to his confidants in the Neo-Insurgency. Branded after some rebellion buried by the sands of time, and probably some well-placed money.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong><span style="color: green">MagesAwakening:</span></strong> <span style="color: green">hey guys, stay safe today. merry christmas for all you who celebrate it</span></p> </blockquote> <p>He smiles to himself, before lying back down in his bed. It's Christmas, he's allowed to sleep in a bit. A present to himself, maybe. To himself, he thinks about what made them brand him like a rabid wolf. It takes a moment, but it was <em>probably</em> the fact he sent a few of their soldiers that were just killing people where they were occupying into various Apocalypse-Timelines. Yeah. That sounds about right.</p> <h1 id="toc0"><span>BANG.</span></h1> <p>Shit. Oh shit. Fuck.</p> <p>He didn't think they would be able to track him so easily during a two day stay.</p> <p>But then they hit the front door once. It was loud and hard, like a sledgehammer, or a battering ram. Two more hits, then the sound of charging laser weapons. They readied themselves outside of the room, yelling inside.</p> <p>"Come out," said the voice, "and we'll make sure your family doesn't get hurt."</p> <p>Jacob thinks to himself, reaching under his bed and finding a page of magic that he brought with him in case of the worst. The Hand kept him well armed for the threat of the Jailers. He stuffs it under his coat, coming out with his hands raised in the air. They pat him down, not noticing anything out of place.</p> <p>Beginning to lead him out of the family apartment, Jacob notices the open bedroom doors. Nobody was inside. Absolutely nobody. They must've been evacuated or escorted away. They begin to shackle him, as he reaches into his coat pocket to reach for the spell—</p> <p>A laser bolt shoots straight between his eyes, a searing hole left where his brain should've been, instantly cauterized by the pure energy of the weapon. Jacob Monroe of Universe B11 collapses, dead.</p> <p>…</p> <p><span style="font-size:95%;">Jacob Monroe awakes. He isn't sure what to do. He had just returned to his home Universe of C12 after an expedition to various apocalyptic universes. He was looking for ways to recruit more Freedom Fighters against the Universe-Jailers.</span></p> <p><span style="font-size:95%;">But they had found him. He wanted to be closer to his family so that he could easily hop over for a few hours on Christmas. The motel was swarmed by them, Confederation Agents and MTF, the "Multiversal Terrestrial Fighters", were preparing to take the motel for him. He wonders how many of the recruits are just kids who got drafted in for the promise of food and infinite shelter.</span></p> <p><span style="font-size:95%;">It doesn't matter, at this point. He grabs his tome of spells, whispering an incantation to create a barrier around the motel. It takes a moment of careful recitation, but he is able to manifest it. Nobody will be able to enter. He has no idea how long it will hold, so he locks the doors for good measure and begins reciting another spell— One to take him back to the Library.</span></p> <p><span style="font-size:95%;">The laserfire begins almost immediately. Jacob reads, trying to repeat the words perfectly, but he keeps messing it up. He can't focus at all.</span></p> <p><span style="font-size:95%;">The barrier shatters.</span></p> <p><span style="font-size:95%;">The laserfire pierces the building.</span></p> <p><span style="font-size:95%;">Jacob Monroe of Universe C12 collapses onto the alcohol and piss stained motel carpet with thirteen fatal wounds and forty-nine nonlethal.</span></p> <p>…</p> <p><span style="font-size:90%;">Jacob Monroe awakes, stretching his arms as wide as he possibly can. He has to get ready for the dead-end job he's placed himself in. The cars aren't going to be assembling themselves. He's not too knowledgeable on the whole politics of the world, but he'd be damned if he didn't know something was going on. Lot of talk about spaceships. He makes a mental note to check the news when he gets home— He hasn't had time with the work he's been having to put in. Somethin' about a "F194", whatever the hell that means.</span></p> <p><span style="font-size:90%;">He walks into the factory, taking his place in the line and giving a wave to his co-workers. They make a few japes at him, asking where he's been. "Yeah, yeah," He mutters, "I know the boss would've had my ass if he bothered to show up on time. I'm a minute late, y'bastards." He snorts out a laugh, elbowing the guy next to him and getting to work.</span></p> <p><span style="font-size:90%;">A whistle is heard for a moment, growing louder and louder, until everything cracks and flashes.</span></p> <p><span style="font-size:90%;">Jacob's vision flickers in and out. He's under rubble.</span></p> <p><span style="font-size:90%;">He can see co-workers running to the exit. They open the door and blasts of energy, their buzz of charging energy and distinct whish through the air can be heard.</span></p> <p><span style="font-size:90%;">Somebody's boots, bearing the initials "M.C.T.". They're right in front of him.</span></p> <p><span style="font-size:90%;">Then it all goes black.</span></p> <p>…</p> <p><span style="font-size:80%;">Jacob Monroe, assistant secretary to the Universe Ψ443 Confederation Liaison, types at his desk. He's gotten a few termination reports he's had to forward to his boss. A part he <em>always</em> enjoys is combing over the details of it, the traitor and details on their execution. Lot of Jacob Monroes in the multiverse, apparently. It's not a super uncommon name, but he must be a universal traitor to the Confederation. 1,114 after-action reports concerning a "Jacob Monroe" have been filed.</span></p> <p><span style="font-size:80%;">The only good traitor is a dead traitor, he supposes. He sips from his coffee, before hearing the call of his name over the P.A. Boss wants to see him, apparently.</span></p> <p><span style="font-size:80%;">He heads in, giving the Liaison a salute. She gives a half-hearted salute, obviously overworked, and a smile. There's a buzz that Jacob can't identify. "Do you know why I called you in, Jacob?"</span></p> <p><span style="font-size:80%;">"No, Ms. Starr. What's the situation?" His shoulders fade into ease from the attention he was standing at, before snapping back as she shoots him a glare.</span></p> <p><span style="font-size:80%;">"It's unfortunate that I have to be the one to break this news to you, but, we're going to have to make some adjustments to your schedule." Jacob tilts his head, before realizing what the buzzing noise was, as a blast of energy shoots through his chest. He feels the liquification of his organs from the blast, as his boss steps out from behind her desk. "It seems I misjudged the power of an energy weapon. Goodbye, traitor." She huffs, dropping the battery from the pistol and inserting another, the buzz slowly creeping to a conclusion, timed to the black stains around the edge of Jacob's vision finally closing in.</span></p> <p>…</p> <p><span style="font-size:70%;">Jacob Monroe wakes…</span></p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/treatise-on-multiversal-authorities">Treatise On Multiversal Authorities</a>" by DoctorLilithSophia, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/treatise-on-multiversal-authorities">https://scpwiki.com/treatise-on-multiversal-authorities</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	===== [[include <a href="/component:preview">component:preview</a> text=Or: The Death of Jacob Monroe]] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:dark">:scp-wiki:theme:dark</a>]] [[module CSS]] div.terminal{ border: 1px solid black; border: solid 3px #BBBBBB; border-radius: 16px; background-color: #131; /* black shadow at the top of the terminal / background-image: radial-gradient(ellipse 1000% 100% at 50% 90%, transparent, #121); background-position: center; display: block; / shadow around the terminal / box-shadow: inset 0 0 10em 1em rgba(0,0,0,0.5); / prevents scanline from forming a scrollwheel / overflow:hidden; } div.terminal blockquote { background-color: black; border: double 3px #80FF80 } div.scanline{ margin-top: -40%; width: 100%; height: 60px; position: relative; pointer-events: none; / Safari 4.0 - 8.0 / -webkit-animation: scan 12s linear 0s infinite; / You may need to change this. If the bar goes by too quickly, increase 5s. / animation: scan 12s linear 0s infinite; / Same as above / background: linear-gradient(to bottom, rgba(56, 112, 82,0), rgba(56, 112, 82,0.1)) !important; } div.text{ color: rgba(128,255,128,0.8); padding-left: 2em; padding-top: 40%; font-family: monospace; font-size: 1.2em; } / Safari 4.0 - 8.0 / @-webkit-keyframes scan{ from{ transform: translateY(-10%);} to{ transform: translateY(5000%);} / You may need to change this depending on the length of your terminal. If the scanline stops halfway, increase the second number./ } @keyframes scan{ from{ transform: translateY(-10%);} to{ transform: translateY(5000%);} / Same as above./ } div.text a { color: #90EE90; text-decoration: none; background: transparent; } div.text a.newpage { color: #90EE90; text-decoration: none; background: transparent; } div.text a:hover { color: #131; text-decoration: underline; background-color: #80FF80; padding: 1px; } div.text a:hover::before{ content: "> "; } [[/module]] [[=]] [[module Rate]] [[/=]] [[div class="terminal"]] [[div class="scanline"]] [[/div]] [[div class="text"]] [[=]] [[size 150%]] __HELLO, TRAVELER.__[[/size]] @@ @@ @@ @@ @@------@@ Welcome. @@------@@ [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[div class="blockquote"]] Hello, Civilization or Private Organization. This is an automated message sent out by the SECURE, CONTAIN, AND PROTECT FOUNDATION[[footnote]] Also known as the SCP FOUNDATION, located in UNIVERSE B11. If you are a variation of the SCP FOUNDATION, your membership to the MCT will be prioritized. [[/footnote]][[footnote]] If you are not a humanoid or must decrypt the message from the UNIVERSE B11 language "UNIVERSAL COMMON", please notify this as you contact, as we may believe you to be an anomaly in need of containment. [[/footnote]] on the detection of Type-A Wormholes in undetected areas or by unregistered groups, which are able to breach a universe's limits and allow multiversal travel. This message is sent on the authority and grace of the MULTIVERSAL CONFEDERATION OF TRAVELERS, of which the SCP FOUNDATION is a founding member and heavy contributor to the cause of. The CONFEDERATION is a collection of independent organizations and civilizations collected under the singular cause of regulating and allowing safe and easy multiversal travel. All aspiring members are required to contact one of the member organizations or universes. A list of prominent organizations that are part of the CONFEDERATION can be found below. > UNIVERSE B11: SCP FOUNDATION > > UNIVERSE C3NTRA: THE CITADEL > > UNIVERSE 115TTY: VARIANCE CENTER > > UNIVERSE B4GB4K: THE BAGEL BAKERY > > UNIVERSE 4HSRIP: CROM DELIVERIES > > UNIVERSE LO33R5: DIAPHRAGM RESEARCH If you have been accepted for CONFEDERATION integration, you will need to keep in mind standard protocol for multiversal travel. A traveler is never to interfere in politics of another universe unless sanctioned by the CONFEDERATION. * Travelers are to report any anomalies to the most convenient iteration of the SCP FOUNDATION for containment, unless an anomaly is deemed "normal" in that particular universe. * The Wanderer's Library, [http://backrooms-wiki.wikidot.com/ The Rooms Beyond Space], The Fourth Wall, and other means of travel used by subversive organizations[[footnote]] This includes other multiversal ways. [[/footnote]] such as The Serpent's Hand and The Wandsmen are not permitted for use by any CONFEDERATION personnel. * Do not enter any universes without thaumaturgy, as it can be vital to multiversal transportation, and some of these universes have not advanced past a Type 1 Civilization, making it difficult to return. Outside of these rules, CONFEDERATION Members are largely free to go about their prior activities. It is advised that your organization watch for any subversive groups or individuals, as they are plentiful and liable to cause damage to the integrity of the CONFEDERATION. A guide to identifying subversive individuals is below.[[footnote]] A full list of known and suspected Subversive Organizations can be acquired on request. [[/footnote]] * If an individual openly proclaims themself to be subversive or against the CONFEDERATION, they may be treated as a subversive individual and imprisoned or terminated as seen fit. * If an individual questions the authority or other qualifications of the CONFEDERATION, they may be a subversive individual. * If an individual is part of a subversive group listed on the full list, they can be treated as such. ----- If you have fully translated this message, and you still do not wish to join the CONFEDERATION for all the benefits that come with it, we of the CONFEDERATION urge you to reconsider. In the sea of enemies, the observers tend to be swept off the field much the same as the traitors, scum, and opposing soldiers. We will welcome you here at THE CONFEDERATION, or perhaps, one day, we will reconnect you with your God. Signed, FRITZ WILLIAM, Administrator of the SCP FOUNDATION. [[footnoteblock]] [[/div]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[/div]] [[/div]] There were 104,532,168 universes where Jacob Monroe existed, but this iteration had just returned to Universe B11, his home, after being branded a traitor by the self-branded "Multiversal Confederation of Travelers". Jacob sits up, rubbing his arms as he tries to drive the remaining feeling of tiredness from his body. He stretches, taking a sip of the day-old cup of water next to his bed. He had come to visit his family, to see how they were during the holiday season. He opened up his phone, sending a message to his confidants in the Neo-Insurgency. Branded after some rebellion buried by the sands of time, and probably some well-placed money. > ##green\|MagesAwakening: hey guys, stay safe today. merry christmas for all you who celebrate it## He smiles to himself, before lying back down in his bed. It's Christmas, he's allowed to sleep in a bit. A present to himself, maybe. To himself, he thinks about what made them brand him like a rabid wolf. It takes a moment, but it was //probably// the fact he sent a few of their soldiers that were just killing people where they were occupying into various Apocalypse-Timelines. Yeah. That sounds about right. + BANG. Shit. Oh shit. Fuck. He didn't think they would be able to track him so easily during a two day stay. But then they hit the front door once. It was loud and hard, like a sledgehammer, or a battering ram. Two more hits, then the sound of charging laser weapons. They readied themselves outside of the room, yelling inside. "Come out," said the voice, "and we'll make sure your family doesn't get hurt." Jacob thinks to himself, reaching under his bed and finding a page of magic that he brought with him in case of the worst. The Hand kept him well armed for the threat of the Jailers. He stuffs it under his coat, coming out with his hands raised in the air. They pat him down, not noticing anything out of place. Beginning to lead him out of the family apartment, Jacob notices the open bedroom doors. Nobody was inside. Absolutely nobody. They must've been evacuated or escorted away. They begin to shackle him, as he reaches into his coat pocket to reach for the spell-- A laser bolt shoots straight between his eyes, a searing hole left where his brain should've been, instantly cauterized by the pure energy of the weapon. Jacob Monroe of Universe B11 collapses, dead. ... [[size 95%]] Jacob Monroe awakes. He isn't sure what to do. He had just returned to his home Universe of C12 after an expedition to various apocalyptic universes. He was looking for ways to recruit more Freedom Fighters against the Universe-Jailers. [[/size]] [[size 95%]] But they had found him. He wanted to be closer to his family so that he could easily hop over for a few hours on Christmas. The motel was swarmed by them, Confederation Agents and MTF, the "Multiversal Terrestrial Fighters", were preparing to take the motel for him. He wonders how many of the recruits are just kids who got drafted in for the promise of food and infinite shelter. [[/size]] [[size 95%]] It doesn't matter, at this point. He grabs his tome of spells, whispering an incantation to create a barrier around the motel. It takes a moment of careful recitation, but he is able to manifest it. Nobody will be able to enter. He has no idea how long it will hold, so he locks the doors for good measure and begins reciting another spell-- One to take him back to the Library. [[/size]] [[size 95%]] The laserfire begins almost immediately. Jacob reads, trying to repeat the words perfectly, but he keeps messing it up. He can't focus at all. [[/size]] [[size 95%]] The barrier shatters. [[/size]] [[size 95%]] The laserfire pierces the building. [[/size]] [[size 95%]] Jacob Monroe of Universe C12 collapses onto the alcohol and piss stained motel carpet with thirteen fatal wounds and forty-nine nonlethal. [[/size]] ... [[size 90%]] Jacob Monroe awakes, stretching his arms as wide as he possibly can. He has to get ready for the dead-end job he's placed himself in. The cars aren't going to be assembling themselves. He's not too knowledgeable on the whole politics of the world, but he'd be damned if he didn't know something was going on. Lot of talk about spaceships. He makes a mental note to check the news when he gets home-- He hasn't had time with the work he's been having to put in. Somethin' about a "F194", whatever the hell that means. [[/size]] [[size 90%]] He walks into the factory, taking his place in the line and giving a wave to his co-workers. They make a few japes at him, asking where he's been. "Yeah, yeah," He mutters, "I know the boss would've had my ass if he bothered to show up on time. I'm a minute late, y'bastards." He snorts out a laugh, elbowing the guy next to him and getting to work. [[/size]] [[size 90%]] A whistle is heard for a moment, growing louder and louder, until everything cracks and flashes. [[/size]] [[size 90%]] Jacob's vision flickers in and out. He's under rubble. [[/size]] [[size 90%]] He can see co-workers running to the exit. They open the door and blasts of energy, their buzz of charging energy and distinct whish through the air can be heard. [[/size]] [[size 90%]] Somebody's boots, bearing the initials "M.C.T.". They're right in front of him. [[/size]] [[size 90%]] Then it all goes black. [[/size]] ... [[size 80%]] Jacob Monroe, assistant secretary to the Universe Ψ443 Confederation Liaison, types at his desk. He's gotten a few termination reports he's had to forward to his boss. A part he //always// enjoys is combing over the details of it, the traitor and details on their execution. Lot of Jacob Monroes in the multiverse, apparently. It's not a super uncommon name, but he must be a universal traitor to the Confederation. 1,114 after-action reports concerning a "Jacob Monroe" have been filed. [[/size]] [[size 80%]] The only good traitor is a dead traitor, he supposes. He sips from his coffee, before hearing the call of his name over the P.A. Boss wants to see him, apparently. [[/size]] [[size 80%]] He heads in, giving the Liaison a salute. She gives a half-hearted salute, obviously overworked, and a smile. There's a buzz that Jacob can't identify. "Do you know why I called you in, Jacob?" [[/size]] [[size 80%]] "No, Ms. Starr. What's the situation?" His shoulders fade into ease from the attention he was standing at, before snapping back as she shoots him a glare. [[/size]] [[size 80%]] "It's unfortunate that I have to be the one to break this news to you, but, we're going to have to make some adjustments to your schedule." Jacob tilts his head, before realizing what the buzzing noise was, as a blast of energy shoots through his chest. He feels the liquification of his organs from the blast, as his boss steps out from behind her desk. "It seems I misjudged the power of an energy weapon. Goodbye, traitor." She huffs, dropping the battery from the pistol and inserting another, the buzz slowly creeping to a conclusion, timed to the black stains around the edge of Jacob's vision finally closing in. [[/size]] ... [[size 70%]] Jacob Monroe wakes... [[/size]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-10-06T23:03:00	[ "_licensebox", "bleak", "otherworldly", "science-fiction", "tale", "worldbuilding" ]	Treatise On Multiversal Authorities - SCP Foundation	18	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[]	[]	1457017081	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/treatise-on-multiversal-authorities
turning-out	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=4&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/component%3Abhl-dark-sidebar/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <div class="preview"> <p>Was loving someone caring about them a whole lot? Sylvie was doing that already. What was the difference? Was there a difference?</p> </div> <p>Being a junior researcher for a top secret organization was a strange thing. Sylvie could sense the overwhelming responsibility, the feeling where every wrong step she made was one more step to an XK.</p> <p>She expected a generic, sterile lab facility when she first arrived at Site-35. However, what she got was the equivalent of a therapist’s office, with the majority of anomalies stationed there having many kinds of neurodivergent and physical disabilities.</p> <p>It was a Saturday, and Sylvie wandered through the almost-comforting hallways that she had become accustomed to. The warm fluorescent lights shined above her as she turned a corner and meekly squeezed past a gaggle of oncoming researchers, who were getting ready to experiment on a new object that arrived that day.</p> <p>Sylvie had a report in her bag that she needed to bring back to the lab. Her supervisor, Howard Bates, would not be happy if she was late again. Incurring his wrath was not worth it.</p> <p>On her way there, she passed by the frankly miserable janitor, sweeping the concrete floor with his equally sad-looking broom. She turned to wave at him, and he waved back, but his facial expression didn’t change a bit.</p> <p>Sylvie eventually made it to the research sector, and sat down with the other JRs at the several admittedly cramped desk spaces with test tubes, beakers, Bunsen burners and the like. She glanced around at the other researchers, a sea full of faces that she didn’t recognize. For the four months that Sylvie’s been at this place, she still couldn’t tell who was who and what was where.</p> <p>As she looked around, she caught a glimpse of another researcher with auburn, shoulder-length hair. The woman looked back at her, before turning away.</p> <p><em>Who was that?</em></p> <p>“Alright, everybody, settle down. Let’s save the conversations for later.”</p> <p>Ah, great, Howard.</p> <p>The crusty old man with a haircut that barely should even be called hair wore a thin smile, his eyebrows furrowed slightly, and his eyes slightly narrowed with intent. It looked like he was trying to be presentable to his subordinates, but Sylvie knew he wasn’t pleased in the slightest.</p> <p>“We have work to do, folks. We’ve got new artifacts sent from that wormhole that Extraversal Affairs found at Circleville yesterday. I expect results by Friday. Don’t let me down.”</p> <p>“Sure, bud.” Sylvie mumbled to herself. She looked around again, and it seemed that no one heard her.</p> <p>“Good luck.”</p> <p>Howard gave a thumbs up, and a slightly more enthusiastic smile, before turning and being subsumed by the mass of researchers.</p> <p>Sylvie looked down at her watch. <em>1:13 p.m.</em> Plenty of time to pretend like she was doing something. She pulled her laptop out of her bag, swiped the dust off the top, and started to search through ScipNet and the few SCP articles that she had clearance to look at.</p> <p>The analog clock on the wall <em>tick</em>, <em>tick</em>, <em>ticked</em>, and the conversations around her were tuned out of her brain. All she could hear was that incessant ticking. Over, and over, and over again.</p> <p>The monotony of it all became so boring that she started to look around and see what the other researchers were doing. She saw them talking, having fun. She saw two of them holding hands. She saw things she would never be able to have. To be happy.</p> <p>Because of one particular reason.</p> <hr/> <p>It started when Sylvie was young.</p> <p>She remembered all the gossip that her friends passed around during lunch at school. Who’s got a crush on who, all that talk about Zac Efron and Aaron Taylor-Johnson, and of course everything about Sadie and her boyfriend. She heard all of it.</p> <p>Love was in the air, all around her. But something was off. Something that Sylvie couldn’t seem to grasp, at first.</p> <p>Her friends asked her what crushes she had, all that jazz. She would just tell them the celebrities that everyone else liked. But that wasn’t true. None of it was true. All of her friends were attracted to these people, and all Sylvie saw were faces. She didn’t feel any of it.</p> <p>And all that talk about the adult stuff just irritated her. None of that appealed to her. It always bothered her in the back of her mind. Every time she tried to imagine it, it felt gross. It disgusted her immensely.</p> <p>All those stories that she read, were they true? Sylvie read many tales with charming princes and the protagonists falling in love at first sight. With just a look, they fell for each other. Just like that.</p> <p>She knew love wasn’t that easy. But it shouldn’t have been this hard.</p> <p>Why did she lack something so important, something that she's been told for years was supposed to be this culmination of being a person, of being alive, of something beautiful? Those tales that Sylvie always read, with daring romance and electric chemistry between the characters, were beautiful.</p> <p>It didn’t make sense. Sylvie couldn’t imagine a person who didn’t love anybody.</p> <p>What kind of a person was that?</p> <hr/> <p>Even after all that reminiscing, Sylvie was bored to death. Without keeping her mind occupied, even the simple act of doing nothing became a chore to her. Maybe she could talk to that woman who looked at her earlier? That would certainly keep her mind off things. Not like she was doing anything anyway.</p> <p>She walked down the desks to where the woman sat, and stood there for a few moments before finally gathering the courage to say something.</p> <p>“Hi. I was wondering why you were looking at me earlier. Was it something I did?”</p> <p>The woman’s hazel eyes widened slightly with surprise.</p> <p>“Sorry about that, I didn’t think you’d see me. You looked nervous back there.”</p> <p>“Oh, well I’m new here, so it’s been a lot for me. I’m still trying to get a grasp on this place,” Sylvie said, waving her hands around the room.</p> <p>“That’s okay, I’m new here, too!”</p> <p>“Really?”</p> <p>“Yeah, been here for three months. How ‘bout you?” the woman asked.</p> <p>“Four months,” Sylvie responded.</p> <p>“Hey, you got a slight edge over me. Ain’t that something?”</p> <p>The woman made a wide, mischievous grin, and the joke, whatever it was (was it even a joke?) flew past Sylvie’s head, like always.</p> <p>“Right. Well, it’s nice to meet you. Name’s Sylvie.”</p> <p>The woman reached out to shake Sylvie’s hand.</p> <p>“Caoimhe MacKella.”</p> <p>“Oh, we’re doing last names. Sylvie Rescher.”</p> <p>“It’s nice to meet you too, Sylvie.”</p> <p>The two women waved a quick goodbye before Sylvie went back to her desk.</p> <p><em>Well, that could’ve went better.</em></p> <hr/> <p>It was a very long day. Sylvie looked out the window of her dad’s car, seeing the outside world fly by her, her regrets and worries slowly creeping up inside her mind.</p> <p>“So, kiddo, how was school?”</p> <p>She looked at the rear-view mirror. Her dad looked back at her, with sympathetic eyes.</p> <p>“Fine.”</p> <p>“I know that look. What happened?”</p> <p>“Nothing happened! I’m fine, I promise.”</p> <p>“Alright, I won’t push it.”</p> <p>Her dad knew when to stop prying when she wasn’t feeling it. There was a lot of uncertainty with trying to understand what goes through Sylvie’s mind. She liked to keep herself private, in her room with all her romance novels. She never said anything about school, or her friends, not even the drawings that she kept hidden in her drawer.</p> <p>Sometimes her father got frustrated with all the secrets, but he was just worried. And it wasn’t like she was trying to be secretive. The only things she had to hide were embarrassing teenage things.</p> <p>And her lack of what makes a person, well, a person. But that secret was kept hidden deep within the recesses of her inner vault. For now.</p> <p><em>Should I tell him?</em></p> <p>“Hey, Dad?”</p> <p>“What’s up?”</p> <p>She paused for a moment. She might regret saying this. She will regret saying this. Absolutely everything could go wrong if she said it. But she already spoke, so there wasn’t anything she could do.</p> <p>“I need to tell you something.”</p> <p>The world came to a screeching halt. This was the moment of truth. She had to tell him eventually, there was no hiding something like this. He would keep asking questions about her lack of a boyfriend, or girlfriend, or whoever if she kept this game of charades up.</p> <p>But what if he didn’t accept her?</p> <p>What if he thinks something was wrong with her? What if something <em>was</em> wrong with her? Did she have a rare condition? No one else seemed to have what she has. Was he going to disown her? Was he going to kick her out? Everyone was going to look at her differently. They were going to think she’s a cold, unfeeling machine. Why did she think this was a good idea? Why did she say that? She was doomed for sure. Everyone was going to leave her behind. Her friends will get married and live happy lives, and she will have nothing. She—</p> <p>“Boy troubles?” her dad asked.</p> <p><em>Phew.</em></p> <p>“Something like that,” Sylvie said, with a whirlwind of emotions cycling inside her, but her face still as inscrutable as ever.</p> <p>“I get it. You know, your mom used to put off love entirely. Kept everything focused on supporting herself and being independent. But she came around.”</p> <p>“Really?” Sylvie asked, in disbelief. Her dad never told her this before.</p> <p>“Yeah, when she met me, it was like everything fit into place. Two puzzle pieces connecting to form a whole. We got off well together, and the rest is history.”</p> <p>“She just had to wait for the right person.”</p> <p>“Exactly.”</p> <p>“That might be what’s happening to me. I don’t have feelings for anyone like you do.”</p> <p>“You’ll find your special someone eventually. There will always be someone who will appreciate you and love you for who you are. Don’t forget that,” her dad said, reassuring her.</p> <p><em>I hope he’s right.</em></p> <p>Sylvie eventually saw the place she called home, up ahead in the horizon. She got away with it, for the time being.</p> <p>She needed to figure this out. Before the inevitable.</p> <hr/> <p>Sylvie sat in the cafeteria, eyeing the hustle and bustle around her. The conversations became a muffled mess, drowning out the other sounds in the room. She still knew no one. She couldn’t bring the courage to go up and get to know anyone, she just couldn’t.</p> <p>Thankfully Caoimhe kindly saved the seat next to her. She was nice. In the few weeks since they met, Sylvie was never afraid to talk to her. They both liked video games, especially Mario Kart. Maybe this was the connection that Sylvie needed.</p> <p>But it still didn’t feel the same.</p> <p>They were both sitting at an empty table. Well, mostly empty. There was one other person there, a man in his early-30s, with forest-green eyes, dark-rimmed glasses with a thick frame, and a haircut that made him look like a rather large Hobbit. A Shire Mullet, that’s what the hairstyle was called.</p> <p>He was sitting across from them, eating a bologna sandwich. He didn’t seem to pay attention to them talking.</p> <p>“Thanks for saving my seat,” Sylvie acknowledged.</p> <p>“No problem,” Caoimhe said, before rummaging through her bag of chips.</p> <p>“I still don’t know why you needed to save me that seat, though. This is an empty table.”</p> <p>“It’s a <em>mostly</em> empty table,” Caoihme shrugged, “and besides, somebody would’ve taken it if I hadn’t, there’s free space all around here.”</p> <p>“On both sides?”</p> <p>“Yeah.”</p> <p>“Literally everybody else already has a seat!” Sylvie waved around her arms, pointing at the direction of all the personnel around the room. “This is where the people who don’t have any friends sit.”</p> <p>“Hey, c’mon, that’s not nice to the guy across from us.” Caoimhe gestured to the man.</p> <p>“No offense taken.” The man looked up at the two of them, before going back to eating his sandwich.</p> <p>“Oh, I didn’t see you there earlier. That’s my bad. What’s your name?” Sylvie asked.</p> <p>“Michael,” the man answered, with a monotone voice.</p> <p>“It’s nice to meet you, Michael.” Sylvie reached out her right hand, and Michael reached out with the same hand, before immediately correcting his mistake and firmly shaking it.</p> <p>“It’s nice to meet you as well.” Michael gave a slight smile, before pulling out and scrolling through his phone.</p> <p>“See? This can’t be the friendless table if all three of us are friends,” Caoimhe said, giving that same devilish smile as before. Sylvie liked her banter. It made her fun to be around.</p> <p>They kept eating their food, with Caoimhe telling tales about Ireland and the shenanigans that she pulled as a kid.</p> <p>“Looking back, I probably shouldn’t have tried to ride that big ol’ fluffer, but hey, it would've been really cool if I pulled it off,” Caoimhe reminisced.</p> <p>“For riding a sheep? Couldn’t you have at least tried to ride, I don’t know what they got over there, a goat? Do they have goats over there?”</p> <p>Caoimhe looked at her incredulously. “Yeah, we do. Did you think we were goatless?”</p> <p>“Maybe.” Sylvie slowly sunk herself below the table.</p> <p>Caoimhe laughed, continuously slapping the table with enough force that Sylvie thought would collapse it.</p> <p>“Wow, you gave me a good laugh with that one. That was good.” Caoimhe reached under the table to yank Sylvie by the collar of her shirt to pull her up.</p> <p>God, was she fun to be around. It was like two puzzle pieces connecting together.</p> <p>But something was still off. Sylvie knew what the signs were for falling in love. This still wasn’t it. If it was, she would feel her heartbeat. She would look into Caoimhe's eyes and say “I want to be with you forever.” But still, there was nothing.</p> <p>This puzzle box that she tried to solve for years, it wouldn’t budge. It was unsolvable.</p> <p>Sylvie looked up from her lunch tray, and saw that Michael had already put his phone away. He stared at Sylvie for a second, his eyebrows raised slightly. He looked like he was collecting his thoughts, and analyzing something.</p> <p>His demeanor then switched up, to one of sympathetic concern. “Is something wrong?”</p> <p>“Oh, it’s nothing. Work’s just stressing me out right now,” Sylvie lied.</p> <p>“It’s perfectly fine to take a break every once in a while, to prevent burnout. It would be inadvisable to continue doing things that are taxing to your health.”</p> <p>Sylvie nodded. “Yeah, I probably should take a break. Maybe I can watch a movie later, to relax.”</p> <p>A little <em>buzz</em> went off in her pocket. She pulled her phone out, and looked at the notification. It was a personal reminder to herself that she needed to fill out that lab report before the end of the day.</p> <p>“I’ve got work to do. Catch you later,” Sylvie spurted out, before getting up and briskly walking towards the exit.</p> <p>“Bye!” Caoimhe called out in the distance.</p> <p>Sylvie smirked. She’ll be alright.</p> <hr/> <p>Caoimhe’s dorm was more like a pigsty than a dormitory, but not in a way that made her look extraordinarily lethargic. Posters of early 90s rom-coms were haphazardly stapled against the leftmost wall, with soda cans stacked in a pile inside the wastebasket in the corner. It was overall cramped, with many random objects scattered around the place and sorted to barely make room for anyone.</p> <p>It was strange, but Sylvie felt comfortable in this room. She would rather be here than in the sterile conditions outside.</p> <p>The two sat on Caoimhe’s ratty old couch that she got from her grandmother, fiddling with lime green video game controllers in their hands. They were playing Mario Kart 8 on the TV, their faces flushed with excitement.</p> <p>“Did you just hit me with a blue shell?”</p> <p>“Yup!” Caoimhe cheered, with a smug look on her face.</p> <p>“I’ll get you for that, you know.”</p> <p>“Go ahead and try.”</p> <p>The two battled for quite a while. Controllers were thrown, curses were let out, and banter became the norm for the two.</p> <p>Sylvie enjoyed having company with Caoimhe, because she needed someone to be there for her, to have great memories together, to be together even during the darkest of times. Humans craved connection. Being deprived of such connection would be detrimental for her.</p> <p>But she felt it again. That sickening feeling that bubbled up in her stomach, and crept slowly up her spine.</p> <p>“Hey, you did great today,” Caoimhe said.</p> <p>“Thanks.”</p> <p>“Why the long face? Had a bad dose today?”</p> <p>“It’s nothing,” Sylvie denied. She couldn’t worry her again, that would lead to questions.</p> <p>“You sure?”</p> <p>“I am.”</p> <p>“Alright. Well, if you need me, I’ll be right here.”</p> <p>Sylvie nodded, and silently picked back up the controller. They continued playing, with a slightly more uncomfortable atmosphere in the room.</p> <p>Sylvie had started to notice some things when she had conversations with Caoimhe. The playful tone when she was around her, the twirling of her hair, the constant teasing, the slight lean that she did whenever they played games together. It was textbook flirting, the kind that she recognized from her romance novels. It was so obvious, yet Sylvie never noticed it until now.</p> <p><em>Is she in love with me?</em></p> <p>The feeling overwhelmed her, and the bubbling in her stomach became red hot and slowly sizzled through every part of her. She felt her hands firmly grip the controller, as her muscles constricted tighter and tighter.</p> <p>If Caoimhe confessed to her, what then? She would have to tell her. And what she always feared would come true.</p> <p>It was all so <em>confusing</em>. Kissing was a no go, but dating? It was just like hanging out, but with more expensive food and with extra steps. Right? Was loving someone caring about them a whole lot? Sylvie was doing that already. What was the difference? Was there a difference?</p> <p>And yet, being friends with someone was treated as second-rate in the hierarchy of affection. If someone were to never date anyone in their lifetime, they would be called a virgin, and be mocked. There would be persistent, tiresome questions.</p> <p>There was a nagging thought in her head, ever since Sylvie met Caoimhe. That she would treat her differently. It was irrational, but as each day came and went, that thought was always there, ever present in the back of her mind.</p> <p>If that thought came true, then Caoimhe would always look at her with disgust in her eyes.</p> <p>And Sylvie would be left behind.</p> <hr/> <p>That bitter feeling followed her all the way to the next day. Sylvie sat with Caoimhe again, since she didn’t know anyone else that well to sit by them. Michael was also there, sitting across from them as usual. This time he was eating a turkey sandwich.</p> <p>“I still can’t believe you guys don’t have kettles. Like, a normal electric kettle. I know that’s because the voltage is lower and it’ll take forever to heat the water, but that was definitely a shock for me when I first landed here,” Caoimhe recalled.</p> <p>“We just use coffee makers and stuff like that,” Sylvie said.</p> <p>“Is it true that you Americans microwave your water for your tea?”</p> <p>“I’ve never done that myself, but it does work,” Michael replied.</p> <p>Caoimhe looked bewildered. “You people never cease to amaze me.”</p> <p>Each and every day, Sylvie blabbered about everything with Caoimhe, and Michael chimed in on the conversation whenever he felt like it. He usually didn’t, but that was his preference. Sylvie felt so much more comfortable than before. These meetups were the closest thing she had to home.</p> <p>If they knew the truth, Sylvie would have nothing.</p> <p>Sylvie looked up from her plate, and saw that face again. Michael and his subtle concern. He knew that she was hiding something.</p> <p>“Work again?” Michael asked.</p> <p>“Yeah, it’s been a doozy. They keep throwing everything at me,” Sylvie lied again. She couldn’t keep this up for long.</p> <p>Caoimhe put a hand on her shoulder. “If you ever need to talk about anything, I’m right here. You shouldn’t have to be this stressed all the time.”</p> <p><em>Great, now she’s worried about me.</em></p> <p>“I know some resources that’ll help you reduce stress. I’ve tried some myself, and they are excellent with calming the mind,” Michael suggested.</p> <p>“No, no, it’s alright. I’ll be fine.” Sylvie pretended to be relaxed, drooping her shoulders down.</p> <p>They were both worried about her. She shouldn’t have been thinking about it. She shouldn’t have made them this concerned. That would lead to them finding out.</p> <p>There wasn’t much time. She couldn’t tell them the truth, but the lies were eating her up from the inside.</p> <p>Why did she have to live like this? To live by hiding. To live by keeping herself locked away. To be someone that she wasn’t. She shouldn’t have to lie. But everyone else was able to fall in love. They could live a happy life with someone else. They wouldn’t have to endure ridicule. Their lives had more meaning.</p> <p>Sylvie imagined that puzzle box in her mind. She couldn’t solve it alone. She wanted, no she <em>needed</em> this to be over.</p> <p>She thought about Caoimhe, her mischievous smile, her auburn hair, and she tried her hardest not to cry.</p> <hr/> <p>She had to tell someone.</p> <p>It couldn’t be Caoimhe, or Michael. She would never recover mentally if she told either of them. It couldn’t be Howard either, that would just be weird.</p> <p>Maybe she could see a psychiatrist. They would know whatever is going on inside her head, and 35 is practically full of them. The head of the Psychology and Parapsychology section was probably busy, but Sylvie could potentially get lucky and get an appointment with him.</p> <p>She booted up ScipNet, and requested an appointment.</p> <p>Hours ticked by, and Sylvie read through her romance novels to pass the time. Even if she couldn’t resonate with them personally, the triumph of love over any obstacle, and the sheer joy of witnessing characters get to live their happily-ever-after made those novels a fulfilling reading experience.</p> <p>Eventually, she got a notification.</p> <p><strong>SYLVIE RESCHER, YOUR APPOINTMENT HAS BEEN CONFIRMED FOR TONIGHT AT 6:30 PM.</strong></p> <p><em>Jackpot.</em></p> <p>Sylvie smiled, and giddily frolicked around the room like she just won a lottery ticket.</p> <p>“This can finally be over! I’m going to find out—”</p> <p>She stopped in her tracks. She was about to find out.</p> <p>It all came down to this. She wasn’t ready. She didn’t want to hear it. What if something was wrong with her? What would she do with that information?</p> <p>She didn’t want to find out. But she had to.</p> <p>Sylvie slowly walked to her door, heart pounding in her chest, and opened it to her future.</p> <p>The hallways were noticeably quieter now. Fewer researchers roamed through them, and the air felt stale. Time nearly crept to a halt. This was it.</p> <p>She made it to P&P, and found the office she was looking for. The placard near the door read ‘Dr. Michael Prescott, Head Psychologist.’ She slowly opened the door, and stepped inside.</p> <p>The first thing that she noticed was that the walls were painted completely black, as if they were drenched in the night sky. It was unlike any of the other rooms that she saw during her four month stay. There was what looked to be a motivational poster with a picture of Viggo Mortensen playing the character Aragorn from <em>Lord Of The Rings</em>, and a mahogany desk sat in the center of the room, with a desk chair and a reclining chair placed across from each other.</p> <p>Sat in the desk chair was a man in his early-30s, with forest-green eyes, dark-rimmed glasses, and a familiar and distinctive mullet. It was the same Michael from the cafeteria.</p> <p>He was looking at his computer, swiftly typing on the keyboard with one hand and taking a sip from a black mug with the other. Once he finished his drink, he placed the mug down behind the computer, away from Sylvie’s sight. He didn’t seem to notice her.</p> <p>Sylvie waited a bit before walking to the desk and knocking on it three times with her knuckles. The doctor jumped a bit, in surprise, before turning to look at her.</p> <p>“My apologies, I didn’t see you there. Welcome to my office. Please, sit.” The doctor gestured to the reclining chair, and Sylvie sat across from him.</p> <p>While looking at each other, Sylvie noticed that the doctor looked very uncomfortable while making eye contact with her. He was staring at her intently, with eyes that indicated that Sylvie should probably start talking.</p> <p>“Hi, Michael.”</p> <p>“Afternoon, Sylvie.”</p> <p>“You never told me you were a therapist. Was that why you kept reading me every time I was worried about something?” Sylvie questioned.</p> <p>Michael’s expression became blank, and he stared directly at the wall behind Sylvie.</p> <p>“I apologize for not communicating effectively. I saw that you needed help, but I thought it would be strange if I told you about that upfront immediately. Perhaps I should have told you earlier.”</p> <p>Sylvie nodded. “That’s okay, I wouldn’t have told you about whatever’s going on in my head earlier regardless. It’s fine, since we’re here now.”</p> <p>Michael turned to look at Sylvie, and smiled warmly. “If you’re ready, then let’s get started.”</p> <p>He sat up straight, more focused and professional than he was before. “What is your biggest concern here? What are you most concerned about with this issue?”</p> <p>“I just don’t know what’s causing what I have. It might be something in my mind, but I don’t know.” Sylvie flew her hands up in the air, before flopping them back down.</p> <p>“Has this issue been debilitating for you? Do you struggle a lot with it?”</p> <p>“No, not really. It hasn’t been affecting my life all that much. I just don’t want people to find out.”</p> <p>“What would happen if they found out?” Michael asked.</p> <p>“They might look at me differently. This is something I lack, and yet everyone else has it. I waited and waited, and yet I still don’t have what they have. Can’t you see how strange that sounds?”</p> <p>“It doesn’t sound so strange to me. Think of it this way: perhaps this absence has always been a part of you. Are you not okay with it?”</p> <p>Sylvie hesitated for a bit, before answering. “I actually like what I have, mostly. It’s not something that’s hurting me. It’s just different. The problem is that someone might look at me and think I’m a machine, or something. They might hurt me, Michael.”</p> <p>Michael clasped his hands together. “Let’s say someone does find out about this. Someone close to you. What would happen, then? How might you handle that situation if it happens?”</p> <p>“If it’s the person I’m thinking of, she’ll support me anyway. She always has before. I’m just afraid that if I throw that secret out there, she might flip a switch and push me away. I-I can’t handle that.” Sylvie stammered, the tears beginning to form in her eyes.</p> <p>“If she has supported you from the start, what makes you think she’ll change that stance?”</p> <p>“She might. There’s a chance.”</p> <p>“A small chance.”</p> <p>“That’s still a chance!” Sylvie cried out, her hands trembling.</p> <p>Michael places a hand out. “It’s alright, Sylvie. Take deep breaths.”</p> <p><em>Breath in, breath out.</em></p> <p>It took a moment, but Sylvie eventually stabilized herself to keep going. “It’s irrational, I know, but that thought keeps coming. I don’t want to reveal it yet.”</p> <p>“If you think it will cause you harm, you are allowed to keep this concern hidden,” Michael said.</p> <p>“But I don’t want that! I need to know what I have.”</p> <p>“Then we should start from the beginning, if that’s okay with you,” Michael suggested.</p> <p>“Yeah, we should. It happened when I was young, but— Can you promise me to not tell this to anyone else?” Sylvie asked.</p> <p>“I’m bound by confidentiality, Sylvie, you’ll be fine. Take your time.”</p> <p>“Alright.” Sylvie took a deep breath, before continuing. “I’ve never had a crush on anyone. Not sexually or romantically. I thought I would feel something eventually, but nope. I never did. I care for my friends a whole lot, but I just don’t get it.”</p> <p>“You said this was a lack of something vital, that everyone else had except for you. But if it isn’t vital for you, then is it really that important?”</p> <p>Sylvie frowned. “I guess not, but I just thought that what I lacked was wrong to have.”</p> <p>“I don’t think it is. If this is how you feel, then you shouldn’t feel bad for having it. That’s what makes you <em>you</em>,” Michael encouraged her.</p> <p>“I’m alone, Michael. Everyone else pushes for love. There’s advertisements everywhere. I’m drowning in all of this, and no one else has this but me.”</p> <p>Michael looked at her, with sympathetic eyes. It reminded her of her dad, and how he calmed her down.</p> <p>“There’s a small percentage, but there are people out there like you. You are not alone.”</p> <p>“Sure feels like I am,” Sylvie grunted.</p> <p>“I have one last question. Why do you think that love is this vital concept that you must have?” Michael inquired.</p> <p>“Because they all say it’s so important. And if I don’t have it, I’m screwed! They all say it,” Sylvie trembled.</p> <p>“But that’s just what they <em>say</em>, correct? Even if everyone says it, that’s not a fact, that’s just an opinion.”</p> <p>A slow realization dawned on Sylvie’s face, and her eyes opened wide. She nodded with understanding. “It’s not what makes us special.”</p> <p>“Precisely. All animals have intercourse, and they all love each other. None of that is unique or special to us. What is important to us is how we express ourselves as people. You’re allowed to be proud of who you are,” Michael stated, his words empathetic and calming.</p> <p>The tension in the room softened a bit. Sylvie realized that she wasn’t alone with her plight. She found answers. But with those answers came more questions.</p> <p>“What’s it called? Whatever I have, what’s the name of it?”</p> <p>“Asexuality for the lack of sexual attraction, and aromanticism for romantic attraction,” Michael informed her.</p> <p>“I’ve heard of those before, but I never looked into them. I thought that being ace was an umbrella term for both.”</p> <p>“People who are uninformed make that same assumption. It’s two different things. Some people can have sexual attraction, but not romantic, some can have the opposite, and some have neither,” he elaborated.</p> <p>“Okay, so I have neither. There are people like me, right?”</p> <p>“That is correct.”</p> <p>A weight had been lifted off of Sylvie’s shoulders. “I’m not alone.”</p> <p>“You never are alone, Sylvie.” Michael gave another warm smile.</p> <p>“It all makes sense now. Thank you,” Sylvie said.</p> <p>“No need to thank me. I pushed you in the right direction to solve your concern, but the rest? That was all you.”</p> <p>“One question, how did you know all of that? Not to be intrusive, but it sounds like you have expert knowledge of all this,” Sylvie asked.</p> <p>Michael held up his hands. A white ring was on his left middle finger, and a black ring on his right.</p> <p>“Black is ace. White is aro.”</p> <p>Sylvie sat there, speechless. She could barely make a sound, before finally managing to squeak out a sentence.</p> <p>“You’re like me.”</p> <p>“I am. I only revealed this to my closest of friends, but I want to prove to you that you aren’t alone. If you need anything, I’m here to help out,” Michael said.</p> <p>Sylvie nodded. “I’ll let you know if I need anything.”</p> <p>“Of course. Oh, by the way, let me show you something a friend bought for me.”</p> <p>Michael reached behind his computer, and held the black mug in his hands. The white text on the mug read ‘<em>I’m a Hater, not a Dater</em>’.</p> <p>“I’m not exactly known for being spiteful, but I think it’s amusing nonetheless.”</p> <p>“That’s cute,” Sylvie remarked, with a slight smile on her face.</p> <p>“See you around.” Sylvie stood up, gave a little wave, and turned to walk out of the room, closing the door behind her.</p> <p>She only had one thing left to do.</p> <hr/> <p>She couldn’t do it.</p> <p>That sensation from before became overwhelming. She tossed and turned in her bed, yet couldn’t even find a lick of sleep. Panic surged through her, as she had thoughts of what happened earlier that day, and all of the past events that she experienced while figuring this whole thing out.</p> <p><em>I want Michael to be right. But she still might— I can’t do it.</em></p> <p>Her entire body was drenched in sweat. She felt like she had a 100° fever. She tried to calm herself down, but the thoughts kept bombarding her. Again, and again, and again.</p> <p><em>She won’t. I know her, she wouldn’t. She’s my friend. But there’s still a chance. I can’t be alone. Not again.</em></p> <p>Sylvie turned to reach for her phone. She picked it up, and its bright light shined in her face. <em>3:30 a.m.</em></p> <p><em>Goddamnit, I need sleep.</em></p> <p>She threw the bedsheets off of her and went to the bathroom. Her eyes squinted before she turned on the lights, and stared at herself in the mirror.</p> <p>If one word could describe what Sylvie looked like at this moment, it would be <em>miserable</em>. Her hair was frazzled, and all over the place. Her eyes strained at the bathroom lights. She couldn’t keep doing this.</p> <p>But there was still a tiny possibility that what she feared the most would come true.</p> <p>Love won, again. It always did. Just being friends with somebody was secondary, compared to love. As it was said time and time again, love conquered all. It was natural to everyone except her. She knew what they would ask her. What they would always keep asking her.</p> <p>She felt like she was going to throw up. She hyperventilated, tears streaming down her face. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t. She-</p> <p>No.</p> <p>She wasn’t broken, or a liar. She didn’t need a sex drive to be human. Fuck that. Sylvie was still human. Michael proved that to her. Human intimacy was flexible, and it never was affixed to one particular set of rules. It was a spectrum of appreciation.</p> <p>Friendship was valuable to her. It was a very important thing to keep and cherish. To have someone who truly got her, who respected her and had her back no matter what obstacle she faced, that was the most important thing. Some people would give anything for it.</p> <p>Friends could look cute together. They could cuddle. Sylvie could probably do the equivalent of a date, just without the kissing or all the other nonsense. Hell, she could probably still hold hands with her friends. Did it matter?</p> <p>No. It didn’t. What mattered was the connection.</p> <p>And if anyone tried to break that, tried to call her broken, tried to call her unnatural, nothing good would wait for them, in the end.</p> <p>She had to tell her. There was no other way.</p> <p>Sylvie stared at herself in the mirror with determination, and went to turn the bathroom lights off. She slowly sauntered back to her bed, and pulled the covers over herself.</p> <p>She had a better time sleeping that night.</p> <hr/> <p>Sylvie stood in the hallway connecting all the personnel dormitories, her mind racing with hopes and doubts and fear. She picked a time when the halls were less crowded, so that no one had to see her look incredibly stupid.</p> <p>She paced back and forth, her eyes darting from left to right. Every possible variable and permutation of what could happen once she walked through that door was scrutinized to the last moment. She had backup plans, stored in her mind, in case anything went wrong.</p> <p>All that immediately went out the window once she opened the door. Caoimhe was on her couch, drinking soda and scrolling on her phone. She looked up at Sylvie standing in the doorframe, and waved at her enthusiastically.</p> <p>“Hiya, Sylvie! How are you?”</p> <p>“I’m doing fine.”</p> <p>“Hey, that’s good to hear! It’s a great day for drying, today. Sun’s out, we can go take a walk to the park if we want to,” Caoimhe said, her smile beaming from ear to ear.</p> <p>“I’d like to do that, but—” Sylvie hesitated, her eyes unfocused, deliberating on what to do next.</p> <p>“Is something wrong?” Caoimhe asked, concerned.</p> <p>“It’s just— I don’t know if I should tell you this.”</p> <p>Caoimhe grabbed Sylvie’s shoulders and looked directly in her eyes. “Whatever’s going on, it won’t be that bad, okay? I’m not going to get mad at you. Your secret is safe with me.”</p> <p>Sylvie took a deep breath. “Okay. I don’t have romantic feelings for you. Nor for anyone else. I know that sounds strange, so let me explain, just— just hang on,” Sylvie quavered, the pit in her stomach falling deeper and deeper.</p> <p>There was no turning back now.</p> <p>“I’ve felt this way for a long time. Most of my life I just held it off and pretended like I’m everyone else, but I can’t pretend anymore. I value my friends, and they hold a special place in my heart, but I can’t say the same for what makes most people happy. I wouldn’t want to do anything without you. But I don’t want to go there. I never want to go there. I’m sorry if you did want to go there, but I can’t,” Sylvie elaborated, her voice trembling with every word.</p> <p>The room went silent. She wanted to get out, to run away forever, maybe even move to another country. The fear came back, and engulfed her with all its might. She should have worded it better. She should have told her earlier. She shouldn’t have withheld any of this to her, to all of them. She—</p> <p>A soft, warm embrace wrapped around Sylvie like a blanket. It felt like that weighted blanket that she had back at home. She finally let the fear go and cried, her eyes stinging from the tears.</p> <p>“It’s okay, Sylvie. You’re important to me, and you always have been. I understand what you’re saying, and I still adore you, as a friend. We can go out together and do whatever we want, ‘cause we’re best buds, right?”</p> <p>Sylvie wiped the tears from her eyes, and sniffled. “Yeah, we are. Thank you.”</p> <p>“I’ll still play video games with you, I’ll still be with you when a storm comes, and I’ll always support you. I’ll be with you till the end of the line.”</p> <p>Sylvie looked at her friend with awe in her eyes, and her chest was filled with an adoration that she was always accustomed to. She looked at her with all the love that she had, but not the love that she read, that she watched, that she saw from afar. It was the kind of adoration that made her glow every time she was with her.</p> <p>They will be bound together for all of time, with the stars.</p> <p>“So, you want to start walking?” Caoimhe asked.</p> <p>“Sure! Let’s go, friend.”</p> <p>They waltzed out of Caoimhe’s room, and walked through the halls together, hand in hand.</p> <p>Sylvie spotted the janitor again, cleaning the floor as usual. He looked up from the floor, and saw the pair’s interlocked hands.</p> <p>“So, are you two—”</p> <p>“Nope. I’m in the <em>zone</em>, with my wonderful friend,” Caoimhe interrupted.</p> <p>He stared at his feet, a pained expression in his face. “Sorry about that, I shouldn’t be assuming things.”</p> <p>“It’s okay, you probably won’t be the last person to assume that we’re— Yeah,” Sylvie said. That was one thing she was not looking forward to.</p> <p>“Don’t worry about it, Sylvie. I’ll handle it with you, together,” Caoimhe patted her shoulder, and gave her a reassuring smile.</p> <p>“Well, you two go have fun. You both deserve it.”</p> <p>The janitor waved at them, and the pair waved back, and— wait, was that a slight smile? His mouth never so much as twitched in front of Sylvie. Huh.</p> <p>The two kept going, and entered the cafeteria.</p> <p>“Hold on, I need to go make a quick stop,” Sylvie said.</p> <p>“Go ahead.”</p> <p>She made her way down the ramp to the various chitchatting researchers and spotted a table with only one person sitting and eating his lunch.</p> <p>She sat down next to him and nudged him slightly in the shoulder. “Hey, how’s it going?”</p> <p>Michael turned to look at her. “I’m doing well.” His demeanor was more reserved, not like how he was in his office but like he was earlier in this same room.</p> <p>“Well, I just wanted to say thanks. For helping me figure this out. I really appreciate that you did that for me.”</p> <p>“I’m glad that you’re feeling better. If you ever have any more questions, I’ll be in my office,” Michael said.</p> <p>“Of course. You said there was a spectrum, right?”</p> <p>“Correct. There are many sub-designations in the aromantic and asexual spectrums. I could go all day with gray-aces, demiromantics, aegosexuality, and a whole bunch more. We could talk about it, if you want to,” he offered.</p> <p>“Sure! I definitely want to learn more.”</p> <p>“Alright. I’ll set up a time for us when I’m on break. Expect an email from me soon.”</p> <p>“I will. Thank you.”</p> <p>They both shook hands, and Michael turned back to continue eating his lunch. Sylvie went up the ramp to her friend, who leaned against a nearby pillar.</p> <p>“Ready to go?” Caoimhe asked.</p> <p>“Of course I am. Let’s go.”</p> <p>They walked together, side by side, as best pals. It couldn’t have been better for her. Sylvie had what she wanted, and while it wasn’t like the novels that she read, it was still perfect.</p> <p>She finally turned out.</p> <div class="collection"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">More From This Author</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">More From This Author</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <table style="1px solid black; width: 100%;"> <tr> <th class="namerow" colspan="2"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p>Merehrab's Works</p> </div> </div></th> </tr> <tr> <th class="titlecolumn">SCPs</th> <th class="articlecolumn"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-7550">SCP-7550</a> <em>(+60)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-7163">SCP-7163</a> <em>(+53)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-6461">SCP-6461</a> <em>(+31)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-7467">SCP-7467</a> <em>(+21)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-8035">SCP-8035</a> <em>(+31)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> </div></th> </tr> <tr> <th class="titlecolumn">Tales/GoI Formats</th> <th class="articlecolumn"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/infatuation-in-black">Infatuation in Black</a> <em>(+18)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/blackbird">Blackbird</a> <em>(+12)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> </div></th> </tr> <tr> <th class="titlecolumn">Other</th> <th class="articlecolumn"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/merehrabs-musings">Merehrab’s Musings</a> <em>(+28)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> </div></th> </tr> </table> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/turning-out">Turning Out</a>" by Merehrab, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/turning-out">https://scpwiki.com/turning-out</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:black-highlighter-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:bhl-dark-sidebar">:scp-wiki:component:bhl-dark-sidebar</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:pride-highlighter">:scp-wiki:component:pride-highlighter</a> \|inc-aro-alt= --]]] ===== [[include <a href="/component:preview">component:preview</a> text= Was loving someone caring about them a whole lot? Sylvie was doing that already. What was the difference? Was there a difference? ]] ===== [[module CSS]] :root { --header-title: "SITE-35"; --header-subtitle: "SUPPORT, CONSOLE, PROTECT"; } [[/module]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] Being a junior researcher for a top secret organization was a strange thing. Sylvie could sense the overwhelming responsibility, the feeling where every wrong step she made was one more step to an XK. She expected a generic, sterile lab facility when she first arrived at Site-35. However, what she got was the equivalent of a therapist’s office, with the majority of anomalies stationed there having many kinds of neurodivergent and physical disabilities. It was a Saturday, and Sylvie wandered through the almost-comforting hallways that she had become accustomed to. The warm fluorescent lights shined above her as she turned a corner and meekly squeezed past a gaggle of oncoming researchers, who were getting ready to experiment on a new object that arrived that day. Sylvie had a report in her bag that she needed to bring back to the lab. Her supervisor, Howard Bates, would not be happy if she was late again. Incurring his wrath was not worth it. On her way there, she passed by the frankly miserable janitor, sweeping the concrete floor with his equally sad-looking broom. She turned to wave at him, and he waved back, but his facial expression didn’t change a bit. Sylvie eventually made it to the research sector, and sat down with the other JRs at the several admittedly cramped desk spaces with test tubes, beakers, Bunsen burners and the like. She glanced around at the other researchers, a sea full of faces that she didn’t recognize. For the four months that Sylvie’s been at this place, she still couldn’t tell who was who and what was where. As she looked around, she caught a glimpse of another researcher with auburn, shoulder-length hair. The woman looked back at her, before turning away. //Who was that?// “Alright, everybody, settle down. Let’s save the conversations for later.” Ah, great, Howard. The crusty old man with a haircut that barely should even be called hair wore a thin smile, his eyebrows furrowed slightly, and his eyes slightly narrowed with intent. It looked like he was trying to be presentable to his subordinates, but Sylvie knew he wasn’t pleased in the slightest. “We have work to do, folks. We’ve got new artifacts sent from that wormhole that Extraversal Affairs found at Circleville yesterday. I expect results by Friday. Don’t let me down.” “Sure, bud.” Sylvie mumbled to herself. She looked around again, and it seemed that no one heard her. “Good luck.” Howard gave a thumbs up, and a slightly more enthusiastic smile, before turning and being subsumed by the mass of researchers. Sylvie looked down at her watch. //1:13 p.m.// Plenty of time to pretend like she was doing something. She pulled her laptop out of her bag, swiped the dust off the top, and started to search through ScipNet and the few SCP articles that she had clearance to look at. The analog clock on the wall //tick//, //tick//, //ticked//, and the conversations around her were tuned out of her brain. All she could hear was that incessant ticking. Over, and over, and over again. The monotony of it all became so boring that she started to look around and see what the other researchers were doing. She saw them talking, having fun. She saw two of them holding hands. She saw things she would never be able to have. To be happy. Because of one particular reason. ---- It started when Sylvie was young. She remembered all the gossip that her friends passed around during lunch at school. Who’s got a crush on who, all that talk about Zac Efron and Aaron Taylor-Johnson, and of course everything about Sadie and her boyfriend. She heard all of it. Love was in the air, all around her. But something was off. Something that Sylvie couldn’t seem to grasp, at first. Her friends asked her what crushes she had, all that jazz. She would just tell them the celebrities that everyone else liked. But that wasn’t true. None of it was true. All of her friends were attracted to these people, and all Sylvie saw were faces. She didn’t feel any of it. And all that talk about the adult stuff just irritated her. None of that appealed to her. It always bothered her in the back of her mind. Every time she tried to imagine it, it felt gross. It disgusted her immensely. All those stories that she read, were they true? Sylvie read many tales with charming princes and the protagonists falling in love at first sight. With just a look, they fell for each other. Just like that. She knew love wasn’t that easy. But it shouldn’t have been this hard. Why did she lack something so important, something that she's been told for years was supposed to be this culmination of being a person, of being alive, of something beautiful? Those tales that Sylvie always read, with daring romance and electric chemistry between the characters, were beautiful. It didn’t make sense. Sylvie couldn’t imagine a person who didn’t love anybody. What kind of a person was that? ---- Even after all that reminiscing, Sylvie was bored to death. Without keeping her mind occupied, even the simple act of doing nothing became a chore to her. Maybe she could talk to that woman who looked at her earlier? That would certainly keep her mind off things. Not like she was doing anything anyway. She walked down the desks to where the woman sat, and stood there for a few moments before finally gathering the courage to say something. “Hi. I was wondering why you were looking at me earlier. Was it something I did?” The woman’s hazel eyes widened slightly with surprise. “Sorry about that, I didn’t think you’d see me. You looked nervous back there.” “Oh, well I’m new here, so it’s been a lot for me. I’m still trying to get a grasp on this place,” Sylvie said, waving her hands around the room. “That’s okay, I’m new here, too!” “Really?” “Yeah, been here for three months. How ‘bout you?” the woman asked. “Four months,” Sylvie responded. “Hey, you got a slight edge over me. Ain’t that something?” The woman made a wide, mischievous grin, and the joke, whatever it was (was it even a joke?) flew past Sylvie’s head, like always. “Right. Well, it’s nice to meet you. Name’s Sylvie.” The woman reached out to shake Sylvie’s hand. “Caoimhe MacKella.” “Oh, we’re doing last names. Sylvie Rescher.” “It’s nice to meet you too, Sylvie.” The two women waved a quick goodbye before Sylvie went back to her desk. //Well, that could’ve went better.// ---- It was a very long day. Sylvie looked out the window of her dad’s car, seeing the outside world fly by her, her regrets and worries slowly creeping up inside her mind. “So, kiddo, how was school?” She looked at the rear-view mirror. Her dad looked back at her, with sympathetic eyes. “Fine.” “I know that look. What happened?” “Nothing happened! I’m fine, I promise.” “Alright, I won’t push it.” Her dad knew when to stop prying when she wasn’t feeling it. There was a lot of uncertainty with trying to understand what goes through Sylvie’s mind. She liked to keep herself private, in her room with all her romance novels. She never said anything about school, or her friends, not even the drawings that she kept hidden in her drawer. Sometimes her father got frustrated with all the secrets, but he was just worried. And it wasn’t like she was trying to be secretive. The only things she had to hide were embarrassing teenage things. And her lack of what makes a person, well, a person. But that secret was kept hidden deep within the recesses of her inner vault. For now. //Should I tell him?// “Hey, Dad?” “What’s up?” She paused for a moment. She might regret saying this. She will regret saying this. Absolutely everything could go wrong if she said it. But she already spoke, so there wasn’t anything she could do. “I need to tell you something.” The world came to a screeching halt. This was the moment of truth. She had to tell him eventually, there was no hiding something like this. He would keep asking questions about her lack of a boyfriend, or girlfriend, or whoever if she kept this game of charades up. But what if he didn’t accept her? What if he thinks something was wrong with her? What if something //was// wrong with her? Did she have a rare condition? No one else seemed to have what she has. Was he going to disown her? Was he going to kick her out? Everyone was going to look at her differently. They were going to think she’s a cold, unfeeling machine. Why did she think this was a good idea? Why did she say that? She was doomed for sure. Everyone was going to leave her behind. Her friends will get married and live happy lives, and she will have nothing. She— “Boy troubles?” her dad asked. //Phew.// “Something like that,” Sylvie said, with a whirlwind of emotions cycling inside her, but her face still as inscrutable as ever. “I get it. You know, your mom used to put off love entirely. Kept everything focused on supporting herself and being independent. But she came around.” “Really?” Sylvie asked, in disbelief. Her dad never told her this before. “Yeah, when she met me, it was like everything fit into place. Two puzzle pieces connecting to form a whole. We got off well together, and the rest is history.” “She just had to wait for the right person.” “Exactly.” “That might be what’s happening to me. I don’t have feelings for anyone like you do.” “You’ll find your special someone eventually. There will always be someone who will appreciate you and love you for who you are. Don’t forget that,” her dad said, reassuring her. //I hope he’s right.// Sylvie eventually saw the place she called home, up ahead in the horizon. She got away with it, for the time being. She needed to figure this out. Before the inevitable. ---- Sylvie sat in the cafeteria, eyeing the hustle and bustle around her. The conversations became a muffled mess, drowning out the other sounds in the room. She still knew no one. She couldn’t bring the courage to go up and get to know anyone, she just couldn’t. Thankfully Caoimhe kindly saved the seat next to her. She was nice. In the few weeks since they met, Sylvie was never afraid to talk to her. They both liked video games, especially Mario Kart. Maybe this was the connection that Sylvie needed. But it still didn’t feel the same. They were both sitting at an empty table. Well, mostly empty. There was one other person there, a man in his early-30s, with forest-green eyes, dark-rimmed glasses with a thick frame, and a haircut that made him look like a rather large Hobbit. A Shire Mullet, that’s what the hairstyle was called. He was sitting across from them, eating a bologna sandwich. He didn’t seem to pay attention to them talking. “Thanks for saving my seat,” Sylvie acknowledged. “No problem,” Caoimhe said, before rummaging through her bag of chips. “I still don’t know why you needed to save me that seat, though. This is an empty table.” “It’s a //mostly// empty table,” Caoihme shrugged, “and besides, somebody would’ve taken it if I hadn’t, there’s free space all around here.” “On both sides?” “Yeah.” “Literally everybody else already has a seat!” Sylvie waved around her arms, pointing at the direction of all the personnel around the room. “This is where the people who don’t have any friends sit.” “Hey, c’mon, that’s not nice to the guy across from us.” Caoimhe gestured to the man. “No offense taken.” The man looked up at the two of them, before going back to eating his sandwich. “Oh, I didn’t see you there earlier. That’s my bad. What’s your name?” Sylvie asked. “Michael,” the man answered, with a monotone voice. “It’s nice to meet you, Michael.” Sylvie reached out her right hand, and Michael reached out with the same hand, before immediately correcting his mistake and firmly shaking it. “It’s nice to meet you as well.” Michael gave a slight smile, before pulling out and scrolling through his phone. “See? This can’t be the friendless table if all three of us are friends,” Caoimhe said, giving that same devilish smile as before. Sylvie liked her banter. It made her fun to be around. They kept eating their food, with Caoimhe telling tales about Ireland and the shenanigans that she pulled as a kid. “Looking back, I probably shouldn’t have tried to ride that big ol’ fluffer, but hey, it would've been really cool if I pulled it off,” Caoimhe reminisced. “For riding a sheep? Couldn’t you have at least tried to ride, I don’t know what they got over there, a goat? Do they have goats over there?” Caoimhe looked at her incredulously. “Yeah, we do. Did you think we were goatless?” “Maybe.” Sylvie slowly sunk herself below the table. Caoimhe laughed, continuously slapping the table with enough force that Sylvie thought would collapse it. “Wow, you gave me a good laugh with that one. That was good.” Caoimhe reached under the table to yank Sylvie by the collar of her shirt to pull her up. God, was she fun to be around. It was like two puzzle pieces connecting together. But something was still off. Sylvie knew what the signs were for falling in love. This still wasn’t it. If it was, she would feel her heartbeat. She would look into Caoimhe's eyes and say “I want to be with you forever.” But still, there was nothing. This puzzle box that she tried to solve for years, it wouldn’t budge. It was unsolvable. Sylvie looked up from her lunch tray, and saw that Michael had already put his phone away. He stared at Sylvie for a second, his eyebrows raised slightly. He looked like he was collecting his thoughts, and analyzing something. His demeanor then switched up, to one of sympathetic concern. “Is something wrong?” “Oh, it’s nothing. Work’s just stressing me out right now,” Sylvie lied. “It’s perfectly fine to take a break every once in a while, to prevent burnout. It would be inadvisable to continue doing things that are taxing to your health.” Sylvie nodded. “Yeah, I probably should take a break. Maybe I can watch a movie later, to relax.” A little //buzz// went off in her pocket. She pulled her phone out, and looked at the notification. It was a personal reminder to herself that she needed to fill out that lab report before the end of the day. “I’ve got work to do. Catch you later,” Sylvie spurted out, before getting up and briskly walking towards the exit. “Bye!” Caoimhe called out in the distance. Sylvie smirked. She’ll be alright. ---- Caoimhe’s dorm was more like a pigsty than a dormitory, but not in a way that made her look extraordinarily lethargic. Posters of early 90s rom-coms were haphazardly stapled against the leftmost wall, with soda cans stacked in a pile inside the wastebasket in the corner. It was overall cramped, with many random objects scattered around the place and sorted to barely make room for anyone. It was strange, but Sylvie felt comfortable in this room. She would rather be here than in the sterile conditions outside. The two sat on Caoimhe’s ratty old couch that she got from her grandmother, fiddling with lime green video game controllers in their hands. They were playing Mario Kart 8 on the TV, their faces flushed with excitement. “Did you just hit me with a blue shell?” “Yup!” Caoimhe cheered, with a smug look on her face. “I’ll get you for that, you know.” “Go ahead and try.” The two battled for quite a while. Controllers were thrown, curses were let out, and banter became the norm for the two. Sylvie enjoyed having company with Caoimhe, because she needed someone to be there for her, to have great memories together, to be together even during the darkest of times. Humans craved connection. Being deprived of such connection would be detrimental for her. But she felt it again. That sickening feeling that bubbled up in her stomach, and crept slowly up her spine. “Hey, you did great today,” Caoimhe said. “Thanks.” “Why the long face? Had a bad dose today?” “It’s nothing,” Sylvie denied. She couldn’t worry her again, that would lead to questions. “You sure?” “I am.” “Alright. Well, if you need me, I’ll be right here.” Sylvie nodded, and silently picked back up the controller. They continued playing, with a slightly more uncomfortable atmosphere in the room. Sylvie had started to notice some things when she had conversations with Caoimhe. The playful tone when she was around her, the twirling of her hair, the constant teasing, the slight lean that she did whenever they played games together. It was textbook flirting, the kind that she recognized from her romance novels. It was so obvious, yet Sylvie never noticed it until now. //Is she in love with me?// The feeling overwhelmed her, and the bubbling in her stomach became red hot and slowly sizzled through every part of her. She felt her hands firmly grip the controller, as her muscles constricted tighter and tighter. If Caoimhe confessed to her, what then? She would have to tell her. And what she always feared would come true. It was all so //confusing//. Kissing was a no go, but dating? It was just like hanging out, but with more expensive food and with extra steps. Right? Was loving someone caring about them a whole lot? Sylvie was doing that already. What was the difference? Was there a difference? And yet, being friends with someone was treated as second-rate in the hierarchy of affection. If someone were to never date anyone in their lifetime, they would be called a virgin, and be mocked. There would be persistent, tiresome questions. There was a nagging thought in her head, ever since Sylvie met Caoimhe. That she would treat her differently. It was irrational, but as each day came and went, that thought was always there, ever present in the back of her mind. If that thought came true, then Caoimhe would always look at her with disgust in her eyes. And Sylvie would be left behind. ---- That bitter feeling followed her all the way to the next day. Sylvie sat with Caoimhe again, since she didn’t know anyone else that well to sit by them. Michael was also there, sitting across from them as usual. This time he was eating a turkey sandwich. “I still can’t believe you guys don’t have kettles. Like, a normal electric kettle. I know that’s because the voltage is lower and it’ll take forever to heat the water, but that was definitely a shock for me when I first landed here,” Caoimhe recalled. “We just use coffee makers and stuff like that,” Sylvie said. “Is it true that you Americans microwave your water for your tea?” “I’ve never done that myself, but it does work,” Michael replied. Caoimhe looked bewildered. “You people never cease to amaze me.” Each and every day, Sylvie blabbered about everything with Caoimhe, and Michael chimed in on the conversation whenever he felt like it. He usually didn’t, but that was his preference. Sylvie felt so much more comfortable than before. These meetups were the closest thing she had to home. If they knew the truth, Sylvie would have nothing. Sylvie looked up from her plate, and saw that face again. Michael and his subtle concern. He knew that she was hiding something. “Work again?” Michael asked. “Yeah, it’s been a doozy. They keep throwing everything at me,” Sylvie lied again. She couldn’t keep this up for long. Caoimhe put a hand on her shoulder. “If you ever need to talk about anything, I’m right here. You shouldn’t have to be this stressed all the time.” //Great, now she’s worried about me.// “I know some resources that’ll help you reduce stress. I’ve tried some myself, and they are excellent with calming the mind,” Michael suggested. “No, no, it’s alright. I’ll be fine.” Sylvie pretended to be relaxed, drooping her shoulders down. They were both worried about her. She shouldn’t have been thinking about it. She shouldn’t have made them this concerned. That would lead to them finding out. There wasn’t much time. She couldn’t tell them the truth, but the lies were eating her up from the inside. Why did she have to live like this? To live by hiding. To live by keeping herself locked away. To be someone that she wasn’t. She shouldn’t have to lie. But everyone else was able to fall in love. They could live a happy life with someone else. They wouldn’t have to endure ridicule. Their lives had more meaning. Sylvie imagined that puzzle box in her mind. She couldn’t solve it alone. She wanted, no she //needed// this to be over. She thought about Caoimhe, her mischievous smile, her auburn hair, and she tried her hardest not to cry. ---- She had to tell someone. It couldn’t be Caoimhe, or Michael. She would never recover mentally if she told either of them. It couldn’t be Howard either, that would just be weird. Maybe she could see a psychiatrist. They would know whatever is going on inside her head, and 35 is practically full of them. The head of the Psychology and Parapsychology section was probably busy, but Sylvie could potentially get lucky and get an appointment with him. She booted up ScipNet, and requested an appointment. Hours ticked by, and Sylvie read through her romance novels to pass the time. Even if she couldn’t resonate with them personally, the triumph of love over any obstacle, and the sheer joy of witnessing characters get to live their happily-ever-after made those novels a fulfilling reading experience. Eventually, she got a notification. SYLVIE RESCHER, YOUR APPOINTMENT HAS BEEN CONFIRMED FOR TONIGHT AT 6:30 PM. //Jackpot.// Sylvie smiled, and giddily frolicked around the room like she just won a lottery ticket. “This can finally be over! I’m going to find out—” She stopped in her tracks. She was about to find out. It all came down to this. She wasn’t ready. She didn’t want to hear it. What if something was wrong with her? What would she do with that information? She didn’t want to find out. But she had to. Sylvie slowly walked to her door, heart pounding in her chest, and opened it to her future. The hallways were noticeably quieter now. Fewer researchers roamed through them, and the air felt stale. Time nearly crept to a halt. This was it. She made it to P&P, and found the office she was looking for. The placard near the door read ‘Dr. Michael Prescott, Head Psychologist.’ She slowly opened the door, and stepped inside. The first thing that she noticed was that the walls were painted completely black, as if they were drenched in the night sky. It was unlike any of the other rooms that she saw during her four month stay. There was what looked to be a motivational poster with a picture of Viggo Mortensen playing the character Aragorn from //Lord Of The Rings//, and a mahogany desk sat in the center of the room, with a desk chair and a reclining chair placed across from each other. Sat in the desk chair was a man in his early-30s, with forest-green eyes, dark-rimmed glasses, and a familiar and distinctive mullet. It was the same Michael from the cafeteria. He was looking at his computer, swiftly typing on the keyboard with one hand and taking a sip from a black mug with the other. Once he finished his drink, he placed the mug down behind the computer, away from Sylvie’s sight. He didn’t seem to notice her. Sylvie waited a bit before walking to the desk and knocking on it three times with her knuckles. The doctor jumped a bit, in surprise, before turning to look at her. “My apologies, I didn’t see you there. Welcome to my office. Please, sit.” The doctor gestured to the reclining chair, and Sylvie sat across from him. While looking at each other, Sylvie noticed that the doctor looked very uncomfortable while making eye contact with her. He was staring at her intently, with eyes that indicated that Sylvie should probably start talking. “Hi, Michael.” “Afternoon, Sylvie.” “You never told me you were a therapist. Was that why you kept reading me every time I was worried about something?” Sylvie questioned. Michael’s expression became blank, and he stared directly at the wall behind Sylvie. “I apologize for not communicating effectively. I saw that you needed help, but I thought it would be strange if I told you about that upfront immediately. Perhaps I should have told you earlier.” Sylvie nodded. “That’s okay, I wouldn’t have told you about whatever’s going on in my head earlier regardless. It’s fine, since we’re here now.” Michael turned to look at Sylvie, and smiled warmly. “If you’re ready, then let’s get started.” He sat up straight, more focused and professional than he was before. “What is your biggest concern here? What are you most concerned about with this issue?” “I just don’t know what’s causing what I have. It might be something in my mind, but I don’t know.” Sylvie flew her hands up in the air, before flopping them back down. “Has this issue been debilitating for you? Do you struggle a lot with it?” “No, not really. It hasn’t been affecting my life all that much. I just don’t want people to find out.” “What would happen if they found out?” Michael asked. “They might look at me differently. This is something I lack, and yet everyone else has it. I waited and waited, and yet I still don’t have what they have. Can’t you see how strange that sounds?” “It doesn’t sound so strange to me. Think of it this way: perhaps this absence has always been a part of you. Are you not okay with it?” Sylvie hesitated for a bit, before answering. “I actually like what I have, mostly. It’s not something that’s hurting me. It’s just different. The problem is that someone might look at me and think I’m a machine, or something. They might hurt me, Michael.” Michael clasped his hands together. “Let’s say someone does find out about this. Someone close to you. What would happen, then? How might you handle that situation if it happens?” “If it’s the person I’m thinking of, she’ll support me anyway. She always has before. I’m just afraid that if I throw that secret out there, she might flip a switch and push me away. I-I can’t handle that.” Sylvie stammered, the tears beginning to form in her eyes. “If she has supported you from the start, what makes you think she’ll change that stance?” “She might. There’s a chance.” “A small chance.” “That’s still a chance!” Sylvie cried out, her hands trembling. Michael places a hand out. “It’s alright, Sylvie. Take deep breaths.” //Breath in, breath out.// It took a moment, but Sylvie eventually stabilized herself to keep going. “It’s irrational, I know, but that thought keeps coming. I don’t want to reveal it yet.” “If you think it will cause you harm, you are allowed to keep this concern hidden,” Michael said. “But I don’t want that! I need to know what I have.” “Then we should start from the beginning, if that’s okay with you,” Michael suggested. “Yeah, we should. It happened when I was young, but— Can you promise me to not tell this to anyone else?” Sylvie asked. “I’m bound by confidentiality, Sylvie, you’ll be fine. Take your time.” “Alright.” Sylvie took a deep breath, before continuing. “I’ve never had a crush on anyone. Not sexually or romantically. I thought I would feel something eventually, but nope. I never did. I care for my friends a whole lot, but I just don’t get it.” “You said this was a lack of something vital, that everyone else had except for you. But if it isn’t vital for you, then is it really that important?” Sylvie frowned. “I guess not, but I just thought that what I lacked was wrong to have.” “I don’t think it is. If this is how you feel, then you shouldn’t feel bad for having it. That’s what makes you //you//,” Michael encouraged her. “I’m alone, Michael. Everyone else pushes for love. There’s advertisements everywhere. I’m drowning in all of this, and no one else has this but me.” Michael looked at her, with sympathetic eyes. It reminded her of her dad, and how he calmed her down. “There’s a small percentage, but there are people out there like you. You are not alone.” “Sure feels like I am,” Sylvie grunted. “I have one last question. Why do you think that love is this vital concept that you must have?” Michael inquired. “Because they all say it’s so important. And if I don’t have it, I’m screwed! They all say it,” Sylvie trembled. “But that’s just what they //say//, correct? Even if everyone says it, that’s not a fact, that’s just an opinion.” A slow realization dawned on Sylvie’s face, and her eyes opened wide. She nodded with understanding. “It’s not what makes us special.” “Precisely. All animals have intercourse, and they all love each other. None of that is unique or special to us. What is important to us is how we express ourselves as people. You’re allowed to be proud of who you are,” Michael stated, his words empathetic and calming. The tension in the room softened a bit. Sylvie realized that she wasn’t alone with her plight. She found answers. But with those answers came more questions. “What’s it called? Whatever I have, what’s the name of it?” “Asexuality for the lack of sexual attraction, and aromanticism for romantic attraction,” Michael informed her. “I’ve heard of those before, but I never looked into them. I thought that being ace was an umbrella term for both.” “People who are uninformed make that same assumption. It’s two different things. Some people can have sexual attraction, but not romantic, some can have the opposite, and some have neither,” he elaborated. “Okay, so I have neither. There are people like me, right?” “That is correct.” A weight had been lifted off of Sylvie’s shoulders. “I’m not alone.” “You never are alone, Sylvie.” Michael gave another warm smile. “It all makes sense now. Thank you,” Sylvie said. “No need to thank me. I pushed you in the right direction to solve your concern, but the rest? That was all you.” “One question, how did you know all of that? Not to be intrusive, but it sounds like you have expert knowledge of all this,” Sylvie asked. Michael held up his hands. A white ring was on his left middle finger, and a black ring on his right. “Black is ace. White is aro.” Sylvie sat there, speechless. She could barely make a sound, before finally managing to squeak out a sentence. “You’re like me.” “I am. I only revealed this to my closest of friends, but I want to prove to you that you aren’t alone. If you need anything, I’m here to help out,” Michael said. Sylvie nodded. “I’ll let you know if I need anything.” “Of course. Oh, by the way, let me show you something a friend bought for me.” Michael reached behind his computer, and held the black mug in his hands. The white text on the mug read ‘//I’m a Hater, not a Dater//’. “I’m not exactly known for being spiteful, but I think it’s amusing nonetheless.” “That’s cute,” Sylvie remarked, with a slight smile on her face. “See you around.” Sylvie stood up, gave a little wave, and turned to walk out of the room, closing the door behind her. She only had one thing left to do. ---- She couldn’t do it. That sensation from before became overwhelming. She tossed and turned in her bed, yet couldn’t even find a lick of sleep. Panic surged through her, as she had thoughts of what happened earlier that day, and all of the past events that she experienced while figuring this whole thing out. //I want Michael to be right. But she still might— I can’t do it.// Her entire body was drenched in sweat. She felt like she had a 100° fever. She tried to calm herself down, but the thoughts kept bombarding her. Again, and again, and again. //She won’t. I know her, she wouldn’t. She’s my friend. But there’s still a chance. I can’t be alone. Not again.// Sylvie turned to reach for her phone. She picked it up, and its bright light shined in her face. //3:30 a.m.// //Goddamnit, I need sleep.// She threw the bedsheets off of her and went to the bathroom. Her eyes squinted before she turned on the lights, and stared at herself in the mirror. If one word could describe what Sylvie looked like at this moment, it would be //miserable//. Her hair was frazzled, and all over the place. Her eyes strained at the bathroom lights. She couldn’t keep doing this. But there was still a tiny possibility that what she feared the most would come true. Love won, again. It always did. Just being friends with somebody was secondary, compared to love. As it was said time and time again, love conquered all. It was natural to everyone except her. She knew what they would ask her. What they would always keep asking her. She felt like she was going to throw up. She hyperventilated, tears streaming down her face. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t. She- No. She wasn’t broken, or a liar. She didn’t need a sex drive to be human. Fuck that. Sylvie was still human. Michael proved that to her. Human intimacy was flexible, and it never was affixed to one particular set of rules. It was a spectrum of appreciation. Friendship was valuable to her. It was a very important thing to keep and cherish. To have someone who truly got her, who respected her and had her back no matter what obstacle she faced, that was the most important thing. Some people would give anything for it. Friends could look cute together. They could cuddle. Sylvie could probably do the equivalent of a date, just without the kissing or all the other nonsense. Hell, she could probably still hold hands with her friends. Did it matter? No. It didn’t. What mattered was the connection. And if anyone tried to break that, tried to call her broken, tried to call her unnatural, nothing good would wait for them, in the end. She had to tell her. There was no other way. Sylvie stared at herself in the mirror with determination, and went to turn the bathroom lights off. She slowly sauntered back to her bed, and pulled the covers over herself. She had a better time sleeping that night. ---- Sylvie stood in the hallway connecting all the personnel dormitories, her mind racing with hopes and doubts and fear. She picked a time when the halls were less crowded, so that no one had to see her look incredibly stupid. She paced back and forth, her eyes darting from left to right. Every possible variable and permutation of what could happen once she walked through that door was scrutinized to the last moment. She had backup plans, stored in her mind, in case anything went wrong. All that immediately went out the window once she opened the door. Caoimhe was on her couch, drinking soda and scrolling on her phone. She looked up at Sylvie standing in the doorframe, and waved at her enthusiastically. “Hiya, Sylvie! How are you?” “I’m doing fine.” “Hey, that’s good to hear! It’s a great day for drying, today. Sun’s out, we can go take a walk to the park if we want to,” Caoimhe said, her smile beaming from ear to ear. “I’d like to do that, but—” Sylvie hesitated, her eyes unfocused, deliberating on what to do next. “Is something wrong?” Caoimhe asked, concerned. “It’s just— I don’t know if I should tell you this.” Caoimhe grabbed Sylvie’s shoulders and looked directly in her eyes. “Whatever’s going on, it won’t be that bad, okay? I’m not going to get mad at you. Your secret is safe with me.” Sylvie took a deep breath. “Okay. I don’t have romantic feelings for you. Nor for anyone else. I know that sounds strange, so let me explain, just— just hang on,” Sylvie quavered, the pit in her stomach falling deeper and deeper. There was no turning back now. “I’ve felt this way for a long time. Most of my life I just held it off and pretended like I’m everyone else, but I can’t pretend anymore. I value my friends, and they hold a special place in my heart, but I can’t say the same for what makes most people happy. I wouldn’t want to do anything without you. But I don’t want to go there. I never want to go there. I’m sorry if you did want to go there, but I can’t,” Sylvie elaborated, her voice trembling with every word. The room went silent. She wanted to get out, to run away forever, maybe even move to another country. The fear came back, and engulfed her with all its might. She should have worded it better. She should have told her earlier. She shouldn’t have withheld any of this to her, to all of them. She— A soft, warm embrace wrapped around Sylvie like a blanket. It felt like that weighted blanket that she had back at home. She finally let the fear go and cried, her eyes stinging from the tears. “It’s okay, Sylvie. You’re important to me, and you always have been. I understand what you’re saying, and I still adore you, as a friend. We can go out together and do whatever we want, ‘cause we’re best buds, right?” Sylvie wiped the tears from her eyes, and sniffled. “Yeah, we are. Thank you.” “I’ll still play video games with you, I’ll still be with you when a storm comes, and I’ll always support you. I’ll be with you till the end of the line.” Sylvie looked at her friend with awe in her eyes, and her chest was filled with an adoration that she was always accustomed to. She looked at her with all the love that she had, but not the love that she read, that she watched, that she saw from afar. It was the kind of adoration that made her glow every time she was with her. They will be bound together for all of time, with the stars. “So, you want to start walking?” Caoimhe asked. “Sure! Let’s go, friend.” They waltzed out of Caoimhe’s room, and walked through the halls together, hand in hand. Sylvie spotted the janitor again, cleaning the floor as usual. He looked up from the floor, and saw the pair’s interlocked hands. “So, are you two—” “Nope. I’m in the //zone//, with my wonderful friend,” Caoimhe interrupted. He stared at his feet, a pained expression in his face. “Sorry about that, I shouldn’t be assuming things.” “It’s okay, you probably won’t be the last person to assume that we’re— Yeah,” Sylvie said. That was one thing she was not looking forward to. “Don’t worry about it, Sylvie. I’ll handle it with you, together,” Caoimhe patted her shoulder, and gave her a reassuring smile. “Well, you two go have fun. You both deserve it.” The janitor waved at them, and the pair waved back, and— wait, was that a slight smile? His mouth never so much as twitched in front of Sylvie. Huh. The two kept going, and entered the cafeteria. “Hold on, I need to go make a quick stop,” Sylvie said. “Go ahead.” She made her way down the ramp to the various chitchatting researchers and spotted a table with only one person sitting and eating his lunch. She sat down next to him and nudged him slightly in the shoulder. “Hey, how’s it going?” Michael turned to look at her. “I’m doing well.” His demeanor was more reserved, not like how he was in his office but like he was earlier in this same room. “Well, I just wanted to say thanks. For helping me figure this out. I really appreciate that you did that for me.” “I’m glad that you’re feeling better. If you ever have any more questions, I’ll be in my office,” Michael said. “Of course. You said there was a spectrum, right?” “Correct. There are many sub-designations in the aromantic and asexual spectrums. I could go all day with gray-aces, demiromantics, aegosexuality, and a whole bunch more. We could talk about it, if you want to,” he offered. “Sure! I definitely want to learn more.” “Alright. I’ll set up a time for us when I’m on break. Expect an email from me soon.” “I will. Thank you.” They both shook hands, and Michael turned back to continue eating his lunch. Sylvie went up the ramp to her friend, who leaned against a nearby pillar. “Ready to go?” Caoimhe asked. “Of course I am. Let’s go.” They walked together, side by side, as best pals. It couldn’t have been better for her. Sylvie had what she wanted, and while it wasn’t like the novels that she read, it was still perfect. She finally turned out. [[include <a href="/component:wikimodule">component:wikimodule</a> \|ratings= --]]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-06-26T15:12:00	[ "_licensebox", "bittersweet", "lgbtq", "pridefest2024", "slice-of-life", "tale" ]	Turning Out - SCP Foundation	17	[ "scp-7550", "scp-7163", "scp-6461", "scp-7467", "scp-8035", "infatuation-in-black", "blackbird", "merehrabs-musings", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "pridefest" ]	[]	1454326341	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/turning-out
two-sarkics-take-a-vacation-in-polynesia-stop-me-if-youve-he	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=3&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Ascp-offices-theme/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=4&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Ascp-human-resources/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <div style="display: none"> <hr/> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">+ Show component code</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">- Hide component code</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div class="code"> <div class="hl-main"> <pre><span class="hl-special">:root</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">sidebar-width-on-desktop:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--base-font-size) * (</span><span class="hl-number">266</span><span class="hl-code"> / </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-code">))</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">body-width-on-desktop:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">45.75</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">only</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">screen</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> (min-width: 56.25</span><span class="hl-identifier">rem</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#content-wrap</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> initial</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-direction:</span><span class="hl-code"> row</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vw - (</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vw - </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">min-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vh - var(--final-header-height-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">10.125</span><span class="hl-code">rem))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">13.6</span><span class="hl-code">rem) </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">13.6</span><span class="hl-code">rem) * -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code"> / </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> initial</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--body-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">45.75</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--body-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">45.75</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> min(</span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-code">vw, var(--body-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">45.75</span><span class="hl-code">rem))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> -webkit-sticky</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> sticky</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">grid-area:</span><span class="hl-code"> side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">13.6</span><span class="hl-code">rem) !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">min-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">13.6</span><span class="hl-code">rem) !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vh</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow-y:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">scroll</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> translate </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">), background-color </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">), padding </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms linear, margin </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms linear</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--swatch-tertiary-color, </span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">), </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--sidebar-bg-color, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">), </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">translate:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">13.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem) * -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">direction:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">rtl</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">scrollbar-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">thin</span><span class="hl-code">; -</span><span class="hl-reserved">ms-scroll-chaining:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overscroll-behavior:</span><span class="hl-code"> contain</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">scrollbar-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--swatch-primary-darker), </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">) /* Thumb / rgba(var(--swatch-tertiary-color), </span><span class="hl-number">0.05</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Track</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-track</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--swatch-secondary-color, </span><span class="hl-number">244</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">244</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">244</span><span class="hl-code">), </span><span class="hl-number">0.8</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-thumb</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-corner</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vw + </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vh)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right-style:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--sidebar-bg-color, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">), </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-identifier">is</span><span class="hl-code">(:</span><span class="hl-identifier">hover</span><span class="hl-code">, :</span><span class="hl-identifier">active</span><span class="hl-code">, :</span><span class="hl-identifier">focus-within</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2.25</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.25</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow-x:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow-y:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--swatch-primary-darker), </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--sidebar-bg-color, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">), </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">translate:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem) - var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">scrollbar-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">) / Thumb / rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">252</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">252</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">252</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Track</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">scrollbar-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--swatch-primary-darker, </span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">), </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">) / Thumb / rgb(var(--swatch-menubg-color, </span><span class="hl-number">252</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">252</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">252</span><span class="hl-code">), </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Track</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code">::</span><span class="hl-identifier">after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> " "</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">fixed</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">align-items:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">left</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">), background-position </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">), opacity </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> url("https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/component%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Acollapsible-sidebar/sidebar-tab.svg")</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-attachment:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">fixed</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">left</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">12.875</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">pointer-events:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-identifier">is</span><span class="hl-code">(:</span><span class="hl-identifier">hover</span><span class="hl-code">, :</span><span class="hl-identifier">active</span><span class="hl-code">, :</span><span class="hl-identifier">focus-within</span><span class="hl-code">) + </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code">::</span><span class="hl-identifier">after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">14.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem) -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">left</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">), background-position </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">), opacity </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">left</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">14.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem) * -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code">::</span><span class="hl-identifier">before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> " "</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">9</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--final-header-height-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">14.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - var(--final-header-height-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">0.688</span><span class="hl-code">rem) - </span><span class="hl-number">2.313</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--final-header-height-on-desktop, -</span><span class="hl-number">2.313</span><span class="hl-code">rem) * -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">2.313</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> translate </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">), opacity </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--swatch-alternate-color, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">pointer-events:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">translate:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">14.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem) * -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code"> + </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-identifier">is</span><span class="hl-code">(:</span><span class="hl-identifier">hover</span><span class="hl-code">, :</span><span class="hl-identifier">active</span><span class="hl-code">, :</span><span class="hl-identifier">focus-within</span><span class="hl-code">) + </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code">::</span><span class="hl-identifier">before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">translate:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.25</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">direction:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">ltr</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scpnet-interwiki-wrapper</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">direction:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">ltr</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Print</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Friendly</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Formatting</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Estrella</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">body.print-body</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">sidebar-width-on-desktop:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">body.print-body</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code">::</span><span class="hl-identifier">before</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">body.print-body</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code">::</span><span class="hl-identifier">after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span></pre></div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><span style="font-family: 'Copperplate Gothic'; color: #B61805; font-size: 280%"><strong>Two Sarkics Take a Vacation in Polynesia, Stop Me If You’ve Heard This One</strong></span></p> </div> <hr/> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong><a href="/grigori-karpin-s-author-page">More by this author</a></strong><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/fragment:scp-6500-17">Maybe read this part of SCP-6500, promise it’s short.</a></p> <p><strong><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/no-return-hub">More from this canon: No Return</a></strong></p> </div> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <div style="border:solid 3px #000000; color:#000000; border-radius: 10px; background: #D8D6D6; padding:5px; margin-bottom: 10px; padding:10px; font-family: ‘Arial Rounded MT Bold’"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Outside <a href="/scp-4036">New Kalmaktama Harbor</a> – Aboard the VSS Perkele</strong><br/> <em>30 December, 2021</em></p> </div> <p>The long-range VTOL aircraft, a V-22 Osprey she’d been told, set down on the flight deck of the aircraft carrier. She stepped out of the sliding door before the rotors had even begun slowing their rotation. She wore a silky blouse of maroon with long flowing sleeves that trailed past her hands, a pair of gray slacks and tall leather boots that rose up to her calves. Her brown hair was braided behind her head, the better to keep the rotors from disturbing.</p> <p>“You always were such a prissy little shit,” her companion said. She looked at them, rolled her eyes, and walked away from the howling engines of the Osprey. A Vanguard captain approached, the small, uniformed woman reached out a hand and Lovataar shook it. <em>These quaint customs. I shall never quite find them comfortable.</em></p> <p>“Selaco Bridger, Captain of the Perkele,” the officer said. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”</p> <p>A feminine laugh from behind threatened to pull Lovataar’s attention away from the captain; she resisted the urge.</p> <p>“My pleasure to meet you as well,” Lovataar said. “I understand you have been holding here for a long time.”</p> <p>The captain’s mouth quirked in a tight but subtle smile. “You could say that, ma’am.” This time when the laugh melodically lilted behind her, the captain leaned forward to look over the Klavigar’s shoulder. Lovataar sighed and rubbed at her eyes.</p> <p>“How long?” Lovataar asked.</p> <p>“Since October, ma–”</p> <p>“We can dispense with the formalities.”</p> <p>“Yes, ma – Yes… Like I was saying, we’ve been in a holding pattern with two sister vessels since just after the <a href="/dr-dan-goes-to-washington">address at the UN</a> by Dr. Daniels. We were ordered to maintain our distance and stop any hostile vessels from approaching the Republic.”</p> <p>“Have there been any incidents?”</p> <p>“Yes. Although no invasion forces like what <a href="/a-sarkic-by-any-other-name">Karcist Varis experienced in Massachusetts</a>, there have been several attempts at incursion by GOC contact and assessor teams. Six to eight individuals at most.”</p> <p>“How many times?”</p> <p>“At least three that we know of. It’s possible we didn’t catch them all.”</p> <p>“And the GOC personnel?”</p> <p>“In our brig, ma’am.” The captain frowned at her slip.</p> <p>“Good, keep them there for now. We will release soon enough but I don’t want any more complications on the ground than we’re already likely to have.”</p> <p>“What is the mission? We have several MTF forces on standby to accompany you.”</p> <p>“That won’t be necessary, Captain.”</p> <p>“But…”</p> <p>“We can look after ourselves.”</p> <p>“If you insist.”</p> <p>“We do.”</p> <p>Lovataar looked out on the harbor, the various shipping vessels and a few container ships. It was a bustling port, even as the sun crawled up to its midday position. The wind was warmer than she was used to at this time of year, but then this was the South Pacific and the seasons were reversed. Down the long centuries she had never spent much time in this part of the world, despite crossing Asia back and forth many times over the centuries.</p> <p>“Ma’am, I really think we should send some sort of security with you,” Captain Bridger said.</p> <p>“I brought my security,” Lovataar said.</p> <p>This time the laugh was positively violent in Lovataar’s ears. She came up beside Lovataar balancing a knife on her fingertip, grinning like a fool at the captain.</p> <p>“She sure did,” Saarn said.</p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div style="border:solid 3px #000000; color:#000000; border-radius: 10px; background: #D8D6D6; padding:5px; margin-bottom: 10px; padding:10px; font-family: ‘Arial Rounded MT Bold’"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Café – Mitte, Berlin, Germany</strong><br/> <em>28 December, 2021</em></p> </div> <p>Lovataar dipped a biscuit into the cappuccino in front of her and she took a bite, savoring the sweet ginger and the bitter flavor of the espresso. A mauve turtleneck rose high beneath her chin, a leather jacket over it as protection from the bite of Berlin at the close of the year.</p> <p>Her smartphone rang. She stared at it for a moment, still not entirely at ease with the device. Varis had given it to her before she left the Vanguard facility. It was “encrypted” – whatever that meant – and he could use it to contact her basically anywhere. She felt like she’d just got used to the idea of a cell phone and now here was the power of a computer that could fit in a pocket.</p> <p>The phone rang for nearly a minute before she remembered how to unlock and answer it.</p> <p>“Hello, Varis.”</p> <p>…</p> <p>“No, I haven’t. She’ll find me when she wants to.”</p> <p>…</p> <p>“Yes, I’m sure. They venerate her in the Republic, I need her. Besides, she’s been out in the cold too long, and we could use her with us in this collective. But don’t you have a very important press conference to prepare for?”</p> <p>…</p> <p>“Thanks, you know how difficult she can be.” She laughed, and hung up the phone.</p> <p>Something strayed through her light in the open-air café, a shadow draping across her table and blocking out the sun. She looked up at the silhouette in front of her, surrounded by a corona of light. Her jet-black hair cut close, only barely reaching her ears in a bob. She could see the hilt of a knife rising out of the silhouette’s boot.</p> <p>“I’m not half so difficult as you are,” the silhouette said.</p> <p>“You’ve never had to deal with you,” Lovataar responded.</p> <p>“Why are you here, sister?”</p> <p>Saarn continued to stand over her, only the outline of her body visible. She stood directly in the path of the light, almost certainly with intent. Lovataar had no choice but to shade her eyes as she looked up at her sister Klavigar.</p> <p>“Nice to see you too, baby,” Lovataar said.</p> <p>“Don’t you ‘baby’ me. We haven’t had sex in almost a century. What are you doing here?”</p> <p>“Sit down, you giant. People are going to stare.”</p> <p>Saarn pulled out the chair opposite her sister and frowned across a small bistro table. She waved her hand at a waiter wandering by – who promptly ignored her. She was shorter than her sister Klavigar, by at least a foot. But that smaller form was bursting with irritated energy. Her foot started tapping beneath the table.</p> <p>“Are you going to answer me?” Saarn asked.</p> <p>“Possibly,” Lovataar said with a smile that was sure to annoy her old friend. “What have you been up to lately, sister of mine?”</p> <p>“Oh, <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-liberal-vampire">this and that</a>.”</p> <p>“Saarn, crusader against injustice.”</p> <p>Saarn uncrossed her arms, braced both hands around the edge of the table and leaned forward in an aggressive manner.</p> <p>“You say that like it’s not worth doing,” Saarn said.</p> <p>“It’s a messy way to address problems. Effective I’m sure, but it isn’t making anything better for <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/sarkicism-hub">our people</a>.”</p> <p>Saarn flagged the waiter down finally and ordered a black coffee. She leaned over and whispered into Lovataar’s ear.</p> <p>“They were never your people.”</p> <p>The waiter approached the table with Saarn’s coffee and she thanked him in German.</p> <p>Lovataar rolled her eyes. “Aren’t we past that by now?”</p> <p>Saarn sipped at her coffee, trying in vain to hide the smile behind the cup.</p> <p>“Have you settled in now? Maybe we can talk about why I called you here?” Lovataar asked.</p> <p>“Called me! You had no idea how to find me.”</p> <p>“That’s true, but I knew you were in the area, and you’d know if I was.”</p> <p>“What do you want?”</p> <p>Lovataar did not answer right away and searched Saarn’s eyes for a moment.</p> <p>“Are you cross with me, sister?” Lovataar asked.</p> <p>“…I’m still not over the last argument.”</p> <p>Lovataar nearly spit out the cappuccino she had sipped. She choked a little as she laughed.</p> <p>“That was over eighty years ago. I barely remember what it was about,” Lovataar said.</p> <p>“I remember. You wanted me to ignore a disgusting pig. I disagreed.”</p> <p>“Disagreed! You put an SS colonel through a wall and disemboweled his wife in front of his children.”</p> <p>“They were laughing about what the party was doing to the Roma. He said they were beneath notice. You told me not to do anything.”</p> <p>“We were at the opera! We were mid-performance! Surrounded by security guards and Nazi sycophants. I just thought we could have done something about him later, after the show.”</p> <p>“It was pressing that I dealt with him right there,” Saarn said.</p> <p>Lovataar sighed. She placed a hand on her sister Klavigar’s.</p> <p>“I’ve never had anything but admiration for your mission,” Lovataar said. “You are a bulwark of justice. No, don’t sneer, I’m serious. I love you and I think it’s wonderful, if a bit noisy and messy sometimes.”</p> <p>Saarn avoided Lovataar’s gaze, looking down into the blackness of her coffee. Eventually she smiled and turned back towards her friend.</p> <p>“As if you’ve never done anything messy,” Saarn said.</p> <p>“Touché sister, touché.”</p> <p>Saarn looked around the courtyard and Berlin’s skyline beyond the walls.</p> <p>“This place has changed a lot since then, for the better,” she said.</p> <p>“Mmm. They’re still achingly devoted to capitalism.”</p> <p>“They’ll get over it. Feudalism was basically yesterday. They have time to figure out a better way. They just need a helping hand occasionally.”</p> <p>Lovataar chuckled. “A helping hand carrying a ten-inch blade.”</p> <p>Saarn smiled and shrugged. “I can’t easily carry a sword anymore, more’s the pity.”</p> <p>“I remember a time you didn’t carry any weapons.”</p> <p>“That was the Bronze Age. Have you seen what a titanium knife can do to a sternum? It’s a thing of beauty.” Saarn withdrew her hand from Lovataar’s and sat back in the chair. “Stop avoiding the subject. What do you need me for?”</p> <p>“Well, I’ve missed you.”</p> <p>“Sure. That’s why all the calls. What is bringing Lovataar out of hiding and looking for her only sister?”</p> <p>“Have you heard of The Adytite Republic of Polynesia?”</p> <p>“Yes. I’ve even been there a few times.”</p> <p>“Good. We’re going,” Lovataar said.</p> <p>“Why?”</p> <p>“How much do you know about what Varis has been doing with Vanguard?”</p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div style="border:solid 3px #000000; color:#000000; border-radius: 10px; background: #D8D6D6; padding:5px; margin-bottom: 10px; padding:10px; font-family: ‘Arial Rounded MT Bold’"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Outside New Kalmaktama Harbor – Aboard the VSS Perkele</strong><br/> <em>30 December, 2021</em></p> </div> <p>“So, how long are we waiting here?” Saarn asked.</p> <p>“Patience,” Lovataar said.</p> <p>Saarn leaned up against the railing at the edge of the carrier’s deck. She took out a small (for her) six-inch knife and used it to clean her fingernails.</p> <p>“We’ve been waiting nearly an hour.”</p> <p>“You’re immortal. You can wait ten more minutes.”</p> <p>“I’m bored.”</p> <p>Lovataar sighed and turned back to look up at the bridge of the carrier above them. She could see Captain Bridger through the windshield giving her a thumbs up. Lovataar returned the gesture.</p> <p>“What are you doing? You look ridiculous.”</p> <p>Lovataar laughed. “They like doing hand gestures like this.”</p> <p>“I know, I pay attention to human culture. I just think it looks ridiculous on you. Imagine if Ion could see you giving a thumbs up.”</p> <p>Lovataar laughed again. “I’m sure they would think it was charming the way they found everything I did charming.”</p> <p>“Teacher’s pet,” Saarn said.</p> <p>“Hag.”</p> <p>“Bit– Hey look, there’s a boat.”</p> <p>Lovataar turned back to look off towards the docks, and indeed there was a small motorboat approaching the side of the carrier. She turned and walked down the deck until reaching the stairs to the miniature dock set up by the side of the ship.</p> <p>“Coming?”</p> <p>“Sigh. Depends. Can I kill the President if I think he’s corrupt?” Saarn asked.</p> <p>“No.”</p> <p>“Spoil sport.”</p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div style="border:solid 3px #000000; color:#000000; border-radius: 10px; background: #D8D6D6; padding:5px; margin-bottom: 10px; padding:10px; font-family: ‘Arial Rounded MT Bold’"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong><a href="/hecatoncheires-cycle-hub">Watchtower 91</a> – Yorkshire, England</strong><br/> <em>27 December, 2021</em></p> </div> <p>“We need to be careful about this,” Varis said.</p> <p>“Why?” Lovataar asked.</p> <p>“Because they have spent the last two hundred years thinking the Foundation would invade and the entirety of the 20<sup>th</sup> century being blockaded to various degrees. Every modern nation that knows about them is scared of the Republic, and the Foundation and GOC agreed to keep them tamped down and penned in.”</p> <p>“All the more reason to offer the olive branch.”</p> <p>They were sitting in the Director’s office on the top floor of the manor house, on opposing couches with a small coffee table between them. Director Varga was looking into other matters and offered the office as a meeting place for the Karcist and Klavigar.</p> <p>“I agree, of course. I just want to make sure that we are moving forward with a diplomatic gesture. Open hand, no stick.”</p> <p>“These are our people, Varis.”</p> <p>“In a way, you’re right. But they have their own culture, and they’ve had a long history of white colonialism tainted with the religion of Ion.”</p> <p>She held up her olive toned hands. “I am not white.”</p> <p>“You’re not Polynesian either, is my point. People from Europe is what I mean.”</p> <p>“Look, Varis. I appreciate this leadership role you’ve stepped into. I think Ion would be proud of you and happy to see you taking strides for the Nälkä. But I am a Klavigar. I seduced Ion. I think I can charm the president of a small nation.”</p> <p>Varis laughed. “I’m sure you can. But I want to make sure the overture isn’t rejected. How much have you read up about the Republic?”</p> <p>“I’ve read the Foundation’s files on it, and I’ve read some documents stolen from the GOC. It’s a broad shallow file, but it does enough to bring me up to speed. This is a diplomatic mission, not an invasion.”</p> <p>“We’ve got a presence there since the unveiling in September, just as a precautionary measure but there’s been no serious contact yet. They have access to media so assume they’re aware of Vanguard’s revelation, but also expect them to meet it with distrust. They’ll likely assume any organization that rose out of the ashes of the Foundation to be fascist.”</p> <p>“Perfect, I’ll take our radical leftist assassin.”</p> <p>“Do you know where she is?”</p> <p>“She was in Poland as of yesterday, but I think she’ll head into Germany. I’ll meet up with her there.”</p> <p>“I’ve never known Saarn well, do you think she will help?”</p> <p>“Are you kidding? There’s never been a more diplomatic person born.”</p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div style="border:solid 3px #000000; color:#000000; border-radius: 10px; background: #D8D6D6; padding:5px; margin-bottom: 10px; padding:10px; font-family: ‘Arial Rounded MT Bold’"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Presidential Palace – New Kalmaktama</strong><br/> <em>30 December, 2021</em></p> </div> <p>“You want to know what I think about cops, you putrescent little shit?”</p> <p>Lovataar wrapped her arms around her sister, one around her waist and the other holding onto her left wrist, straining to pull her back. In her left hand, Saarn held a knife, the point of which was pressed against an Adytite Republic Secret Service officer’s neck. Her other hand held the man by the back of the neck and was trying to push his head down towards the tip of the blade.</p> <p>“You think you can take my knife? I can show you what I do to little men with badges!”</p> <p>“Saarn! Yaldabaoth’s blood! Stop it!” Lovataar yelled into her sister’s ear.</p> <p>“This pig thinks he can take my knife from me, I’m gonna slit his throat.”</p> <p>Saarn strained against her sister’s wrist lock, leaning into the blade to push the point into his throat; Lovataar would not relent, and she had leverage over her sister. She succeeded in pulling the blade away from the man’s skin by a few centimeters and whispered urgently into Saarn’s ear.</p> <p>“We cannot start our visit this way! Look around you, the entire palace is up in arms.”</p> <p>Surrounding them in a semi-circle were eight presidential palace guards aiming their submachine guns right at the pair. Lovataar could smell their sweat and hear the pounding of their hearts. She could almost sense the tremor in their trigger fingers.</p> <p>“Let him go, sister,” Lovataar whispered.</p> <p>The red faded from Saarn’s vision long enough to register the eight guns pointed at them. A low growl escaped her throat, and she released the little man with a badge. He fell backwards and landed hard on his ass, then frantically pushed himself away along the floor before shakily pulling a sidearm.</p> <p>Lovataar let her sister’s wrist go and held up her hands. She looked askance at Saarn and scowled until she put the knife back into its sheathe and similarly raised her hands.</p> <p>“Gentlemen, this has been a serious misunderstanding,” Lovataar said with her best smile.</p> <p>“Get down on your knees!” the guard closest to them yelled.</p> <p>She knew from the file that many here spoke English, but it still surprised her. English, Japanese, several Polynesian languages and strangely enough, Old Adytite. An effort had been made by the colonialist powers to reinsert the old language to reinforce the Nälkän identity.</p> <p>“I will not bend my knee to any man, especially not a cop. Go fuc–” Saarn started before Lovataar cut her off.</p> <p>“What my lovely sister means is that she is the Klavigar Saarn, who your culture recognizes as the Lady Adytum. I am Klavigar Lovataar.”</p> <p>“And I’m the reincarnation of Thomas Carnacki. Pull the other one, lady,” the guard said.</p> <p>“She is the embodiment of your nation. Your forefathers designed an entire cultural identity around her person and her crusade against tyranny. Surely you can chalk this up to a diplomatic <em>faux pas</em>.”</p> <p>The guard raised his weapon and pointed it directly at her face.</p> <p>“No, we can’t. You will get on your knees or I <em>will</em> shoot you.”</p> <p>“This is getting tiresome,” Saarn said, slowly lowering her hands. “You think those guns will kill us? Maybe I should try it my way after all, sister.”</p> <p>“No. Be quiet for a minute.”</p> <p>Saarn narrowed her eyes, drawing her lips into a straight line. Lovataar thought Saarn might be more disquieted by being told to be quiet than the guns.</p> <p>“I won’t say it again, get on your knees,” the guard repeated.</p> <p>“<span style="font-size:larger;"><em><strong><span style="color: #b61805">No.</span></strong></em></span>” Lovataar had also had enough of this. She raised her voice and calibrated the vibrations of her vocal cords in the way that most often demanded respect and obedience – a trick she had learned during the years of co-ruling an empire amongst her polycule and the Grand Karcist. “<span style="font-size:larger;"><em><strong><span style="color: #b61805">Lower. Your. Weapons.</span></strong></em></span>”</p> <p>The lead guard visibly shook and took a step backwards. The barrel of his gun dipped a few inches. She turned to look at the eight other guards, including the one on the floor shakily holding the pistol.</p> <p>“<span style="font-size:larger;"><em><strong><span style="color: #b61805">I said lower your weapons. Now.</span></strong></em></span>”</p> <p>Nine guns fell to ground. The men and women holding them stared slack jawed and unfocused in the Klavigars’ direction. All of them began to tremble involuntarily, their muscles straining to hold completely still. Lovataar could hear the song of their blood, their spinal fluid, the breath in their lungs. She focused, taking in the feeling of their tense muscles and the electricity firing in their brains. One of the men’s eyes began to weep blood.</p> <p>Saarn leaned into her sister and whispered. “We tread dangerously close to you crossing a line, dear.”</p> <p>“I can see why Varis loves this so much, the control is delicious,” Lovataar said.</p> <p>“Even so…”</p> <p>Lovataar sighed and blinked, ending the contact with their nervous systems but not before sending a wide broadcast to their brains. They blinked, let out a ragged collective breath and took a step back almost as if slapped. The lead security agent looked perplexed at his gun on the concrete in front of the palace gates.</p> <p>“My sister was just explaining that we serve no threat to your president and are in fact here on her invitation,” Saarn said. “You were asking for my weapons, and I gladly surrender them.”</p> <p>She held out two long knives on the palm of her left hand. Lovataar felt the seductive call of the guards’ nervous systems fade from her, and she too took in a deep breath.</p> <p>“Yes, I think all is in order now. Do you need to see any identification?” Lovataar asked in a wavering voice.</p> <p>“No… no, ma’am. We received word of your visit and Madam President is waiting for you inside. I’ll just… take these.” The lead guard delicately took the blades from Saarn’s palm and backed away slowly, as if waiting for her to bite him. Lovataar wondered how much of this experience would leave an imprint, but clearly even with the last few moments forgotten, they knew enough to be wary of her sister.</p> <p>“Excellent. Let’s go,” Saarn said as she approached the large wrought iron gates blocking the driveway into the Presidential Palace. The gates parted for her like the sea before Moses.</p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div style="border:solid 3px #000000; color:#000000; border-radius: 10px; background: #D8D6D6; padding:5px; margin-bottom: 10px; padding:10px; font-family: ‘Arial Rounded MT Bold’"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Presidential Palace – New Kalmaktama</strong><br/> <em>30 December, 2021</em></p> </div> <p>The room they were led to was sumptuously furnished, with a semi-circle of couches ringing a large marble fireplace. Saarn sat across from her on the opposite side of the ring, her short legs crossed. Saarn wore black skintight jeans and dark gray turtleneck accentuated with a shoulder holster with two empty sheathes for knives. She was examining her fingernails and pointedly not saying anything to her sister; Lovataar knew she had more knives than she had given up, but where they were hidden was a mystery to her.</p> <p>Lovataar sighed and looked around the room. On several walls there were paintings dedicated to Ion, to herself, to Orok and Saarn. There was also a portrait of the Republic’s founder, Norman Taylor, the first president and originator of the colonialist merging of native culture and Nälkän ideology. She knew he had come here with several hundred mercenaries and nearly a dozen ships in 1857 and proceeded to enslave and convert the entire population. She had read through the old Foundation file on the island before coming here, and she knew what he had done, especially with the children. Even though his tenure only lasted a brief period of years before the Foundation militarily rested control from him, his path was one of violence and oppression.</p> <p>She wondered at the framing of his picture there next to idealized versions of herself and her found family. She decided she did not like it.</p> <p>“Did you expect anything different, sister?” Saarn asked.</p> <p>Lovataar turned to see a knowing but sad smile on her old friend’s face.</p> <p>“For thousands of years we have walked this Earth and it’s always been this way,” Saarn said. “Taylor is no worse than any number of American or European authorities, especially not lately. Where has power flowed to those who sought to protect their subjects? Tyranny is power. And it must be abolished. That’s what Ion taught me to do and what I have been doing down the long years of my endless life.”</p> <p>“How ironic that the individual who taught you to hate empires made one for himself,” Lovataar said.</p> <p>“Don’t say that. Ion never ruled with an iron fist, never used fear to keep our people in line.”</p> <p>“No, they saved that for everyone outside our borders.”</p> <p>“You’re in a damn tricky mood today, sister.”</p> <p>Lovataar shrugged it off, but Saarn was right. Over the centuries, she had come to suspect that what they had done in the long-ago days of the Deathless Empire was little better than what the powers always did. She longed to see Ion’s face again, to hear their voice, but she wondered if she would kiss them or slap them first. Where had they gone? What had they to do with the doom that came to Adytum? So many dead in a war that the Nälkä could never have won and then the collapse of everything Ion had built. Lost in the sands of history like her forebears in the Daeva. But those bastards had their book.</p> <p>Her phone buzzed and she looked down to see a text message from Captain Bridger. She called her right away.</p> <p>“Captain Bridger, could you repeat that?”</p> <p>“We have an incoming vessel, military – they were on a direct bearing towards the port. Reports of a smaller boats circling around to the north and east.”</p> <p>“Can you identify them?”</p> <p>“Yes, ma’m. They’ve contacted us and asked permission to disembark at the port.”</p> <p>“So, who are they?”</p> <p>“The Broken Church,” the captain said.</p> <p>“Ion’s blood. Refuse them entrance. We have control of the port and will not be ceding it to the zealots.”</p> <p>“Acknowledged. We’ve already indicated that. They aren’t leaving.”</p> <p>“Are they holding?”</p> <p>“For now. I don’t like the looks of this boat, ma’am. They’re loaded down with weapons and personnel.”</p> <p>“If they approach the port, you are to fire across their bow. We will not let them enter. Is that understood?”</p> <p>“Ma’am, that will likely cause a significant incident.”</p> <p>“Contact Moose and Varis, they’ll back me up. But until you hear otherwise, I’m in charge,” Lovataar said.</p> <p>“Understood.”</p> <p>Saarn looked at her intently.</p> <p>“Mekhanites,” Lovataar said.</p> <p>“Shit.”</p> <p>Lovataar looked again at Taylor’s portrait on the wall, and she saw everything wrong with the world – men with guns thinking they knew what was best. She did not hear the door open behind her.</p> <p>“I’m sure you’re wondering why we would frame his picture like that,” said a voice behind Lovataar. “Hang it up in a place of honor, right next to the drawings of our spiritual betters. Your namesake, for example.”</p> <p>Lovataar turned and saw the president of the Republic: a woman in her early middle age, dressed in a tailored dark blue suit and hair drawn back from her face in a bun. She wore petite glasses with gold frames on her nose but did not seem to need them to see the Klavigars as she chose to look out over the top of the lenses.</p> <p>“My <em>namesake</em>,” Lovataar said.</p> <p>“Yes, and yours,” Madam President said looking toward Saarn.</p> <p>“You think we were given these names as what? Some continuation of a legacy?” Saarn asked, barely stifling a laugh.</p> <p>“Much easier to believe that rather than the alternative.”</p> <p>“The alternative being that we two saw the beginning of our faith and walked beside Ion and our brothers,” Saarn said.</p> <p>“Yes, that was the implication.” The president sat at the center of the ring of couches, like they were here to court her attentions and bring supplications. Lovataar thought they were doing exactly that. Saarn was yet to be convinced.</p> <p>“I did wonder at the hanging of a portrait of a murderer and slaver on the wall of the Presidential Palace,” Lovataar said, ignoring the question of their authenticity.</p> <p>“I imagine it is a strange sight for any outsider, if they’re aware of our history. The Republic was born in blood. But then it is our history. Who should we venerate? Ohashi Hachigoro, our second president? The man the Foundation put up to lord over us and keep us in check? The same Foundation who brought thousands of soldiers to our shores and killed nearly ninety percent of our military force.”</p> <p>“I was under the impression that Hachigoro refused Foundation aid and barred their personnel from the island after Taylor was deposed,” Saarn said.</p> <p>“Oh, he did. But the Foundation had provided the muscle and he took advantage. He set us on a new path and clearly was a better leader than Taylor ever was. But no one chose him, except the O5 Council. I would rather look at the face of a murderer and hold him in contempt, than look at the face of a man who would bend the knee to the Foundation for his own benefit and ambition.”</p> <p>“Fair enough.” Saarn smiled at the president. She liked her.</p> <p>“But that nicely segues into what you are doing here now, as representatives of the new Foundation,” Madam President said.</p> <p>“Vanguard is not the Foundation,” Lovataar said.</p> <p>“Bah, ridiculous. Do you not control the assets of the Foundation? Do you not operate out of the Foundation sites and bring to heel the thousands of soldiers in the employ of the Foundation? Do not those three warships in my harbor wear Foundation design, even if they fly a new flag from the masts?”</p> <p>“Our goals have no comparison. While yes, we would be fools to cast aside all resources of the Foundation, those assets do not guide our policy. In the coming months and years, the vast majority of things the Foundation deemed anomalous will be let go and all will be disclosed to the public. More importantly, we wish to iron out past claims and right the wrongs of a century of containment.”</p> <p>“Good diplomacy, Lovataar. Should I call you Lovataar or would you prefer Klavigar? If we are going to continue this charade, might as well follow the forms.”</p> <p>“Madam President, you are misinformed. The Foundation kept you under its thumb, it’s true, but that is not why we’re here. We are here to discuss the ramping down of the naval blockade and the reintroduction of your nation onto the global scene. We wish to negotiate with you in good faith.”</p> <p>“Why now?”</p> <p>“For one, Vanguard is a new entity, we are working our way through the many bloody files of the Foundation and trying to make up for what happened before, but we can’t do everything at once. That being said, it was always considered a serious mistake the way the Foundation handled things in 1861. They held you back and blocked you from the mundane world, and they would have invaded if you ever geared up for another military incursion into the borders of your neighbors, but it was never seen as an airtight containment. Vanguard is looking to make things good between our organization and your nation.”</p> <p>“Well, that’s very ni–”</p> <p>“No, wait. I’m not done,” Lovataar cut her off. “You question our names, wondering if we weren’t some figureheads to evoke your faith and play on your sensibilities. I would hope that someone as worldly as you saw Karcist Varis give his news conference in Massachusetts? I hope you had also seen his interview on the BBC. The Nälkän people are emerging from the shadows and the margins, Madam President. We are not here to play your heart strings with deceit. We are here to play your heart strings with our reality. I am Lovataar. She <em>is</em> Saarn. We have a responsibility to our children to guide you into this new world. Even if Vanguard did not want us here, I would be here. Thousands of years ago, we stood with our fellow Klavigars and next to the Grand Karcist, and we promised to watch out for the Nälkän people. Things did not go as planned, but each of us in their own way have been watching out from those communities we knew about. You were always on the other side of the world for me, and you had a nation. More importantly, you had the Foundation here and the GOC navy. As powerful as I am, I could not have solved that problem – a problem that no longer exists.”</p> <p>Lovataar leaned forward and held the President’s gaze.</p> <p>“Vanguard wants to stop the blockade, open up talks with the GOC, and help usher your people into the wider diplomatic world. Varis has proposed a unification of Nälkä, at least in spirit if not in locality. A cooperative between all Nälkä peoples. We will be establishing this entity within the year. We want your community to join the cooperative, as an example of a strong nation built on the tenets of Ion’s philosophies. This is a time for all Nälkä to stand up and embrace each other, no matter what happened in the past. Varis started this, but we Klavigar support him and want to see our people stronger together rather than pushed to the edges of society.”</p> <p>“You want to what? Open up our borders to all Nälkä people? Create a homeland? An Israel for Nälkä?” the President asked.</p> <p>“Do we look like colonizers to you?” Saarn growled.</p> <p>“Maybe not… so okay, let’s assume you’re telling the truth, that you are both the figures of faith that you claim to be. That you are a legendary lover of the Grand Karcist,” the president said. And turning to Saarn, “That you are the Joan of Arc of the Nälkän peoples, slicing the throat of tyranny every step you take in the world. But you still come here on Foundation boats, like Bowe did in the 19<sup>th</sup> century. Why would you expect anything but hostility?”</p> <p>“I didn’t. I came here with full expectation of anger and recrimination. But I would remind you that despite our open arms, we are not to be dismissed. Vanguard is your nation’s best opportunity to change things, to be welcomed into the wider world. And more importantly, I feel responsible for you. You venerate my name, you equate me with the spirit of your nation. Let me show you the love a parent has for a child,” Saarn said.</p> <p>Lovataar smiled at her sister. She did not expect her commitment to their work here, only expecting her to come for the love of a sister. A sense of relief washed through her. At least for a moment.</p> <p>Lovataar’s phone rang. Bridger’s number flashed insistently.</p> <p>“Excuse me, Madam President. I need to take this.”</p> <p>She answered the phone to the sound of cannons.</p> <p>“Captain Bridger?”</p> <p>“They aren’t holding back anymore.”</p> <p>“Did you fire a warning shot as I asked?”</p> <p>“Yes, Varis confirmed… but they ignored us. We fired again and they have returned fire. They are not firing warning shots.”</p> <p>“You are under attack?”</p> <p>“Yes, ma’am. And those smaller boats are disgorging personnel onto the beaches. We can tie up the main vessel, but I’m seeing hundreds of armed anomalous entities landing. What are your orders?”</p> <p>“Kill or immobilize the military vessel, Captain. I will speak with the President and get back to you.”</p> <p>“Shall we fire on the beaches?”</p> <p>“Hold off on that, but have your destroyers take out any smaller vessels. Refrain from anything that could be seen as attacking the Republic.”</p> <p>“Yes, ma’am.”</p> <p>Lovataar hung up and glanced up to see the President with an alarmed look on her face.</p> <p>“‘Attacking the republic?’ Explain yourself at once,” the President said.</p> <p>“Madam President, we are in the midst of a crisis.”</p> <p>The door slammed open, and several aides and security forces rushed in.</p> <p>“Madam President, we are being attacked!” one of the aides shouted.</p> <p>The President looked at Lovataar, who merely shook her head.</p> <p>“They seem to be Mekhanites,” Lovataar said.</p> <p>The President stood and was in the process of being rushed out when she looked back at Lovataar.</p> <p>“If you’re serious about helping, come with me.”</p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div style="border:solid 3px #000000; color:#000000; border-radius: 10px; background: #D8D6D6; padding:5px; margin-bottom: 10px; padding:10px; font-family: ‘Arial Rounded MT Bold’"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Presidential War Room – New Kalmaktama</strong><br/> <em>30 December, 2021</em></p> </div> <p><em>“This is Medea Qingxing, speaking to you from the eastern shore of our island nation. Behind me is the village of Adytum’s Shallows. A quaint fishing village in the traditional mold of the Republic’s oldest heritage. As you can see behind me, the beach runs from the pacific up to the edge of this village. We have gotten word of a large landing of unknown and strange looking visitors.”</em></p> <p>The young woman framed on the screen holds a microphone and wears a blue blazer. Behind her a sunny beach landscape is depicted on a high-definition screen. She is young and full of energy, made for a life in front of the camera. She turns towards the beach and the dozens of men and women armored in steel and bronze.</p> <p><em>“Is this some sort of protest? A performative art piece? We know the Adytite State News audience will want to know more. Let’s go find out.”</em></p> <p>Someone turned off the volume to the news report. Lovataar turned around from the screen and scanned the ready room, walls draped in monitors. Dozens of people, many in military uniforms, buzzed around the room. On another screen soldiers mobilized on a military base. On another, a bird’s eye view of a different beach filling up with Mekhanites.</p> <p>Lovataar and Saarn stood against a wall, away from the commotion. They had no place here despite their invitation. The President stood at the center of activity, a large conference table populated by several generals and many political figures. Lovataar didn’t understand the political spectrum of this nation, but she knew it was organized roughly in the Federal US manner with a senate and house of representatives, but with the addition of a Karcist Council. Several individuals in ceremonial robes looked over at her and her sister. One, an older man with horns protruding from his forehead, his skin a mottled gray and red, nodded to her. She nodded back. It was all a bit surreal.</p> <p>She’d come here to have a diplomatic conversation, to jump start a process that would hopefully bring the Republic in out of the cold. Because these people were her responsibility. She and the other Klavigars should have stepped in decades ago. The centuries splayed out behind her burned her with shame. All that time, all this power, and she’d hid.</p> <p>“Status report, please,” Madam President said.</p> <p>“Reports are coming in about the landings. North – approximately fifteen kilometers from the port – and along the east side of the island, another twenty kilometers away. Reporters on the site are the best we can do for documentation at the moment, but we are mobilizing,” a general said in response.</p> <p>“Do we know what they’re doing yet?”</p> <p>“Mobilizing, Madam President.”</p> <p>Lovataar looked up at the screen showing the on-scene reporters’ viewpoints. The volume was down but she didn’t need to hear what they were saying. Hundreds of biomechanically augmented Mekhanites were organizing on the beach.</p> <p>“We have to assume they will make a march on the capital and the Presidential Palace,” the general was saying.</p> <p>The President bent towards the older man with horns, who was speaking quietly into her ear. She turned and looked at Lovataar and Saarn, and then beckoned. Lovataar approached the pair, while Saarn shadowed slightly behind her.</p> <p>“Klavigar Lovataar, I would like to introduce you to Karcist Meleos, senior on the Karcist Council.”</p> <p>Lovataar reached out her hand to the Karcist, but he was already on his knees.</p> <p>“It <em>is</em> you. The Klavigars have come to their people in their time of need! Ion be praised!”</p> <p>Saarn snickered and Lovataar lightly slapped her arm. She bent down and grasped the man’s shoulders, lifting him to his feet.</p> <p>“Please do not bow to me, Karcist. You are a leader here; I am merely reaching out to establish communications with the Nälkä who live here.”</p> <p>“But you are one of the Klavigar! The holy consort of Ion, no less! And you are accompanied by Saarn, our great benefactor and warrior against tyranny.”</p> <p>“To be fair, we were all consorts of Ion at one point or another,” Saarn said.</p> <p>The man gaped at her. Lovataar hushed her and turned back to the President and Karcist.</p> <p>“What can we do to help?” Lovataar asked.</p> <p>“Tell me about your ships in the area,” the President said.</p> <p>“We have several destroyers and an aircraft carrier. They are engaged with the Mekhanite warship now I believe. I asked the captain to refrain from firing on the beachheads to avoid appearing like we were attacking.”</p> <p>“I appreciate that, but I may ask you to reverse that request. For now, what sort of forces at your command?”</p> <p>“Five hundred Vanguard marines, several attack helicopters. We weren’t here to launch an invasion.”</p> <p>“Five-hundred Foundation trained soldiers would be helpful,” the President said.</p> <p>“Excuse me, Madam President. Are you seriously considering allowing the Foundation to land a force here?” The general looked red in the face.</p> <p>Lovataar reminded herself that the last time Foundation forces were on the island, they were supporting a coup.</p> <p>“Dinesh, I am not negating any advantage we might have. How goes our mobilization of forces?”</p> <p>“Nearly a thousand militia regulars are fifteen minutes from the East side landing.”</p> <p>“And the north?”</p> <p>“Nearly twice that time.”</p> <p>Lovataar stepped forward. “What is between here and there?”</p> <p>“East of the capital is rural, mostly empty country,” the general said. “North between here and the beach are several communities. A suburb I guess you would call it, some farms beyond that, and then a fishing village at the coast.”</p> <p>“And it will be nearly thirty minutes before your forces are mobilized to the North?”</p> <p>“At least.”</p> <p>“Klavigar, we do not yet know what they intend,” the President said.</p> <p>“With all due respect, I have been fighting these zealots for nearly three millennia on and off,” Lovataar said. “I know what they’re here for.”</p> <p>“But why now?”</p> <p>“Everyone knows the Foundation is gone, and they, like others, think that there is an opportunity to take advantage.”</p> <p>“I don’t think <a href="/a-sarkic-by-any-other-name">a press conference</a> will do anything this time,” Saarn said.</p> <p>The president was shaking her head. Lovataar looked up at the screen showing the reporters.</p> <p>“Look!” Lovataar cried.</p> <p>Everyone in the room turned towards the screen. Projected nearly two meters tall were five Mekhanite warriors approaching the reporters. Someone turned the volume back up.</p> <p>“<em>- coming to you live during what appears to be an invasion.”</em> Her voice was no longer cheerful. The camera shakes slightly as one of the Mekhanite approaches, his arms built out with steel and bronze augmentation.</p> <p><em>“Excuse me, can you tell me why you’re here?”</em></p> <p><em>“Turn off the camera,”</em> the metal giant on the screen growled.</p> <p><em>“No, we will not do that. Tell us what you’re doing.”</em></p> <p>The cameraperson pulled away and continuing to train the lens on the Broken Church soldier, moving in the opposite direction. Bronze glad fingers reached for the screen and then the camera went dark. The feed changed to an anchor woman.</p> <p><em>”I’m sorry, we know that footage must have upset some of our audience. But it appears that our nation is being invaded by men and women with strange mechanical augmentation. We’re trying to reconnect with Medea, but we can’t reach her or her crew. We’ve heard the President has started mobilizing the defense forces, but we're not sure if there will be enough time to mount a response. In the meantime, citizens in the area sho-"</em></p> <p>The sound cut off as the feed was muted once again.</p> <p>“Well, I hope that clears things up for everyone,” Saarn said.</p> <p>Lovataar met the eyes of the president.</p> <p>“I’m going to connect you with Captain Bridger, so you can discuss any actions you would like our forces to take. In the meantime, we will go to the North side.”</p> <p>“Who is we?”</p> <p>Saarn pulled out a knife from somewhere. It had an oily sheen on the dark metal.</p> <p>“We’ve done this before.”</p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div style="border:solid 3px #000000; color:#000000; border-radius: 10px; background: #D8D6D6; padding:5px; margin-bottom: 10px; padding:10px; font-family: ‘Arial Rounded MT Bold’"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Adytum’s Shallows – Fishing Village</strong><br/> <em>Adytite Republic of Polynesia</em><br/> <em>30 December, 2021</em></p> </div> <p>Lovataar and Saarn exited the jeep the Republic sergeant had transported them in. Lovataar looked out across the highway to the fishing hamlet laid out in front of her. Several of the buildings were already on fire. To the right, a news truck had been parked on the highway and it too was on fire. She could see brass and steel glinting off the arms of the soldiers working their way through the small village.</p> <p>Saarn was strapping a carbine over her shoulder and sliding magazines into a belt. She stripped out of the long sleeve button down shirt she had been wearing, revealing a short sleeve t-shirt and numerous sheathes. She had been returned her knives and wore several more in open confidence. Long knives at the belt, two more strapped to her thighs and a gladius running down the length of her spine. The smaller woman bristled with edged weapons.</p> <p>“Ma’am, are you sure you want to do this?” the sergeant asked. “Reinforcements have an ETA of another twenty minutes.”</p> <p>“Every second we speak here, another person is hurt or dying in that village,” Saarn said in response, as she checked the various sheathed knives. She looked up at the sergeant. “What are you going to do?”</p> <p>“Meet the convoy as they head this direction, brief them on the sitrep.”</p> <p>Lovataar placed a hand on his shoulder and nodded in the direction of the other side of the highway. Several Mekhanites had noticed them and were headed in their direction. “Then go while you have a chance.”</p> <p>The soldier saluted and drove off down the highway.</p> <p>“How are we doing this?” Saarn asked.</p> <p>“Quickly.”</p> <p>Lovataar started running towards the approaching augmented soldiers. She felt her heart hammer, the sheen of sweat dripping down her back. Three soldiers laden down with weapons, weapon augments and combat fatigues, sleeves torn off to show the augmentations on their arms. Her boots struck the pavement, and she began to will her flesh into conformance with her will. The muscles in her arms increased in density, the skin along her entire body thickened and turned a shade of purplish red, her bones spread out from within, growing external panels of armor piercing her clothes.</p> <p>The three Mekhanites waded through the tall grass on the outskirts of the village, making steady progress towards her. One of them raised a weapon that glowed with heat, the light growing steadily brighter. Two rounds went off quickly, piercing both eyes of the soldier, passing harmlessly through the holes in his armored face and drilling into the meat of his brain. Saarn continued to fire on the group as that one fell.</p> <p>As Lovataar reached them one of them swung a large baton, crackling with electricity. She dove under his lumbering swing and between his armored legs, extending her arms as she rolled. The nails on either hand stretched out into a razor’s edge and sliced through the armor covering his legs. She felt the bite of metal against the sharpened keratin of her nails, as the steel parted and she sliced through muscles, ligaments and blood vessels and bounced off his internal bone structure. The soldier screamed and fell to his knees, the baton slamming to the ground as he continued his swing – leaving a small crater of earth and obliterated rocks. She really couldn’t let those weapons near her. Her arms were charred black in spots from merely rolling underneath the swing of the glowing mace. She could smell her hair burning a little.</p> <p>The third soldier pulled a sidearm and pointed it down at Lovataar’s face as she came up in a crouch. He fired twice as she twisted aside, the round striking her chest and left leg. She felt the muscles tear as the bullets tore through her. She understood pain but had a different relationship with it than one without her blessing. Lovataar’s flesh began knitting together, an itchy burning sensation running through her wounds.</p> <p>“Abomination,” the Mekhanite said.</p> <p>“Useless turd,” Saarn said as she sliced down with the gladius.</p> <p>The armor on his forearm holding the weapon didn’t split but crumble as she applied force stronger than any mechanical augmentation could bestow. Lovataar heard and felt the bones in his arm shatter into pieces, piercing the muscle around it and causing numerous bleeds. The augmented man bellowed and dropped the sidearm.</p> <p>Lovataar stood, cocked her fist back over her shoulder and then laid him out with a haymaker. The bones of her knuckles thickened and extended into small nubs of hardened bone. The plating snapped under the power of her fist – the bone extended, piercing his mouth and then his brain pan. The man’s head collapsed into itself, showering her with blood and bile. She pulled her fist from his ruined head with a sucking wet sound.</p> <p>Saarn was straddling the collapsed Mekhanite with severed tendons. She plunged her knives into his eyes and then applied leverage. He screamed as she split his head open like a melon.</p> <p>Lovataar shook the meat and blood from her hand. It hurt making bone dense enough to crack steel, but it also felt good to exert that sort of force. She stuck out her tongue as the bits fell from her hand. “He got all over me.”</p> <p>“See? That’s why I like knives,” Saarn said. “Cleaner.”</p> <p>Lovataar smiled. “Never saw the need for weapons, myself.”</p> <p>Saarn was scanning the field. She glanced at the burning news truck and then across the space between them and the town, looking out towards the beach.</p> <p>“We’ve got at least two hundred of the fuckers out there.”</p> <p>Lovataar nodded. It had been so long since she had been in a real fight. And this was one that mattered.</p> <p>“Eighteen minutes and counting. Anything we can do to distract them from burning down more of this village, is time well spent.”</p> <p>“That’s assuming this army of military service conscripts will be up to the task,” Saarn said.</p> <p>“Yes, well… this is their nation and they’ve been drilling and preparing for a Foundation invasion for decades. Let’s hope they’ve been paying attention.”</p> <p>“What next?”</p> <p>Two more squads of three Mekhanites walked towards them, weapons out and charging.</p> <p>“I need a better vantage. Keep them off me?” Lovataar asked.</p> <p>“You know it.”</p> <p>Lovataar leapt up into a nearby eucalyptus tree and started scaling the trunk, her sharp nails providing purchase like a cat’s. Her breath came ragged as she reached the top of the tree and balanced between two strong branches with her boots pressed against the bark. The first squad was firing, but she tried to ignore the bullets that whizzed close. It was harder to ignore the round that struck her in the jaw, deforming the bone and splashing blood across her eyes. Saarn was already slicing into the group with gladius and long knife. Lovataar steadied herself, willing her flesh to flow back into shape, knitting the bone into its previous configuration. This hurt – rather a lot – but she kept the pain in the back of her mind, compartmentalizing so as to minimize her distraction.</p> <p>She looked out into the middle distance, gazing down into the village, and reached out with her Halkost. She felt and saw more than three dozen Mekhanite soldiers between buildings and hundreds of panicked villagers hidden in the huts. She could differentiate the former by the greasy squeal of the metal in their bones, armor sliding across their skin, oil and electricity in their blood. She could taste their brains though, rich in the same chemicals that made up any human brain, even the augmented. She could smell the ozone from their weaponry and the blood of the Nälkän dead on their hands.</p> <p>Below her a fourth Mekhanite fell beneath Saarn’s blades. Lovataar tried to focus on the soldiers in the village, screen out the blood and viscera Saarn was spilling at the base of the tree. She felt out and wrapped her tendrils around their bodies and squeezed. She felt the breath push out of their lungs and the resistance as she turned their bodies, until they faced out past the edges of the village. She struggled, pushing her will into their muscles, making their hands drop the weapons. She formed them up into squads and marched them to the foot of the tree, just as Saarn was disemboweling the last of her quarry. Lovataar shook with concentration; the nape of her neck felt cold, her vision blurred. She wasn’t used to this. She wasn’t Varis. But she managed.</p> <p>Lovataar was momentarily distracted by her sister’s forearm which was almost torn off at the elbow and the skin blackened from Mekhanite weaponry, but Saarn noticed her looking and waved her off.</p> <p>Lovataar felt the soldiers bristling against her control. She couldn’t subsume their personhood and make them extensions of her will like Varis. But she could force them to march to her rhythm. The song of the blood was in them, just like it was in everyone who bled. The chorus of the flesh bent to her will, if only for the moment. She found the longer she held them in her mind, the easier it was.</p> <p>She squeezed them, forcing acid into their muscles, making them weak and pliant.</p> <p>“You will surrender to me and to the army coming here. And we will not harm you. So long as you take not one more life.”</p> <p>Lovataar scanned the nearly forty men and women in armor before her, and she looked out into the distance to see dozens more marching off the beach and towards their location.</p> <p>“Kneel and lace your fingers together across the back of your heads.”</p> <p>She could feel them holding back. Fighting everything she was doing to them. They bucked against the Halkost, they resisted the song. But they could hear it. She groaned slightly as she leaned into the effort, finding the leverage to push them down.</p> <p>“I said, <span style="font-size:larger;"><em><strong><span style="color: #b61805">KNEEL!</span></strong></em></span>”</p> <p>As one, they fell to their knees in the grass. At the edge of her perception she noticed the advancing horde of Mekhanites faltering, staring at her control over their brothers and sisters.</p> <p>She looked out at the approaching soldiers, some of their mouths agape and others with barely hidden rage.</p> <p>“You will drop your weapons, or I will do the same to you,” she called out over the distance between them. Her voice boomed like Orok’s.</p> <p>A man in a brilliant coat of mail, golden and polished plate, stepped to the front of the crowd. He was carrying a large spear glowing with otherworldly energy.</p> <p>“Who are you to demand anything of us?” he said.</p> <p>“I am the Klavigar Lovataar.”</p> <p>“Mother of abominations.” She could hear it whispered between them, even as far as they were from her.</p> <p>“Yes. I am the mother of ten thousand. Echidna has nothing on me. I will spew acid into your hearts, tear out your brains and eat your eyes. If need be, I will take every one of you and march you into the sea. You <em>will</em> stop hurting my children.”</p> <p>The leader stepped closer, approaching the tree she was balancing on, and stared at her. He barely looked at his compatriots.</p> <p>“Mekhane killed your god. She lost herself in the process, trading her life for the existence of this world. Your god is everything wrong with existence and yet you still cling to hope of its return. If I must sacrifice my life to kill you as Mekhane did to Yaldabaoth in the beginning, it will be a worthy trade.”</p> <p>“We kill gods, you vainglorious buffoon.”</p> <p>She held tightly to those already under her sway but reached out with the halkost and speared into him. He was more augmented than most, but he still had meat. She speared out of his flesh, a thousand strands of coral-sharp tissue. This is what she was. The tender. The grower. The horticulturalist of flesh and nerves and tumorous cells. The effort of this was not half so hard as puppeting those at the base of the tree. This was what she was holding back from doing every moment of the day. She was here to make things better, stronger.</p> <p>The membrane of his lungs burst as she sliced through them with her halkost, reaching into his spine and then ripped out into the open air. His armor dented, collapsed and then exploded off his form as the coral of her halkost ripped through his form. All she left was blood, guts and strung muscle stretched tight between the strands, the bands of armor ripped free and showering the ground along with his blood.</p> <p>She turned to the rest of the group.</p> <p>“<span style="font-size:larger;"><em><strong><span style="color: #b61805">Drop. Your. Weapons.</span></strong></em></span>”</p> <p>Then they did so and fell back from her, the sharp tang of fear dripping through their nervous systems and poisoning their rage.</p> <p>She could hear the convoy approaching down the roadside. Lovataar was drenched in bloody sweat, the effort tearing through her to do these things. She looked down at her sister.</p> <p>“Bring them.”</p> <p>Saarn turned and ran off along the highway as Lovataar slowly climbed down. She ignored the trembling figures in their armor arrayed around the foot of the tree. She approached the modern art piece she had made of the leader, the rock-hard coral of her halkost – grown from the nascent seed of cancer within his colon – shining in the afternoon sunlight. A cool wind came off the ocean, making the draping slabs of skin and tendons hanging from the sculpture of his cancer slide to and fro in the breeze.</p> <p>Her phone rang. Captain Bridger again. She looked at the nearly forty kneeling Mekhanites, the blood of their captain and their compatriots splashed around the grass. They still resisted but she felt strong in her grip now, even if it took consistent pressure from her Halkost worming through each of their spines, their diaphragms, the muscles along their back and legs and arms.</p> <p>“Do not move.” She answered the phone. “Captain. What is happening?”</p> <p>“We have critically wounded the destroyer. They are limping away. How are things there?”</p> <p>“Stopped the advance on the north shore for the moment. They’re pulling back and have relinquished weapons,” Lovataar answered.</p> <p>“The Republic’s army mobilized that quickly?”</p> <p>“They’re on the way, but Saarn and I have been on site for the last fifteen minutes.”</p> <p>“By yourselves? What were you thinking?”</p> <p>“I have been fighting this war for millennia, Captain. I wasn’t going to sit around in a ready room while they burned a village.”</p> <p>“How did you manage to push them back?”</p> <p>“Assertive diplomacy.”</p> <p>“Well, we might need some more of that.”</p> <p>“What do you mean?”</p> <p>“We’ve received a communication from the destroyer. They’re asking to negotiate,” the captain responded.</p> <p>“You don’t want to speak with them?”</p> <p>“I don’t think that’s appropriate.”</p> <p>Lovataar looked at the kneeling Mekhanites, scanning the faces. Many of them quivered in fear but not all, not even most. Most of them looked at her with unadulterated hate. She was strong, she could hold these Mekhanites indefinitely. But still the relief of having reinforcements was palpable, it hurt to hold these many bodies in tension against their wills. Down the road, the convoys of Republic military forces were coming into view, Saarn riding on the side of a jeep at the forefront.</p> <p>“When is this talk going to happen?” Lovataar asked.</p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div style="border:solid 3px #000000; color:#000000; border-radius: 10px; background: #D8D6D6; padding:5px; margin-bottom: 10px; padding:10px; font-family: ‘Arial Rounded MT Bold’"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Outside <a href="/scp-4036">New Kalmaktama Harbor</a> – Aboard the VSS Perkele</strong><br/> <em>30 December, 2021</em></p> </div> <p>The sun was setting, casting a golden hue over the deck of the Perkele as Saarn and Lovataar exited the helicopter. An honor guard was approaching their aircraft.</p> <p>Lovataar met Saarn’s eyes.</p> <p>“Do you think they can hold them at the beach?”</p> <p>“The North? Yes. I don’t know what they’re doing on the other side of the island. We’re not exactly in the chain of command here.”</p> <p>“What would you do?”</p> <p>Saarn looked out across the water at the damaged destroyer holding their enemies.</p> <p>“Sink that ship. Gather the rest of them off the beach and send them home, weaponless and in disgrace. Kill the officers though,” Saarn said.</p> <p>“We’re not at war anymore.”</p> <p>“Yes, we are. They just proved that. They invaded the country and set fire to a village. All because of an ancient feud our people barely care about. I’m not about to punish a grunt for a tyrant’s orders, but these people attacked us.”</p> <p>Lovataar shook her head. She was here to build bridges. And all this incident was doing was reestablishing old rivalries.</p> <p>Her phone rang. It wasn’t a number she recognized. She answered anyway.</p> <p>“Lovataar?”</p> <p>“Yes, Madam President. I’m here.”</p> <p>“I just wanted to say thank you for what you and your sister Klavigar did on the North Beach. We’ve got a lot of scared people but most of them are still alive thanks to you both.”</p> <p>“What are you doing with those Mekhanites we captured?”</p> <p>“We are taking them into custody. We have the technical knowhow to disable a lot of their more offensive augmentation, but that will all take time. Of more concern is what is happening out there.”</p> <p>“Before we get into that, what about the East side?”</p> <p>“They landed a similar force, and we met them head on. We’ve taken casualties but they just don’t have numbers on their side. We’ve taken quite a few prisoners there too and I think we’ll push them back, but it’s not done there yet. A few of them have mentioned being surprised at our technology. I think they expected country bumpkins performing fleshcrafting alone or wielding farm implements.”</p> <p>“One good thing about the Foundation’s control over information about the Republic, no one really knew what you had here.”</p> <p>“Agree to disagree. Look, we’re trying to clear things up inland. But if they have a working warship, it won’t make a difference. What is happening on the water?”</p> <p>“Vanguard has disabled the destroyer, and they are pulling back from active engagement. They’re calling for a negotiation with Vanguard.”</p> <p>“Are you going to speak with them?”</p> <p>“I don’t have much of a choice, Madam President.”</p> <p>“Good luck. I don’t mean to put more pressure on you, but what happens next will have a significant impact on your diplomatic mission to this nation.”</p> <p>“I assumed. Thank you. We’ll update you soon.”</p> <p>“Ion’s blessing.”</p> <p>Lovataar hung up the phone and nodded to the Vanguard sergeant leading the squad approaching them.</p> <p>“Ma’am, if you’ll come with me? The captain is waiting.”<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>The Two Klavigars were ushered into a conference room below the bridge set aside for briefings. The room contained a single long table and chairs, and digital screen for presentation. The table was mostly empty but for Captain Bridger and some of her support staff.</p> <p>“Captain, have we heard anything more from the enemy leadership?” Lovataar asked.</p> <p>“They’ve agreed to ferrying over a small delegation to negotiate. They’re going to leave their weapons behind, but we’ll check them for obvious armament before letting them aboard.”</p> <p>“Do they know who they’ll be meeting with?” Saarn asked.</p> <p>“No, I thought it would be beneficial to have some surprise.”</p> <p>“Good, because with these people you can assume hostility to the prospect of meeting with a Klavigar. Let alone two.”</p> <p>“Lovataar, I’m not briefed on our goals here. What are you looking to gain?”</p> <p>“Other than a ceasefire and withdrawal from the Republic of all Mekhanite forces?”</p> <p>“Yes, other than that.”</p> <p>“We’ll have to play it by ear. Let’s hear what they have to say and then we can make decisions.”</p> <p>“Moose has contacted us and urged us not to take any decisive actions that might lead to an escalation.”</p> <p>“I do not intend to escalate matters, but they have already invaded a sovereign nation of Nälkä and started with sectarian violence. The Broken Church began at war crimes, avoiding escalation is the bare minimum. This cannot stand. Do you understand me?”</p> <p>The captain nodded and kept any commentary to herself. A member of her staff whispered in her ear, and she looked back to Lovataar.</p> <p>“They’re here.”</p> <p>Three Mekhanites entered the conference room under armed guard. At first glance they were noticeably augmented like the soldiers Lovataar and Saarn had faced on the beach, but differences quickly became apparent, but these were different: eye augmentations, armor and limb modifications that were sleeker and less outwardly aggressive, and one of them had a metal grill surgically inserted over his mouth.</p> <p>The leader was dressed in a sharp military officer’s uniform, with old fashioned piping along the shoulders and a flair to the design that spoke to Lovataar more of the Napoleonic Wars than modern military forces. He even made a little bow before sitting at the captain’s silent invitation. His two retainers stood behind his seated form. He was older, possibly in his sixties with a lantern jaw, clean shaven and sporting a gray military hairstyle.</p> <p>“My name is Alexander Durham; I hold the rank of major and deacon for the Broken Church. I speak for His Holiness Robert Bumaro, Builder of the Broken God.”</p> <p>“Major? I was not aware the Church had a dedicated military.”</p> <p>“We have a modest military force, to execute goals in pursuit of building the God. To whom do I have pleasure of addressing this afternoon?”</p> <p>“Captain Bridger of Vanguard, who is commander of this vessel. I am Klavigar Lovataar and this is Klavigar Saarn.”</p> <p>Durham froze in his seat, the perfunctory smile on his face dropping to a neutral line across his face. His retinue tensed behind him.</p> <p>“You are <em>the</em> Lovataar and Saarn?”</p> <p>Saarn nodded shallowly, without saying a word. Lovataar said nothing.</p> <p>“You are abomination. Creature of Yaldabaoth. Flesh of the Devourer. Mother of monst–”</p> <p>“Yes, I heard all of this from one of your platoon leaders this afternoon on the beach. Can we skip all the sectarian drivel? We might be the prophesized evil in your religion, but you’re nothing but zealots hunting us through the centuries. We don’t think of you at all except when you force us to.”</p> <p>“According to legend and from Bumaro’s own testimony, your people attacked us first,” Durham said.</p> <p>“That war was won four thousand years ago! We lost! Stop trying to punish us for moving into your territory. That’s all it was!” Lovataar yelled. “That’s the entire fucking origin story to your hatred. Our people moved into the Aegean and you pushed us out. We lost our home at the end of the war and thousands died. <span style="font-size:larger;"><em><strong><span style="color: #b61805">Why are you still pursuing this vendetta?</span></strong></em></span>”</p> <p>The deacon was silent for a moment, the vibrations from her voice shaking him in his very flesh. But then he struggled to answer, as if his own tongue betrayed him.</p> <p>“We hold you in contempt,” he said “For shackling yourself to the Devourer. It is a core tenet of our faith.”</p> <p>“We do not revere Yaldabaoth. We despise it. Ion always intended to ascend to heaven and eat god,” Saarn said. “You hate us on the basis of a misunderstanding. Because you’re ignorant of our culture.”</p> <p>“Why are you here?” Lovataar asked the deacon before he could respond.</p> <p>“We wanted to proselytize to the people, inform them of the error of the Sarkic tradition.”</p> <p>“Let me ask you, deacon, do you have a slur that could refer to your people with such derision as to imply you should be erased from history?” Saarn asked.</p> <p>“I have heard terms that I find offensive, yes.”</p> <p>“Good. Then understand that if you call us Sarkic one more time, I will eat your tongue.”</p> <p>Both of the Mekhanites behind Durham stepped forward, their artificial bones and muscles tensing. But he waved them off.</p> <p>“I apologize. I forget myself. I came here to negotiate, and I insult you.”</p> <p>“Why are you really here? Don’t tell me you came to convert people. You brought a small army and immediately attacked civilians,” Lovataar asked.</p> <p>“Civilians using fleshcrafting in broad daylight.”</p> <p>“In their own homes, in their own country! Who are you to impose your values on these people?!” Saarn yelled.</p> <p>Lovataar placed a hand on her sister’s arm. She felt the tension there and she knew how close Saarn was to leaping over the table. Lovataar leaned in close to Saarn’s ear.</p> <p>“We are here to negotiate. I’m angry too. But let’s take it down several pegs,” Lovataar said.</p> <p>Lovataar turned back to Durham.</p> <p>“My sister is not a fan of imperialists. You will forgive her outburst. But you came here of your own free will, and immediately attacked people because they were different from you.”</p> <p>“We were misinformed about the nature of this place. We thought that the ruling elite were Sa– <em>Nälkän</em> cultists like those who were in Massachusetts. We thought we would be liberating these people.”</p> <p>“This nation has been of the faith for nearly two centuries, Deacon. You are not welcome here.”</p> <p>Lovataar took him in, measured the length and breadth of his body with her halkost and knew she could split him open any time she wished. But this time she merely wanted to feel his reaction. He seemed dismayed. She doubled down.</p> <p>“When you came here, you did so under the impression that the Foundation had fallen and you would have free reign,” Lovataar said. “That before the mundane world could step in, you would take action. Is that right?”</p> <p>“It’s not entirely wrong,” he said.</p> <p>“The Foundation is gone, it’s true. But all of its resources, most of its personnel and a significant number of my people and the Serpent’s Hand have joined to form Vanguard. You thought we would be weak. But we aren’t. We aren’t as interested in the oppression of the Foundation, but we have all the weapons and soldiers we need. And we have three Klavigars.”</p> <p>Durham looked at his two retinue and sighed.</p> <p>“What do we do now?” he asked.</p> <p>“You will order all forces within the Adytite Republic to stand down and surrender to the Republic. If you allow it, I will offer your people a ride back to your ship. If needed, we will help you fix the vessel. You will leave these waters and never return.”</p> <p>“With no penalties?”</p> <p>“We will need to discuss that with the president, but I think we can arrange that, if you can guarantee you will not be returning with another larger force.”</p> <p>“I can guarantee that, yes. We will not find what we were looking for here.”</p> <p>“Then? Do we have a deal?”</p> <p>“Yes. On one condition.”</p> <p>“Order the forces to stand down now. Then we can hear the condition.”</p> <p>Durham looked at one of his retinue and nodded. The Mekhanite turned and exited the room, apparently using a communicator of some sort.</p> <p>“Captain Bridger, contact the president’s office and find out if the forces have surrendered,” Lovataar said.</p> <p>The captain got on her radio and connected with the Republic office that was waiting for the call.</p> <p>“While we wait, can you answer one question for me?” Durham asked.</p> <p>“Is this the condition?” Saarn responded.</p> <p>“It is.”</p> <p>“Go ahead then.”</p> <p>“How did you stop my platoon on the North beach? The reports were confusing. Was there a military base within short distance?”</p> <p>“No,” Lovataar answered.</p> <p>Saarn laughed. “We killed several small squads in hand-to-hand combat, a couple with guns.”</p> <p>“Just you two?” Durham asked.</p> <p>Saarn nodded.</p> <p>“Why did the entire platoon surrender?”</p> <p>“I marched your soldiers out of the village against their will,” Lovataar said. “I told them to drop their weapons, and they did. Your squad leader marched on me with almost two hundred others. He did not like that I did that to your soldiers, made them kneel like that.”</p> <p>“I would not have liked that either.”</p> <p>“Yes, well, he did not like it so much that he insulted me and intended to attack me. And that <em>I did not like</em>. So, I took a tiny seed of cancer in his colon, and I grew it until it burst from him like needles pushing through plastic wrap.”</p> <p>Durham looked down at table and shook his head.</p> <p>Lovataar looked over at the captain, who nodded. The forces were surrendering.</p> <p>“I’m going to speak with the president and smooth things over, I cannot promise how things will go. But I promise to do what I can,” Lovataar said.</p> <p>Durham was nodding absent mindedly. But as she went to leave the room his hand reached out to grasp her arm. Saarn pulled a knife from the sheath on her left thigh. Lovataar waved her off with a smile.</p> <p>She looked down at the deacon. “What?”</p> <p>“And you don’t hate us?”</p> <p>“I don’t <em>know</em> you.”</p> <p>“And you could have done that to all of them on the beach? And to me right here?”</p> <p>“Yes. These things could have been avoided if you took the time to actually get to know us instead of relying on old prejudices.”</p> <p>He nodded and let go of her arm.</p> <p>Saarn followed her out but stopped to look at the deacon. “<em>I</em> hate you. But it’s not because of your faith. I hate every man who steps into a new country and decides he will conquer it.”</p> <p>She continued out of the room.</p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div style="border:solid 3px #000000; color:#000000; border-radius: 10px; background: #D8D6D6; padding:5px; margin-bottom: 10px; padding:10px; font-family: ‘Arial Rounded MT Bold’"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Vanguard Watchtower-19</strong><br/> <em>02 January, 2022</em></p> </div> <p>“And the president was fine with letting them go?” Varis asked.</p> <p>“Not at first, no. But after a while and with the promise of further benefits the Republic could reap by partnering with Vanguard and joining the collective, she saw the right of it.”</p> <p>“I read the report. I’m surprised by your circumspection.”</p> <p>“Should I have killed them all? Maybe. Saarn wanted to. And Ion knows, I wanted to as well. But that wouldn’t have served anything except my impulse for vengeance.”</p> <p>“This way we can move forward, and we avoided a major incident. Before we even unveil the collective, this sort of violence will play poorly with the public. As it stands now, the Republic was attacked unprovoked and defended itself. Releasing the Mekhanites allows us to present what happened in a sympathetic manner.”</p> <p>“Well, I’m glad. I made serious promises to the President.”</p> <p>“Cultural exchange, resources, introduction to the UN. Yes, and mutual defense.”</p> <p>“If we want allies, we need to be in the position to give something. And although I don’t want to make it a Nälkän Mecca, it does stand as an established nation where our people are strong. Maybe we’ll see more connections develop between the Republic and the other communities we’ve already brought into the fold.”</p> <p>“Even better, we might have earned something more valuable.”</p> <p>Lovataar was in the process of getting up from her seat in front of his office desk, but paused.</p> <p>“What?”</p> <p>“Representatives of Bumaro have made some outreach. Varga is handling the talks, but there’s a version of events where we establish some sort of cease fire. At the very least, it’s an avenue of communication. This is the way we build a new world for our people.”</p> <p>Lovataar smiled.</p> <p>“You sound like Them.”</p> <p>“Ion?”</p> <p>“Yes. I think Ion would be proud of what we’re doing.”</p> <p>Varis stood and escorted her to the door.</p> <p>“Thank you for coming on board. I had doubts when we first began to make these moves and we have a long way to go, but having you and the other Klavigars here has convinced me of the righteousness of Vanguard and our collective.”</p> <p>She kissed his cheek through the beard.</p> <p>“But…”</p> <p>“But we will need to speak about Saarn sometime soon.”</p> <p>“Why? Is she not welcome here?”</p> <p>“She is of course welcome here. Which she would know if she ever came to speak to me. No, what I am concerned with is the waves she will make by being visibly tied to our endeavors. Her work has been… controversial in many places.”</p> <p>“She is wanted in something like twelve countries at this point.”</p> <p>“Indeed.”</p> <p>“I’ll keep her busy for the time being. But do not reject her. I would not smile on that.”</p> <p>“You have no fear from my end. I will run interference with the other Shepherds in leadership. Vanguard has already allowed criminals in. The problem is, she has been identified specifically in several cases. We will need to handle it carefully.”</p> <p>“I have some contacts at Interpol. I will reach out and gauge the temperature.”</p> <p>“Good, do that. Let me know what you find.”</p> <p>Lovataar turned from him and walked out the door, closing it gently. She looked up and saw Saarn leaning against a wall, casually flipping a knife in one hand and repeatedly catching it by the point between her fingers.</p> <p>“What did he have to say?” Saarn asked without looking up.</p> <p>“You could speak to him yourself, you know.”</p> <p>“I’ve never liked Varis. He’s so stuck up. Rigid. Formal. I don’t know what Ion saw in him.”</p> <p>“He bears a lot of weight on his shoulders right now. And he’s doing good work.”</p> <p>“I know. I know. Just, if I don’t <em>need</em> to speak to him, then I don’t want to.”</p> <p>Lovataar laughed and took her sister’s arm in her own and led her down the hallway.</p> <p>“This place is so bleak. Was the Foundation always this dour? Concrete hallways and underground bunkers. I don’t like it much.”</p> <p>“Well, we don’t have to stay. But they do have something worthwhile here.”</p> <p>“Oh! Is it research? I so love a woman in a labcoat.” Saarn stuck her finger down her throat and made a gagging sound.</p> <p>Lovataar laughed and leaned into her. “Well, yes they do have that. But I was thinking the dormitories. I have a little apartment here, it’s not much but, I have a bed.”</p> <p>“Ohhhh. Are we back to that now?”</p> <p>“Have you not forgiven me yet? Let me make it up to you.”</p> <p>Saarn pressed her lips against her oldest friend’s and kissed her deeply.</p> <p>“If you insist.”</p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <p><strong><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/orok-and-the-orchard">Orok and the Orchard <<= Previous</a> \| <em>Two Sarkics Take a Vacation in Polynesia, Stop Me If You've Heard This One</em> \| Next => <em>Coming Soon</em></strong><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:black-highlighter-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:scp-offices-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:scp-offices-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:scp-human-resources">:scp-wiki:theme:scp-human-resources</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:centered-header-bhl">:scp-wiki:component:centered-header-bhl</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:collapsible-sidebar">:scp-wiki:component:collapsible-sidebar</a>]] [[module CSS]] :root { --logo-image: url("https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/grigori-karpin-s-author-page/vanguard%20transparent.png"); --header-title: "ANGUARD"; --header-subtitle: "SHELTER - NORMALIZE - INFORM"; --header-h2-font-size: 1.1em; } #header::before { left: -9.5rem; filter: brightness(125%); opacity: 1; } #header h1 a::before { font-size: unset; } #header h2::before { color: #fe4; } #header h2 { top: 1em; } #header #login-status { left: -2vw; } @media (max-width: 767px) { #header::before { left: -7rem; } #header h1 { top: 0.5em; left: 0.5em; } } #page-title { display: none; } [[/module]] [[=]] [[span style="font-family: 'Copperplate Gothic'; color: #B61805; font-size: 280%"]]Two Sarkics Take a Vacation in Polynesia, Stop Me If You’ve Heard This One[[/span]] [[/=]] ----- [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] [[=]] [[[grigori-karpin-s-author-page \| More by this author]]] @@ @@ [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/fragment:scp-6500-17 \| Maybe read this part of SCP-6500, promise it’s short.]]] [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/no-return-hub More from this canon: No Return] [[/=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:end">:scp-wiki:info:end</a>]] [[div style="border:solid 3px #000000; color:#000000; border-radius: 10px; background: #D8D6D6; padding:5px; margin-bottom: 10px; padding:10px; font-family: ‘Arial Rounded MT Bold’"]] [[=]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/grigori-karpin-s-author-page/vanguard%20transparent.png width="100px" height="100px"]] [[/=]] [[=]] *Outside [[[scp-4036 \| New Kalmaktama Harbor]]] – Aboard the VSS Perkele** //30 December, 2021// [[/=]] The long-range VTOL aircraft, a V-22 Osprey she’d been told, set down on the flight deck of the aircraft carrier. She stepped out of the sliding door before the rotors had even begun slowing their rotation. She wore a silky blouse of maroon with long flowing sleeves that trailed past her hands, a pair of gray slacks and tall leather boots that rose up to her calves. Her brown hair was braided behind her head, the better to keep the rotors from disturbing. “You always were such a prissy little shit,” her companion said. She looked at them, rolled her eyes, and walked away from the howling engines of the Osprey. A Vanguard captain approached, the small, uniformed woman reached out a hand and Lovataar shook it. //These quaint customs. I shall never quite find them comfortable.// “Selaco Bridger, Captain of the Perkele,” the officer said. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.” A feminine laugh from behind threatened to pull Lovataar’s attention away from the captain; she resisted the urge. “My pleasure to meet you as well,” Lovataar said. “I understand you have been holding here for a long time.” The captain’s mouth quirked in a tight but subtle smile. “You could say that, ma’am.” This time when the laugh melodically lilted behind her, the captain leaned forward to look over the Klavigar’s shoulder. Lovataar sighed and rubbed at her eyes. “How long?” Lovataar asked. “Since October, ma–” “We can dispense with the formalities.” “Yes, ma – Yes… Like I was saying, we’ve been in a holding pattern with two sister vessels since just after the [[[dr-dan-goes-to-washington \| address at the UN]]] by Dr. Daniels. We were ordered to maintain our distance and stop any hostile vessels from approaching the Republic.” “Have there been any incidents?” “Yes. Although no invasion forces like what [[[a-sarkic-by-any-other-name \| Karcist Varis experienced in Massachusetts]]], there have been several attempts at incursion by GOC contact and assessor teams. Six to eight individuals at most.” “How many times?” “At least three that we know of. It’s possible we didn’t catch them all.” “And the GOC personnel?” “In our brig, ma’am.” The captain frowned at her slip. “Good, keep them there for now. We will release soon enough but I don’t want any more complications on the ground than we’re already likely to have.” “What is the mission? We have several MTF forces on standby to accompany you.” “That won’t be necessary, Captain.” “But…” “We can look after ourselves.” “If you insist.” “We do.” Lovataar looked out on the harbor, the various shipping vessels and a few container ships. It was a bustling port, even as the sun crawled up to its midday position. The wind was warmer than she was used to at this time of year, but then this was the South Pacific and the seasons were reversed. Down the long centuries she had never spent much time in this part of the world, despite crossing Asia back and forth many times over the centuries. “Ma’am, I really think we should send some sort of security with you,” Captain Bridger said. “I brought my security,” Lovataar said. This time the laugh was positively violent in Lovataar’s ears. She came up beside Lovataar balancing a knife on her fingertip, grinning like a fool at the captain. “She sure did,” Saarn said. [[/div]] @@ @@ [[=]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/grigori-karpin-s-author-page/vanguard%20transparent.png width="100px" height="100px"]] [[/=]] @@ @@ [[div style="border:solid 3px #000000; color:#000000; border-radius: 10px; background: #D8D6D6; padding:5px; margin-bottom: 10px; padding:10px; font-family: ‘Arial Rounded MT Bold’"]] [[=]] Café – Mitte, Berlin, Germany //28 December, 2021// [[/=]] Lovataar dipped a biscuit into the cappuccino in front of her and she took a bite, savoring the sweet ginger and the bitter flavor of the espresso. A mauve turtleneck rose high beneath her chin, a leather jacket over it as protection from the bite of Berlin at the close of the year. Her smartphone rang. She stared at it for a moment, still not entirely at ease with the device. Varis had given it to her before she left the Vanguard facility. It was “encrypted” – whatever that meant – and he could use it to contact her basically anywhere. She felt like she’d just got used to the idea of a cell phone and now here was the power of a computer that could fit in a pocket. The phone rang for nearly a minute before she remembered how to unlock and answer it. “Hello, Varis.” … “No, I haven’t. She’ll find me when she wants to.” … “Yes, I’m sure. They venerate her in the Republic, I need her. Besides, she’s been out in the cold too long, and we could use her with us in this collective. But don’t you have a very important press conference to prepare for?” … “Thanks, you know how difficult she can be.” She laughed, and hung up the phone. Something strayed through her light in the open-air café, a shadow draping across her table and blocking out the sun. She looked up at the silhouette in front of her, surrounded by a corona of light. Her jet-black hair cut close, only barely reaching her ears in a bob. She could see the hilt of a knife rising out of the silhouette’s boot. “I’m not half so difficult as you are,” the silhouette said. “You’ve never had to deal with you,” Lovataar responded. “Why are you here, sister?” Saarn continued to stand over her, only the outline of her body visible. She stood directly in the path of the light, almost certainly with intent. Lovataar had no choice but to shade her eyes as she looked up at her sister Klavigar. “Nice to see you too, baby,” Lovataar said. “Don’t you ‘baby’ me. We haven’t had sex in almost a century. What are you doing here?” “Sit down, you giant. People are going to stare.” Saarn pulled out the chair opposite her sister and frowned across a small bistro table. She waved her hand at a waiter wandering by – who promptly ignored her. She was shorter than her sister Klavigar, by at least a foot. But that smaller form was bursting with irritated energy. Her foot started tapping beneath the table. “Are you going to answer me?” Saarn asked. “Possibly,” Lovataar said with a smile that was sure to annoy her old friend. “What have you been up to lately, sister of mine?” “Oh, [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-liberal-vampire \| this and that]]].” “Saarn, crusader against injustice.” Saarn uncrossed her arms, braced both hands around the edge of the table and leaned forward in an aggressive manner. “You say that like it’s not worth doing,” Saarn said. “It’s a messy way to address problems. Effective I’m sure, but it isn’t making anything better for [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/sarkicism-hub \| our people]]].” Saarn flagged the waiter down finally and ordered a black coffee. She leaned over and whispered into Lovataar’s ear. “They were never your people.” The waiter approached the table with Saarn’s coffee and she thanked him in German. Lovataar rolled her eyes. “Aren’t we past that by now?” Saarn sipped at her coffee, trying in vain to hide the smile behind the cup. “Have you settled in now? Maybe we can talk about why I called you here?” Lovataar asked. “Called me! You had no idea how to find me.” “That’s true, but I knew you were in the area, and you’d know if I was.” “What do you want?” Lovataar did not answer right away and searched Saarn’s eyes for a moment. “Are you cross with me, sister?” Lovataar asked. “…I’m still not over the last argument.” Lovataar nearly spit out the cappuccino she had sipped. She choked a little as she laughed. “That was over eighty years ago. I barely remember what it was about,” Lovataar said. “I remember. You wanted me to ignore a disgusting pig. I disagreed.” “Disagreed! You put an SS colonel through a wall and disemboweled his wife in front of his children.” “They were laughing about what the party was doing to the Roma. He said they were beneath notice. You told me not to do anything.” “We were at the opera! We were mid-performance! Surrounded by security guards and Nazi sycophants. I just thought we could have done something about him later, after the show.” “It was pressing that I dealt with him right there,” Saarn said. Lovataar sighed. She placed a hand on her sister Klavigar’s. “I’ve never had anything but admiration for your mission,” Lovataar said. “You are a bulwark of justice. No, don’t sneer, I’m serious. I love you and I think it’s wonderful, if a bit noisy and messy sometimes.” Saarn avoided Lovataar’s gaze, looking down into the blackness of her coffee. Eventually she smiled and turned back towards her friend. “As if you’ve never done anything messy,” Saarn said. “Touché sister, touché.” Saarn looked around the courtyard and Berlin’s skyline beyond the walls. “This place has changed a lot since then, for the better,” she said. “Mmm. They’re still achingly devoted to capitalism.” “They’ll get over it. Feudalism was basically yesterday. They have time to figure out a better way. They just need a helping hand occasionally.” Lovataar chuckled. “A helping hand carrying a ten-inch blade.” Saarn smiled and shrugged. “I can’t easily carry a sword anymore, more’s the pity.” “I remember a time you didn’t carry any weapons.” “That was the Bronze Age. Have you seen what a titanium knife can do to a sternum? It’s a thing of beauty.” Saarn withdrew her hand from Lovataar’s and sat back in the chair. “Stop avoiding the subject. What do you need me for?” “Well, I’ve missed you.” “Sure. That’s why all the calls. What is bringing Lovataar out of hiding and looking for her only sister?” “Have you heard of The Adytite Republic of Polynesia?” “Yes. I’ve even been there a few times.” “Good. We’re going,” Lovataar said. “Why?” “How much do you know about what Varis has been doing with Vanguard?” [[/div]] @@ @@ [[=]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/grigori-karpin-s-author-page/vanguard%20transparent.png width="100px" height="100px"]] [[/=]] @@ @@ [[div style="border:solid 3px #000000; color:#000000; border-radius: 10px; background: #D8D6D6; padding:5px; margin-bottom: 10px; padding:10px; font-family: ‘Arial Rounded MT Bold’"]] [[=]] Outside New Kalmaktama Harbor – Aboard the VSS Perkele //30 December, 2021// [[/=]] “So, how long are we waiting here?” Saarn asked. “Patience,” Lovataar said. Saarn leaned up against the railing at the edge of the carrier’s deck. She took out a small (for her) six-inch knife and used it to clean her fingernails. “We’ve been waiting nearly an hour.” “You’re immortal. You can wait ten more minutes.” “I’m bored.” Lovataar sighed and turned back to look up at the bridge of the carrier above them. She could see Captain Bridger through the windshield giving her a thumbs up. Lovataar returned the gesture. “What are you doing? You look ridiculous.” Lovataar laughed. “They like doing hand gestures like this.” “I know, I pay attention to human culture. I just think it looks ridiculous on you. Imagine if Ion could see you giving a thumbs up.” Lovataar laughed again. “I’m sure they would think it was charming the way they found everything I did charming.” “Teacher’s pet,” Saarn said. “Hag.” “Bit– Hey look, there’s a boat.” Lovataar turned back to look off towards the docks, and indeed there was a small motorboat approaching the side of the carrier. She turned and walked down the deck until reaching the stairs to the miniature dock set up by the side of the ship. “Coming?” “Sigh. Depends. Can I kill the President if I think he’s corrupt?” Saarn asked. “No.” “Spoil sport.” [[/div]] @@ @@ [[=]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/grigori-karpin-s-author-page/vanguard%20transparent.png width="100px" height="100px"]] [[/=]] @@ @@ [[div style="border:solid 3px #000000; color:#000000; border-radius: 10px; background: #D8D6D6; padding:5px; margin-bottom: 10px; padding:10px; font-family: ‘Arial Rounded MT Bold’"]] [[=]] *[[[hecatoncheires-cycle-hub \| Watchtower 91]]] – Yorkshire, England //27 December, 2021// [[/=]] “We need to be careful about this,” Varis said. “Why?” Lovataar asked. “Because they have spent the last two hundred years thinking the Foundation would invade and the entirety of the 20^^th^^ century being blockaded to various degrees. Every modern nation that knows about them is scared of the Republic, and the Foundation and GOC agreed to keep them tamped down and penned in.” “All the more reason to offer the olive branch.” They were sitting in the Director’s office on the top floor of the manor house, on opposing couches with a small coffee table between them. Director Varga was looking into other matters and offered the office as a meeting place for the Karcist and Klavigar. “I agree, of course. I just want to make sure that we are moving forward with a diplomatic gesture. Open hand, no stick.” “These are our people, Varis.” “In a way, you’re right. But they have their own culture, and they’ve had a long history of white colonialism tainted with the religion of Ion.” She held up her olive toned hands. “I am not white.” “You’re not Polynesian either, is my point. People from Europe is what I mean.” “Look, Varis. I appreciate this leadership role you’ve stepped into. I think Ion would be proud of you and happy to see you taking strides for the Nälkä. But I am a Klavigar. I seduced Ion. I think I can charm the president of a small nation.” Varis laughed. “I’m sure you can. But I want to make sure the overture isn’t rejected. How much have you read up about the Republic?” “I’ve read the Foundation’s files on it, and I’ve read some documents stolen from the GOC. It’s a broad shallow file, but it does enough to bring me up to speed. This is a diplomatic mission, not an invasion.” “We’ve got a presence there since the unveiling in September, just as a precautionary measure but there’s been no serious contact yet. They have access to media so assume they’re aware of Vanguard’s revelation, but also expect them to meet it with distrust. They’ll likely assume any organization that rose out of the ashes of the Foundation to be fascist.” “Perfect, I’ll take our radical leftist assassin.” “Do you know where she is?” “She was in Poland as of yesterday, but I think she’ll head into Germany. I’ll meet up with her there.” “I’ve never known Saarn well, do you think she will help?” “Are you kidding? There’s never been a more diplomatic person born.” [[/div]] @@ @@ [[=]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/grigori-karpin-s-author-page/vanguard%20transparent.png width="100px" height="100px"]] [[/=]] @@ @@ [[div style="border:solid 3px #000000; color:#000000; border-radius: 10px; background: #D8D6D6; padding:5px; margin-bottom: 10px; padding:10px; font-family: ‘Arial Rounded MT Bold’"]] [[=]] Presidential Palace – New Kalmaktama //30 December, 2021// [[/=]] “You want to know what I think about cops, you putrescent little shit?” Lovataar wrapped her arms around her sister, one around her waist and the other holding onto her left wrist, straining to pull her back. In her left hand, Saarn held a knife, the point of which was pressed against an Adytite Republic Secret Service officer’s neck. Her other hand held the man by the back of the neck and was trying to push his head down towards the tip of the blade. “You think you can take my knife? I can show you what I do to little men with badges!” “Saarn! Yaldabaoth’s blood! Stop it!” Lovataar yelled into her sister’s ear. “This pig thinks he can take my knife from me, I’m gonna slit his throat.” Saarn strained against her sister’s wrist lock, leaning into the blade to push the point into his throat; Lovataar would not relent, and she had leverage over her sister. She succeeded in pulling the blade away from the man’s skin by a few centimeters and whispered urgently into Saarn’s ear. “We cannot start our visit this way! Look around you, the entire palace is up in arms.” Surrounding them in a semi-circle were eight presidential palace guards aiming their submachine guns right at the pair. Lovataar could smell their sweat and hear the pounding of their hearts. She could almost sense the tremor in their trigger fingers. “Let him go, sister,” Lovataar whispered. The red faded from Saarn’s vision long enough to register the eight guns pointed at them. A low growl escaped her throat, and she released the little man with a badge. He fell backwards and landed hard on his ass, then frantically pushed himself away along the floor before shakily pulling a sidearm. Lovataar let her sister’s wrist go and held up her hands. She looked askance at Saarn and scowled until she put the knife back into its sheathe and similarly raised her hands. “Gentlemen, this has been a serious misunderstanding,” Lovataar said with her best smile. “Get down on your knees!” the guard closest to them yelled. She knew from the file that many here spoke English, but it still surprised her. English, Japanese, several Polynesian languages and strangely enough, Old Adytite. An effort had been made by the colonialist powers to reinsert the old language to reinforce the Nälkän identity. “I will not bend my knee to any man, especially not a cop. Go fuc–” Saarn started before Lovataar cut her off. “What my lovely sister means is that she is the Klavigar Saarn, who your culture recognizes as the Lady Adytum. I am Klavigar Lovataar.” “And I’m the reincarnation of Thomas Carnacki. Pull the other one, lady,” the guard said. “She is the embodiment of your nation. Your forefathers designed an entire cultural identity around her person and her crusade against tyranny. Surely you can chalk this up to a diplomatic //faux pas//.” The guard raised his weapon and pointed it directly at her face. “No, we can’t. You will get on your knees or I //will// shoot you.” “This is getting tiresome,” Saarn said, slowly lowering her hands. “You think those guns will kill us? Maybe I should try it my way after all, sister.” “No. Be quiet for a minute.” Saarn narrowed her eyes, drawing her lips into a straight line. Lovataar thought Saarn might be more disquieted by being told to be quiet than the guns. “I won’t say it again, get on your knees,” the guard repeated. “[[size larger]]//##B61805\|No.##//[[/size]]” Lovataar had also had enough of this. She raised her voice and calibrated the vibrations of her vocal cords in the way that most often demanded respect and obedience – a trick she had learned during the years of co-ruling an empire amongst her polycule and the Grand Karcist. “[[size larger]]//##B61805\|Lower. Your. Weapons.##//[[/size]]” The lead guard visibly shook and took a step backwards. The barrel of his gun dipped a few inches. She turned to look at the eight other guards, including the one on the floor shakily holding the pistol. “[[size larger]]//##B61805\|I said lower your weapons. Now.##//[[/size]]” Nine guns fell to ground. The men and women holding them stared slack jawed and unfocused in the Klavigars’ direction. All of them began to tremble involuntarily, their muscles straining to hold completely still. Lovataar could hear the song of their blood, their spinal fluid, the breath in their lungs. She focused, taking in the feeling of their tense muscles and the electricity firing in their brains. One of the men’s eyes began to weep blood. Saarn leaned into her sister and whispered. “We tread dangerously close to you crossing a line, dear.” “I can see why Varis loves this so much, the control is delicious,” Lovataar said. “Even so…” Lovataar sighed and blinked, ending the contact with their nervous systems but not before sending a wide broadcast to their brains. They blinked, let out a ragged collective breath and took a step back almost as if slapped. The lead security agent looked perplexed at his gun on the concrete in front of the palace gates. “My sister was just explaining that we serve no threat to your president and are in fact here on her invitation,” Saarn said. “You were asking for my weapons, and I gladly surrender them.” She held out two long knives on the palm of her left hand. Lovataar felt the seductive call of the guards’ nervous systems fade from her, and she too took in a deep breath. “Yes, I think all is in order now. Do you need to see any identification?” Lovataar asked in a wavering voice. “No… no, ma’am. We received word of your visit and Madam President is waiting for you inside. I’ll just… take these.” The lead guard delicately took the blades from Saarn’s palm and backed away slowly, as if waiting for her to bite him. Lovataar wondered how much of this experience would leave an imprint, but clearly even with the last few moments forgotten, they knew enough to be wary of her sister. “Excellent. Let’s go,” Saarn said as she approached the large wrought iron gates blocking the driveway into the Presidential Palace. The gates parted for her like the sea before Moses. [[/div]] @@ @@ [[=]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/grigori-karpin-s-author-page/vanguard%20transparent.png width="100px" height="100px"]] [[/=]] @@ @@ [[div style="border:solid 3px #000000; color:#000000; border-radius: 10px; background: #D8D6D6; padding:5px; margin-bottom: 10px; padding:10px; font-family: ‘Arial Rounded MT Bold’"]] [[=]] Presidential Palace – New Kalmaktama //30 December, 2021// [[/=]] The room they were led to was sumptuously furnished, with a semi-circle of couches ringing a large marble fireplace. Saarn sat across from her on the opposite side of the ring, her short legs crossed. Saarn wore black skintight jeans and dark gray turtleneck accentuated with a shoulder holster with two empty sheathes for knives. She was examining her fingernails and pointedly not saying anything to her sister; Lovataar knew she had more knives than she had given up, but where they were hidden was a mystery to her. Lovataar sighed and looked around the room. On several walls there were paintings dedicated to Ion, to herself, to Orok and Saarn. There was also a portrait of the Republic’s founder, Norman Taylor, the first president and originator of the colonialist merging of native culture and Nälkän ideology. She knew he had come here with several hundred mercenaries and nearly a dozen ships in 1857 and proceeded to enslave and convert the entire population. She had read through the old Foundation file on the island before coming here, and she knew what he had done, especially with the children. Even though his tenure only lasted a brief period of years before the Foundation militarily rested control from him, his path was one of violence and oppression. She wondered at the framing of his picture there next to idealized versions of herself and her found family. She decided she did not like it. “Did you expect anything different, sister?” Saarn asked. Lovataar turned to see a knowing but sad smile on her old friend’s face. “For thousands of years we have walked this Earth and it’s always been this way,” Saarn said. “Taylor is no worse than any number of American or European authorities, especially not lately. Where has power flowed to those who sought to protect their subjects? Tyranny is power. And it must be abolished. That’s what Ion taught me to do and what I have been doing down the long years of my endless life.” “How ironic that the individual who taught you to hate empires made one for himself,” Lovataar said. “Don’t say that. Ion never ruled with an iron fist, never used fear to keep our people in line.” “No, they saved that for everyone outside our borders.” “You’re in a damn tricky mood today, sister.” Lovataar shrugged it off, but Saarn was right. Over the centuries, she had come to suspect that what they had done in the long-ago days of the Deathless Empire was little better than what the powers always did. She longed to see Ion’s face again, to hear their voice, but she wondered if she would kiss them or slap them first. Where had they gone? What had they to do with the doom that came to Adytum? So many dead in a war that the Nälkä could never have won and then the collapse of everything Ion had built. Lost in the sands of history like her forebears in the Daeva. But those bastards had their book. Her phone buzzed and she looked down to see a text message from Captain Bridger. She called her right away. “Captain Bridger, could you repeat that?” “We have an incoming vessel, military – they were on a direct bearing towards the port. Reports of a smaller boats circling around to the north and east.” “Can you identify them?” “Yes, ma’m. They’ve contacted us and asked permission to disembark at the port.” “So, who are they?” “The Broken Church,” the captain said. “Ion’s blood. Refuse them entrance. We have control of the port and will not be ceding it to the zealots.” “Acknowledged. We’ve already indicated that. They aren’t leaving.” “Are they holding?” “For now. I don’t like the looks of this boat, ma’am. They’re loaded down with weapons and personnel.” “If they approach the port, you are to fire across their bow. We will not let them enter. Is that understood?” “Ma’am, that will likely cause a significant incident.” “Contact Moose and Varis, they’ll back me up. But until you hear otherwise, I’m in charge,” Lovataar said. “Understood.” Saarn looked at her intently. “Mekhanites,” Lovataar said. “Shit.” Lovataar looked again at Taylor’s portrait on the wall, and she saw everything wrong with the world – men with guns thinking they knew what was best. She did not hear the door open behind her. “I’m sure you’re wondering why we would frame his picture like that,” said a voice behind Lovataar. “Hang it up in a place of honor, right next to the drawings of our spiritual betters. Your namesake, for example.” Lovataar turned and saw the president of the Republic: a woman in her early middle age, dressed in a tailored dark blue suit and hair drawn back from her face in a bun. She wore petite glasses with gold frames on her nose but did not seem to need them to see the Klavigars as she chose to look out over the top of the lenses. “My //namesake//,” Lovataar said. “Yes, and yours,” Madam President said looking toward Saarn. “You think we were given these names as what? Some continuation of a legacy?” Saarn asked, barely stifling a laugh. “Much easier to believe that rather than the alternative.” “The alternative being that we two saw the beginning of our faith and walked beside Ion and our brothers,” Saarn said. “Yes, that was the implication.” The president sat at the center of the ring of couches, like they were here to court her attentions and bring supplications. Lovataar thought they were doing exactly that. Saarn was yet to be convinced. “I did wonder at the hanging of a portrait of a murderer and slaver on the wall of the Presidential Palace,” Lovataar said, ignoring the question of their authenticity. “I imagine it is a strange sight for any outsider, if they’re aware of our history. The Republic was born in blood. But then it is our history. Who should we venerate? Ohashi Hachigoro, our second president? The man the Foundation put up to lord over us and keep us in check? The same Foundation who brought thousands of soldiers to our shores and killed nearly ninety percent of our military force.” “I was under the impression that Hachigoro refused Foundation aid and barred their personnel from the island after Taylor was deposed,” Saarn said. “Oh, he did. But the Foundation had provided the muscle and he took advantage. He set us on a new path and clearly was a better leader than Taylor ever was. But no one chose him, except the O5 Council. I would rather look at the face of a murderer and hold him in contempt, than look at the face of a man who would bend the knee to the Foundation for his own benefit and ambition.” “Fair enough.” Saarn smiled at the president. She liked her. “But that nicely segues into what you are doing here now, as representatives of the new Foundation,” Madam President said. “Vanguard is not the Foundation,” Lovataar said. “Bah, ridiculous. Do you not control the assets of the Foundation? Do you not operate out of the Foundation sites and bring to heel the thousands of soldiers in the employ of the Foundation? Do not those three warships in my harbor wear Foundation design, even if they fly a new flag from the masts?” “Our goals have no comparison. While yes, we would be fools to cast aside all resources of the Foundation, those assets do not guide our policy. In the coming months and years, the vast majority of things the Foundation deemed anomalous will be let go and all will be disclosed to the public. More importantly, we wish to iron out past claims and right the wrongs of a century of containment.” “Good diplomacy, Lovataar. Should I call you Lovataar or would you prefer Klavigar? If we are going to continue this charade, might as well follow the forms.” “Madam President, you are misinformed. The Foundation kept you under its thumb, it’s true, but that is not why we’re here. We are here to discuss the ramping down of the naval blockade and the reintroduction of your nation onto the global scene. We wish to negotiate with you in good faith.” “Why now?” “For one, Vanguard is a new entity, we are working our way through the many bloody files of the Foundation and trying to make up for what happened before, but we can’t do everything at once. That being said, it was always considered a serious mistake the way the Foundation handled things in 1861. They held you back and blocked you from the mundane world, and they would have invaded if you ever geared up for another military incursion into the borders of your neighbors, but it was never seen as an airtight containment. Vanguard is looking to make things good between our organization and your nation.” “Well, that’s very ni–” “No, wait. I’m not done,” Lovataar cut her off. “You question our names, wondering if we weren’t some figureheads to evoke your faith and play on your sensibilities. I would hope that someone as worldly as you saw Karcist Varis give his news conference in Massachusetts? I hope you had also seen his interview on the BBC. The Nälkän people are emerging from the shadows and the margins, Madam President. We are not here to play your heart strings with deceit. We are here to play your heart strings with our reality. I am Lovataar. She //is// Saarn. We have a responsibility to our children to guide you into this new world. Even if Vanguard did not want us here, I would be here. Thousands of years ago, we stood with our fellow Klavigars and next to the Grand Karcist, and we promised to watch out for the Nälkän people. Things did not go as planned, but each of us in their own way have been watching out from those communities we knew about. You were always on the other side of the world for me, and you had a nation. More importantly, you had the Foundation here and the GOC navy. As powerful as I am, I could not have solved that problem – a problem that no longer exists.” Lovataar leaned forward and held the President’s gaze. “Vanguard wants to stop the blockade, open up talks with the GOC, and help usher your people into the wider diplomatic world. Varis has proposed a unification of Nälkä, at least in spirit if not in locality. A cooperative between all Nälkä peoples. We will be establishing this entity within the year. We want your community to join the cooperative, as an example of a strong nation built on the tenets of Ion’s philosophies. This is a time for all Nälkä to stand up and embrace each other, no matter what happened in the past. Varis started this, but we Klavigar support him and want to see our people stronger together rather than pushed to the edges of society.” “You want to what? Open up our borders to all Nälkä people? Create a homeland? An Israel for Nälkä?” the President asked. “Do we look like colonizers to you?” Saarn growled. “Maybe not… so okay, let’s assume you’re telling the truth, that you are both the figures of faith that you claim to be. That you are a legendary lover of the Grand Karcist,” the president said. And turning to Saarn, “That you are the Joan of Arc of the Nälkän peoples, slicing the throat of tyranny every step you take in the world. But you still come here on Foundation boats, like Bowe did in the 19^^th^^ century. Why would you expect anything but hostility?” “I didn’t. I came here with full expectation of anger and recrimination. But I would remind you that despite our open arms, we are not to be dismissed. Vanguard is your nation’s best opportunity to change things, to be welcomed into the wider world. And more importantly, I feel responsible for you. You venerate my name, you equate me with the spirit of your nation. Let me show you the love a parent has for a child,” Saarn said. Lovataar smiled at her sister. She did not expect her commitment to their work here, only expecting her to come for the love of a sister. A sense of relief washed through her. At least for a moment. Lovataar’s phone rang. Bridger’s number flashed insistently. “Excuse me, Madam President. I need to take this.” She answered the phone to the sound of cannons. “Captain Bridger?” “They aren’t holding back anymore.” “Did you fire a warning shot as I asked?” “Yes, Varis confirmed… but they ignored us. We fired again and they have returned fire. They are not firing warning shots.” “You are under attack?” “Yes, ma’am. And those smaller boats are disgorging personnel onto the beaches. We can tie up the main vessel, but I’m seeing hundreds of armed anomalous entities landing. What are your orders?” “Kill or immobilize the military vessel, Captain. I will speak with the President and get back to you.” “Shall we fire on the beaches?” “Hold off on that, but have your destroyers take out any smaller vessels. Refrain from anything that could be seen as attacking the Republic.” “Yes, ma’am.” Lovataar hung up and glanced up to see the President with an alarmed look on her face. “‘Attacking the republic?’ Explain yourself at once,” the President said. “Madam President, we are in the midst of a crisis.” The door slammed open, and several aides and security forces rushed in. “Madam President, we are being attacked!” one of the aides shouted. The President looked at Lovataar, who merely shook her head. “They seem to be Mekhanites,” Lovataar said. The President stood and was in the process of being rushed out when she looked back at Lovataar. “If you’re serious about helping, come with me.” [[/div]] @@ @@ [[=]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/grigori-karpin-s-author-page/vanguard%20transparent.png width="100px" height="100px"]] [[/=]] @@ @@ [[div style="border:solid 3px #000000; color:#000000; border-radius: 10px; background: #D8D6D6; padding:5px; margin-bottom: 10px; padding:10px; font-family: ‘Arial Rounded MT Bold’"]] [[=]] Presidential War Room – New Kalmaktama //30 December, 2021// [[/=]] //“This is Medea Qingxing, speaking to you from the eastern shore of our island nation. Behind me is the village of Adytum’s Shallows. A quaint fishing village in the traditional mold of the Republic’s oldest heritage. As you can see behind me, the beach runs from the pacific up to the edge of this village. We have gotten word of a large landing of unknown and strange looking visitors.”// The young woman framed on the screen holds a microphone and wears a blue blazer. Behind her a sunny beach landscape is depicted on a high-definition screen. She is young and full of energy, made for a life in front of the camera. She turns towards the beach and the dozens of men and women armored in steel and bronze. //“Is this some sort of protest? A performative art piece? We know the Adytite State News audience will want to know more. Let’s go find out.”// Someone turned off the volume to the news report. Lovataar turned around from the screen and scanned the ready room, walls draped in monitors. Dozens of people, many in military uniforms, buzzed around the room. On another screen soldiers mobilized on a military base. On another, a bird’s eye view of a different beach filling up with Mekhanites. Lovataar and Saarn stood against a wall, away from the commotion. They had no place here despite their invitation. The President stood at the center of activity, a large conference table populated by several generals and many political figures. Lovataar didn’t understand the political spectrum of this nation, but she knew it was organized roughly in the Federal US manner with a senate and house of representatives, but with the addition of a Karcist Council. Several individuals in ceremonial robes looked over at her and her sister. One, an older man with horns protruding from his forehead, his skin a mottled gray and red, nodded to her. She nodded back. It was all a bit surreal. She’d come here to have a diplomatic conversation, to jump start a process that would hopefully bring the Republic in out of the cold. Because these people were her responsibility. She and the other Klavigars should have stepped in decades ago. The centuries splayed out behind her burned her with shame. All that time, all this power, and she’d hid. “Status report, please,” Madam President said. “Reports are coming in about the landings. North – approximately fifteen kilometers from the port – and along the east side of the island, another twenty kilometers away. Reporters on the site are the best we can do for documentation at the moment, but we are mobilizing,” a general said in response. “Do we know what they’re doing yet?” “Mobilizing, Madam President.” Lovataar looked up at the screen showing the on-scene reporters’ viewpoints. The volume was down but she didn’t need to hear what they were saying. Hundreds of biomechanically augmented Mekhanites were organizing on the beach. “We have to assume they will make a march on the capital and the Presidential Palace,” the general was saying. The President bent towards the older man with horns, who was speaking quietly into her ear. She turned and looked at Lovataar and Saarn, and then beckoned. Lovataar approached the pair, while Saarn shadowed slightly behind her. “Klavigar Lovataar, I would like to introduce you to Karcist Meleos, senior on the Karcist Council.” Lovataar reached out her hand to the Karcist, but he was already on his knees. “It //is// you. The Klavigars have come to their people in their time of need! Ion be praised!” Saarn snickered and Lovataar lightly slapped her arm. She bent down and grasped the man’s shoulders, lifting him to his feet. “Please do not bow to me, Karcist. You are a leader here; I am merely reaching out to establish communications with the Nälkä who live here.” “But you are one of the Klavigar! The holy consort of Ion, no less! And you are accompanied by Saarn, our great benefactor and warrior against tyranny.” “To be fair, we were all consorts of Ion at one point or another,” Saarn said. The man gaped at her. Lovataar hushed her and turned back to the President and Karcist. “What can we do to help?” Lovataar asked. “Tell me about your ships in the area,” the President said. “We have several destroyers and an aircraft carrier. They are engaged with the Mekhanite warship now I believe. I asked the captain to refrain from firing on the beachheads to avoid appearing like we were attacking.” “I appreciate that, but I may ask you to reverse that request. For now, what sort of forces at your command?” “Five hundred Vanguard marines, several attack helicopters. We weren’t here to launch an invasion.” “Five-hundred Foundation trained soldiers would be helpful,” the President said. “Excuse me, Madam President. Are you seriously considering allowing the Foundation to land a force here?” The general looked red in the face. Lovataar reminded herself that the last time Foundation forces were on the island, they were supporting a coup. “Dinesh, I am not negating any advantage we might have. How goes our mobilization of forces?” “Nearly a thousand militia regulars are fifteen minutes from the East side landing.” “And the north?” “Nearly twice that time.” Lovataar stepped forward. “What is between here and there?” “East of the capital is rural, mostly empty country,” the general said. “North between here and the beach are several communities. A suburb I guess you would call it, some farms beyond that, and then a fishing village at the coast.” “And it will be nearly thirty minutes before your forces are mobilized to the North?” “At least.” “Klavigar, we do not yet know what they intend,” the President said. “With all due respect, I have been fighting these zealots for nearly three millennia on and off,” Lovataar said. “I know what they’re here for.” “But why now?” “Everyone knows the Foundation is gone, and they, like others, think that there is an opportunity to take advantage.” “I don’t think [[[a-sarkic-by-any-other-name \| a press conference]]] will do anything this time,” Saarn said. The president was shaking her head. Lovataar looked up at the screen showing the reporters. “Look!” Lovataar cried. Everyone in the room turned towards the screen. Projected nearly two meters tall were five Mekhanite warriors approaching the reporters. Someone turned the volume back up. “//- coming to you live during what appears to be an invasion.”// Her voice was no longer cheerful. The camera shakes slightly as one of the Mekhanite approaches, his arms built out with steel and bronze augmentation. //“Excuse me, can you tell me why you’re here?”// //“Turn off the camera,”// the metal giant on the screen growled. //“No, we will not do that. Tell us what you’re doing.”// The cameraperson pulled away and continuing to train the lens on the Broken Church soldier, moving in the opposite direction. Bronze glad fingers reached for the screen and then the camera went dark. The feed changed to an anchor woman. //”I’m sorry, we know that footage must have upset some of our audience. But it appears that our nation is being invaded by men and women with strange mechanical augmentation. We’re trying to reconnect with Medea, but we can’t reach her or her crew. We’ve heard the President has started mobilizing the defense forces, but we're not sure if there will be enough time to mount a response. In the meantime, citizens in the area sho-"// The sound cut off as the feed was muted once again. “Well, I hope that clears things up for everyone,” Saarn said. Lovataar met the eyes of the president. “I’m going to connect you with Captain Bridger, so you can discuss any actions you would like our forces to take. In the meantime, we will go to the North side.” “Who is we?” Saarn pulled out a knife from somewhere. It had an oily sheen on the dark metal. “We’ve done this before.” [[/div]] @@ @@ [[=]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/grigori-karpin-s-author-page/vanguard%20transparent.png width="100px" height="100px"]] [[/=]] @@ @@ [[div style="border:solid 3px #000000; color:#000000; border-radius: 10px; background: #D8D6D6; padding:5px; margin-bottom: 10px; padding:10px; font-family: ‘Arial Rounded MT Bold’"]] [[=]] Adytum’s Shallows – Fishing Village //Adytite Republic of Polynesia// //30 December, 2021// [[/=]] Lovataar and Saarn exited the jeep the Republic sergeant had transported them in. Lovataar looked out across the highway to the fishing hamlet laid out in front of her. Several of the buildings were already on fire. To the right, a news truck had been parked on the highway and it too was on fire. She could see brass and steel glinting off the arms of the soldiers working their way through the small village. Saarn was strapping a carbine over her shoulder and sliding magazines into a belt. She stripped out of the long sleeve button down shirt she had been wearing, revealing a short sleeve t-shirt and numerous sheathes. She had been returned her knives and wore several more in open confidence. Long knives at the belt, two more strapped to her thighs and a gladius running down the length of her spine. The smaller woman bristled with edged weapons. “Ma’am, are you sure you want to do this?” the sergeant asked. “Reinforcements have an ETA of another twenty minutes.” “Every second we speak here, another person is hurt or dying in that village,” Saarn said in response, as she checked the various sheathed knives. She looked up at the sergeant. “What are you going to do?” “Meet the convoy as they head this direction, brief them on the sitrep.” Lovataar placed a hand on his shoulder and nodded in the direction of the other side of the highway. Several Mekhanites had noticed them and were headed in their direction. “Then go while you have a chance.” The soldier saluted and drove off down the highway. “How are we doing this?” Saarn asked. “Quickly.” Lovataar started running towards the approaching augmented soldiers. She felt her heart hammer, the sheen of sweat dripping down her back. Three soldiers laden down with weapons, weapon augments and combat fatigues, sleeves torn off to show the augmentations on their arms. Her boots struck the pavement, and she began to will her flesh into conformance with her will. The muscles in her arms increased in density, the skin along her entire body thickened and turned a shade of purplish red, her bones spread out from within, growing external panels of armor piercing her clothes. The three Mekhanites waded through the tall grass on the outskirts of the village, making steady progress towards her. One of them raised a weapon that glowed with heat, the light growing steadily brighter. Two rounds went off quickly, piercing both eyes of the soldier, passing harmlessly through the holes in his armored face and drilling into the meat of his brain. Saarn continued to fire on the group as that one fell. As Lovataar reached them one of them swung a large baton, crackling with electricity. She dove under his lumbering swing and between his armored legs, extending her arms as she rolled. The nails on either hand stretched out into a razor’s edge and sliced through the armor covering his legs. She felt the bite of metal against the sharpened keratin of her nails, as the steel parted and she sliced through muscles, ligaments and blood vessels and bounced off his internal bone structure. The soldier screamed and fell to his knees, the baton slamming to the ground as he continued his swing – leaving a small crater of earth and obliterated rocks. She really couldn’t let those weapons near her. Her arms were charred black in spots from merely rolling underneath the swing of the glowing mace. She could smell her hair burning a little. The third soldier pulled a sidearm and pointed it down at Lovataar’s face as she came up in a crouch. He fired twice as she twisted aside, the round striking her chest and left leg. She felt the muscles tear as the bullets tore through her. She understood pain but had a different relationship with it than one without her blessing. Lovataar’s flesh began knitting together, an itchy burning sensation running through her wounds. “Abomination,” the Mekhanite said. “Useless turd,” Saarn said as she sliced down with the gladius. The armor on his forearm holding the weapon didn’t split but crumble as she applied force stronger than any mechanical augmentation could bestow. Lovataar heard and felt the bones in his arm shatter into pieces, piercing the muscle around it and causing numerous bleeds. The augmented man bellowed and dropped the sidearm. Lovataar stood, cocked her fist back over her shoulder and then laid him out with a haymaker. The bones of her knuckles thickened and extended into small nubs of hardened bone. The plating snapped under the power of her fist – the bone extended, piercing his mouth and then his brain pan. The man’s head collapsed into itself, showering her with blood and bile. She pulled her fist from his ruined head with a sucking wet sound. Saarn was straddling the collapsed Mekhanite with severed tendons. She plunged her knives into his eyes and then applied leverage. He screamed as she split his head open like a melon. Lovataar shook the meat and blood from her hand. It hurt making bone dense enough to crack steel, but it also felt good to exert that sort of force. She stuck out her tongue as the bits fell from her hand. “He got all over me.” “See? That’s why I like knives,” Saarn said. “Cleaner.” Lovataar smiled. “Never saw the need for weapons, myself.” Saarn was scanning the field. She glanced at the burning news truck and then across the space between them and the town, looking out towards the beach. “We’ve got at least two hundred of the fuckers out there.” Lovataar nodded. It had been so long since she had been in a real fight. And this was one that mattered. “Eighteen minutes and counting. Anything we can do to distract them from burning down more of this village, is time well spent.” “That’s assuming this army of military service conscripts will be up to the task,” Saarn said. “Yes, well… this is their nation and they’ve been drilling and preparing for a Foundation invasion for decades. Let’s hope they’ve been paying attention.” “What next?” Two more squads of three Mekhanites walked towards them, weapons out and charging. “I need a better vantage. Keep them off me?” Lovataar asked. “You know it.” Lovataar leapt up into a nearby eucalyptus tree and started scaling the trunk, her sharp nails providing purchase like a cat’s. Her breath came ragged as she reached the top of the tree and balanced between two strong branches with her boots pressed against the bark. The first squad was firing, but she tried to ignore the bullets that whizzed close. It was harder to ignore the round that struck her in the jaw, deforming the bone and splashing blood across her eyes. Saarn was already slicing into the group with gladius and long knife. Lovataar steadied herself, willing her flesh to flow back into shape, knitting the bone into its previous configuration. This hurt – rather a lot – but she kept the pain in the back of her mind, compartmentalizing so as to minimize her distraction. She looked out into the middle distance, gazing down into the village, and reached out with her Halkost. She felt and saw more than three dozen Mekhanite soldiers between buildings and hundreds of panicked villagers hidden in the huts. She could differentiate the former by the greasy squeal of the metal in their bones, armor sliding across their skin, oil and electricity in their blood. She could taste their brains though, rich in the same chemicals that made up any human brain, even the augmented. She could smell the ozone from their weaponry and the blood of the Nälkän dead on their hands. Below her a fourth Mekhanite fell beneath Saarn’s blades. Lovataar tried to focus on the soldiers in the village, screen out the blood and viscera Saarn was spilling at the base of the tree. She felt out and wrapped her tendrils around their bodies and squeezed. She felt the breath push out of their lungs and the resistance as she turned their bodies, until they faced out past the edges of the village. She struggled, pushing her will into their muscles, making their hands drop the weapons. She formed them up into squads and marched them to the foot of the tree, just as Saarn was disemboweling the last of her quarry. Lovataar shook with concentration; the nape of her neck felt cold, her vision blurred. She wasn’t used to this. She wasn’t Varis. But she managed. Lovataar was momentarily distracted by her sister’s forearm which was almost torn off at the elbow and the skin blackened from Mekhanite weaponry, but Saarn noticed her looking and waved her off. Lovataar felt the soldiers bristling against her control. She couldn’t subsume their personhood and make them extensions of her will like Varis. But she could force them to march to her rhythm. The song of the blood was in them, just like it was in everyone who bled. The chorus of the flesh bent to her will, if only for the moment. She found the longer she held them in her mind, the easier it was. She squeezed them, forcing acid into their muscles, making them weak and pliant. “You will surrender to me and to the army coming here. And we will not harm you. So long as you take not one more life.” Lovataar scanned the nearly forty men and women in armor before her, and she looked out into the distance to see dozens more marching off the beach and towards their location. “Kneel and lace your fingers together across the back of your heads.” She could feel them holding back. Fighting everything she was doing to them. They bucked against the Halkost, they resisted the song. But they could hear it. She groaned slightly as she leaned into the effort, finding the leverage to push them down. “I said, [[size larger]]//##B61805\|KNEEL!##//[[/size]]” As one, they fell to their knees in the grass. At the edge of her perception she noticed the advancing horde of Mekhanites faltering, staring at her control over their brothers and sisters. She looked out at the approaching soldiers, some of their mouths agape and others with barely hidden rage. “You will drop your weapons, or I will do the same to you,” she called out over the distance between them. Her voice boomed like Orok’s. A man in a brilliant coat of mail, golden and polished plate, stepped to the front of the crowd. He was carrying a large spear glowing with otherworldly energy. “Who are you to demand anything of us?” he said. “I am the Klavigar Lovataar.” “Mother of abominations.” She could hear it whispered between them, even as far as they were from her. “Yes. I am the mother of ten thousand. Echidna has nothing on me. I will spew acid into your hearts, tear out your brains and eat your eyes. If need be, I will take every one of you and march you into the sea. You //will// stop hurting my children.” The leader stepped closer, approaching the tree she was balancing on, and stared at her. He barely looked at his compatriots. “Mekhane killed your god. She lost herself in the process, trading her life for the existence of this world. Your god is everything wrong with existence and yet you still cling to hope of its return. If I must sacrifice my life to kill you as Mekhane did to Yaldabaoth in the beginning, it will be a worthy trade.” “We kill gods, you vainglorious buffoon.” She held tightly to those already under her sway but reached out with the halkost and speared into him. He was more augmented than most, but he still had meat. She speared out of his flesh, a thousand strands of coral-sharp tissue. This is what she was. The tender. The grower. The horticulturalist of flesh and nerves and tumorous cells. The effort of this was not half so hard as puppeting those at the base of the tree. This was what she was holding back from doing every moment of the day. She was here to make things better, stronger. The membrane of his lungs burst as she sliced through them with her halkost, reaching into his spine and then ripped out into the open air. His armor dented, collapsed and then exploded off his form as the coral of her halkost ripped through his form. All she left was blood, guts and strung muscle stretched tight between the strands, the bands of armor ripped free and showering the ground along with his blood. She turned to the rest of the group. “[[size larger]]//##B61805\|Drop. Your. Weapons.##//[[/size]]” Then they did so and fell back from her, the sharp tang of fear dripping through their nervous systems and poisoning their rage. She could hear the convoy approaching down the roadside. Lovataar was drenched in bloody sweat, the effort tearing through her to do these things. She looked down at her sister. “Bring them.” Saarn turned and ran off along the highway as Lovataar slowly climbed down. She ignored the trembling figures in their armor arrayed around the foot of the tree. She approached the modern art piece she had made of the leader, the rock-hard coral of her halkost – grown from the nascent seed of cancer within his colon – shining in the afternoon sunlight. A cool wind came off the ocean, making the draping slabs of skin and tendons hanging from the sculpture of his cancer slide to and fro in the breeze. Her phone rang. Captain Bridger again. She looked at the nearly forty kneeling Mekhanites, the blood of their captain and their compatriots splashed around the grass. They still resisted but she felt strong in her grip now, even if it took consistent pressure from her Halkost worming through each of their spines, their diaphragms, the muscles along their back and legs and arms. “Do not move.” She answered the phone. “Captain. What is happening?” “We have critically wounded the destroyer. They are limping away. How are things there?” “Stopped the advance on the north shore for the moment. They’re pulling back and have relinquished weapons,” Lovataar answered. “The Republic’s army mobilized that quickly?” “They’re on the way, but Saarn and I have been on site for the last fifteen minutes.” “By yourselves? What were you thinking?” “I have been fighting this war for millennia, Captain. I wasn’t going to sit around in a ready room while they burned a village.” “How did you manage to push them back?” “Assertive diplomacy.” “Well, we might need some more of that.” “What do you mean?” “We’ve received a communication from the destroyer. They’re asking to negotiate,” the captain responded. “You don’t want to speak with them?” “I don’t think that’s appropriate.” Lovataar looked at the kneeling Mekhanites, scanning the faces. Many of them quivered in fear but not all, not even most. Most of them looked at her with unadulterated hate. She was strong, she could hold these Mekhanites indefinitely. But still the relief of having reinforcements was palpable, it hurt to hold these many bodies in tension against their wills. Down the road, the convoys of Republic military forces were coming into view, Saarn riding on the side of a jeep at the forefront. “When is this talk going to happen?” Lovataar asked. [[/div]] @@ @@ [[=]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/grigori-karpin-s-author-page/vanguard%20transparent.png width="100px" height="100px"]] [[/=]] @@ @@ [[div style="border:solid 3px #000000; color:#000000; border-radius: 10px; background: #D8D6D6; padding:5px; margin-bottom: 10px; padding:10px; font-family: ‘Arial Rounded MT Bold’"]] [[=]] Outside [[[scp-4036 \| New Kalmaktama Harbor]]] – Aboard the VSS Perkele* //30 December, 2021// [[/=]] The sun was setting, casting a golden hue over the deck of the Perkele as Saarn and Lovataar exited the helicopter. An honor guard was approaching their aircraft. Lovataar met Saarn’s eyes. “Do you think they can hold them at the beach?” “The North? Yes. I don’t know what they’re doing on the other side of the island. We’re not exactly in the chain of command here.” “What would you do?” Saarn looked out across the water at the damaged destroyer holding their enemies. “Sink that ship. Gather the rest of them off the beach and send them home, weaponless and in disgrace. Kill the officers though,” Saarn said. “We’re not at war anymore.” “Yes, we are. They just proved that. They invaded the country and set fire to a village. All because of an ancient feud our people barely care about. I’m not about to punish a grunt for a tyrant’s orders, but these people attacked us.” Lovataar shook her head. She was here to build bridges. And all this incident was doing was reestablishing old rivalries. Her phone rang. It wasn’t a number she recognized. She answered anyway. “Lovataar?” “Yes, Madam President. I’m here.” “I just wanted to say thank you for what you and your sister Klavigar did on the North Beach. We’ve got a lot of scared people but most of them are still alive thanks to you both.” “What are you doing with those Mekhanites we captured?” “We are taking them into custody. We have the technical knowhow to disable a lot of their more offensive augmentation, but that will all take time. Of more concern is what is happening out there.” “Before we get into that, what about the East side?” “They landed a similar force, and we met them head on. We’ve taken casualties but they just don’t have numbers on their side. We’ve taken quite a few prisoners there too and I think we’ll push them back, but it’s not done there yet. A few of them have mentioned being surprised at our technology. I think they expected country bumpkins performing fleshcrafting alone or wielding farm implements.” “One good thing about the Foundation’s control over information about the Republic, no one really knew what you had here.” “Agree to disagree. Look, we’re trying to clear things up inland. But if they have a working warship, it won’t make a difference. What is happening on the water?” “Vanguard has disabled the destroyer, and they are pulling back from active engagement. They’re calling for a negotiation with Vanguard.” “Are you going to speak with them?” “I don’t have much of a choice, Madam President.” “Good luck. I don’t mean to put more pressure on you, but what happens next will have a significant impact on your diplomatic mission to this nation.” “I assumed. Thank you. We’ll update you soon.” “Ion’s blessing.” Lovataar hung up the phone and nodded to the Vanguard sergeant leading the squad approaching them. “Ma’am, if you’ll come with me? The captain is waiting.” @@ @@ ------ @@ @@ The Two Klavigars were ushered into a conference room below the bridge set aside for briefings. The room contained a single long table and chairs, and digital screen for presentation. The table was mostly empty but for Captain Bridger and some of her support staff. “Captain, have we heard anything more from the enemy leadership?” Lovataar asked. “They’ve agreed to ferrying over a small delegation to negotiate. They’re going to leave their weapons behind, but we’ll check them for obvious armament before letting them aboard.” “Do they know who they’ll be meeting with?” Saarn asked. “No, I thought it would be beneficial to have some surprise.” “Good, because with these people you can assume hostility to the prospect of meeting with a Klavigar. Let alone two.” “Lovataar, I’m not briefed on our goals here. What are you looking to gain?” “Other than a ceasefire and withdrawal from the Republic of all Mekhanite forces?” “Yes, other than that.” “We’ll have to play it by ear. Let’s hear what they have to say and then we can make decisions.” “Moose has contacted us and urged us not to take any decisive actions that might lead to an escalation.” “I do not intend to escalate matters, but they have already invaded a sovereign nation of Nälkä and started with sectarian violence. The Broken Church began at war crimes, avoiding escalation is the bare minimum. This cannot stand. Do you understand me?” The captain nodded and kept any commentary to herself. A member of her staff whispered in her ear, and she looked back to Lovataar. “They’re here.” Three Mekhanites entered the conference room under armed guard. At first glance they were noticeably augmented like the soldiers Lovataar and Saarn had faced on the beach, but differences quickly became apparent, but these were different: eye augmentations, armor and limb modifications that were sleeker and less outwardly aggressive, and one of them had a metal grill surgically inserted over his mouth. The leader was dressed in a sharp military officer’s uniform, with old fashioned piping along the shoulders and a flair to the design that spoke to Lovataar more of the Napoleonic Wars than modern military forces. He even made a little bow before sitting at the captain’s silent invitation. His two retainers stood behind his seated form. He was older, possibly in his sixties with a lantern jaw, clean shaven and sporting a gray military hairstyle. “My name is Alexander Durham; I hold the rank of major and deacon for the Broken Church. I speak for His Holiness Robert Bumaro, Builder of the Broken God.” “Major? I was not aware the Church had a dedicated military.” “We have a modest military force, to execute goals in pursuit of building the God. To whom do I have pleasure of addressing this afternoon?” “Captain Bridger of Vanguard, who is commander of this vessel. I am Klavigar Lovataar and this is Klavigar Saarn.” Durham froze in his seat, the perfunctory smile on his face dropping to a neutral line across his face. His retinue tensed behind him. “You are //the// Lovataar and Saarn?” Saarn nodded shallowly, without saying a word. Lovataar said nothing. “You are abomination. Creature of Yaldabaoth. Flesh of the Devourer. Mother of monst–” “Yes, I heard all of this from one of your platoon leaders this afternoon on the beach. Can we skip all the sectarian drivel? We might be the prophesized evil in your religion, but you’re nothing but zealots hunting us through the centuries. We don’t think of you at all except when you force us to.” “According to legend and from Bumaro’s own testimony, your people attacked us first,” Durham said. “That war was won four thousand years ago! We lost! Stop trying to punish us for moving into your territory. That’s all it was!” Lovataar yelled. “That’s the entire fucking origin story to your hatred. Our people moved into the Aegean and you pushed us out. We lost our home at the end of the war and thousands died. [[size larger]]//##B61805\|Why are you still pursuing this vendetta?##//[[/size]]” The deacon was silent for a moment, the vibrations from her voice shaking him in his very flesh. But then he struggled to answer, as if his own tongue betrayed him. “We hold you in contempt,” he said “For shackling yourself to the Devourer. It is a core tenet of our faith.” “We do not revere Yaldabaoth. We despise it. Ion always intended to ascend to heaven and eat god,” Saarn said. “You hate us on the basis of a misunderstanding. Because you’re ignorant of our culture.” “Why are you here?” Lovataar asked the deacon before he could respond. “We wanted to proselytize to the people, inform them of the error of the Sarkic tradition.” “Let me ask you, deacon, do you have a slur that could refer to your people with such derision as to imply you should be erased from history?” Saarn asked. “I have heard terms that I find offensive, yes.” “Good. Then understand that if you call us Sarkic one more time, I will eat your tongue.” Both of the Mekhanites behind Durham stepped forward, their artificial bones and muscles tensing. But he waved them off. “I apologize. I forget myself. I came here to negotiate, and I insult you.” “Why are you really here? Don’t tell me you came to convert people. You brought a small army and immediately attacked civilians,” Lovataar asked. “Civilians using fleshcrafting in broad daylight.” “In their own homes, in their own country! Who are you to impose your values on these people?!” Saarn yelled. Lovataar placed a hand on her sister’s arm. She felt the tension there and she knew how close Saarn was to leaping over the table. Lovataar leaned in close to Saarn’s ear. “We are here to negotiate. I’m angry too. But let’s take it down several pegs,” Lovataar said. Lovataar turned back to Durham. “My sister is not a fan of imperialists. You will forgive her outburst. But you came here of your own free will, and immediately attacked people because they were different from you.” “We were misinformed about the nature of this place. We thought that the ruling elite were Sa– //Nälkän// cultists like those who were in Massachusetts. We thought we would be liberating these people.” “This nation has been of the faith for nearly two centuries, Deacon. You are not welcome here.” Lovataar took him in, measured the length and breadth of his body with her halkost and knew she could split him open any time she wished. But this time she merely wanted to feel his reaction. He seemed dismayed. She doubled down. “When you came here, you did so under the impression that the Foundation had fallen and you would have free reign,” Lovataar said. “That before the mundane world could step in, you would take action. Is that right?” “It’s not entirely wrong,” he said. “The Foundation is gone, it’s true. But all of its resources, most of its personnel and a significant number of my people and the Serpent’s Hand have joined to form Vanguard. You thought we would be weak. But we aren’t. We aren’t as interested in the oppression of the Foundation, but we have all the weapons and soldiers we need. And we have three Klavigars.” Durham looked at his two retinue and sighed. “What do we do now?” he asked. “You will order all forces within the Adytite Republic to stand down and surrender to the Republic. If you allow it, I will offer your people a ride back to your ship. If needed, we will help you fix the vessel. You will leave these waters and never return.” “With no penalties?” “We will need to discuss that with the president, but I think we can arrange that, if you can guarantee you will not be returning with another larger force.” “I can guarantee that, yes. We will not find what we were looking for here.” “Then? Do we have a deal?” “Yes. On one condition.” “Order the forces to stand down now. Then we can hear the condition.” Durham looked at one of his retinue and nodded. The Mekhanite turned and exited the room, apparently using a communicator of some sort. “Captain Bridger, contact the president’s office and find out if the forces have surrendered,” Lovataar said. The captain got on her radio and connected with the Republic office that was waiting for the call. “While we wait, can you answer one question for me?” Durham asked. “Is this the condition?” Saarn responded. “It is.” “Go ahead then.” “How did you stop my platoon on the North beach? The reports were confusing. Was there a military base within short distance?” “No,” Lovataar answered. Saarn laughed. “We killed several small squads in hand-to-hand combat, a couple with guns.” “Just you two?” Durham asked. Saarn nodded. “Why did the entire platoon surrender?” “I marched your soldiers out of the village against their will,” Lovataar said. “I told them to drop their weapons, and they did. Your squad leader marched on me with almost two hundred others. He did not like that I did that to your soldiers, made them kneel like that.” “I would not have liked that either.” “Yes, well, he did not like it so much that he insulted me and intended to attack me. And that //I did not like//. So, I took a tiny seed of cancer in his colon, and I grew it until it burst from him like needles pushing through plastic wrap.” Durham looked down at table and shook his head. Lovataar looked over at the captain, who nodded. The forces were surrendering. “I’m going to speak with the president and smooth things over, I cannot promise how things will go. But I promise to do what I can,” Lovataar said. Durham was nodding absent mindedly. But as she went to leave the room his hand reached out to grasp her arm. Saarn pulled a knife from the sheath on her left thigh. Lovataar waved her off with a smile. She looked down at the deacon. “What?” “And you don’t hate us?” “I don’t //know// you.” “And you could have done that to all of them on the beach? And to me right here?” “Yes. These things could have been avoided if you took the time to actually get to know us instead of relying on old prejudices.” He nodded and let go of her arm. Saarn followed her out but stopped to look at the deacon. “//I// hate you. But it’s not because of your faith. I hate every man who steps into a new country and decides he will conquer it.” She continued out of the room. [[/div]] @@ @@ [[=]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/grigori-karpin-s-author-page/vanguard%20transparent.png width="100px" height="100px"]] [[/=]] @@ @@ [[div style="border:solid 3px #000000; color:#000000; border-radius: 10px; background: #D8D6D6; padding:5px; margin-bottom: 10px; padding:10px; font-family: ‘Arial Rounded MT Bold’"]] [[=]] Vanguard Watchtower-19 //02 January, 2022// [[/=]] “And the president was fine with letting them go?” Varis asked. “Not at first, no. But after a while and with the promise of further benefits the Republic could reap by partnering with Vanguard and joining the collective, she saw the right of it.” “I read the report. I’m surprised by your circumspection.” “Should I have killed them all? Maybe. Saarn wanted to. And Ion knows, I wanted to as well. But that wouldn’t have served anything except my impulse for vengeance.” “This way we can move forward, and we avoided a major incident. Before we even unveil the collective, this sort of violence will play poorly with the public. As it stands now, the Republic was attacked unprovoked and defended itself. Releasing the Mekhanites allows us to present what happened in a sympathetic manner.” “Well, I’m glad. I made serious promises to the President.” “Cultural exchange, resources, introduction to the UN. Yes, and mutual defense.” “If we want allies, we need to be in the position to give something. And although I don’t want to make it a Nälkän Mecca, it does stand as an established nation where our people are strong. Maybe we’ll see more connections develop between the Republic and the other communities we’ve already brought into the fold.” “Even better, we might have earned something more valuable.” Lovataar was in the process of getting up from her seat in front of his office desk, but paused. “What?” “Representatives of Bumaro have made some outreach. Varga is handling the talks, but there’s a version of events where we establish some sort of cease fire. At the very least, it’s an avenue of communication. This is the way we build a new world for our people.” Lovataar smiled. “You sound like Them.” “Ion?” “Yes. I think Ion would be proud of what we’re doing.” Varis stood and escorted her to the door. “Thank you for coming on board. I had doubts when we first began to make these moves and we have a long way to go, but having you and the other Klavigars here has convinced me of the righteousness of Vanguard and our collective.” She kissed his cheek through the beard. “But…” “But we will need to speak about Saarn sometime soon.” “Why? Is she not welcome here?” “She is of course welcome here. Which she would know if she ever came to speak to me. No, what I am concerned with is the waves she will make by being visibly tied to our endeavors. Her work has been… controversial in many places.” “She is wanted in something like twelve countries at this point.” “Indeed.” “I’ll keep her busy for the time being. But do not reject her. I would not smile on that.” “You have no fear from my end. I will run interference with the other Shepherds in leadership. Vanguard has already allowed criminals in. The problem is, she has been identified specifically in several cases. We will need to handle it carefully.” “I have some contacts at Interpol. I will reach out and gauge the temperature.” “Good, do that. Let me know what you find.” Lovataar turned from him and walked out the door, closing it gently. She looked up and saw Saarn leaning against a wall, casually flipping a knife in one hand and repeatedly catching it by the point between her fingers. “What did he have to say?” Saarn asked without looking up. “You could speak to him yourself, you know.” “I’ve never liked Varis. He’s so stuck up. Rigid. Formal. I don’t know what Ion saw in him.” “He bears a lot of weight on his shoulders right now. And he’s doing good work.” “I know. I know. Just, if I don’t //need// to speak to him, then I don’t want to.” Lovataar laughed and took her sister’s arm in her own and led her down the hallway. “This place is so bleak. Was the Foundation always this dour? Concrete hallways and underground bunkers. I don’t like it much.” “Well, we don’t have to stay. But they do have something worthwhile here.” “Oh! Is it research? I so love a woman in a labcoat.” Saarn stuck her finger down her throat and made a gagging sound. Lovataar laughed and leaned into her. “Well, yes they do have that. But I was thinking the dormitories. I have a little apartment here, it’s not much but, I have a bed.” “Ohhhh. Are we back to that now?” “Have you not forgiven me yet? Let me make it up to you.” Saarn pressed her lips against her oldest friend’s and kissed her deeply. “If you insist.” [[/div]] @@ @@ [[=]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/grigori-karpin-s-author-page/vanguard%20transparent.png width="100px" height="100px"]] [[/=]] [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/orok-and-the-orchard \| Orok and the Orchard <<= Previous]]] \| //Two Sarkics Take a Vacation in Polynesia, Stop Me If You've Heard This One// \| Next => //Coming Soon// @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] [[module Rate]] [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@	2024-11-18T19:51:00	[ "_licensebox", "action", "broken-god", "grand-karcist-ion", "lovataar", "military-fiction", "no-return", "religious-fiction", "sarkic", "tale" ]	Two Sarkics Take a Vacation in Polynesia, Stop Me If You’ve Heard This One - SCP Foundation	46	[ "grigori-karpin-s-author-page", "fragment:scp-6500-17", "no-return-hub", "scp-4036", "dr-dan-goes-to-washington", "a-sarkic-by-any-other-name", "the-liberal-vampire", "sarkicism-hub", "hecatoncheires-cycle-hub", "orok-and-the-orchard" ]	[ "tales-by-year", "sarkicism-hub", "no-return-hub", "church-of-the-broken-god-hub" ]	[]	1457402511	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/two-sarkics-take-a-vacation-in-polynesia-stop-me-if-youve-he
ueber-den-der-davon-kam	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <p><strong>Article:</strong> About the one who got away<br/> <strong>Original:</strong> <a href="http://scp-wiki-de.wikidot.com/ueber-den-der-davon-kam">May be found here</a><br/> <strong>Author & Translator:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/karpfisch" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7619184); return false;"><img alt="Karpfisch" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7619184&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1704725579" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7619184)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/karpfisch" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7619184); return false;">Karpfisch</a></span><br/> <strong>Remark:</strong> Based on <a href="http://scp-int.wikidot.com/scp-253-de">SCP-253-DE</a></p> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <p>The loud rumble of the impact scared the birds in the moor, who reveal the wet body of Thomas Heer on take-off. He raises on the spot and inspects his surroundings. A plane of reed and other long shrubbery at night, enclosed by trees: So nothing clear-cut, but freedom by meaning. He is free. He, D-56434, escaped the Foundation's clutches and now united with the outside world. But orientation comes first. A longer foot march eventually led to a sign reading "Wurzacher Ried", which is a quite known nature reserve in Baden-Württemberg. "Hmm, so that's what they meant by "<em>It's nice here, but have you been to Baden-Württemberg?</em>", he thought. Perhaps, he will catch sight on tourists and reintegrated into society. They fortunately gave him civilian clothing, so at least he does not stand out.</p> <p>Arriving at the end of Wurzacher Ried, the stranded treads a road, following the latter to a town sign with the inscription "Bad Wurzach". Better not draw any attention now, which would make every bull appear ordinary in a china shop. But already the first step towards civilization showed he might be the most normal individual here. Not humans, no, creatures walk these streets. The only human thing about them is their physique, which is, however, covered by grey skin. The eyes blood-red and underlined by a broad grin that solely uncovers their long teeth. No trace of hair but antennae-like appendages cover their heads. Moreover, their hands - and consequently their fingers - are way too thick and their feet too long. They aren't even wearing any clothes. Thomas only stood there, immobilized by fear, and weighing up his chances of survival. Then, he was addressed by one of the profane creatures, and it said with a way too joyful, almost forced voice "Good afternoon sir, are you also here to visit our lovely Baden-Württemberg?" This was the straw that broke the camel's back and the rigidity in his legs. He ran faster than ever before, while the alien called something his ear canal was no longer eager to record. This can't be true. Had he fallen into some kind of mirror world or is all of this a nightmare? He doesn't know how long he traveled after that day. Whereby day is the wrong term, as the sun never rose, which also gave reason to the grey skin of these creatures. He encountered all sorts of strange beings, pedigrees of earthly animals, on the run, all of which featured similar mutations to these "humans" residing here. Ultimately, his feet stepped on Freiburg in Breisgrau, a metropolis, which is, however, situated at the other end of Baden-Württemberg. He did not walk in circles, he is sure of that, but the opposite direction brought him back to Konstanz. What ever this world is, it only consists of this one federal state.</p> <p>You can probably only stay here to relax. Fortunately, the creatures living here speak German, too, otherwise Thomas would have been up a creek without a paddle. He got the money required for the hotel from pockets of others, using his trained sticky finger tricks. And was in dear need of a shower. These creatures sure are social, he thought. It might be possible to ask them for useful information in order to learn more about this obscure world. At the reception, he could obtain a map for Baden-Württemberg, which only featured one anomaly after closer inspection: The text "Throne Room" in Stuttgart. Thus, he decided to visit said location and ask the authority ruling here for an escape. But first off, he needs to eat. The hotel's own kitchen bore a plethora of bizarre groceries, most of which probably saw as little sun as their consumers. Leaves with orange or violet color, grey chunks of meat, and more unidentifiable curiosities. He filled his plate to the brim and ate the surprisingly tasty food. He took the knife with him for protection.</p> <p>The bus driver made a suspicious face when paid, but he allowed him to pass. Some inhabitants asked where it takes him, and when he told them his destination, they always tried to deter and tell him about the immaculate beauty of their home. On the one hand, this is annoying, but beneficial in gathering information. There aren't that many differences, except for what has already been seen. In the end, he came to the last bus driver, who forbade the escort and advised to not disturb the highness, as no soul has ever returned. But what could be worse now? And maybe they never returned, because they now walk the Earth. This thought is both comforting but also in conflict with said emotion. One last walk and then he will reach possible freedom.</p> <p>The castle was of imposing height and width, showing a dark-blue color. Yellow ribbons hang from the towers, which feature Baden-Württemberg's coat of arms. Two guards block the way inside that consists of a wooden bridge above a water-filled trench. Apparently these creatures were neither very developed in terms of weaponry nor aimed at humans, given that he could quickly stab them with his knife. Shortly before he opened the door to the castle, he had this inexplicable thought of going back and leave everything as it is. He could only resist with greatest efforts, and simply kicked the door open. He felt the same way on the outward journey from time to time and wondered what the food contained. Several more short fights later, he stood in front of the pompous door to the literal throne room, which he also simply pushed open.</p> <p>Now, he imagined a lot of things in his head: An at least two meter tall specimen of these creatures in luxurious gown or simply some bored politician. But never the long, fat, and extremely revolting pulsing of a centipede that probably was even longer and wider than a blue wale. The soft body is covered by a robust shell, which emitted cracking noises when moved. Another "normal" entity emerged and asked what I am doing here, but was cut off, when the centipede's antennae began to glow. It then said "Murderer of my kind, what are your desires in our forbidden halls?" Thomas replied "Your majesty, I search for an escape to flee from this world. I am stranded here." The centipede stretched its head upwards and roared. " Had you not sent my suite to the beyond, I would have been tempted to offer ear to your gobbledygook, but now die." The entity, which seemingly served as mouthpiece, glanced around in confusion, but gets pushed away by the centipede that scuttled towards Thomas. He manages to dodge and ram his knife into the being, whereupon the latter screams, with a dark-green gas being pointedly fired into Thomas' face. He holds a hand over his mouth, but it was already too late and he once again feels the compulsion to return to Baden-Württemberg. This state only dissipated when his head hit the thick inner skin of the beast, which made him lucid again. After a time span, which felt like an eternity, he seemed to have inflicted enough damage onto the interior that the centipede lifelessly collapsed into itself, releasing a whole waft of mist of its gases.</p> <p>Thomas emerged from the carcass, walked towards the creature previously knocked over to be struck as the new king. But it was just as hard to find as all the other inhabitants. Then it dawned on him that this world was inhabited by a swarm intelligence.</p> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="/info:start">info:start</a>]] Article: About the one who got away Original: [http://scp-wiki-de.wikidot.com/ueber-den-der-davon-kam May be found here] Author & Translator: [[user Karpfisch]] Remark:* Based on [http://scp-int.wikidot.com/scp-253-de SCP-253-DE] [[include <a href="/info:end">info:end</a>]] The loud rumble of the impact scared the birds in the moor, who reveal the wet body of Thomas Heer on take-off. He raises on the spot and inspects his surroundings. A plane of reed and other long shrubbery at night, enclosed by trees: So nothing clear-cut, but freedom by meaning. He is free. He, D-56434, escaped the Foundation's clutches and now united with the outside world. But orientation comes first. A longer foot march eventually led to a sign reading "Wurzacher Ried", which is a quite known nature reserve in Baden-Württemberg. "Hmm, so that's what they meant by "//It's nice here, but have you been to Baden-Württemberg?//", he thought. Perhaps, he will catch sight on tourists and reintegrated into society. They fortunately gave him civilian clothing, so at least he does not stand out. Arriving at the end of Wurzacher Ried, the stranded treads a road, following the latter to a town sign with the inscription "Bad Wurzach". Better not draw any attention now, which would make every bull appear ordinary in a china shop. But already the first step towards civilization showed he might be the most normal individual here. Not humans, no, creatures walk these streets. The only human thing about them is their physique, which is, however, covered by grey skin. The eyes blood-red and underlined by a broad grin that solely uncovers their long teeth. No trace of hair but antennae-like appendages cover their heads. Moreover, their hands - and consequently their fingers - are way too thick and their feet too long. They aren't even wearing any clothes. Thomas only stood there, immobilized by fear, and weighing up his chances of survival. Then, he was addressed by one of the profane creatures, and it said with a way too joyful, almost forced voice "Good afternoon sir, are you also here to visit our lovely Baden-Württemberg?" This was the straw that broke the camel's back and the rigidity in his legs. He ran faster than ever before, while the alien called something his ear canal was no longer eager to record. This can't be true. Had he fallen into some kind of mirror world or is all of this a nightmare? He doesn't know how long he traveled after that day. Whereby day is the wrong term, as the sun never rose, which also gave reason to the grey skin of these creatures. He encountered all sorts of strange beings, pedigrees of earthly animals, on the run, all of which featured similar mutations to these "humans" residing here. Ultimately, his feet stepped on Freiburg in Breisgrau, a metropolis, which is, however, situated at the other end of Baden-Württemberg. He did not walk in circles, he is sure of that, but the opposite direction brought him back to Konstanz. What ever this world is, it only consists of this one federal state. You can probably only stay here to relax. Fortunately, the creatures living here speak German, too, otherwise Thomas would have been up a creek without a paddle. He got the money required for the hotel from pockets of others, using his trained sticky finger tricks. And was in dear need of a shower. These creatures sure are social, he thought. It might be possible to ask them for useful information in order to learn more about this obscure world. At the reception, he could obtain a map for Baden-Württemberg, which only featured one anomaly after closer inspection: The text "Throne Room" in Stuttgart. Thus, he decided to visit said location and ask the authority ruling here for an escape. But first off, he needs to eat. The hotel's own kitchen bore a plethora of bizarre groceries, most of which probably saw as little sun as their consumers. Leaves with orange or violet color, grey chunks of meat, and more unidentifiable curiosities. He filled his plate to the brim and ate the surprisingly tasty food. He took the knife with him for protection. The bus driver made a suspicious face when paid, but he allowed him to pass. Some inhabitants asked where it takes him, and when he told them his destination, they always tried to deter and tell him about the immaculate beauty of their home. On the one hand, this is annoying, but beneficial in gathering information. There aren't that many differences, except for what has already been seen. In the end, he came to the last bus driver, who forbade the escort and advised to not disturb the highness, as no soul has ever returned. But what could be worse now? And maybe they never returned, because they now walk the Earth. This thought is both comforting but also in conflict with said emotion. One last walk and then he will reach possible freedom. The castle was of imposing height and width, showing a dark-blue color. Yellow ribbons hang from the towers, which feature Baden-Württemberg's coat of arms. Two guards block the way inside that consists of a wooden bridge above a water-filled trench. Apparently these creatures were neither very developed in terms of weaponry nor aimed at humans, given that he could quickly stab them with his knife. Shortly before he opened the door to the castle, he had this inexplicable thought of going back and leave everything as it is. He could only resist with greatest efforts, and simply kicked the door open. He felt the same way on the outward journey from time to time and wondered what the food contained. Several more short fights later, he stood in front of the pompous door to the literal throne room, which he also simply pushed open. Now, he imagined a lot of things in his head: An at least two meter tall specimen of these creatures in luxurious gown or simply some bored politician. But never the long, fat, and extremely revolting pulsing of a centipede that probably was even longer and wider than a blue wale. The soft body is covered by a robust shell, which emitted cracking noises when moved. Another "normal" entity emerged and asked what I am doing here, but was cut off, when the centipede's antennae began to glow. It then said "Murderer of my kind, what are your desires in our forbidden halls?" Thomas replied "Your majesty, I search for an escape to flee from this world. I am stranded here." The centipede stretched its head upwards and roared. " Had you not sent my suite to the beyond, I would have been tempted to offer ear to your gobbledygook, but now die." The entity, which seemingly served as mouthpiece, glanced around in confusion, but gets pushed away by the centipede that scuttled towards Thomas. He manages to dodge and ram his knife into the being, whereupon the latter screams, with a dark-green gas being pointedly fired into Thomas' face. He holds a hand over his mouth, but it was already too late and he once again feels the compulsion to return to Baden-Württemberg. This state only dissipated when his head hit the thick inner skin of the beast, which made him lucid again. After a time span, which felt like an eternity, he seemed to have inflicted enough damage onto the interior that the centipede lifelessly collapsed into itself, releasing a whole waft of mist of its gases. Thomas emerged from the carcass, walked towards the creature previously knocked over to be struck as the new king. But it was just as hard to find as all the other inhabitants. Then it dawned on him that this world was inhabited by a swarm intelligence.	2024-01-06T14:35:00	[ "_de", "international", "tale" ]	About the one who got away - SCP Foundation	0	[]	[ "lowest-rated-articles", "scp-international" ]	[]	1452077179	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/ueber-den-der-davon-kam
under-pressure	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="preview"> <p>As the Washington Virion ravages the world, GAW's inner circle struggles under the GOC's brutal quarantine.</p> </div> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <p><strong>Ourselves, Under Pressure</strong><br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/diogene-s" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7676667); return false;"><img alt="Diogene_s" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7676667&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043704" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7676667)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/diogene-s" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7676667); return false;">Diogene_s</a></span> and <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/uncgriffin" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7685985); return false;"><img alt="UNCGriffin" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7685985&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043704" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7685985)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/uncgriffin" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7685985); return false;">UNCGriffin</a></span><br/> ⚠️ Content warning: Isolation, body/psychological horror, mentions of depression and suicide, police brutality.</p> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <div class="content-warning creditRate">⚠️ content warning <span class="content-warning-arrow"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> For the third time that night, Jude jolted awake. He looked at the clock on his nightstand. It displayed 04:14 with bright red numbers. His mind foggy, he dimly remembered getting into an argument with the antiques shop owner who had sold it to him. He was reluctant to call digital clocks antiquities. But over the course of his lifetime, he had seen analog watches be phased out, digital ones replaced by smart ones. Then came the ones that incorporated demonic circuitry, which were somehow less volatile than the Samsung smartphones back in the day. Now, they were directly implanted into humans through a non-invasive procedure, along with a thousand other helpful gadgets.</p> <p>It was 2049, and the digital clock with its red digits was almost as old as he was.</p> <p>With a groan, he got up from the bed. He silently walked to the other side of the room and opened a drawer. In the dark he felt its insides, tapping everywhere.</p> <p>"Shit."</p> <p>He was out of weed.</p> <p>Wordlessly, he shuffled up to the small window and opened it. A bit of fresh air (relative to Idaho) entered the room. He shivered, looking at the sky. It was clear, but the stars were blotted out by the ever-present pollution from the city lights.</p> <p>The next stop was the bathroom. He was spending more and more time there each day. Even though the whole flat was still draped in darkness, he didn't look at the mirror when he washed his hands. The bags under his eyes had grown exponentially in the last months, and he didn't want to see them.</p> <p>Lastly, he went back to the bedroom and sighed. Without weed, he wouldn't have a way to clear his mind and fall asleep again.</p> <p>So, he grabbed his laptop, brought it to the bed, and started it up. It made a series of low groans, eerily similar to the sounds that Jude himself made when waking up.</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p><span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> Rise and shine gays and thems!<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> I don’t want to interrupt the sob story you are surely concocting in here last night, but do you know who has gotten the best sleep in years?<br/> <span style="color: black"><strong>bones:</strong></span> Judging from your behavior, it’s fair to assume that the answer to that question is you.<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> Damn right!<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> Hey JJ.<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> Hey Jude.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> It's 4AM. I don't think you can call it "the best sleep in years" if you wake up at this hour.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> It's literally the opposite of a good sleep.<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> Well, you see, the zen masters all agree that waking up early is the key to a balanced karma.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> If you say so.<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> What are your plans today bluntman?<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> I'm out of weed, but I don't want to get out of the house to get some.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> I don't want the GOC patrol to catch me with drugs on me.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> It wouldn't go well.<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> Yeah, I wouldn't want to find out the punishment for carrying spirits while we're under this staccato nonsense if I were you.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> It's <a href="/arco">Pizzicato</a>.<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> Whatever.<br/> <span style="color: black"><strong>bones:</strong></span> Even with the current legality in place, it wouldn't be more than a 300$ fine.<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> And a beating too!<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> Maybe even they even hold you in a chokehold.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> Don't joke about that.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> The gocks have been getting more and more violent.<br/> <span style="color: black"><strong>bones:</strong></span> Yes.<br/> <span style="color: black"><strong>bones:</strong></span> 12 deaths only in the last two weeks.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> Jesus Christ<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> Yeah, I don't want to be on one of those numbers.</p> </div> <hr/> <p>JJ had made an art out of waking up early. Even after a month of quarantine, he was refreshed and ready to go each and every day.</p> <p>Today was no different. He put down his astonishingly flat phone (they looked more like interactive glass panels these days), silenced Jude's whining, and got up from bed. With a half smile, he looked at his snoring companions and briskly walked out of the room.</p> <p>This was his last day in Alex and Kolin's apartment before moving on to Charlie's, and he intended to enjoy it. He was proud of the life he'd managed to build, always on the move, jumping from one part of his polycule to the next. He paid little rent but was generous with gifts and other, more suggestive favors.</p> <p>He stood at the threshold of the spacious balcony and basked under the first few rays of sunlight. He stepped onto the cold floor of the terrace, feeling the rapidly evaporating morning dew, and took a deep breath. With a practiced movement, he stretched his arms upward and his spine let out a satisfying pop. He then bent down, feeling his muscles activating.</p> <p>He loved these little moments.</p> <p>When he straightened his back again, his mind was empty of worries. With a flourish, he turned back and entered the kitchen. It was an immaculate modern thing, filled to the brim with the newest appliances. He stopped in front of a drawer and took out a cutting board, then grabbed a can from a shelf. "<a href="/scp-7600">Druv'tuulian</a> Elhrom fruit." JJ smiled. He loved these. And knowing that they came from community-managed Yeren farms warmed his cold communist heart.</p> <p>The sweet, earthy smell of the fruit invaded his nostrils as he brought the plate to his companions in the other room. Kolin was the first to wake up, a young and promising Deer College professor of paralinguistics with a lithe body who ate a slice of elhrom in one bite. Back when the world wasn't exploding due to the <a href="/project-scarlet-dawn">Virion</a> he would commute to college from regular Portland, Maine, to Three Portlands. But now, with all the Ways closed off, he was trapped here. JJ didn't mind. Alex, an anartist of little renown, was still mostly asleep but had mustered the energy to talk.</p> <p>"Hey J, are you leaving today?"</p> <p>"Yeah. Everything's packed and I'll be out of your hair just after lunch," JJ said, while he nibbled on a piece of fruit. "Try not to miss me too much."</p> <p>"We'll despair like Achilles without Patroclus." said Alex jokingly, with all their artistic sentimentality.</p> <p>"We'll cry ourselves to sleep" concurred Kolin, devouring another slice of elhrom in one bite.</p> <p>"Well, if you are convincing enough, I might consider staying for a little longer," answered JJ, caressing his collarbone.</p> <p>They all erupted into playful giggles.</p> <p>"Oh, but you must leave." Alex declared rambunctiously while JJ kissed their cheek. "You're a free soul and we've kept you for long enough. Charlie misses you madly. I fear for what he'll do if he's deprived of your presence for another day."</p> <p>JJ sighed and got out of bed, grabbing a pair of pants and motioning to put them on.</p> <p>"You're right. Duty calls." He then located his phone, which had disappeared under the covers, and said, "If I won't manage to get to Charlie's place today, I think I'll crash at Dahlia's."</p> <p>"Seems like a good idea." Kolin agreed, while also getting dressed himself. "Have you asked them?"</p> <p>"I was just about to."</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p><span style="color: blue"><strong>polaricecraps:</strong></span> thanks for the headsup, I'll never use VKTM+ again<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> you can use it with a good memetic filter<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> it's just that none of the ones you can find online are good<br/> <span style="color: blue"><strong>polaricecraps</strong>:</span> I can just pirate it<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> Hey folks.<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> you can still get fucked up if you accidentally pirate a cognitohazard<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> trust me, I know<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> HEY folks.<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> hey JJ<br/> <span style="color: blue"><strong>polaricecraps:</strong></span> hi JJ<br/> <span style="color: blue"><strong>polaricecraps:</strong></span> what do you want<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> <span style="color: teal">@hetcopogg</span> you around?</p> </div> <hr/> <p>Esther was tired of looking at screens. She loved her job. Getting the opportunity to work as a freelance memetic security specialist was one of the best deals that she would ever get, and she had ran with it since the Veil fell. Then she had gotten back with <a href="/scp-7112">her girlfriend</a> (now wife) following Vanguard's campaign to treat the victims of amnesticization. Life seemed perfect for a while.</p> <p>Now she was old, and her knees, spine, and neck were killing her after having spent seven hours weaving digital incantations in the little room she worked from. Trapped at home, she didn't have much else to do.</p> <p>"Get my television fix… Sitting on my crucifix… A living room in my private womb while the moms and Brads are away…"</p> <p>And just like that, another anticoghaz string of code was ready to be sent to the small charity that had contracted her. She also sent the instructions to correctly implement it to their aid request page.</p> <p>A gentle tapping took her out of her trance. She blinked rapidly and looked around, realizing that it was already dark. A hand touched her shoulder and she smiled.</p> <p>"Hey," said Madeline. "I didn't want to bother you but it's late. You should eat something."</p> <p>"Yeah, you're right. I'm gonna call it here for today"</p> <p>"Good choice." She kissed her on her forehead. "Also, dunno if you've heard, but the DSA is moving strings to organize a series of protests."</p> <p>"Oh?"</p> <p>"Yeah, apparently the Coalition is coming down pretty hard in LA. There's a big riot, and there's talk about getting something going in other cities too."</p> <p>"Fuck."</p> <p>Madeline nodded.</p> <p>"Well, look it up later. The soup is getting cold."</p> <p>Esther flashed a tired smile and followed her.</p> <hr/> <p>Under the cold morning sun of Washington D.C., walked a man called Josh (known as polaricecraps by friends, enemies, and assorted motherfuckers who had had the displeasure of encountering him in the wild west of the internet). From his earbuds blasted IDLES. With his meager subsidy, he had managed to scramble some groceries with which he would survive for the next week: three cans of beans, a pack of some kind of liquid burger paste, a single carrot, six cans of cheap beer, and three packs of instant noodles of different brands. The rest of the store was empty, on account of the global shortage of literally everything. He dragged his haul in a cart, which rattled as it hit the irregularities of the pavement.</p> <p>There was only one more GOC security checkpoint until he arrived at his apartment. He looked at his wristwatch. It was 9:12 AM. He had all the time in the world today to do nothing.</p> <p>He continued his march, when his cart got caught on a large bump. He stumbled, and for a split second it looked like he was going to hit the hard pavement face-first. Fortunately, he managed to grab a lamppost in time, cursed, and checked if everything was okay. One of his earbuds had fallen, so he crouched down, grabbed it, and put it in his left ear. While he was getting up, a flash of movement caught his attention.</p> <p>On a wall, in one of the alleys that branched off from the main street, something was being painted. He couldn't see whoever was doing it, so he guessed that there was some thaumaturgy or memetics or something else at play. Silently, he approached the scene, keeping himself at a safe distance.</p> <p>Slowly, in the same manner a stage is unveiled, the street art revealed itself. Lines fell into place and quickly filled with colors. Then they started moving. The lines turned into President Crenshaw, with an exaggerated nose and a skull over his eyepatch, who was kicking a little Fae child, their wings slowly disintegrating under the politician's military boots. After six seconds, the kid went limp, and big red letters formed the word "MURDERER" over Crenshaw's face. Over the rest of the wall, an army marched against Crenshaw, leaving a fiery path behind. And flying over it, DC Al Fine, laughing maniacally as she dropped bombs on a city below.</p> <p>A smile crept up on Josh's face. He missed doing things like this. If he had been a handful of years younger he would have run up to them and helped. But he was content with watching as the newer generations took the torch against injustice in the little ways they saw fit.</p> <p>A truck with the GOC logo startled him. He was too distracted by the scene and "<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dEe4i2osF5A">Never fight a man with a perm</a>" playing on his ears to realize. He backed away, keeping an eye on things, but distancing himself.</p> <p>Three soldiers got out of the truck. They were shouting something, guns trained at the empty space in front of the painted wall. Suddenly, two teenagers materialized, their invisibility spell lifting as they raised their hands. More shouts. A can full of magic spray paint fell to the floor. The gocks carefully approached the pair.</p> <p>Once, long ago, a glorified internet troll had been in a situation not dissimilar to this one. Once, Josh <a href="/sometimes-it-s-not-funny">had killed a man</a>. He felt those memories rise to the surface, and time slowed to a crawl.</p> <p>In a second that lasted an eternity, Josh realised that he could feel them. All of them. The two kids were scared, their hearts racing. He heard their blood pumping in his ears. The soldiers were struggling with the heat under their bulky armor. The leftmost one had a river of sweat running down her back. They, he noted, were also somehow scared of the two kids. Their fingers were trembling on the trigger.</p> <p>Two kids. They had just started living. Finding themselves. Seeing the world for what it was. They had their youth taken away because of a government that hates them. And now they were going to die or lose the last splinters of their innocence in a holding cell in a GOC camp because of some glorified school bullies.</p> <p>And he knew that the two children could feel this truth.</p> <p>The second passed. One of them turned around and took a step.</p> <p>A warning shot fired, hitting the face of the Fae child painted on the wall. The kid took another step.</p> <p>Josh knew what to do. He reached through the air, feeling three grown children with extremely dangerous toys. And their stomachs, with the GOC rations they had last eaten still being processed by an ocean of acid and bacteria. And he touched those three stomachs.</p> <p>Three soldiers buckled over, dropping their guns. He couldn't hear them but knew they'd need to clean the insides of their high-tech armor <em>very</em> thoroughly.</p> <p>When he looked at the teenagers again, they were gone.</p> <p>He wobbled back to the cart and carried onwards.</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p><span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> And that's why Kolin isn't allowed to speak in Polish anymore.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> That's wild, dude.<br/> <span style="color: black"><strong>bones:</strong></span> It is an amusing story.<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> Thanks, big man. Means a lot coming from you.<br/> <span style="color: blue"><strong>polaricecraps:</strong></span> hi my dudes<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> Hi PIC.<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> Hello<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> You just missed my totally awesome story about my totally awesome boyfriend.<br/> <span style="color: blue"><strong>polaricecraps:</strong></span> sounds awesome<br/> <span style="color: blue"><strong>polaricecraps:</strong></span> but I have a question<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> Shoot.<br/> <span style="color: blue"><strong>polaricecraps:</strong></span> you see, I went shopping, saw some things that I didn't like, and now I want to do something<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> Okay.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> What do you want to do?<br/> <span style="color: blue"><strong>polaricecraps:</strong></span> do any one of you know of anyone doing a rally or some shit against the GOC?<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> I sent a meme to their instagram account calling them cocksuckers.<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> Does that count?<br/> <span style="color: blue"><strong>polaricecraps:</strong></span> what<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> Like a "meme" meme or a meme?<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> a meme<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> maybe that's a "meme"<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> idk man, one of the normal ones<br/> <span style="color: blue"><strong>polaricecraps:</strong></span> WHAT<br/> <span style="color: blue"><strong>polaricecraps:</strong></span> one of the normal ones?<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> yeah, like "cocksucker, bottom text"<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> Lmao.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> That shit hasn't been funny in the last 20 years.<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> Still funny to me.<br/> <span style="color: blue"><strong>polaricecraps:</strong></span> see, this is why sometimes I get exasperated with you people<br/> <span style="color: blue"><strong>polaricecraps:</strong></span> you've lost the spark<br/> <span style="color: blue"><strong>polaricecraps:</strong></span> you've lost that drive to rebel that we had long ago<br/> <span style="color: blue"><strong>polaricecraps:</strong></span> we won't burn the world anymore<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> Hey man, we got old.<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> Speak for yourself.<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> My skin is umblemished by the ravages of the ages.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> The younger generations are the ones who should decide where to go now. They're going to be here much longer than us.<br/> <span style="color: black"><strong>bones:</strong></span> I will still be here for a long time.<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> That's true, big guy.<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> Tell stories about us when we're gone.<br/> <span style="color: black"><strong>bones:</strong></span> I do not know how to tell stories.<br/> <span style="color: blue"><strong>polaricecraps:</strong></span> whatever.<br/> <span style="color: blue"><strong>polaricecraps:</strong></span> ping me if someone wants to do something against these fascist fucks</p> </div> <hr/> <p>The clock in Jude Kriyot's nightstand wasn't working anymore. He had realised after waking up this morning. He didn't have the uncomfortable red glare of the numbers anymore to remind him of the unstoppable passage of time.</p> <p>"Battery's dead," he said to the stale air of his empty apartment.</p> <p>So he looked for batteries in all the drawers. They were full of different knicknacks, but no batteries to be found. And he didn't want to go out looking for them.</p> <p>So he sat on his bed, grabbed the clock and concentrated. Video Killed the Radio star crackled. The only light in the room went out. With a groan, Jude got up and replaced the fuse. He went back to his room. The watch was upside down on the covers. He turned it over and smiled. It was beat up, but still working.</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p><span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> Hey.<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> Hey Jude.<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> hello<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> No Beatles lyrics this time?<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> nah<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> not in the mood<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> <span style="color: teal">@polaricecraps</span><br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> You awake?<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> It's about that thing you talked about yesterday.<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> PIC is probably either sleeping or cooling off.<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> did something happen?<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> Nah, just the usual polar crap<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> Ok so, <span style="color: teal">@polaricecraps</span>, if you need to do something, like a peaceful sitting or throwing a brick like a Stonewall-type protest, you can always ask the New Gamers Against Weed, to see if they're planning a demonstration or something like that.<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> what<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> what do you mean by "the New Gamers Against Weed"?<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> wtf is that<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> pretty self explanatory<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> aren't we the Gamers Against Weed?<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> trademarked<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> like, that's us<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> that's the name of the gc<br/> <span style="color: black"><strong>bones:</strong></span> The name of the group chat is "Shinji-Ikari-is-a-meth-dealer".<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> We're the Old Gamers Against Weed.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> We're retired.<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> yeah, and the younger kids took the mantle<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> left them with Harmpit and C-A-N and the others<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> they still do gay memes and activities and follow our golden path<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> bones is still in contact with them.<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> it's pretty sweet to know that we left some kind of legacy in this shitty world<br/> <span style="color: black"><strong>bones:</strong></span> That statement is correct.<br/> <span style="color: black"><strong>bones:</strong></span> Both of those statements, are correct, in fact.<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> Fuck, man.<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> When did this happen?<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> I think it was back when you did that year-long spiritual retreat to Thornsborough.<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> Why did nobody tell me?<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> we thought it was obvious<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> we could be ourselves out in the open<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> we weren't persecuted anymore.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> Shitty that it didn't last.<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> This is wild.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> Are you telling me that you seriously didn't know?<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> Of course I didn't know!<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> LOL<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> I wonder what they're up to<br/> <span style="color: black"><strong>bones:</strong></span> They are preparing to go to <a href="/scp-4239">Camp Kenowhere</a> to escape the Virion.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> Sounds like a great idea.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> As long as Mr. Destiny is still around, I guess.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> I would do the same if I wasn't confined here.<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> same<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> hey bones<br/> <span style="color: black"><strong>bones:</strong></span> Yes?<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> Please let us know <a href="/one-more-tomorrow">how it goes</a><br/> <span style="color: black"><strong>bones:</strong></span> Yes.<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> and <span style="color: teal">@polaricecraps</span> I think you're still in D.C.<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> just so you know, there will be an anti-Pizzicato in two days, ping me if you want details<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> Have fun out there<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> Don't do anything I wouldn't do<br/> <span style="color: blue"><strong>polaricecraps:</strong></span> just woke up<br/> <span style="color: blue"><strong>polaricecraps:</strong></span> <span style="color: teal">@lesbian_gengar</span> I'm in</p> </div> <hr/> <p>JJ was restless. Being a wanderer felt natural to him. Always moving, traveling across the country from one lover to the next, never letting himself get too comfortable, never letting them get used to him. He was always full of surprises and always scared of boredom, though he would never admit that to himself.</p> <p>But whether he wanted or not, boredom was creeping up on him. Andressa had tried to keep him occupied, but their heart wasn't into it. And JJ couldn't blame them.</p> <p>"I'm sorry for all the issues I'm causing." He said, mechanically for the umpteenth time, looking up from the rug he was sitting in.</p> <p>"It's not your fault," they answered from the kitchen, again, for the umpteenth time. "You were out of a place to stay, you're a comrade, we welcomed you. You can't control a sudden change in whatever law that's keeping us locked in." They were fumbling with something out of his eyesight.</p> <p>"In days like these I feel like I truly should be the center of the universe. The world would be so much better."</p> <p>Andressa let out a dry laugh.</p> <p>"When do you think Dahlia will be back?" asked JJ.</p> <p>Silence. He turned to look at them. They were staring at something on the table, their face unreadable, their hands trembling. "Andressa?" Then they met his gaze, and he saw horror in their eyes.</p> <p>"I'm infected."</p> <hr/> <p>"One, two, three four! Pizzicato no more!"</p> <p>"One, two, three four! Pizzicato no more!" Esther repeated the slogan, her voice blending with her fellow activists. She never thought she'd find herself returning to protesting at the ripe age of sixty, but here she was, standing with a few dozen people and shouting at the Coalition's peacekeeping forces in Washington D.C. It was nostalgic in a sense. It really had been so long.</p> <p>"Five, six, seven eight! Abolish the surveillance state!"</p> <p>She shouted along again, immersing herself in the steady rhythm, occasionally glancing at Josh "polaricecraps" Melbourne. He seemed to be enjoying himself. So was she, she realized. It felt good to be out on the streets again, even though the demonstration was blocking a road which had no traffic anyway. Then again, she wasn't in her twenties anymore…</p> <p>"United Nations GOC, fascists we don't wanna see!"</p> <p>"We probably shouldn't stand so close to the water cannon." She broke the rhythm, nudging Josh and gesturing at the giant police vehicle in front of them.</p> <p>"Eh, it's not like they're gonna do anything. Fifty angry leftists are not exactly threatening their law and order tee-em."</p> <p>"Suit yourself, I'm gonna back up a bit. Maddie won't forgive me if I get hit with the stinkshot." Esther turned away, wading through the tightly packed group. She was halfway through when she jumped at the sound of shattering glass behind her.</p> <p>She spun, looking for whoever threw the bottle, but instead saw the water cannon blast the first row of protestors at point-blank range. Time slowed as her friend was hurled by the force of the blast. For an instant, Josh's body was flying through the air, his hands flailing, his legs lurched upwards while his head neared the ground. Time resumed, and the wet crack of the impact was lost amidst the screams. But she heard it. She could see blood on the asphalt, people rushing forward while others fled. She was among them, she realized, sprinting towards him and crying for help, until she collided with someone running in the opposite direction.</p> <p>She lost her balance and crashed into the hard asphalt, her knees exploding in sudden pain. She couldn't think. She felt a foot pressing down on her back, and all the air left her lungs before whoever it was tripped and fell as well. Foul-smelling water rained on her from above as she tried to stand up, but no. The pain was overwhelming, she could barely breathe. Her eyes stared ahead, at the man lying on the pavement in a growing pool of red. She felt like she was about to pass out.</p> <p>Later, Esther would wish that she had.</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p><span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> This is just what happened to that SAPPHIRE Void guy.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> Like, the social media manager.<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> No clue I don't use Void.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> That's a lie.<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> I have risen beyond such petty cesspools of internet drama. I prefer to spend my time in more productive ways.<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> Guys, shut up for a moment<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> Like whining to your polycule about your twink death?<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> Please<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> Josh is dead<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> fu<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> Fuck<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> I<br/> <span style="color: black"><strong>bones:</strong></span> I am so sorry to hear that.<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> he's the one the GOC killed at the protest<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> with the water cannon<br/> <span style="color: black"><strong>bones:</strong></span> You were with him, right?<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> yeah<br/> <span style="color: black"><strong>bones:</strong></span> Such events can be very traumatic. I am always here, if you wish to talk. This extends to all of you. I know you were all very close.<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> I'm alright, I've seen people die before<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> I… I think I'm going to take a break from socials for a while.<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> same, I need to talk to Madeline.<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> call me if you wanna talk<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> jude?<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> Yeah I'm gonna takea break too<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> I'm fine.</p> </div> <p>Staring at the screen, Jude wondered if he hit rock bottom.</p> <p>He wanted to feel grief. He wanted to feel sad, to cry. At the very least he wanted to feel rage at the fascist motherfuckers who took yet another life for no goddamn reason. But he felt nothing. Like someone took the Five Stages and chucked them out of a window and instead proceeded to pour concrete in his veins. Or something.</p> <p>He was lying on a couch in what must have been the most horrific and embarrassing position possible for a sixty-year-old man, torso folded over the armrest with his head and arms hanging in the air. Staring at the screen. The couch itself stank more of his own sweat than weed. He could barely remember the last time he'd had the energy to smoke, let alone roll. He wondered if he smelled like old people. He probably smelled far worse. Like a corpse, maybe. Some long-forgotten carcass left to rot in a moldy hole.</p> <p>His phone vibrated in his palm once. Esther saying she'll update them about the funeral. He'll have to attend. It'll be outside, probably. Unless they'll host it in his apartment. Which they won't, because that's A) Stupid and B) Result in everyone catching leprosy or something.</p> <p>He'll have to go outside, where the virus lurked. Maybe if he'll get infected he'd finally have a successful attempt. Probably. He's kept hell waiting long enough. And yet…</p> <p>The Washington Virion terrified him. An overwhelming, almost primal fear. A knife pressed against his throat. A predator lying in wait. If it got to Andressa, he knew it could get him as well. It was practically the only thing he could feel with any real clarity these days. That and the loneliness. The cold, creeping loneliness that caressed him lovingly every night and every day and dragged him down every time he'd check his notifications and come up empty.</p> <p>He tapped his phone and opened Void.</p> <hr/> <p>"Andressa?" JJ stood outside his friend's door, a good few feet away. He was wearing a mask. "I asked if you needed anything. You alive in there?"</p> <p>No response. Should he speak louder? Maybe Andressa was sleeping. They hadn't answered his texts, but that had been true ever since they caught the virus a few days ago. Providence urged JJ to stay away from the door, and he heeded it. If not for the Impasse, he might never have been afraid of the Virion at all. But he would never forget the vulnerability it taught him, even so many years later.</p> <p>"Andressa?" He felt unhelpful. This was Dahlia's job, not his! But she was still waiting on clearance to leave the World Parahealth Summit in Geneva, and <em>he</em> was still stuck here due to the whole city being under quarantine. If he'd known his one-night-crash was going to turn out like this, he'd have brought a tad more than his phone and an extra shirt.</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p><span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> you're at Dahlia and Andy's place right?<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> can you tell them about Josh?<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> please<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> i'm very tired<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> Sure.</p> </div> <p>Eyes still watching the closed door, JJ leaned against the wall and cursed.</p> <hr/> <p>Esther turned her phone off and tried to stand up from her chair in the ER waiting room. The drugs they gave her dulled the pain from her knees to a tolerable ache, but it still hurt like hell when they had to support her weight. She checked the time, then began to walk out of the hospital.</p> <p><em>Suit yourself. Shattering glass. Shouts.</em></p> <p>Madeline was waiting for her in a car outside the building, and Esther shuffled into the front seat. Her wife looked at her bandaged knees but didn't say a word as she began to drive. The empty streets of D.C passed by them quickly. When it became clear Esther wasn't going to say anything, Madeline broke the silence.</p> <p>"You know it's not your fault."</p> <p>"I'm not stupid."</p> <p>"Don't blame yourself."</p> <p>"I'm not!" She said far louder than she intended to. They paused at a red light. A GOC vehicle moved past them at the intersection. "I'm sorry, I- fuck." Words caught at her throat and it contracted in that choking way that heralded tears. She leaned her head against the window. Madeline put her arm around her shoulder.</p> <p>"It's alright. Take your time. I'm here."</p> <p>Esther cried. The light turned green.</p> <hr/> <div class="blockquote"> <p><span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> Hey.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> Is anyone there?<br/> <span style="color: black"><strong>bones:</strong></span> Hello Jude.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> Heya bones<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> How are you?<br/> <span style="color: black"><strong>bones:</strong></span> Same as always<br/> <span style="color: black"><strong>bones:</strong></span> And you?<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> I'm not good. My bones hurt.<br/> <span style="color: black"><strong>bones:</strong></span> It is something that comes with age, If my knowledge serves.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> Yeah, I sometimes forget that your “bones” don’t hurt.<br/> <span style="color: black"><strong>bones:</strong></span> That is a correct assessment.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> But mine do.<br/> <span style="color: black"><strong>bones:</strong></span> You already said that.<br/> <span style="color: black"><strong>bones:</strong></span> Are you alright?<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> I need to stretch a little.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> Run a little.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> I would kill for a smoke.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> I haven’t been able to go outside in a long while.<br/> <span style="color: black"><strong>bones:</strong></span> You will be able to go back soon.<br/> <span style="color: black"><strong>bones:</strong></span> The models show that the virus is receding.<br/> <span style="color: black"><strong>bones:</strong></span> According to my sources, the work on the cure is going well.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> That’s not the issue.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> The cute couple that lives downstairs caught the virion.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> I didn’t even know <a href="/scp-3629">spiders</a> could be infected.<br/> <span style="color: black"><strong>bones:</strong></span> I’m sure they’ll be fine.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> I’m scared.<br/> <span style="color: black"><strong>bones:</strong></span> I understand.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> Do you?<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> You’re an immortal satellite from god knows when looking down on us from space and you don’t have to worry about the same things as us.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> And the hate.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> You've never had people look at you weird and treat you weird because you're different.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> You've never experienced having to be mortal<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> And how FUCKING scary it is.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> Fuck<br/> <span style="color: black"><strong>bones:</strong></span> I try.<br/> <span style="color: black"><strong>bones:</strong></span> I will never be human. Neither will Lyris even if she also tries to be so, through her media consumption.<br/> <span style="color: black"><strong>bones:</strong></span> But I empathize.<br/> <span style="color: black"><strong>bones:</strong></span> This is a first for me, but it hurts to be isolated up here while those who I call friends are suffering.<br/> <span style="color: black"><strong>bones:</strong></span> And I can't do anything to help them.<br/> <span style="color: black"><strong>bones:</strong></span> Are you still there, Jude?<br/> <span style="color: black"><strong>bones:</strong></span> Jude?</p> </div> <p>The sky is a lonely place. One would be forgiven for thinking that the everpresent stars give some company. But they had always been cold for Eli. Even now that the <a href="/david-hunt-on-galileo">humans lived closer than ever</a> to it and Lyris, the sky still felt devoid of life. She chatted with her thousand million friends from thousands of screens set up by Vanguard. While her <em>moirail</em> languished.</p> <p>Under Eli, the world kept on turning. It could implicitly feel that the Earth was somewhere down there, beyond the Moon and a wall of slowly decaying satellites and space debris. And somewhere in that pitifully small blue orb, its friends were suffering.</p> <p>And it could do nothing but watch.</p> <p>Alone among the stars, Eli cried.</p> <hr/> <p>Andressa was dying.</p> <p>Not literally — the Washington Virion was non-lethal for most people. No, their magic was dying. Their magic which defined them as much as their queerness or their friends, perhaps more. Their magic, which was them. It was suffocating. They were suffocating.</p> <p>It was slow, of course. This was by design. A quick death was far too merciful a punishment for those who had dared to be born different. The virus gestated within them, taking root in vein and bone. Like a spider weaving a web within their blood, crawling inch by inch, sealing off their throat and nostrils and ears and eyes. Laying eggs within their lungs, nursing children in their stomach.</p> <p>In their mind they wailed, screamed, and tore at the walls of the prison which pressed down on them from all directions. Their hands clawed at the tendrils of silver silk, trying to tear them away as they stuck to their skin. It got under their fingernails instead. And it was hot, so unbearably hot. Wrapped in a woolen cocoon dripping with their own sweat. The air felt thick, moist, every breath filling them with more water than oxygen.</p> <p>Andressa's phone buzzed. They didn't answer.</p> <hr/> <div class="blockquote"> <p><span style="color: gray"><strong>LibraryOfAlexandria:</strong></span> And you've tried calling them?<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> Obviously!<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> But even if they did answer<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> I don't even know what to say<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> Where to begin<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> How am I supposed to tell someone whose going through some of the worst torture possible that their friend is fucking dead?!<br/> <span style="color: gray"><strong>LibraryOfAlexandria:</strong></span> Are you sure you're okay? Yourself I mean<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> Yeah<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> Don't worry about me<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> I realize this sounds really cliche in the "No don't worry about me I'm perfectly fine (dying inside)" sort of way but I am actually genuinely fine about this<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> I'm sad, obvs but we were never really that close<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> Not like Jude and Esther<br/> <span style="color: gray"><strong>LibraryOfAlexandria:</strong></span> Mhm<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> I just<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> I don't know what to do<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> And that makes me feel like an absolute asshole<br/> <span style="color: gray"><strong>LibraryOfAlexandria:</strong></span> Finally the inside mirrors the outside<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> lmao fuck you<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> I'm out here opening up and shit<br/> <span style="color: gray"><strong>LibraryOfAlexandria:</strong></span> Seriously now, if they're not answering that might mean they're in a coma or something<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> this is what I get in return<br/> <span style="color: gray"><strong>LibraryOfAlexandria:</strong></span> are they eating anything?<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> I left the food tray at their door<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> Hollon lemme check if it's still there<br/> <span style="color: gray"><strong>LibraryOfAlexandria:</strong></span> How long has it been?<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> They took it!<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> Really quietly apparently<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> uhhhh 2 days? Three now actually that they haven't talked.<br/> <span style="color: gray"><strong>LibraryOfAlexandria:</strong></span> That's good!<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> I just wish Dahlia would get here already<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> I know it's selfish of me but I am not the right guy for this<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> She'd know what do<br/> <span style="color: gray"><strong>LibraryOfAlexandria:</strong></span> Won't be long now, you just have to hold the fort.<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> But I'm not doing anything!<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> That's the problem!<br/> <span style="color: gray"><strong>LibraryOfAlexandria:</strong></span> Then think of something you can do</p> </div> <hr/> <p>Jude stared at the ceiling. His back ached. His stomach pitifully begged for sustenance. What was the point of all of this? Should he call Esther again? It had only been half an hour. Maybe not. Maybe days had passed without his notice, he'd open the window and gaze out into a healthy world cleansed of bio-weapons. He twisted his neck to look at the clock, bones popping painfully, and sighed. <em>Nope. Just depression, then.</em></p> <p>He reached his arm out and picked his phone off the floor, opening his DMs. He should apologize to bones. But he couldn't bring himself to open that chat. Jude's eyes lingered on Faeowynn's offline status. <em>Don't call her. She's on vacation. She doesn't deserve your traumadumping.</em> He couldn't remember where she was vacationing and hated himself for it.</p> <p>Esther's status was marked as 'away'. He wanted to talk to her so badly. But she didn't need to take his shit either, did she? She was grieving, because she was a functional human being who felt actual emotions. She was also largely in charge of the funeral, which had to be stressful as hell. He knew he was a burden on her mental health. Always a fucking burden. A colossal failure who couldn't even stop himself from dragging the whole ship down with him.</p> <p><em>And Dahlia's still in Geneva.</em> Probably deathly worried about Andressa. Both of them had it far worse than him, he would feel guilty just talking to either of them. That left JJ. The golden boy with his perfect life. <em>At least he's not a twink anymore.</em> That made his lips almost form a smile.</p> <p>Then a ping.</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p><span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> do you want to speak<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> at the funeral, I mean<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> Sure, I can do that<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> There a date yet?<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> no, still trying to figure out when everyone's available<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> with the quarantine and whatnot<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> are you doing alright?<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> you called<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> Yeah.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> Just bored.<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> Jude<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> please tell me if something's wrong<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> I'm fine! Really!<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> Are you?<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> no<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> not at all<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> he died and it's my fucking fault<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> I'm sure it's not.<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> you weren't there<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> I could have stopped ti<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> I told him rightbefore it happened<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> to head to the back<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> I should have insisted<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> grabbed him by the fucking arm and drag him back but i didnt<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> I let him die<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> You couldn't have known what would happen.<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> I knew! I fucking knew everything!!<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> I knew the numbers and i knew the gawekers and I KNEW what would happen<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> fuck]<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> Esther.<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> what<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> I lied.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> I'm not okay.<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> I know<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> Do you want to talk?<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> In a call, I mean.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> We haven't talked in a while.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> Like properly.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> Ever since quarantine began.<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> yeah<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> I'd like that</p> </div> <hr/> <p>Madeline sat in the living room, trying to read while listening to her wife cry in the other room. She wanted to be with her and to hug her tight and kiss her. But sometimes you had to accept that you weren't the woman for the job, no matter how badly you wanted to help.</p> <p>After an hour or two, Esther opened the door. Her eyes and cheeks were red and glossy. "Maddie?"</p> <p>Madeline closed her book and looked her in the eyes. "Yes?"</p> <p>"Can you help me with all these stupid contact lists?"</p> <p>She smiled. "I'd love to."</p> <hr/> <p>Through ears clogged with web, Andressa heard a knock.</p> <p>"Andressa? You awake? It's JJ. I made some food for ya, gonna put it next to your door now. Baked everything myself, and got you a cup of some Nälkän herbal tea. It should help with your blood pressure— I think? Uh, don't let it get cold, and if you do, tell me and I'll put it back in the oven." A soft thump, then the sound of shuffling feet.</p> <p>They wriggled in their cocoon. They were so hungry. But the tray, so far away… And how could they move like this? Andressa struggled, what little breath they could draw coming in hot and sticky through their mouth. They shuffled, twisting against their restraints, they <em>had</em> to eat—</p> <p>Their heart jumped as they fell for a fraction of a second, landing on something hard and cold, a blessed relief for their burning skin. <em>Huh?</em> That didn't make sense. They were wrapped in web. How could they feel the floor? Whatever. They were <em>moving</em> now. Andressa rolled across the cold plane, at last reaching the source of the voice. But there was something in the way. A barrier, some greater prison keeping them in check should they break the first. They wailed in despair.</p> <hr/> <p>On the other side of the apartment, JJ heard a cry. He rushed to the hallway, pausing as he felt Providence's tug. "Andressa?" Something slammed against the door weakly. "Andressa? Do you want me to open the door for you?"</p> <p>Andressa's response was a low croak that could have meant anything, but JJ understood it as an affirmative. <em>They're right behind that door, coughing up billions of tiny Virions.</em> But they were also starving. And he <em>worked</em> on that pie damnit! He checked his mask and stepped forward. Providence's tug quickly turned to a grab, clutching tightly at his heart.</p> <p>"God— Damn—" JJ paused. Providence didn't let go. "You know what? Screw this. I tried my best, okay? You're, what, fifty-something? I'm sure you can open a door on your own. You don't need me! If anything <em>I'm</em> the senile one." He turned to walk back to the living room.</p> <p>He expected to hear a cry for help. Another wail, perhaps. A plea. He would have shut it out and carried on. Instead, there was only silence, interrupted only by sharp, wheezing breaths. And that gave him pause. The hell kind of friend was he? An asshole through and through, apparently.</p> <p><em>Finally the inside mirrors the outside.</em></p> <p>JJ turned a second time, back to the corridor. He took a deep breath, held it, and charged.</p> <hr/> <p>The call finished, and Jude's phone screen faded into blackness. It felt good, for once, to talk with Esther. He wondered why this was. He knew for a fact that their bond was one of the only things keeping his head above the water. Conversations with her were always a reprieve, like the first huff from a blunt. He tried to put his finger on it, then let it go. Only later would he recognize the feeling as the absence of guilt. For now, there were other things to worry about.</p> <p>The funeral. Jude will be there. He had promised this to Esther less than a minute ago. He also promised that he'd give the primary eulogy, or at least something eulogy-adjacent. A few days ago the mere thought of the event left him petrified. He wasn't sure what changed, but he felt something he hadn't felt in forever. Determination.</p> <p>Esther was counting on him. They were in the same boat, and each had their role. Jude wouldn't let her down. He <em>couldn't</em> let her down. And if getting off this couch was like <span style="text-decoration: line-through;">finishing Celeste</span>climbing Everest, he wouldn't even need a second dash to reach the summit</p> <hr/> <div class="blockquote"> <p><span style="color: black"><strong>bones:</strong></span> JJ, are you available?<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> Yep, what's up?<br/> <span style="color: black"><strong>bones:</strong></span> Andressa is not answering my messages. I recall you're staying at their apartment. Could you carry a message from me to them, please?<br/> <span style="color: orange"><strong>jockjamsvol6:</strong></span> Sure big guy.</p> </div> <hr/> <p>The pie was incredible. Utterly divine. Andressa ate it whole in mere minutes, and downed the tea in one swig. The drink was the opposite, bitter and scalding, but it did at least slake their thirst.</p> <p>They weren't entirely sure what had happened to the parts of the cocoon around their head, but they could see a fair bit now. Not that there was much to see, but their benefactor had apparently left them a note with the food.</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p>Hang in there Andressa, Dahlia's on her way. In the meanwhile, I'm here if you need anything else. Text me. Or just scream. I won't judge.<br/> Anyway, bones asked me to tell you this:<br/> Andressa,<br/> I am deeply sorry that you have been forced to suffer this plague. I have spoken to your wife, Dahlia. Rest assured that she is coming, and soon. Though I know not when you will read this note, she is to board her plane in less than a day's time. You are one of the strongest people I have had the pleasure to meet, and I have no doubt you will endure this virus.</p> <p>I can only imagine how hard it must be, to feel such an integral part of yourself be taken away. Though a cure might be developed in the future, you must remember that you are more than your magic. You're a parent, a lover, a friend, and all of us care about you deeply. Stay strong.</p> </div> <p>As they slipped back into unconsciousness, Andressa smiled.</p> <hr/> <p>With Madeline's help, Esther made quick work of the funeral schedule. Josh had chosen cremation with his ashes to be cast into the ocean, cutting off a tradition of open-casket proceedings. They spent the evening calling every relative or friend he had, figuring out who could make it and who would have to attend remotely. It was exhausting, but only physically, as all of them had already been notified of their friend's passing.</p> <p>It was well past midnight, as she exited the shower, that Esther realized something important.</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p><span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> Jude<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> you up?<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> Yeah.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> Trying to iron a shirt.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> Way harder than I thought.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> Already burned one.<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> what???<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> yknow what I dont' wanna know<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> there's a much bigger problem<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> It's an old one with a chord and the chord ripped so I powered it with VKTRS but i put too much in and it burned the fabric.<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> you live in Idaho<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> What?<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> and the Ways are closed by the goks<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> OH<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> Oh fuck.<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> you could give the speech remotely<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> there won't be that many people actually there anyway.<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> quarantine and shit<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> nononononoon<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> This is the least I can do.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> Josh deserves better.<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> he would understand<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> I'll find a way.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> Don't worry about it.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> But if you're online do you mind looking over my eulogy.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> Very rough draft.<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> tomorrow<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> it's late<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> gotta sleep<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> No worries.</p> </div> <hr/> <p>When Dahlia entered her apartment, there was only one thing on her mind. She was no longer the journalist, wondering why Iris Dark hadn't attended the Summit. She was no longer the activist, fearing what the Coalition truly wanted to accomplish with Pizzicato. She was Dahlia Pryce, and the love of her life was facing an unspeakable evil alone.</p> <p>She opened the door calmly and stepped inside. She drew her phone, then tossed her backpack to the floor, giving half a wave of acknowledgement to JJ on the couch. He barely had time to pause whatever was playing on his headphones before she was standing at the hallway, pressing herself to the bedroom door.</p> <p>"Andy? Can you hear me?" Her voice was calm, yet full of worry.</p> <p>"Dahlia?" Came the croaking reply.</p> <p>"Andy, please let me in. You don't have to go through this on your own."</p> <p>On the other side of the door, Andressa's mind cleared, as if Dahlia's voice was a blazing torch against the fog that engulfed their thoughts. "No! I don't want you to get infected." In the years following Veilfall, Dahlia had self-taught herself quite a bit of practical thaumaturgy. She was no prodigy, but they knew she enjoyed it. "I'll be fine. No one else needs to lose anything."</p> <p>"I don't care about my magic. I care about <em>you</em>, Andy. I was never good at it, it was never really part of me. But you <em>are</em>, you're my other half, as cliche as it sounds. So please Andy, let me be there with you."</p> <p>At the other end of the hallway, JJ watched the bedroom door open. He caught a glimpse of Dahlia stepping inside, right into Andressa's open arms. They stood there for some time, wrapped around each other, breathing in each other's air.</p> <p>"I missed you." They said.</p> <p>"I love you." She replied.</p> <p>"Are you… sure about this?"</p> <p>"As sure as I'll ever be. I always was the normie."</p> <p>And then the door closed behind them.</p> <p>"Well," he said to himself. "Double kitchen duty it is, eh?"</p> <hr/> <div class="blockquote"> <p><span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> are you sure that's safe<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> Well.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> Last time I tried this <a href="/the-reason-ulysses-doesn-t-start-with-warning-it-s-got-a-blo">it went fine</a>.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> But that was literal decades ago.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> Fucked up how that isn't an exaggeration .<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> it really is huh<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> certified internet olds<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> God even that meme is ancient.<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> back to the point if you will<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> Yeah so.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> I'll do a test run in like an hour.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> But since it's only me this time around it really shouldn't be an issue.<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> I'm mostly worried about you ending up somewhere else<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> Good point.<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> Do you by chance have an extra phone lying around.<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> oh dear<br/> <span style="color: purple"><strong>lesbian_gengar:</strong></span> yeah, obviously<br/> <span style="color: green"><strong>bluntfiend:</strong></span> Alright, here's what we'll do.</p> </div> <hr/> <p>Esther held her friend's ashes in her arms, watching the Anacostia river flow slowly below her. Madeline watched it with her in silence. They'd settled for it, as the quarantine forbade them from leaving the city. But the river would carry the remains to the Atlantic Ocean eventually. It will do.</p> <p>She glanced around, watching the attendees slowly come into view, clumping up in small, quiet groups. Her eyes fell on the telephone pole on the sidewalk. She couldn't see where she placed her spare phone, but she could see the large signs she had plastered on it. Not quite antimemetic - just enough power to make folks look away without noticing. And her expertise allowed her to circumvent the Gawkers own memetic filters, leaving the thing practically invisible to the agents keeping an eye on the gathering from afar.</p> <p>There was a flash of yellow light as sparks crackled into existence at the top of the pole, quickly descending to the ground. They jumped to Esther's phone, which lay at its foot, and then coalesced into a humanoid form. Jude Kriyot stepped forward, then lost his balance and fell forward.</p> <p>"Jude!" She rushed to him as fast as she could, which wasn't much considering the state of her legs. Madeline came to his aid instead.</p> <p>"Oh god, fuck, my back— Jesus Christ." There was a series of loud pops as he stood straight.</p> <p>"You're alright?" Esther finally caught up.</p> <p>"Yeah yeah, just miscalculated a bit. I'm getting old."</p> <p>"Aren't we all." Madeline said gently.</p> <p>"You're dressed well." Esther noticed. "And shaved too!"</p> <p>Jude blushed slightly, straightening his polo shirt. "Josh wouldn't forgive me if I didn't." He dusted off his clothes, then began to walk with them to the grassy riverbank. "Everything's ready?"</p> <p>"We still need to set up the remote attendees." Esther replied, nodding towards two canvas bags lying against a tree. "Got some holodiscs in there, should only take a few minutes." The other, physical attendees began to come forward. She didn't know most of them apart from the calls she'd made a few days prior. Co-workers and family - Josh, Madeline and her were the only Gamers living in D.C. <em>Just the two of us, now.</em></p> <p>"Well then." Jude stretched his arms, letting out another series of pops which made everyone but Esther cringe. "Let's get started."</p> <hr/> <p>Dahlia and Andressa lay in bed together, the latter fumbling with the holodisc. On second thought, they probably should've turned the lights off <em>after</em> setting up the connection. And then it clicked, and the room was bathed in illusory light. Their bed was now on a grassy riverbank surrounded by figures in (mostly) dark clothing. Jude, whose holographic body was half obscured by the real bed, waved to the two.</p> <p>In the living room, JJ watched the proceedings from Dahlia's laptop, which she'd left in her bag. "What can I say, guess I'm just old-fashioned." He said to no one in particular.</p> <hr/> <p>"Nah, you're just old as hell," Jude replied, watching familiar and strange faces blink into virtual existence around him. He looked at Esther, who gave him a quiet nod, and took a deep breath. He was only a little high.</p> <p>"I'm going to say a few words, then let anyone who wants to do that as well. Then we'll scatter the ashes. That alright?" Nods and murmurs from the small crowd.</p> <p>"For the first few years I knew Josh, I didn't even know that was his name. To me he was 'polaricecraps' - PIC for short - the token cishet guy in the chat. He was young, he was rash, and he was angry a good chunk of the time. He reminded me of myself, ten or fifteen years younger, only much more straight." A few bittersweet chuckles. "I would see him in chat, say hi and what's up, but I didn't really get to know him until, like all of us, he fucked up with his magic and hurt someone. Badly.</p> <p>"We talked for hours that day, probably longer than all the days beforehand put together. I learned his real name when I helped him get a new ID, and managed to get him to my place for a few days. He was an absolute wreck. Hating himself for what he did, terrified of what the Foundation or others would to do him for it. Again, he reminded me of myself."</p> <p>Jude paused. He was trembling. He could feel the tears building up. Esther offered a tissue and he accepted, noticing that she was crying too. "Sorry— One moment." He drew his phone from his back pocket. "I'm gonna— read the rest from my notes, if that's alright." He swallowed hard.</p> <p>"Our relationship afterward slowly grew from mentor-student to general, equal friendship. I watched him grow so much as a person since then. I know it's selfish and wrong, but in many ways, I'm glad he went through what he did. I'd probably never have become his friend otherwise.</p> <p>"We're all of us fucked up in one way or another. And tragedy— tragedy can— tragedy <em>has</em> to make us embrace what we still have." And then he was crying, weeping, and Esther was hugging him and Madeline was hugging them both. And then Dahlia and Andressa's phantom forms crawled over and hugged them too, and then JJ realized that Dahlia's laptop still had the <a href="/what-passes-as-normal-in-the-digital-age">sticker Josh had gifted her</a> more than two decades ago, and with a nudge of his own magic he pushed his arms and head through the screen and joined in.</p> <p>It was a long, long time before any of them let go.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="earthworm earthworm--old-syntax-first-false earthworm--old-syntax-last-false earthworm--old-syntax-hub-yes {$class}"> <div class="first earthworm__previous" data-title="Arco"> <p><a href="/arco">Arco</a></p> </div> <div class="hub earthworm__hub" data-title="8,000 Dead Rats"> <p><a href="/8000-dead-rats-hub">8,000 Dead Rats</a></p> </div> <div class="last earthworm__next" data-title="Carter Courier Channel"> <p><a href="/carter-courier-channel">Carter Courier Channel</a></p> </div> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/under-pressure">Ourselves, Under Pressure</a>" by UNCGriffin and diogene_s, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/under-pressure">https://scpwiki.com/under-pressure</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:pride-logos">:scp-wiki:component:pride-logos</a> s10=-]\| code=trans]] ===== [[include <a href="/component:preview">component:preview</a> text= As the Washington Virion ravages the world, GAW's inner circle struggles under the GOC's brutal quarantine. ]] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] Ourselves, Under Pressure Author: [[user diogene_s]] and [[user UNCGriffin]] ⚠️ Content warning: Isolation, body/psychological horror, mentions of depression and suicide, police brutality. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:end">:scp-wiki:info:end</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:info-cw">:scp-wiki:component:info-cw</a>]] @@ @@ For the third time that night, Jude jolted awake. He looked at the clock on his nightstand. It displayed 04:14 with bright red numbers. His mind foggy, he dimly remembered getting into an argument with the antiques shop owner who had sold it to him. He was reluctant to call digital clocks antiquities. But over the course of his lifetime, he had seen analog watches be phased out, digital ones replaced by smart ones. Then came the ones that incorporated demonic circuitry, which were somehow less volatile than the Samsung smartphones back in the day. Now, they were directly implanted into humans through a non-invasive procedure, along with a thousand other helpful gadgets. It was 2049, and the digital clock with its red digits was almost as old as he was. With a groan, he got up from the bed. He silently walked to the other side of the room and opened a drawer. In the dark he felt its insides, tapping everywhere. "Shit." He was out of weed. Wordlessly, he shuffled up to the small window and opened it. A bit of fresh air (relative to Idaho) entered the room. He shivered, looking at the sky. It was clear, but the stars were blotted out by the ever-present pollution from the city lights. The next stop was the bathroom. He was spending more and more time there each day. Even though the whole flat was still draped in darkness, he didn't look at the mirror when he washed his hands. The bags under his eyes had grown exponentially in the last months, and he didn't want to see them. Lastly, he went back to the bedroom and sighed. Without weed, he wouldn't have a way to clear his mind and fall asleep again. So, he grabbed his laptop, brought it to the bed, and started it up. It made a series of low groans, eerily similar to the sounds that Jude himself made when waking up. [[div class="blockquote"]] ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## Rise and shine gays and thems! ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## I don’t want to interrupt the sob story you are surely concocting in here last night, but do you know who has gotten the best sleep in years? ##black\|bones:## Judging from your behavior, it’s fair to assume that the answer to that question is you. ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## Damn right! ##green\|bluntfiend:## Hey JJ. ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## Hey Jude. ##green\|bluntfiend:## It's 4AM. I don't think you can call it "the best sleep in years" if you wake up at this hour. ##green\|bluntfiend:## It's literally the opposite of a good sleep. ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## Well, you see, the zen masters all agree that waking up early is the key to a balanced karma. ##green\|bluntfiend:## If you say so. ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## What are your plans today bluntman? ##green\|bluntfiend:## I'm out of weed, but I don't want to get out of the house to get some. ##green\|bluntfiend:## I don't want the GOC patrol to catch me with drugs on me. ##green\|bluntfiend:## It wouldn't go well. ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## Yeah, I wouldn't want to find out the punishment for carrying spirits while we're under this staccato nonsense if I were you. ##green\|bluntfiend:## It's [[[Arco \|Pizzicato]]]. ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## Whatever. ##black\|bones:## Even with the current legality in place, it wouldn't be more than a 300$ fine. ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## And a beating too! ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## Maybe even they even hold you in a chokehold. ##green\|bluntfiend:## Don't joke about that. ##green\|bluntfiend:## The gocks have been getting more and more violent. ##black\|bones:## Yes. ##black\|bones:## 12 deaths only in the last two weeks. ##green\|bluntfiend:## Jesus Christ ##green\|bluntfiend:## Yeah, I don't want to be on one of those numbers. [[/div]] ------ JJ had made an art out of waking up early. Even after a month of quarantine, he was refreshed and ready to go each and every day. Today was no different. He put down his astonishingly flat phone (they looked more like interactive glass panels these days), silenced Jude's whining, and got up from bed. With a half smile, he looked at his snoring companions and briskly walked out of the room. This was his last day in Alex and Kolin's apartment before moving on to Charlie's, and he intended to enjoy it. He was proud of the life he'd managed to build, always on the move, jumping from one part of his polycule to the next. He paid little rent but was generous with gifts and other, more suggestive favors. He stood at the threshold of the spacious balcony and basked under the first few rays of sunlight. He stepped onto the cold floor of the terrace, feeling the rapidly evaporating morning dew, and took a deep breath. With a practiced movement, he stretched his arms upward and his spine let out a satisfying pop. He then bent down, feeling his muscles activating. He loved these little moments. When he straightened his back again, his mind was empty of worries. With a flourish, he turned back and entered the kitchen. It was an immaculate modern thing, filled to the brim with the newest appliances. He stopped in front of a drawer and took out a cutting board, then grabbed a can from a shelf. "[[[scp-7600 \|Druv'tuulian]]] Elhrom fruit." JJ smiled. He loved these. And knowing that they came from community-managed Yeren farms warmed his cold communist heart. The sweet, earthy smell of the fruit invaded his nostrils as he brought the plate to his companions in the other room. Kolin was the first to wake up, a young and promising Deer College professor of paralinguistics with a lithe body who ate a slice of elhrom in one bite. Back when the world wasn't exploding due to the [[[project-scarlet-dawn \|Virion]]] he would commute to college from regular Portland, Maine, to Three Portlands. But now, with all the Ways closed off, he was trapped here. JJ didn't mind. Alex, an anartist of little renown, was still mostly asleep but had mustered the energy to talk. "Hey J, are you leaving today?" "Yeah. Everything's packed and I'll be out of your hair just after lunch," JJ said, while he nibbled on a piece of fruit. "Try not to miss me too much." "We'll despair like Achilles without Patroclus." said Alex jokingly, with all their artistic sentimentality. "We'll cry ourselves to sleep" concurred Kolin, devouring another slice of elhrom in one bite. "Well, if you are convincing enough, I might consider staying for a little longer," answered JJ, caressing his collarbone. They all erupted into playful giggles. "Oh, but you must leave." Alex declared rambunctiously while JJ kissed their cheek. "You're a free soul and we've kept you for long enough. Charlie misses you madly. I fear for what he'll do if he's deprived of your presence for another day." JJ sighed and got out of bed, grabbing a pair of pants and motioning to put them on. "You're right. Duty calls." He then located his phone, which had disappeared under the covers, and said, "If I won't manage to get to Charlie's place today, I think I'll crash at Dahlia's." "Seems like a good idea." Kolin agreed, while also getting dressed himself. "Have you asked them?" "I was just about to." [[div class="blockquote"]] ##blue\|polaricecraps:## thanks for the headsup, I'll never use VKTM+ again ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## you can use it with a good memetic filter ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## it's just that none of the ones you can find online are good ##blue\|polaricecraps:## I can just pirate it ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## Hey folks. ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## you can still get fucked up if you accidentally pirate a cognitohazard ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## trust me, I know ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## HEY folks. ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## hey JJ ##blue\|polaricecraps:## hi JJ ##blue\|polaricecraps:## what do you want ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## ##teal\|@hetcopogg## you around? [[/div]] ------ Esther was tired of looking at screens. She loved her job. Getting the opportunity to work as a freelance memetic security specialist was one of the best deals that she would ever get, and she had ran with it since the Veil fell. Then she had gotten back with [[[scp-7112 \|her girlfriend]]] (now wife) following Vanguard's campaign to treat the victims of amnesticization. Life seemed perfect for a while. Now she was old, and her knees, spine, and neck were killing her after having spent seven hours weaving digital incantations in the little room she worked from. Trapped at home, she didn't have much else to do. "Get my television fix... Sitting on my crucifix... A living room in my private womb while the moms and Brads are away..." And just like that, another anticoghaz string of code was ready to be sent to the small charity that had contracted her. She also sent the instructions to correctly implement it to their aid request page. A gentle tapping took her out of her trance. She blinked rapidly and looked around, realizing that it was already dark. A hand touched her shoulder and she smiled. "Hey," said Madeline. "I didn't want to bother you but it's late. You should eat something." "Yeah, you're right. I'm gonna call it here for today" "Good choice." She kissed her on her forehead. "Also, dunno if you've heard, but the DSA is moving strings to organize a series of protests." "Oh?" "Yeah, apparently the Coalition is coming down pretty hard in LA. There's a big riot, and there's talk about getting something going in other cities too." "Fuck." Madeline nodded. "Well, look it up later. The soup is getting cold." Esther flashed a tired smile and followed her. ------ Under the cold morning sun of Washington D.C., walked a man called Josh (known as polaricecraps by friends, enemies, and assorted motherfuckers who had had the displeasure of encountering him in the wild west of the internet). From his earbuds blasted IDLES. With his meager subsidy, he had managed to scramble some groceries with which he would survive for the next week: three cans of beans, a pack of some kind of liquid burger paste, a single carrot, six cans of cheap beer, and three packs of instant noodles of different brands. The rest of the store was empty, on account of the global shortage of literally everything. He dragged his haul in a cart, which rattled as it hit the irregularities of the pavement. There was only one more GOC security checkpoint until he arrived at his apartment. He looked at his wristwatch. It was 9:12 AM. He had all the time in the world today to do nothing. He continued his march, when his cart got caught on a large bump. He stumbled, and for a split second it looked like he was going to hit the hard pavement face-first. Fortunately, he managed to grab a lamppost in time, cursed, and checked if everything was okay. One of his earbuds had fallen, so he crouched down, grabbed it, and put it in his left ear. While he was getting up, a flash of movement caught his attention. On a wall, in one of the alleys that branched off from the main street, something was being painted. He couldn't see whoever was doing it, so he guessed that there was some thaumaturgy or memetics or something else at play. Silently, he approached the scene, keeping himself at a safe distance. Slowly, in the same manner a stage is unveiled, the street art revealed itself. Lines fell into place and quickly filled with colors. Then they started moving. The lines turned into President Crenshaw, with an exaggerated nose and a skull over his eyepatch, who was kicking a little Fae child, their wings slowly disintegrating under the politician's military boots. After six seconds, the kid went limp, and big red letters formed the word "MURDERER" over Crenshaw's face. Over the rest of the wall, an army marched against Crenshaw, leaving a fiery path behind. And flying over it, DC Al Fine, laughing maniacally as she dropped bombs on a city below. A smile crept up on Josh's face. He missed doing things like this. If he had been a handful of years younger he would have run up to them and helped. But he was content with watching as the newer generations took the torch against injustice in the little ways they saw fit. A truck with the GOC logo startled him. He was too distracted by the scene and "[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dEe4i2osF5A Never fight a man with a perm]" playing on his ears to realize. He backed away, keeping an eye on things, but distancing himself. Three soldiers got out of the truck. They were shouting something, guns trained at the empty space in front of the painted wall. Suddenly, two teenagers materialized, their invisibility spell lifting as they raised their hands. More shouts. A can full of magic spray paint fell to the floor. The gocks carefully approached the pair. Once, long ago, a glorified internet troll had been in a situation not dissimilar to this one. Once, Josh [[[sometimes-it-s-not-funny \|had killed a man]]]. He felt those memories rise to the surface, and time slowed to a crawl. In a second that lasted an eternity, Josh realised that he could feel them. All of them. The two kids were scared, their hearts racing. He heard their blood pumping in his ears. The soldiers were struggling with the heat under their bulky armor. The leftmost one had a river of sweat running down her back. They, he noted, were also somehow scared of the two kids. Their fingers were trembling on the trigger. Two kids. They had just started living. Finding themselves. Seeing the world for what it was. They had their youth taken away because of a government that hates them. And now they were going to die or lose the last splinters of their innocence in a holding cell in a GOC camp because of some glorified school bullies. And he knew that the two children could feel this truth. The second passed. One of them turned around and took a step. A warning shot fired, hitting the face of the Fae child painted on the wall. The kid took another step. Josh knew what to do. He reached through the air, feeling three grown children with extremely dangerous toys. And their stomachs, with the GOC rations they had last eaten still being processed by an ocean of acid and bacteria. And he touched those three stomachs. Three soldiers buckled over, dropping their guns. He couldn't hear them but knew they'd need to clean the insides of their high-tech armor //very// thoroughly. When he looked at the teenagers again, they were gone. He wobbled back to the cart and carried onwards. [[div class="blockquote"]] ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## And that's why Kolin isn't allowed to speak in Polish anymore. ##green\|bluntfiend:## That's wild, dude. ##black\|bones:## It is an amusing story. ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## Thanks, big man. Means a lot coming from you. ##blue\|polaricecraps:## hi my dudes ##green\|bluntfiend:## Hi PIC. ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## Hello ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## You just missed my totally awesome story about my totally awesome boyfriend. ##blue\|polaricecraps:## sounds awesome ##blue\|polaricecraps:## but I have a question ##green\|bluntfiend:## Shoot. ##blue\|polaricecraps:## you see, I went shopping, saw some things that I didn't like, and now I want to do something ##green\|bluntfiend:## Okay. ##green\|bluntfiend:## What do you want to do? ##blue\|polaricecraps:## do any one of you know of anyone doing a rally or some shit against the GOC? ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## I sent a meme to their instagram account calling them cocksuckers. ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## Does that count? ##blue\|polaricecraps:## what ##green\|bluntfiend:## Like a "meme" meme or a meme? ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## a meme ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## maybe that's a "meme" ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## idk man, one of the normal ones ##blue\|polaricecraps:## WHAT ##blue\|polaricecraps:## one of the normal ones? ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## yeah, like "cocksucker, bottom text" ##green\|bluntfiend:## Lmao. ##green\|bluntfiend:## That shit hasn't been funny in the last 20 years. ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## Still funny to me. ##blue\|polaricecraps:## see, this is why sometimes I get exasperated with you people ##blue\|polaricecraps:## you've lost the spark ##blue\|polaricecraps:## you've lost that drive to rebel that we had long ago ##blue\|polaricecraps:## we won't burn the world anymore ##green\|bluntfiend:## Hey man, we got old. ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## Speak for yourself. ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## My skin is umblemished by the ravages of the ages. ##green\|bluntfiend:## The younger generations are the ones who should decide where to go now. They're going to be here much longer than us. ##black\|bones:## I will still be here for a long time. ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## That's true, big guy. ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## Tell stories about us when we're gone. ##black\|bones:## I do not know how to tell stories. ##blue\|polaricecraps:## whatever. ##blue\|polaricecraps:## ping me if someone wants to do something against these fascist fucks [[/div]] ------ The clock in Jude Kriyot's nightstand wasn't working anymore. He had realised after waking up this morning. He didn't have the uncomfortable red glare of the numbers anymore to remind him of the unstoppable passage of time. "Battery's dead," he said to the stale air of his empty apartment. So he looked for batteries in all the drawers. They were full of different knicknacks, but no batteries to be found. And he didn't want to go out looking for them. So he sat on his bed, grabbed the clock and concentrated. Video Killed the Radio star crackled. The only light in the room went out. With a groan, Jude got up and replaced the fuse. He went back to his room. The watch was upside down on the covers. He turned it over and smiled. It was beat up, but still working. [[div class="blockquote"]] ##green\|bluntfiend:## Hey. ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## Hey Jude. ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## hello ##green\|bluntfiend:## No Beatles lyrics this time? ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## nah ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## not in the mood ##green\|bluntfiend:## ##teal\|@polaricecraps## ##green\|bluntfiend:## You awake? ##green\|bluntfiend:## It's about that thing you talked about yesterday. ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## PIC is probably either sleeping or cooling off. ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## did something happen? ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## Nah, just the usual polar crap ##green\|bluntfiend:## Ok so, ##teal\|@polaricecraps##, if you need to do something, like a peaceful sitting or throwing a brick like a Stonewall-type protest, you can always ask the New Gamers Against Weed, to see if they're planning a demonstration or something like that. ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## what ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## what do you mean by "the New Gamers Against Weed"? ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## wtf is that ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## pretty self explanatory ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## aren't we the Gamers Against Weed? ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## trademarked ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## like, that's us ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## that's the name of the gc ##black\|bones:## The name of the group chat is "Shinji-Ikari-is-a-meth-dealer". ##green\|bluntfiend:## We're the Old Gamers Against Weed. ##green\|bluntfiend:## We're retired. ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## yeah, and the younger kids took the mantle ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## left them with Harmpit and C-A-N and the others ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## they still do gay memes and activities and follow our golden path ##green\|bluntfiend:## bones is still in contact with them. ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## it's pretty sweet to know that we left some kind of legacy in this shitty world ##black\|bones:## That statement is correct. ##black\|bones:## Both of those statements, are correct, in fact. ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## Fuck, man. ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## When did this happen? ##green\|bluntfiend:## I think it was back when you did that year-long spiritual retreat to Thornsborough. ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## Why did nobody tell me? ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## we thought it was obvious ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## we could be ourselves out in the open ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## we weren't persecuted anymore. ##green\|bluntfiend:## Shitty that it didn't last. ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## This is wild. ##green\|bluntfiend:## Are you telling me that you seriously didn't know? ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## Of course I didn't know! ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## LOL ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## I wonder what they're up to ##black\|bones:## They are preparing to go to [[[scp-4239 \|Camp Kenowhere]]] to escape the Virion. ##green\|bluntfiend:## Sounds like a great idea. ##green\|bluntfiend:## As long as Mr. Destiny is still around, I guess. ##green\|bluntfiend:## I would do the same if I wasn't confined here. ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## same ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## hey bones ##black\|bones:## Yes? ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## Please let us know [[[one-more-tomorrow \|how it goes]]] ##black\|bones:## Yes. ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## and ##teal\|@polaricecraps## I think you're still in D.C. ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## just so you know, there will be an anti-Pizzicato in two days, ping me if you want details ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## Have fun out there ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## Don't do anything I wouldn't do ##blue\|polaricecraps:## just woke up ##blue\|polaricecraps:## ##teal\|@lesbian_gengar## I'm in [[/div]] ------ JJ was restless. Being a wanderer felt natural to him. Always moving, traveling across the country from one lover to the next, never letting himself get too comfortable, never letting them get used to him. He was always full of surprises and always scared of boredom, though he would never admit that to himself. But whether he wanted or not, boredom was creeping up on him. Andressa had tried to keep him occupied, but their heart wasn't into it. And JJ couldn't blame them. "I'm sorry for all the issues I'm causing." He said, mechanically for the umpteenth time, looking up from the rug he was sitting in. "It's not your fault," they answered from the kitchen, again, for the umpteenth time. "You were out of a place to stay, you're a comrade, we welcomed you. You can't control a sudden change in whatever law that's keeping us locked in." They were fumbling with something out of his eyesight. "In days like these I feel like I truly should be the center of the universe. The world would be so much better." Andressa let out a dry laugh. "When do you think Dahlia will be back?" asked JJ. Silence. He turned to look at them. They were staring at something on the table, their face unreadable, their hands trembling. "Andressa?" Then they met his gaze, and he saw horror in their eyes. "I'm infected." ------ "One, two, three four! Pizzicato no more!" "One, two, three four! Pizzicato no more!" Esther repeated the slogan, her voice blending with her fellow activists. She never thought she'd find herself returning to protesting at the ripe age of sixty, but here she was, standing with a few dozen people and shouting at the Coalition's peacekeeping forces in Washington D.C. It was nostalgic in a sense. It really had been so long. "Five, six, seven eight! Abolish the surveillance state!" She shouted along again, immersing herself in the steady rhythm, occasionally glancing at Josh "polaricecraps" Melbourne. He seemed to be enjoying himself. So was she, she realized. It felt good to be out on the streets again, even though the demonstration was blocking a road which had no traffic anyway. Then again, she wasn't in her twenties anymore... "United Nations GOC, fascists we don't wanna see!" "We probably shouldn't stand so close to the water cannon." She broke the rhythm, nudging Josh and gesturing at the giant police vehicle in front of them. "Eh, it's not like they're gonna do anything. Fifty angry leftists are not exactly threatening their law and order tee-em." "Suit yourself, I'm gonna back up a bit. Maddie won't forgive me if I get hit with the stinkshot." Esther turned away, wading through the tightly packed group. She was halfway through when she jumped at the sound of shattering glass behind her. She spun, looking for whoever threw the bottle, but instead saw the water cannon blast the first row of protestors at point-blank range. Time slowed as her friend was hurled by the force of the blast. For an instant, Josh's body was flying through the air, his hands flailing, his legs lurched upwards while his head neared the ground. Time resumed, and the wet crack of the impact was lost amidst the screams. But she heard it. She could see blood on the asphalt, people rushing forward while others fled. She was among them, she realized, sprinting towards him and crying for help, until she collided with someone running in the opposite direction. She lost her balance and crashed into the hard asphalt, her knees exploding in sudden pain. She couldn't think. She felt a foot pressing down on her back, and all the air left her lungs before whoever it was tripped and fell as well. Foul-smelling water rained on her from above as she tried to stand up, but no. The pain was overwhelming, she could barely breathe. Her eyes stared ahead, at the man lying on the pavement in a growing pool of red. She felt like she was about to pass out. Later, Esther would wish that she had. [[div class="blockquote"]] ##green\|bluntfiend:## This is just what happened to that SAPPHIRE Void guy. ##green\|bluntfiend:## Like, the social media manager. ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## No clue I don't use Void. ##green\|bluntfiend:## That's a lie. ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## I have risen beyond such petty cesspools of internet drama. I prefer to spend my time in more productive ways. ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## Guys, shut up for a moment ##green\|bluntfiend:## Like whining to your polycule about your twink death? ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## Please ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## Josh is dead ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## fu ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## Fuck ##green\|bluntfiend:## I ##black\|bones:## I am so sorry to hear that. ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## he's the one the GOC killed at the protest ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## with the water cannon ##black\|bones:## You were with him, right? ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## yeah ##black\|bones:## Such events can be very traumatic. I am always here, if you wish to talk. This extends to all of you. I know you were all very close. ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## I'm alright, I've seen people die before ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## I... I think I'm going to take a break from socials for a while. ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## same, I need to talk to Madeline. ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## call me if you wanna talk ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## jude? ##green\|bluntfiend:## Yeah I'm gonna takea break too ##green\|bluntfiend:## I'm fine. [[/div]] Staring at the screen, Jude wondered if he hit rock bottom. He wanted to feel grief. He wanted to feel sad, to cry. At the very least he wanted to feel rage at the fascist motherfuckers who took yet another life for no goddamn reason. But he felt nothing. Like someone took the Five Stages and chucked them out of a window and instead proceeded to pour concrete in his veins. Or something. He was lying on a couch in what must have been the most horrific and embarrassing position possible for a sixty-year-old man, torso folded over the armrest with his head and arms hanging in the air. Staring at the screen. The couch itself stank more of his own sweat than weed. He could barely remember the last time he'd had the energy to smoke, let alone roll. He wondered if he smelled like old people. He probably smelled far worse. Like a corpse, maybe. Some long-forgotten carcass left to rot in a moldy hole. His phone vibrated in his palm once. Esther saying she'll update them about the funeral. He'll have to attend. It'll be outside, probably. Unless they'll host it in his apartment. Which they won't, because that's A) Stupid and B) Result in everyone catching leprosy or something. He'll have to go outside, where the virus lurked. Maybe if he'll get infected he'd finally have a successful attempt. Probably. He's kept hell waiting long enough. And yet... The Washington Virion terrified him. An overwhelming, almost primal fear. A knife pressed against his throat. A predator lying in wait. If it got to Andressa, he knew it could get him as well. It was practically the only thing he could feel with any real clarity these days. That and the loneliness. The cold, creeping loneliness that caressed him lovingly every night and every day and dragged him down every time he'd check his notifications and come up empty. He tapped his phone and opened Void. ------ "Andressa?" JJ stood outside his friend's door, a good few feet away. He was wearing a mask. "I asked if you needed anything. You alive in there?" No response. Should he speak louder? Maybe Andressa was sleeping. They hadn't answered his texts, but that had been true ever since they caught the virus a few days ago. Providence urged JJ to stay away from the door, and he heeded it. If not for the Impasse, he might never have been afraid of the Virion at all. But he would never forget the vulnerability it taught him, even so many years later. "Andressa?" He felt unhelpful. This was Dahlia's job, not his! But she was still waiting on clearance to leave the World Parahealth Summit in Geneva, and //he// was still stuck here due to the whole city being under quarantine. If he'd known his one-night-crash was going to turn out like this, he'd have brought a tad more than his phone and an extra shirt. [[div class="blockquote"]] ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## you're at Dahlia and Andy's place right? ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## can you tell them about Josh? ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## please ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## i'm very tired ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## Sure. [[/div]] Eyes still watching the closed door, JJ leaned against the wall and cursed. ------ Esther turned her phone off and tried to stand up from her chair in the ER waiting room. The drugs they gave her dulled the pain from her knees to a tolerable ache, but it still hurt like hell when they had to support her weight. She checked the time, then began to walk out of the hospital. //Suit yourself. Shattering glass. Shouts.// Madeline was waiting for her in a car outside the building, and Esther shuffled into the front seat. Her wife looked at her bandaged knees but didn't say a word as she began to drive. The empty streets of D.C passed by them quickly. When it became clear Esther wasn't going to say anything, Madeline broke the silence. "You know it's not your fault." "I'm not stupid." "Don't blame yourself." "I'm not!" She said far louder than she intended to. They paused at a red light. A GOC vehicle moved past them at the intersection. "I'm sorry, I- fuck." Words caught at her throat and it contracted in that choking way that heralded tears. She leaned her head against the window. Madeline put her arm around her shoulder. "It's alright. Take your time. I'm here." Esther cried. The light turned green. ------ [[div class="blockquote"]] ##green\|bluntfiend:## Hey. ##green\|bluntfiend:## Is anyone there? ##black\|bones:## Hello Jude. ##green\|bluntfiend:## Heya bones ##green\|bluntfiend:## How are you? ##black\|bones:## Same as always ##black\|bones:## And you? ##green\|bluntfiend:## I'm not good. My bones hurt. ##black\|bones:## It is something that comes with age, If my knowledge serves. ##green\|bluntfiend:## Yeah, I sometimes forget that your “bones” don’t hurt. ##black\|bones:## That is a correct assessment. ##green\|bluntfiend:## But mine do. ##black\|bones:## You already said that. ##black\|bones:## Are you alright? ##green\|bluntfiend:## I need to stretch a little. ##green\|bluntfiend:## Run a little. ##green\|bluntfiend:## I would kill for a smoke. ##green\|bluntfiend:## I haven’t been able to go outside in a long while. ##black\|bones:## You will be able to go back soon. ##black\|bones:## The models show that the virus is receding. ##black\|bones:## According to my sources, the work on the cure is going well. ##green\|bluntfiend:## That’s not the issue. ##green\|bluntfiend:## The cute couple that lives downstairs caught the virion. ##green\|bluntfiend:## I didn’t even know [[[scp-3629 \|spiders]]] could be infected. ##black\|bones:## I’m sure they’ll be fine. ##green\|bluntfiend:## I’m scared. ##black\|bones:## I understand. ##green\|bluntfiend:## Do you? ##green\|bluntfiend:## You’re an immortal satellite from god knows when looking down on us from space and you don’t have to worry about the same things as us. ##green\|bluntfiend:## And the hate. ##green\|bluntfiend:## You've never had people look at you weird and treat you weird because you're different. ##green\|bluntfiend:## You've never experienced having to be mortal ##green\|bluntfiend:## And how FUCKING scary it is. ##green\|bluntfiend:## Fuck ##black\|bones:## I try. ##black\|bones:## I will never be human. Neither will Lyris even if she also tries to be so, through her media consumption. ##black\|bones:## But I empathize. ##black\|bones:## This is a first for me, but it hurts to be isolated up here while those who I call friends are suffering. ##black\|bones:## And I can't do anything to help them. ##black\|bones:## Are you still there, Jude? ##black\|bones:## Jude? [[/div]] The sky is a lonely place. One would be forgiven for thinking that the everpresent stars give some company. But they had always been cold for Eli. Even now that the [[[david-hunt-on-galileo \|humans lived closer than ever]]] to it and Lyris, the sky still felt devoid of life. She chatted with her thousand million friends from thousands of screens set up by Vanguard. While her //moirail// languished. Under Eli, the world kept on turning. It could implicitly feel that the Earth was somewhere down there, beyond the Moon and a wall of slowly decaying satellites and space debris. And somewhere in that pitifully small blue orb, its friends were suffering. And it could do nothing but watch. Alone among the stars, Eli cried. ------ Andressa was dying. Not literally -- the Washington Virion was non-lethal for most people. No, their magic was dying. Their magic which defined them as much as their queerness or their friends, perhaps more. Their magic, which was them. It was suffocating. They were suffocating. It was slow, of course. This was by design. A quick death was far too merciful a punishment for those who had dared to be born different. The virus gestated within them, taking root in vein and bone. Like a spider weaving a web within their blood, crawling inch by inch, sealing off their throat and nostrils and ears and eyes. Laying eggs within their lungs, nursing children in their stomach. In their mind they wailed, screamed, and tore at the walls of the prison which pressed down on them from all directions. Their hands clawed at the tendrils of silver silk, trying to tear them away as they stuck to their skin. It got under their fingernails instead. And it was hot, so unbearably hot. Wrapped in a woolen cocoon dripping with their own sweat. The air felt thick, moist, every breath filling them with more water than oxygen. Andressa's phone buzzed. They didn't answer. ------ [[div class="blockquote"]] ##gray\|LibraryOfAlexandria:## And you've tried calling them? ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## Obviously! ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## But even if they did answer ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## I don't even know what to say ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## Where to begin ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## How am I supposed to tell someone whose going through some of the worst torture possible that their friend is fucking dead?! ##gray\|LibraryOfAlexandria:## Are you sure you're okay? Yourself I mean ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## Yeah ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## Don't worry about me ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## I realize this sounds really cliche in the "No don't worry about me I'm perfectly fine (dying inside)" sort of way but I am actually genuinely fine about this ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## I'm sad, obvs but we were never really that close ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## Not like Jude and Esther ##gray\|LibraryOfAlexandria:## Mhm ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## I just ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## I don't know what to do ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## And that makes me feel like an absolute asshole ##gray\|LibraryOfAlexandria:## Finally the inside mirrors the outside ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## lmao fuck you ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## I'm out here opening up and shit ##gray\|LibraryOfAlexandria:## Seriously now, if they're not answering that might mean they're in a coma or something ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## this is what I get in return ##gray\|LibraryOfAlexandria:## are they eating anything? ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## I left the food tray at their door ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## Hollon lemme check if it's still there ##gray\|LibraryOfAlexandria:## How long has it been? ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## They took it! ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## Really quietly apparently ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## uhhhh 2 days? Three now actually that they haven't talked. ##gray\|LibraryOfAlexandria:## That's good! ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## I just wish Dahlia would get here already ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## I know it's selfish of me but I am not the right guy for this ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## She'd know what do ##gray\|LibraryOfAlexandria:## Won't be long now, you just have to hold the fort. ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## But I'm not doing anything! ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## That's the problem! ##gray\|LibraryOfAlexandria:## Then think of something you can do [[/div]] ------ Jude stared at the ceiling. His back ached. His stomach pitifully begged for sustenance. What was the point of all of this? Should he call Esther again? It had only been half an hour. Maybe not. Maybe days had passed without his notice, he'd open the window and gaze out into a healthy world cleansed of bio-weapons. He twisted his neck to look at the clock, bones popping painfully, and sighed. //Nope. Just depression, then.// He reached his arm out and picked his phone off the floor, opening his DMs. He should apologize to bones. But he couldn't bring himself to open that chat. Jude's eyes lingered on Faeowynn's offline status. //Don't call her. She's on vacation. She doesn't deserve your traumadumping.// He couldn't remember where she was vacationing and hated himself for it. Esther's status was marked as 'away'. He wanted to talk to her so badly. But she didn't need to take his shit either, did she? She was grieving, because she was a functional human being who felt actual emotions. She was also largely in charge of the funeral, which had to be stressful as hell. He knew he was a burden on her mental health. Always a fucking burden. A colossal failure who couldn't even stop himself from dragging the whole ship down with him. //And Dahlia's still in Geneva.// Probably deathly worried about Andressa. Both of them had it far worse than him, he would feel guilty just talking to either of them. That left JJ. The golden boy with his perfect life. //At least he's not a twink anymore.// That made his lips almost form a smile. Then a ping. [[div class="blockquote"]] ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## do you want to speak ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## at the funeral, I mean ##green\|bluntfiend:## Sure, I can do that ##green\|bluntfiend:## There a date yet? ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## no, still trying to figure out when everyone's available ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## with the quarantine and whatnot ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## are you doing alright? ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## you called ##green\|bluntfiend:## Yeah. ##green\|bluntfiend:## Just bored. ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## Jude ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## please tell me if something's wrong ##green\|bluntfiend:## I'm fine! Really! ##green\|bluntfiend:## Are you? ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## no ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## not at all ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## he died and it's my fucking fault ##green\|bluntfiend:## I'm sure it's not. ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## you weren't there ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## I could have stopped ti ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## I told him rightbefore it happened ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## to head to the back ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## I should have insisted ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## grabbed him by the fucking arm and drag him back but i didnt ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## I let him die ##green\|bluntfiend:## You couldn't have known what would happen. ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## I knew! I fucking knew everything!! ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## I knew the numbers and i knew the gawekers and I KNEW what would happen ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## fuck] ##green\|bluntfiend:## Esther. ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## what ##green\|bluntfiend:## I lied. ##green\|bluntfiend:## I'm not okay. ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## I know ##green\|bluntfiend:## Do you want to talk? ##green\|bluntfiend:## In a call, I mean. ##green\|bluntfiend:## We haven't talked in a while. ##green\|bluntfiend:## Like properly. ##green\|bluntfiend:## Ever since quarantine began. ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## yeah ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## I'd like that [[/div]] ------ Madeline sat in the living room, trying to read while listening to her wife cry in the other room. She wanted to be with her and to hug her tight and kiss her. But sometimes you had to accept that you weren't the woman for the job, no matter how badly you wanted to help. After an hour or two, Esther opened the door. Her eyes and cheeks were red and glossy. "Maddie?" Madeline closed her book and looked her in the eyes. "Yes?" "Can you help me with all these stupid contact lists?" She smiled. "I'd love to." ------ Through ears clogged with web, Andressa heard a knock. "Andressa? You awake? It's JJ. I made some food for ya, gonna put it next to your door now. Baked everything myself, and got you a cup of some Nälkän herbal tea. It should help with your blood pressure-- I think? Uh, don't let it get cold, and if you do, tell me and I'll put it back in the oven." A soft thump, then the sound of shuffling feet. They wriggled in their cocoon. They were so hungry. But the tray, so far away... And how could they move like this? Andressa struggled, what little breath they could draw coming in hot and sticky through their mouth. They shuffled, twisting against their restraints, they //had// to eat-- Their heart jumped as they fell for a fraction of a second, landing on something hard and cold, a blessed relief for their burning skin. //Huh?// That didn't make sense. They were wrapped in web. How could they feel the floor? Whatever. They were //moving// now. Andressa rolled across the cold plane, at last reaching the source of the voice. But there was something in the way. A barrier, some greater prison keeping them in check should they break the first. They wailed in despair. ------ On the other side of the apartment, JJ heard a cry. He rushed to the hallway, pausing as he felt Providence's tug. "Andressa?" Something slammed against the door weakly. "Andressa? Do you want me to open the door for you?" Andressa's response was a low croak that could have meant anything, but JJ understood it as an affirmative. //They're right behind that door, coughing up billions of tiny Virions.// But they were also starving. And he //worked// on that pie damnit! He checked his mask and stepped forward. Providence's tug quickly turned to a grab, clutching tightly at his heart. "God-- Damn--" JJ paused. Providence didn't let go. "You know what? Screw this. I tried my best, okay? You're, what, fifty-something? I'm sure you can open a door on your own. You don't need me! If anything //I'm// the senile one." He turned to walk back to the living room. He expected to hear a cry for help. Another wail, perhaps. A plea. He would have shut it out and carried on. Instead, there was only silence, interrupted only by sharp, wheezing breaths. And that gave him pause. The hell kind of friend was he? An asshole through and through, apparently. //Finally the inside mirrors the outside.// JJ turned a second time, back to the corridor. He took a deep breath, held it, and charged. ------ The call finished, and Jude's phone screen faded into blackness. It felt good, for once, to talk with Esther. He wondered why this was. He knew for a fact that their bond was one of the only things keeping his head above the water. Conversations with her were always a reprieve, like the first huff from a blunt. He tried to put his finger on it, then let it go. Only later would he recognize the feeling as the absence of guilt. For now, there were other things to worry about. The funeral. Jude will be there. He had promised this to Esther less than a minute ago. He also promised that he'd give the primary eulogy, or at least something eulogy-adjacent. A few days ago the mere thought of the event left him petrified. He wasn't sure what changed, but he felt something he hadn't felt in forever. Determination. Esther was counting on him. They were in the same boat, and each had their role. Jude wouldn't let her down. He //couldn't// let her down. And if getting off this couch was like --finishing Celeste--climbing Everest, he wouldn't even need a second dash to reach the summit ------ [[div class="blockquote"]] ##black\|bones:## JJ, are you available? ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## Yep, what's up? ##black\|bones:## Andressa is not answering my messages. I recall you're staying at their apartment. Could you carry a message from me to them, please? ##orange\|jockjamsvol6:## Sure big guy. [[/div]] ------ The pie was incredible. Utterly divine. Andressa ate it whole in mere minutes, and downed the tea in one swig. The drink was the opposite, bitter and scalding, but it did at least slake their thirst. They weren't entirely sure what had happened to the parts of the cocoon around their head, but they could see a fair bit now. Not that there was much to see, but their benefactor had apparently left them a note with the food. [[div class="blockquote"]] Hang in there Andressa, Dahlia's on her way. In the meanwhile, I'm here if you need anything else. Text me. Or just scream. I won't judge. Anyway, bones asked me to tell you this: Andressa, I am deeply sorry that you have been forced to suffer this plague. I have spoken to your wife, Dahlia. Rest assured that she is coming, and soon. Though I know not when you will read this note, she is to board her plane in less than a day's time. You are one of the strongest people I have had the pleasure to meet, and I have no doubt you will endure this virus. I can only imagine how hard it must be, to feel such an integral part of yourself be taken away. Though a cure might be developed in the future, you must remember that you are more than your magic. You're a parent, a lover, a friend, and all of us care about you deeply. Stay strong. [[/div]] As they slipped back into unconsciousness, Andressa smiled. ------ With Madeline's help, Esther made quick work of the funeral schedule. Josh had chosen cremation with his ashes to be cast into the ocean, cutting off a tradition of open-casket proceedings. They spent the evening calling every relative or friend he had, figuring out who could make it and who would have to attend remotely. It was exhausting, but only physically, as all of them had already been notified of their friend's passing. It was well past midnight, as she exited the shower, that Esther realized something important. [[div class="blockquote"]] ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## Jude ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## you up? ##green\|bluntfiend:## Yeah. ##green\|bluntfiend:## Trying to iron a shirt. ##green\|bluntfiend:## Way harder than I thought. ##green\|bluntfiend:## Already burned one. ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## what??? ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## yknow what I dont' wanna know ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## there's a much bigger problem ##green\|bluntfiend:## It's an old one with a chord and the chord ripped so I powered it with VKTRS but i put too much in and it burned the fabric. ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## you live in Idaho ##green\|bluntfiend:## What? ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## and the Ways are closed by the goks ##green\|bluntfiend:## OH ##green\|bluntfiend:## Oh fuck. ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## you could give the speech remotely ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## there won't be that many people actually there anyway. ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## quarantine and shit ##green\|bluntfiend:## nononononoon ##green\|bluntfiend:## This is the least I can do. ##green\|bluntfiend:## Josh deserves better. ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## he would understand ##green\|bluntfiend:## I'll find a way. ##green\|bluntfiend:## Don't worry about it. ##green\|bluntfiend:## But if you're online do you mind looking over my eulogy. ##green\|bluntfiend:## Very rough draft. ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## tomorrow ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## it's late ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## gotta sleep ##green\|bluntfiend:## No worries. [[/div]] ------ When Dahlia entered her apartment, there was only one thing on her mind. She was no longer the journalist, wondering why Iris Dark hadn't attended the Summit. She was no longer the activist, fearing what the Coalition truly wanted to accomplish with Pizzicato. She was Dahlia Pryce, and the love of her life was facing an unspeakable evil alone. She opened the door calmly and stepped inside. She drew her phone, then tossed her backpack to the floor, giving half a wave of acknowledgement to JJ on the couch. He barely had time to pause whatever was playing on his headphones before she was standing at the hallway, pressing herself to the bedroom door. "Andy? Can you hear me?" Her voice was calm, yet full of worry. "Dahlia?" Came the croaking reply. "Andy, please let me in. You don't have to go through this on your own." On the other side of the door, Andressa's mind cleared, as if Dahlia's voice was a blazing torch against the fog that engulfed their thoughts. "No! I don't want you to get infected." In the years following Veilfall, Dahlia had self-taught herself quite a bit of practical thaumaturgy. She was no prodigy, but they knew she enjoyed it. "I'll be fine. No one else needs to lose anything." "I don't care about my magic. I care about //you//, Andy. I was never good at it, it was never really part of me. But you //are//, you're my other half, as cliche as it sounds. So please Andy, let me be there with you." At the other end of the hallway, JJ watched the bedroom door open. He caught a glimpse of Dahlia stepping inside, right into Andressa's open arms. They stood there for some time, wrapped around each other, breathing in each other's air. "I missed you." They said. "I love you." She replied. "Are you... sure about this?" "As sure as I'll ever be. I always was the normie." And then the door closed behind them. "Well," he said to himself. "Double kitchen duty it is, eh?" ------ [[div class="blockquote"]] ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## are you sure that's safe ##green\|bluntfiend:## Well. ##green\|bluntfiend:## Last time I tried this [[[the-reason-ulysses-doesn-t-start-with-warning-it-s-got-a-blo\|it went fine]]]. ##green\|bluntfiend:## But that was literal decades ago. ##green\|bluntfiend:## Fucked up how that isn't an exaggeration . ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## it really is huh ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## certified internet olds ##green\|bluntfiend:## God even that meme is ancient. ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## back to the point if you will ##green\|bluntfiend:## Yeah so. ##green\|bluntfiend:## I'll do a test run in like an hour. ##green\|bluntfiend:## But since it's only me this time around it really shouldn't be an issue. ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## I'm mostly worried about you ending up somewhere else ##green\|bluntfiend:## Good point. ##green\|bluntfiend:## Do you by chance have an extra phone lying around. ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## oh dear ##purple\|lesbian_gengar:## yeah, obviously ##green\|bluntfiend:## Alright, here's what we'll do. [[/div]] ------ Esther held her friend's ashes in her arms, watching the Anacostia river flow slowly below her. Madeline watched it with her in silence. They'd settled for it, as the quarantine forbade them from leaving the city. But the river would carry the remains to the Atlantic Ocean eventually. It will do. She glanced around, watching the attendees slowly come into view, clumping up in small, quiet groups. Her eyes fell on the telephone pole on the sidewalk. She couldn't see where she placed her spare phone, but she could see the large signs she had plastered on it. Not quite antimemetic - just enough power to make folks look away without noticing. And her expertise allowed her to circumvent the Gawkers own memetic filters, leaving the thing practically invisible to the agents keeping an eye on the gathering from afar. There was a flash of yellow light as sparks crackled into existence at the top of the pole, quickly descending to the ground. They jumped to Esther's phone, which lay at its foot, and then coalesced into a humanoid form. Jude Kriyot stepped forward, then lost his balance and fell forward. "Jude!" She rushed to him as fast as she could, which wasn't much considering the state of her legs. Madeline came to his aid instead. "Oh god, fuck, my back-- Jesus Christ." There was a series of loud pops as he stood straight. "You're alright?" Esther finally caught up. "Yeah yeah, just miscalculated a bit. I'm getting old." "Aren't we all." Madeline said gently. "You're dressed well." Esther noticed. "And shaved too!" Jude blushed slightly, straightening his polo shirt. "Josh wouldn't forgive me if I didn't." He dusted off his clothes, then began to walk with them to the grassy riverbank. "Everything's ready?" "We still need to set up the remote attendees." Esther replied, nodding towards two canvas bags lying against a tree. "Got some holodiscs in there, should only take a few minutes." The other, physical attendees began to come forward. She didn't know most of them apart from the calls she'd made a few days prior. Co-workers and family - Josh, Madeline and her were the only Gamers living in D.C. //Just the two of us, now.// "Well then." Jude stretched his arms, letting out another series of pops which made everyone but Esther cringe. "Let's get started." ------ Dahlia and Andressa lay in bed together, the latter fumbling with the holodisc. On second thought, they probably should've turned the lights off //after// setting up the connection. And then it clicked, and the room was bathed in illusory light. Their bed was now on a grassy riverbank surrounded by figures in (mostly) dark clothing. Jude, whose holographic body was half obscured by the real bed, waved to the two. In the living room, JJ watched the proceedings from Dahlia's laptop, which she'd left in her bag. "What can I say, guess I'm just old-fashioned." He said to no one in particular. ------ "Nah, you're just old as hell," Jude replied, watching familiar and strange faces blink into virtual existence around him. He looked at Esther, who gave him a quiet nod, and took a deep breath. He was only a little high. "I'm going to say a few words, then let anyone who wants to do that as well. Then we'll scatter the ashes. That alright?" Nods and murmurs from the small crowd. "For the first few years I knew Josh, I didn't even know that was his name. To me he was 'polaricecraps' - PIC for short - the token cishet guy in the chat. He was young, he was rash, and he was angry a good chunk of the time. He reminded me of myself, ten or fifteen years younger, only much more straight." A few bittersweet chuckles. "I would see him in chat, say hi and what's up, but I didn't really get to know him until, like all of us, he fucked up with his magic and hurt someone. Badly. "We talked for hours that day, probably longer than all the days beforehand put together. I learned his real name when I helped him get a new ID, and managed to get him to my place for a few days. He was an absolute wreck. Hating himself for what he did, terrified of what the Foundation or others would to do him for it. Again, he reminded me of myself." Jude paused. He was trembling. He could feel the tears building up. Esther offered a tissue and he accepted, noticing that she was crying too. "Sorry-- One moment." He drew his phone from his back pocket. "I'm gonna-- read the rest from my notes, if that's alright." He swallowed hard. "Our relationship afterward slowly grew from mentor-student to general, equal friendship. I watched him grow so much as a person since then. I know it's selfish and wrong, but in many ways, I'm glad he went through what he did. I'd probably never have become his friend otherwise. "We're all of us fucked up in one way or another. And tragedy-- tragedy can-- tragedy //has// to make us embrace what we still have." And then he was crying, weeping, and Esther was hugging him and Madeline was hugging them both. And then Dahlia and Andressa's phantom forms crawled over and hugged them too, and then JJ realized that Dahlia's laptop still had the [[[what-passes-as-normal-in-the-digital-age\|sticker Josh had gifted her]]] more than two decades ago, and with a nudge of his own magic he pushed his arms and head through the screen and joined in. It was a long, long time before any of them let go. @@ @@ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:earthworm">:scp-wiki:component:earthworm</a> \| first=false \| last=false \| hub=yes \| previous-url=/arco \| previous-title=Arco \| next-url=/carter-courier-channel \| next-title=Carter Courier Channel \| hub-url=/8000-dead-rats-hub \| hub-title=8,000 Dead Rats ]] @@ @@ [[=]] [[module Rate]] [[/=]] @@ @@ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=UNCGriffin and diogene_s]] ===== ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-06-30T19:32:00	[ "8000-dead-rats", "_licensebox", "bittersweet", "bones", "co-authored", "correspondence", "esther-kogan", "from-120s-archives", "gamers-against-weed", "global-occult-coalition", "jockjamsvol6", "jude-kriyot", "lgbtq", "polaricecraps", "pridefest2024", "tale" ]	Ourselves, Under Pressure - SCP Foundation	36	[ "arco", "scp-7600", "project-scarlet-dawn", "scp-7112", "sometimes-it-s-not-funny", "scp-4239", "one-more-tomorrow", "scp-3629", "david-hunt-on-galileo", "the-reason-ulysses-doesn-t-start-with-warning-it-s-got-a-blo", "what-passes-as-normal-in-the-digital-age", "8000-dead-rats-hub", "carter-courier-channel", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "pridefest", "goc-hub-page", "from-120-s-archives-hub", "8000-dead-rats-hub" ]	[]	1454343708	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/under-pressure
ur-typical-unrequited-love	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="preview"> <p>Even now, I couldn't tell you. It made me want to puke.</p> </div> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=4&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/component%3Abhl-dark-sidebar/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p>It started as a sensation.</p> <p>Looking at my eight o' clock, the automatic doors pulled back as you entered the staff lounge. I made out the individual steps you took as you made your way to the counter, pouring yourself a cup of the usual. It'd been like this ever since my eyes met yours, a love at first sight. Fixated on your tall and slender figure, your short acorn trim, and the subtle highlights in your pupils. I could stare at them all day long.</p> <p>But I quickly turned away, as you faced my direction. You sat by the table across from me, your back facing me as you took your phone out. The perfect opportunity, I took it to catch more glimpses of you. With every sip of your Americano, with every cough and crack of your joints, I spent them silently watching you from behind. Honestly, it's ridiculous. I couldn't help but trail your outline every time I saw you. I guess this was what love felt like, a sensation unlike any other.</p> <p>In a perfect world, I would've confessed to you right then and there. And in a perfect world, you would've accepted me despite all my faults and flaws. You only just transferred to this site, and I was already head over heels. I wanted to stand by the shore and watch the sun set with you, to share our warmth under the sheets every evening. Dates, marriage, honeymoons. I wanted to spend every day, every anniversary with you. Every waking moment, to stand by your side was all I needed. In a perfect world, those three words would be all I needed.</p> <p>But no, I couldn't. I was too much of a coward.</p> <p>Even during your welcoming party, as the walls were adorned with decorations and the people gave you cheerful greetings. The food was delicious, suffice to say. And that red velvet cake, with your name across its face, it was divine. It made me think, about us and me and you and I. It made me think about how this could be us, how I could take up cooking lessons and make you meals every day, how you would give me words of praise each and every time. That cute life we could have had, under the same roof with a Labradoodle or a Pomeranian too. Even as you made small talks with our colleagues, even as I introduced myself through an influx of stutters, I couldn't muster the courage to do it.</p> <p>'It was just too soon,' I figured.</p> <p>Even with our plentiful conversations, from our hellos to our goodbyes and everything in between. You charmed me with your voice and the way you'd call my name, though it also hurt me. I wished you'd call me by your name too.</p> <p>All the same with these circling ideas, these samples of what could be. Even as we worked through multiple projects and assignments, even as we looked over the numerous anomalies under our wing, I kept yearning for more. More time together, more of us together. Would I be wrong, thinking you were looking my way that one time? Would I be selfish, hoping I'd get to keep you all to myself? Was I being too subtle? Was I not subtle enough? If only you'd notice me, tell me you've noticed me. This lingering feeling made me sick to my stomach. It irked me ever so.</p> <p>Even as I invited you off the clock, even as we spent our afternoons at my favorite cafe, even as I got to know your interests and hobbies, I strayed far from such a path. Thoughts of rejection clouded my vision, thoughts of shattering what we already had. I wanted to puke, to cry in my shower for a fifth or sixth time. Three words, eight letters, enough to make or break our relationship. One more day, one more week. Maybe after this, I could close the gap, shorten the distance between us. I'd see you in a suit, and you'd see me in one too. We would walk hand-in-hand as we each give our vows and our lips and the rest of our lives to the other. A sight to behold, your body exposed on a newlywed night. Honestly… I was getting ahead of myself, wasn't I? Honestly…</p> <p>Given the occasional park walks and the smiles you gave me during our talks, I thought I had a chance. Not more than two steps away, that lump in my throat was gradually dissipating. I felt it in my chest, that gripping sensation. I could get your attention and you'd be catching glances too, time and time again until we met our time's end. You were here and I was here too. All I had to do was tell you.</p> <p>But no, I never seemed to do it. These half-sentences were a curse.</p> <p>Even as the days became weeks and the weeks became months, I couldn't take that step. Even as we exchanged emails and texts, as the logs piled and piled, they never went anywhere past a platonic bond. Even as I blushed and chuckled more often than normal, even as I tried to show off my strong points, you never seemed to turn your head. Even with your one-year anniversary working for this organization, I couldn't even finish making that cake for you. Friend, just a friend. Even now, I was nothing more than a friend to you. What's wrong with me? <em>What's wrong with me?</em></p> <p>I was an idiot, through and through.</p> <p>Even as my ears bled from the alarms, as the walls were coated in a heart-wrenching shade of red and the screams would drown out any semblance of thought. Even as the rampaging carried on just right around the corner, death trailing me as I hurried for safety. <strong><tt>"A KETER-CLASS ANOMALY HAS BREACHED CONTAINMENT."</tt></strong> I found my legs giving chase, but not from the dangers behind me. No, the dangers in my heart weighed even harder. Irritating, annoying, among every other word to describe how much of a fucking mess I was. I'd laugh if I wasn't already crying.</p> <p>The bunker was just up ahead. Only a few more steps and we'd be there. All I wanted was to see your face, your charming grin again. I'd be safe knowing you'd be with me even at times like these. Even now, I could see you. I'd leap into your arms as my tears stained your shirt. I'd take in your scent as you wrapped your arms around me, shushing me and reassuring me. You'd tell me everything was okay, and I'd believe you.</p> <p>Making out the individual steps behind me, though, I turned to see you struggling to stand.</p> <p>Looking at my six o' clock, I found you stumbling and putting all your effort into maintaining your balance. Without a second to spare, I rushed to your aid. At least, I tried to until I was met by your palm. You told me to hurry, to get to safety and leave you behind. Even as the shock pierced every inch of my body, I only stood with my mouth agape. You were moments away from death, and I knew it from the moment my eyes met yours. It would take all of me to ignore such things, but I couldn't. This would be the last time I get to see you, the last time you get to see me. If only I could tell you now, if only I could tell you time and time again. Even then, though…</p> <p>Even then…</p> <p>Even as you were on the ground—your hand gripping your stomach, your intestines peaking through while you coughed profusely—I held my tongue. I only crouched down as you laid there, blood coursing through my veins as a pile of sweat and wine formed beneath you. Even as your vision blurred and your skin paled, even as I held your freezing hands, even as my mind shifted through every thought in quick succession, my voice anchored. As the light left your eyes, as you drew your last dying breath, you told me. You told me…</p> <p>You told me your feelings: Feelings of standing by the shore and watching the setting sun, feelings of sharing warmth under the sheets every evening. Through cries of pain, you reminisced on the times and wished for them tenfold. You wanted to spend every day, every anniversary together. Those same everyday pictures I visioned from the day my eyes met yours, you relayed to me. In a perfect world, it would've been true. Your heart with me and mine with you, we could've been in each other's arms. I'd lead my sight across the length of your smile as we held each other close and never let go. I'd hear words of "darling" and "honey" every morning-to-night. In a perfect world, we would be true.</p> <p>But no, those weren't for me. Your words of affection weren't for me at all.</p> <p>At your dying moment, you made me… you made me a messenger. My heart dropped as you shooed me away, begging me to leave. Even then, you hoped for my safety. 'It just wasn't fair,' I thought as I fled the scene, tears swelling in my eyes as I didn't look back. I couldn't look back, I couldn't handle it. That life I built in my mind, it shattered before it could even be. By the end of your life, I was nothing more than a coworker, a friend, a right-hand man. By the end of your life, you told me things I wish I could keep for myself.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> And by the end of your life,<br/> I gave my condolences to your wife.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="collection"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">More From This Author</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">More From This Author</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <table style="1px solid black; width: 100%;"> <tr> <th class="namerow" colspan="2"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p>winkwonkboi's Works</p> </div> </div></th> </tr> <tr> <th class="titlecolumn">SCPs</th> <th class="articlecolumn"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-7488">SCP-7488</a> <em>(+46)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-6895">SCP-6895</a> <em>(+31)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-7538">SCP-7538</a> <em>(+110)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-6306">SCP-6306</a> <em>(+55)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-7735">SCP-7735</a> <em>(+31)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-5245">SCP-5245</a> <em>(+50)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-8245">SCP-8245</a> <em>(+77)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-5358">SCP-5358</a> <em>(+55)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-7199">SCP-7199</a> <em>(+44)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-4931">SCP-4931</a> <em>(+32)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-7816">SCP-7816</a> <em>(+61)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-3204">SCP-3204</a> <em>(+73)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-8184">SCP-8184</a> <em>(+8)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-6245">SCP-6245</a> <em>(+62)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-6545">SCP-6545</a> <em>(+76)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> </div></th> </tr> <tr> <th class="titlecolumn">Tales/GoI Formats</th> <th class="articlecolumn"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/a-sinking-feeling">A Sinking Feeling</a> <em>(+26)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/people-care-dear">People Care, Dear</a> <em>(+14)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/something-burning">Something's Burning</a> <em>(+40)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/in-an-attempt-to-feel-something">In an attempt to feel something.</a> <em>(+32)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/goodnight-sweet-dreams">Goodnight, Sweet Dreams</a> <em>(+21)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/inkirbycase1">In Kirby's Case, Part I: An Antithesis</a> <em>(+11)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/water-diet">water diet</a> <em>(+27)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/wettle-appreciation-post">#WettleAppreciationPost</a> <em>(+136)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/employee-of-the-century">Why Jones Marcel Should Be Employee of the Century</a> <em>(+11)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/aeed-orientation">Anomalous Entity Engagement Division Orientation</a> <em>(+52)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/critter-profile-miss-cassandra">Critter Profile: Miss Cassandra!</a> <em>(+38)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/man-overboard">man overboard!</a> <em>(+29)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/roses-and-thorns">Roses And Thorns</a> <em>(+18)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/a-taste-for-sore-eyes">A Taste For Sore Eyes</a> <em>(+12)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> </div></th> </tr> <tr> <th class="titlecolumn">Other</th> <th class="articlecolumn"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:jim-fart-exchange">fart exchange gift for jim (7384 fanart)</a> <em>(+22)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:enlightenment-6059-fanart">ENLIGHTENMENT: SCP-6059 Fanart</a> <em>(+42)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:certified-criminal">Certified Criminal</a> <em>(+36)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:fading-stars-doodles">fading stars doodles (straight from my phone's sketchbook app)</a> <em>(+35)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:artwitness-5843-fanart">ARTWITNESS: SCP-5843 Fanart</a> <em>(+30)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:7k-doodles">7K DOODLES</a> <em>(+72)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:sciptember-doodles">SCiPTEMBER DOODLES</a> <em>(+23)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:crackhead-173-fanart">CRACKHEAD: SCP-173 Fanart</a> <em>(+31)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:a-lack-of-care">a lack of care.</a> <em>(+28)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:respond-tmo-fanart">RESPOND: Telecommunications Monitoring Office Fanart</a> <em>(+48)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:ditto-6869-fanart">DITTO: SCP-#### Fanart</a> <em>(+42)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:combust-6057-fanart">COMBUST: SCP-6057 Fanart</a> <em>(+22)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:froot-froggo">froot froggo :)</a> <em>(+41)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:noticed-7345-fanart">NOTICED: SCP-7345 Fanart</a> <em>(+19)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:fisher-2689-fanart">FISHER: SCP-2689 Fanart</a> <em>(+24)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> </div></th> </tr> </table> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/ur-typical-unrequited-love">ur typical unrequited love</a>" by winkwonkboi, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/ur-typical-unrequited-love">https://scpwiki.com/ur-typical-unrequited-love</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	===== [[include <a href="/component:preview">component:preview</a> text= Even now, I couldn't tell you. It made me want to puke. ]] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:black-highlighter-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:bhl-dark-sidebar">:scp-wiki:component:bhl-dark-sidebar</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:pride-highlighter">:scp-wiki:component:pride-highlighter</a> \|inc-gm= --]]] [[module css]] :root { --bright-accent: 123, 173, 226; --medium-accent: 123, 173, 226; --dark-accent: 123, 173, 226; --diagonal-stripes: unset; --header-gradient-color-bottom: 123, 173, 226; --header-gradient-color-middle: 80, 73, 204; --header-gradient-color-top: 80, 73, 204; --link-color: var(--bright-accent); --visited-link-color: var(--header-gradient-color-bottom); --hover-link-color: var(--header-gradient-color-bottom); } [[/module]] [[>]] [[module rate]] [[/>]] It started as a sensation. Looking at my eight o' clock, the automatic doors pulled back as you entered the staff lounge. I made out the individual steps you took as you made your way to the counter, pouring yourself a cup of the usual. It'd been like this ever since my eyes met yours, a love at first sight. Fixated on your tall and slender figure, your short acorn trim, and the subtle highlights in your pupils. I could stare at them all day long. But I quickly turned away, as you faced my direction. You sat by the table across from me, your back facing me as you took your phone out. The perfect opportunity, I took it to catch more glimpses of you. With every sip of your Americano, with every cough and crack of your joints, I spent them silently watching you from behind. Honestly, it's ridiculous. I couldn't help but trail your outline every time I saw you. I guess this was what love felt like, a sensation unlike any other. In a perfect world, I would've confessed to you right then and there. And in a perfect world, you would've accepted me despite all my faults and flaws. You only just transferred to this site, and I was already head over heels. I wanted to stand by the shore and watch the sun set with you, to share our warmth under the sheets every evening. Dates, marriage, honeymoons. I wanted to spend every day, every anniversary with you. Every waking moment, to stand by your side was all I needed. In a perfect world, those three words would be all I needed. But no, I couldn't. I was too much of a coward. Even during your welcoming party, as the walls were adorned with decorations and the people gave you cheerful greetings. The food was delicious, suffice to say. And that red velvet cake, with your name across its face, it was divine. It made me think, about us and me and you and I. It made me think about how this could be us, how I could take up cooking lessons and make you meals every day, how you would give me words of praise each and every time. That cute life we could have had, under the same roof with a Labradoodle or a Pomeranian too. Even as you made small talks with our colleagues, even as I introduced myself through an influx of stutters, I couldn't muster the courage to do it. 'It was just too soon,' I figured. Even with our plentiful conversations, from our hellos to our goodbyes and everything in between. You charmed me with your voice and the way you'd call my name, though it also hurt me. I wished you'd call me by your name too. All the same with these circling ideas, these samples of what could be. Even as we worked through multiple projects and assignments, even as we looked over the numerous anomalies under our wing, I kept yearning for more. More time together, more of us together. Would I be wrong, thinking you were looking my way that one time? Would I be selfish, hoping I'd get to keep you all to myself? Was I being too subtle? Was I not subtle enough? If only you'd notice me, tell me you've noticed me. This lingering feeling made me sick to my stomach. It irked me ever so. Even as I invited you off the clock, even as we spent our afternoons at my favorite cafe, even as I got to know your interests and hobbies, I strayed far from such a path. Thoughts of rejection clouded my vision, thoughts of shattering what we already had. I wanted to puke, to cry in my shower for a fifth or sixth time. Three words, eight letters, enough to make or break our relationship. One more day, one more week. Maybe after this, I could close the gap, shorten the distance between us. I'd see you in a suit, and you'd see me in one too. We would walk hand-in-hand as we each give our vows and our lips and the rest of our lives to the other. A sight to behold, your body exposed on a newlywed night. Honestly… I was getting ahead of myself, wasn't I? Honestly… Given the occasional park walks and the smiles you gave me during our talks, I thought I had a chance. Not more than two steps away, that lump in my throat was gradually dissipating. I felt it in my chest, that gripping sensation. I could get your attention and you'd be catching glances too, time and time again until we met our time's end. You were here and I was here too. All I had to do was tell you. But no, I never seemed to do it. These half-sentences were a curse. Even as the days became weeks and the weeks became months, I couldn't take that step. Even as we exchanged emails and texts, as the logs piled and piled, they never went anywhere past a platonic bond. Even as I blushed and chuckled more often than normal, even as I tried to show off my strong points, you never seemed to turn your head. Even with your one-year anniversary working for this organization, I couldn't even finish making that cake for you. Friend, just a friend. Even now, I was nothing more than a friend to you. What's wrong with me? //What's wrong with me?// I was an idiot, through and through. Even as my ears bled from the alarms, as the walls were coated in a heart-wrenching shade of red and the screams would drown out any semblance of thought. Even as the rampaging carried on just right around the corner, death trailing me as I hurried for safety. {{"A KETER-CLASS ANOMALY HAS BREACHED CONTAINMENT."}} I found my legs giving chase, but not from the dangers behind me. No, the dangers in my heart weighed even harder. Irritating, annoying, among every other word to describe how much of a fucking mess I was. I'd laugh if I wasn't already crying. The bunker was just up ahead. Only a few more steps and we'd be there. All I wanted was to see your face, your charming grin again. I'd be safe knowing you'd be with me even at times like these. Even now, I could see you. I'd leap into your arms as my tears stained your shirt. I'd take in your scent as you wrapped your arms around me, shushing me and reassuring me. You'd tell me everything was okay, and I'd believe you. Making out the individual steps behind me, though, I turned to see you struggling to stand. Looking at my six o' clock, I found you stumbling and putting all your effort into maintaining your balance. Without a second to spare, I rushed to your aid. At least, I tried to until I was met by your palm. You told me to hurry, to get to safety and leave you behind. Even as the shock pierced every inch of my body, I only stood with my mouth agape. You were moments away from death, and I knew it from the moment my eyes met yours. It would take all of me to ignore such things, but I couldn't. This would be the last time I get to see you, the last time you get to see me. If only I could tell you now, if only I could tell you time and time again. Even then, though… Even then… Even as you were on the ground—your hand gripping your stomach, your intestines peaking through while you coughed profusely—I held my tongue. I only crouched down as you laid there, blood coursing through my veins as a pile of sweat and wine formed beneath you. Even as your vision blurred and your skin paled, even as I held your freezing hands, even as my mind shifted through every thought in quick succession, my voice anchored. As the light left your eyes, as you drew your last dying breath, you told me. You told me… You told me your feelings: Feelings of standing by the shore and watching the setting sun, feelings of sharing warmth under the sheets every evening. Through cries of pain, you reminisced on the times and wished for them tenfold. You wanted to spend every day, every anniversary together. Those same everyday pictures I visioned from the day my eyes met yours, you relayed to me. In a perfect world, it would've been true. Your heart with me and mine with you, we could've been in each other's arms. I'd lead my sight across the length of your smile as we held each other close and never let go. I'd hear words of "darling" and "honey" every morning-to-night. In a perfect world, we would be true. But no, those weren't for me. Your words of affection weren't for me at all. At your dying moment, you made me… you made me a messenger. My heart dropped as you shooed me away, begging me to leave. Even then, you hoped for my safety. 'It just wasn't fair,' I thought as I fled the scene, tears swelling in my eyes as I didn't look back. I couldn't look back, I couldn't handle it. That life I built in my mind, it shattered before it could even be. By the end of your life, I was nothing more than a coworker, a friend, a right-hand man. By the end of your life, you told me things I wish I could keep for myself. @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ And by the end of your life, I gave my condolences to your wife. ~~~~ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[include <a href="/component:wikimodule">component:wikimodule</a> \|ratings= --]]] [[=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]] [[/=]]	2024-07-01T03:52:00	[ "_licensebox", "bleak", "first-person", "lgbtq", "pridefest2024", "tale" ]	ur typical unrequited love - SCP Foundation	33	[ "scp-7488", "scp-6895", "scp-7538", "scp-6306", "scp-7735", "scp-5245", "scp-8245", "scp-5358", "scp-7199", "scp-4931", "scp-7816", "scp-3204", "scp-8184", "scp-6245", "scp-6545", "a-sinking-feeling", "people-care-dear", "something-burning", "in-an-attempt-to-feel-something", "goodnight-sweet-dreams", "inkirbycase1", "water-diet", "wettle-appreciation-post", "employee-of-the-century", "aeed-orientation", "critter-profile-miss-cassandra", "man-overboard", "roses-and-thorns", "a-taste-for-sore-eyes", "art:jim-fart-exchange", "art:enlightenment-6059-fanart", "art:certified-criminal", "art:fading-stars-doodles", "art:artwitness-5843-fanart", "art:7k-doodles", "art:sciptember-doodles", "art:crackhead-173-fanart", "art:a-lack-of-care", "art:respond-tmo-fanart", "art:ditto-6869-fanart", "art:combust-6057-fanart", "art:froot-froggo", "art:noticed-7345-fanart", "art:fisher-2689-fanart", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "pridefest" ]	[]	1454344906	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/ur-typical-unrequited-love
uralic-breath	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=4&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/component%3Abhl-dark-sidebar/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <blockquote> <p>The infamous self-titled concept album by the band "Uralic Breath", for the first time in  cassette form. Though the band ceased to exist back in 2017, its lead vocalist Andrew C. Azrim has decided to release numerous of the associated projects, in hopes of bringing the spirits up in <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-6500">these trying times.</a></p> <p>With a mix of progressive metal and hard rock, Uralic Breath explores the journey of Ion, from a simple slave to the prophet of the Nälkä faith. The story is based on over 20 multi-denominational texts, including both ancient and contemporary ones.</p> <p>Brought to you by Krawinsky Records, straight from <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/esterberg-city-wikipedia">Esterberg!</a></p> </blockquote> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc0"><span>LYRICS</span></h1> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">1. The Greatest Journey</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">-</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p><strong>NARRATOR:</strong><br/> Here begins a tale<br/> About a journey towards salvation<br/> Not by mercy or ascetism<br/> But through earthly liberation<br/> It starts in a great town<br/> Where a young man did dwell<br/> His people in enslaved<br/> Toiling day after day</p> <p>He, himself was a servant<br/> Born from a sick and dying mother<br/> Cleaning great halls all day<br/> Never even knowing his father</p> <p><strong>ION:</strong><br/> Oh, what do they mean?<br/> These tales of forests, mountains, rivers and borders?<br/> What lies beyond this city's quarters?<br/> What lies beyond these great walls?<br/> What is this "freedom" other slaves speak of?</p> <p><strong>NARRATOR:</strong><br/> And so the young man awoke, in the dead of night<br/> Looking at the guard of his cell, asleep in the moonlight<br/> His key was just within the reach<br/> Then did, his cell, the young man breach!</p> <p><strong>ION:</strong><br/> Running through the halls<br/> Past all these other souls<br/> Some asleep or broken and wrought<br/> But none of them dare to make a sound<br/> It's time to scale up these walls and become unbound!</p> </div> </div> </div> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">2. From the Urals, Towards the World</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">-</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p><strong>ION:</strong><br/> Out in the wilderness is my new home<br/> Without priestesses or masters, alone<br/> But soul cries black<br/> My eyes weep red<br/> For my kin's still enslaved,<br/> In the deva's pit<br/> Forlorn my hope, at an end my wit<br/> I need assistance, from above<br/> To give my people their peace and love</p> <p><strong>NARRATOR:</strong><br/> With spirits high and his hopes higher<br/> The young man ascended up a mountain's side<br/> In search of a being of infinite might<br/> For he knew the highest god couldn't dwell down below<br/> Otherwise, he would have already defeated his foe</p> <p><strong>ION:</strong><br/> I call on to thee, tell me what will suffice<br/> What kind of devotion and what sacrifice?<br/> For you to come down from the celestial abode<br/> To free my people and bring them hope</p> <p><strong>NARRATOR:</strong><br/> And as he called, so did the skies split<br/> And from a rift, appeared a great beast<br/> With thousands of eyes, in which was not love<br/> With a body of a snake and maw of a lion</p> <p><strong>VAŽJUMA:</strong><br/> Who is thy, who calls for my name?<br/> Tell me, human, for what do you aim?<br/> Looking for mercy, from the sky<br/> You do this-why?</p> <p>Know, that this world was arranged<br/> What it is, won't change<br/> No matter what pieces you exchange<br/> Tell my, why is your request so strange?</p> <p><strong>ION:</strong><br/> I cannot believe my ears<br/> You made this world, as it is?<br/> The suffering, hierarchy and ills<br/> Was designed just like beautiful hills<br/> Tell me, oh, what is the reason<br/> For a society full of death and treason?</p> <p><strong>VAŽJUMA:</strong><br/> Know, I am the sum of all<br/> Which was created, man or god<br/> The one who made the limits so this order will not fall!<br/> This world, static, is right<br/> A class must always rise<br/> While others are pulverised!<br/> This is the will of me<br/> The highest divinity<br/> From now unto infinity</p> <p><strong>NARRATOR:</strong><br/> But the young man stood defiant, looking straight at its face<br/> His lips parted, and with confidence, he said</p> <p><strong>ION:</strong><br/> Then I reject this space!</p> </div> </div> </div> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">3. Seven Beasts</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">-</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p><strong>VAŽJUMA:</strong><br/> Every being exists inside<br/> The boundries defining the world of mine<br/> And me unending and unfound<br/> So what exits, be confined, bound<br/> For that, my beasts uphold the sky!<br/> They bear no faces, names or signs<br/> Call them as archons, whole parts of my might!</p> <p><strong>NARRATOR:</strong><br/> The young man found the mountain below him dissapear<br/> A realm of deserts and temples, did appear<br/> Confused, his gaze on the red sky, will still not bent<br/> The man realized realized what this world was, the Nevermeant</p> <p><strong>ION:</strong><br/> Is this the true underworld?<br/> Where souls are fed, then spat above?<br/> I see great beasts, coming from great distance<br/> Are these the forces who regulate existence?</p> <p><strong>FIRST ARCHON:</strong><br/> I am every single thing<br/> Which you may call as "it"<br/> I sculp the mountain peaks<br/> And bring floods to purge the weak<br/> In every river and rock I am found<br/> I have created all ground<br/> And every rock, a burial mound</p> <p><strong>SECOND ARCHON:</strong><br/> I am all, which is beyond<br/> Limitations of the world<br/> The "abnormal" and "unknown"<br/> Miracles, they can be called!<br/> I control magic, so those<br/> Whose minds our lord knows<br/> Are arrows pointed at our foes</p> <p><strong>ION:</strong><br/> Oh beasts of no faces, I can now tell<br/> In every aspect of the world you do dwell<br/> But why descend upon me this knowledge, so great?<br/> While you can just smite me and be done instead?</p> <p><strong>THIRD AND FOURTH ARCHONS:</strong><br/> Oh, you will see very soon<br/> Why we did not bring you doom<br/> Now comprehend us, all life<br/> Of animal and plant design<br/> One upheld by your kin before<br/> One holding the deavite throne<br/> Know that life is not meant to last<br/> Every must and will pass<br/> Mold and death spread vast<br/> This is how life works and must</p> <p><strong>NARRATOR:</strong><br/> Though he felt pain, he did not fall and weep<br/> Rather, he stood tall, remaining at his feet<br/> For these forces, though they scared him to his core<br/> He came too far, he couldn't abandon his goal<br/> And just then, he felt a headache, in his mind rise<br/> And a new force had appeared, and spread his brain apart</p> <p><strong>FIFTH ARCHON:</strong><br/> I am the one that limits thought<br/> In your head, you can comprehend me not!<br/> For I am an idea, which is right<br/> Defy me; loose your mind!</p> <p><strong>NARRATOR:</strong><br/> But despite a great pain, he remained upright<br/> Holding his head in his hands, he looked again at the sky<br/> This idea, entertain, he would not.<br/> The next beast appeared, he knew this wasn't for nought</p> <p><strong>SIXTH ARCHON:</strong><br/> I am that which cleanses soul<br/> My domain, this realm, not your own<br/> For all things which die, return to the world<br/> The snake bitting itself, sucking memory and word<br/> This cycle, oh, you shall not escape!<br/> For the balance of the world, would dissapate!</p> <p><strong>ION:</strong><br/> These are the forces, that I comprehend<br/> Having created the world of matter and spirit, in your way<br/> But I still as you, why this all must be?<br/> Why put these limitations on humanity?</p> <p><strong>SEVENTH ARCHON:</strong><br/> Oh young man, I tell you, why<br/> Hierarchy must be in place, or the world will fall down<br/> For they uphold wills from outer world<br/> Which need subjects to rule over, empires to mold<br/> For what is a servant, without master up top?<br/> A purposeless fool. Free, but to do what?</p> <p><strong>NARRATOR:</strong><br/> And with that, the beasts became silent, Ion again alone<br/> But not for long, as on the hirizon, a great being again arose</p> <p><strong>VAŽJUMA:</strong><br/> Now, that you have seen the structures of my force<br/> Entered the realm, of death, life, magic, and thoughts<br/> You shall submit and slain yourself for daring to rebel<br/> Or admit your defeat, return and remain a slave!</p> <p><strong>NARRATOR:</strong><br/> And the young man, looked up at the creature, a millions miles in height<br/> Held his fist, raised his hand, and exclaimed:</p> <p><strong>ION:</strong><br/> You are no god of my!</p> </div> </div> </div> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">4. Four Great</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">-</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p><strong>NARRATOR:</strong><br/> As he opened his eyes, he found amiss<br/> Back on the mountain, he looked down at his fist<br/> For this act of defiance, telling "no" to a god<br/> Showed his strength was unlimited, his power broad<br/> He could sculp his fingers as he did saw fit<br/> Into pure muscle, with claws at their tips<br/> But oh, this potential, was not just in him<br/> For whoever rejects the god, powerful can be</p> <p><strong>ION:</strong><br/> I see the truth now, the way of this world<br/> Of god and its seven faces, "archons" called<br/> In this reality, we can only save ourselves<br/> For those above prefer suffering and death<br/> But the power to do so exists within all man<br/> Every single person, no matter where found</p> <p>But in the distance, who is that I see?<br/> A pariah with a stitched face, what happened to thee?<br/> Come to me, weak one, I will mend your tear<br/> I can grant you great power, just explain to me</p> <p><strong>NADOX:</strong><br/> I, who knew mind's eye<br/> Suffering, have found<br/> For I preached, about the might<br/> That exists in all mankind<br/> But the Deavas, wicked<br/> Bestowed on me, punishment<br/> Doomed to wander, forever lost<br/> With scars on my body, across</p> <p><strong>NARRATOR:</strong><br/> So Ion took Nadox into his wings<br/> Healed the man and discussed all kinds of things<br/> Stories of people, far from here, who revolted<br/> Of human power, by godly restrains unbolted<br/> Ion found himself in love with this sage<br/> But then a new figure had entered the stage<br/> A women dressed in robes, of a Deava priest<br/> With symbols of a city state from the east</p> <p><strong>LOVATAAR:</strong><br/> So here I stand, my journey comes to an end<br/> Having murdered my family, renounced my dieties name<br/> Only natural I would die by blade of a slave!</p> <p><strong>NARRATOR:</strong><br/> But Ion didn't strike her, for he could see in her reason<br/> She was a Deava, but one that's guilty of treason<br/> He could see her tear up, drop down to her knees<br/> So he lifted her up and said words these</p> <p><strong>ION:</strong><br/> Cease your lament, I'll make you whole<br/> For your mind is filled with hatred but with love; your soul<br/> I proclaim to thee, you have a new role<br/> In the new world, those like you, shall reap and sow</p> <p><strong>NARRATOR:</strong><br/> Having shed the mind's curse, overcome with joy<br/> Her mental chains, the two helped destroy<br/> Seeing all as equal, the potential of mankind<br/> And with infinite power of the flesh and mind<br/> So the three settled down and planned their next scheme<br/> As without tactics or armies, Deava still reigned supreme<br/> So the word of their crew had started to spread<br/> Inspired by their deeds, new force peaked its head</p> <p><strong>SAARN:</strong><br/> With this knife, I destroyed<br/> The masters of old<br/> The family under which I toiled<br/> The hatred in me boiled<br/> For years of abuse I endured!</p> <p>May the blood be spilled once more<br/> By other slaves to come<br/> To pain, I won't ever be numb<br/> Oh, my souls yearns for blood!</p> <p><strong>NARRATOR:</strong><br/> And so, this great assassin, did Ion soon meet<br/> After she torn her master's bone and blood and meat<br/> Though most would be disturbed, he embraced her in his arms</p> <p><strong>ION:</strong><br/> The greatest revolutionary I have found!<br/> Together we shall slaughter those who hold us down<br/> Drink the blood of tyrants, with their guts then paint the town</p> <p>Now we only need an army, with a great chief at its head<br/> One which even the gods will surely dread<br/> But oh, who will take upon this great task?<br/> To carry out into the lights, past this eternal dusk?</p> <p><strong>OROK:</strong><br/> I arrive at your feet, gladiator in past<br/> For I knew my senseless killing could not last<br/> For a great fame I had gained, but did not feel pride<br/> Sacrifices to god, they never felt right<br/> So I leave them behind, and join your row<br/> To overthrown those above and those below!</p> </div> </div> </div> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">5. Returning, Sword in Hand</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">-</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p><strong>ION:</strong><br/> Now, at city gates we stand<br/> Flesh, knife, mind and sword in hand<br/> Against the empire of the damned<br/> Time to liberate our land!<br/> So may this war be the last<br/> Paradise create, we must<br/> Grind the tyrants into dust<br/> Humanity's spear, we thrust!</p> <p><strong>NARRATOR:</strong><br/> As the five attack, the people takes their side<br/> Under Orok's banner unites a new tribe<br/> Of people who once slave in their land<br/> Who now burn the palaces of their tyrants!</p> <p><strong>OROK:</strong><br/> May the despots fear our power<br/> Be they of Man or The Devourer<br/> I command all of thee<br/> To break their skulls, become free!</p> <p><strong>NARRATOR:</strong><br/> And so the battle, through day and night did they wage<br/> Then, as morning came, Saarn would brake the last cage</p> <p><strong>SAARN:</strong><br/> I strike in the heart this town's last matriarch<br/> May her blood, forever, the floor of her temple mark<br/> With a twist of the blade, this battle do I end<br/> The fate of my people, I finally amend!</p> <p><strong>NARRATOR:</strong><br/> And so in the morn' the battle came to its end<br/> To the boot of despots, our heroes did not bend<br/> Flags unfurled, began their reign<br/> Pain and sacrifice, not in vain</p> <p><strong>LOVATAAR:</strong><br/> For freedom is the destiny of all<br/> Across the earth, may they hear our call<br/> Multiply, replicate, inherit the word<br/> In disease or health, without mortal thrall</p> <p><strong>ION:</strong><br/> Wait not for mercy from the sky<br/> But spread your wings and fly<br/> With this power you shan't die<br/> Forces of evil, do defy<br/> All their practices decry!</p> <p><strong>NADOX:</strong><br/> Know the true reality<br/> Embrace equality<br/> Reject the duality<br/> Of the flesh and of spirit</p> <p><strong>ION:</strong><br/> So sculp the flesh and bone<br/> Reject the despot's throne<br/> May the way, all man unite<br/> Be they of plains or heights<br/> To all that know of me<br/> I say, fight and be free<br/> I command this by the decree!<br/> Bring to people peace and bread<br/> To your goal you shall be lead<br/> Not with God, but against!</p> <p><strong>ION & THE KLAVIGAAR :</strong><br/> And as the creators meat, we sever<br/> We proclaim: Adytum shall last forever</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/uralic-breath">URALIC BREATH</a>" by Letova, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/uralic-breath">https://scpwiki.com/uralic-breath</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:black-highlighter-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:bhl-dark-sidebar">:scp-wiki:component:bhl-dark-sidebar</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:centered-header-bhl">:scp-wiki:component:centered-header-bhl</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:toggle-sidebar-bhl">:scp-wiki:component:toggle-sidebar-bhl</a>]] [[module css]] :root { --logo-image: url("https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme:memoria/TitleLogo.png"); --header-title: "URALIC BREATH"; --header-subtitle: "Brawn Metal"; } .meta-title { color: #000000; font-weight: normal; margin: 0 0 0.6em; padding: 0 0 0.25em; font-size: 200%; } .meta-title p { margin: 0; } [[/module]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] > The infamous self-titled concept album by the band "Uralic Breath", for the first time in  cassette form. Though the band ceased to exist back in 2017, its lead vocalist Andrew C. Azrim has decided to release numerous of the associated projects, in hopes of bringing the spirits up in [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-6500 these trying times.] > > With a mix of progressive metal and hard rock, Uralic Breath explores the journey of Ion, from a simple slave to the prophet of the Nälkä faith. The story is based on over 20 multi-denominational texts, including both ancient and contemporary ones. > > Brought to you by Krawinsky Records, straight from [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/esterberg-city-wikipedia Esterberg!] [[=]] + LYRICS [[collapsible show="1. The Greatest Journey" hide="-"]] NARRATOR: Here begins a tale About a journey towards salvation Not by mercy or ascetism But through earthly liberation It starts in a great town Where a young man did dwell His people in enslaved Toiling day after day He, himself was a servant Born from a sick and dying mother Cleaning great halls all day Never even knowing his father ION: Oh, what do they mean? These tales of forests, mountains, rivers and borders? What lies beyond this city's quarters? What lies beyond these great walls? What is this "freedom" other slaves speak of? NARRATOR: And so the young man awoke, in the dead of night Looking at the guard of his cell, asleep in the moonlight His key was just within the reach Then did, his cell, the young man breach! ION: Running through the halls Past all these other souls Some asleep or broken and wrought But none of them dare to make a sound It's time to scale up these walls and become unbound! [[/collapsible]] [[collapsible show="2. From the Urals, Towards the World" hide="-"]] ION: Out in the wilderness is my new home Without priestesses or masters, alone But soul cries black My eyes weep red For my kin's still enslaved, In the deva's pit Forlorn my hope, at an end my wit I need assistance, from above To give my people their peace and love NARRATOR: With spirits high and his hopes higher The young man ascended up a mountain's side In search of a being of infinite might For he knew the highest god couldn't dwell down below Otherwise, he would have already defeated his foe ION: I call on to thee, tell me what will suffice What kind of devotion and what sacrifice? For you to come down from the celestial abode To free my people and bring them hope NARRATOR: And as he called, so did the skies split And from a rift, appeared a great beast With thousands of eyes, in which was not love With a body of a snake and maw of a lion VAŽJUMA: Who is thy, who calls for my name? Tell me, human, for what do you aim? Looking for mercy, from the sky You do this-why? Know, that this world was arranged What it is, won't change No matter what pieces you exchange Tell my, why is your request so strange? ION: I cannot believe my ears You made this world, as it is? The suffering, hierarchy and ills Was designed just like beautiful hills Tell me, oh, what is the reason For a society full of death and treason? VAŽJUMA: Know, I am the sum of all Which was created, man or god The one who made the limits so this order will not fall! This world, static, is right A class must always rise While others are pulverised! This is the will of me The highest divinity From now unto infinity NARRATOR: But the young man stood defiant, looking straight at its face His lips parted, and with confidence, he said ION: Then I reject this space! [[/collapsible]] [[collapsible show="3. Seven Beasts" hide="-"]] VAŽJUMA: Every being exists inside The boundries defining the world of mine And me unending and unfound So what exits, be confined, bound For that, my beasts uphold the sky! They bear no faces, names or signs Call them as archons, whole parts of my might! NARRATOR: The young man found the mountain below him dissapear A realm of deserts and temples, did appear Confused, his gaze on the red sky, will still not bent The man realized realized what this world was, the Nevermeant ION: Is this the true underworld? Where souls are fed, then spat above? I see great beasts, coming from great distance Are these the forces who regulate existence? FIRST ARCHON: I am every single thing Which you may call as "it" I sculp the mountain peaks And bring floods to purge the weak In every river and rock I am found I have created all ground And every rock, a burial mound SECOND ARCHON: I am all, which is beyond Limitations of the world The "abnormal" and "unknown" Miracles, they can be called! I control magic, so those Whose minds our lord knows Are arrows pointed at our foes ION: Oh beasts of no faces, I can now tell In every aspect of the world you do dwell But why descend upon me this knowledge, so great? While you can just smite me and be done instead? THIRD AND FOURTH ARCHONS: Oh, you will see very soon Why we did not bring you doom Now comprehend us, all life Of animal and plant design One upheld by your kin before One holding the deavite throne Know that life is not meant to last Every must and will pass Mold and death spread vast This is how life works and must NARRATOR: Though he felt pain, he did not fall and weep Rather, he stood tall, remaining at his feet For these forces, though they scared him to his core He came too far, he couldn't abandon his goal And just then, he felt a headache, in his mind rise And a new force had appeared, and spread his brain apart FIFTH ARCHON: I am the one that limits thought In your head, you can comprehend me not! For I am an idea, which is right Defy me; loose your mind! NARRATOR: But despite a great pain, he remained upright Holding his head in his hands, he looked again at the sky This idea, entertain, he would not. The next beast appeared, he knew this wasn't for nought SIXTH ARCHON: I am that which cleanses soul My domain, this realm, not your own For all things which die, return to the world The snake bitting itself, sucking memory and word This cycle, oh, you shall not escape! For the balance of the world, would dissapate! ION: These are the forces, that I comprehend Having created the world of matter and spirit, in your way But I still as you, why this all must be? Why put these limitations on humanity? SEVENTH ARCHON: Oh young man, I tell you, why Hierarchy must be in place, or the world will fall down For they uphold wills from outer world Which need subjects to rule over, empires to mold For what is a servant, without master up top? A purposeless fool. Free, but to do what? NARRATOR: And with that, the beasts became silent, Ion again alone But not for long, as on the hirizon, a great being again arose VAŽJUMA: Now, that you have seen the structures of my force Entered the realm, of death, life, magic, and thoughts You shall submit and slain yourself for daring to rebel Or admit your defeat, return and remain a slave! NARRATOR: And the young man, looked up at the creature, a millions miles in height Held his fist, raised his hand, and exclaimed: ION: You are no god of my! [[/collapsible]] [[collapsible show="4. Four Great" hide="-"]] NARRATOR: As he opened his eyes, he found amiss Back on the mountain, he looked down at his fist For this act of defiance, telling "no" to a god Showed his strength was unlimited, his power broad He could sculp his fingers as he did saw fit Into pure muscle, with claws at their tips But oh, this potential, was not just in him For whoever rejects the god, powerful can be ION: I see the truth now, the way of this world Of god and its seven faces, "archons" called In this reality, we can only save ourselves For those above prefer suffering and death But the power to do so exists within all man Every single person, no matter where found But in the distance, who is that I see? A pariah with a stitched face, what happened to thee? Come to me, weak one, I will mend your tear I can grant you great power, just explain to me NADOX: I, who knew mind's eye Suffering, have found For I preached, about the might That exists in all mankind But the Deavas, wicked Bestowed on me, punishment Doomed to wander, forever lost With scars on my body, across NARRATOR: So Ion took Nadox into his wings Healed the man and discussed all kinds of things Stories of people, far from here, who revolted Of human power, by godly restrains unbolted Ion found himself in love with this sage But then a new figure had entered the stage A women dressed in robes, of a Deava priest With symbols of a city state from the east LOVATAAR: So here I stand, my journey comes to an end Having murdered my family, renounced my dieties name Only natural I would die by blade of a slave! NARRATOR: But Ion didn't strike her, for he could see in her reason She was a Deava, but one that's guilty of treason He could see her tear up, drop down to her knees So he lifted her up and said words these ION: Cease your lament, I'll make you whole For your mind is filled with hatred but with love; your soul I proclaim to thee, you have a new role In the new world, those like you, shall reap and sow NARRATOR: Having shed the mind's curse, overcome with joy Her mental chains, the two helped destroy Seeing all as equal, the potential of mankind And with infinite power of the flesh and mind So the three settled down and planned their next scheme As without tactics or armies, Deava still reigned supreme So the word of their crew had started to spread Inspired by their deeds, new force peaked its head SAARN: With this knife, I destroyed The masters of old The family under which I toiled The hatred in me boiled For years of abuse I endured! May the blood be spilled once more By other slaves to come To pain, I won't ever be numb Oh, my souls yearns for blood! NARRATOR: And so, this great assassin, did Ion soon meet After she torn her master's bone and blood and meat Though most would be disturbed, he embraced her in his arms ION: The greatest revolutionary I have found! Together we shall slaughter those who hold us down Drink the blood of tyrants, with their guts then paint the town Now we only need an army, with a great chief at its head One which even the gods will surely dread But oh, who will take upon this great task? To carry out into the lights, past this eternal dusk? OROK: I arrive at your feet, gladiator in past For I knew my senseless killing could not last For a great fame I had gained, but did not feel pride Sacrifices to god, they never felt right So I leave them behind, and join your row To overthrown those above and those below! [[/collapsible]] [[collapsible show="5. Returning, Sword in Hand" hide="-"]] ION: Now, at city gates we stand Flesh, knife, mind and sword in hand Against the empire of the damned Time to liberate our land! So may this war be the last Paradise create, we must Grind the tyrants into dust Humanity's spear, we thrust! NARRATOR: As the five attack, the people takes their side Under Orok's banner unites a new tribe Of people who once slave in their land Who now burn the palaces of their tyrants! OROK: May the despots fear our power Be they of Man or The Devourer I command all of thee To break their skulls, become free! NARRATOR: And so the battle, through day and night did they wage Then, as morning came, Saarn would brake the last cage SAARN: I strike in the heart this town's last matriarch May her blood, forever, the floor of her temple mark With a twist of the blade, this battle do I end The fate of my people, I finally amend! NARRATOR: And so in the morn' the battle came to its end To the boot of despots, our heroes did not bend Flags unfurled, began their reign Pain and sacrifice, not in vain LOVATAAR: For freedom is the destiny of all Across the earth, may they hear our call Multiply, replicate, inherit the word In disease or health, without mortal thrall ION: Wait not for mercy from the sky But spread your wings and fly With this power you shan't die Forces of evil, do defy All their practices decry! NADOX: Know the true reality Embrace equality Reject the duality Of the flesh and of spirit ION: So sculp the flesh and bone Reject the despot's throne May the way, all man unite Be they of plains or heights To all that know of me I say, fight and be free I command this by the decree! Bring to people peace and bread To your goal you shall be lead Not with God, but against! ION & THE KLAVIGAAR : And as the creators meat, we sever We proclaim: Adytum shall last forever [[/collapsible]] [[/=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-09-21T15:43:00	[ "_licensebox", "daevite", "from-120s-archives", "grand-karcist-ion", "lovataar", "nadox", "orok", "poetry", "religious-fiction", "saarn", "sarkic", "tale" ]	URALIC BREATH - SCP Foundation	11	[ "scp-6500", "esterberg-city-wikipedia", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "sarkicism-hub", "from-120-s-archives-hub" ]	[]	1456882044	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/uralic-breath
vagabond-actual	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=3&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Aredtape/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <div class="info-container"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div> <p>Coming Soon - Rounderhouse</p> </div> <hr/> <div id="u-author_block"> <p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/rounderhouse-s-author-page">▸ More by this Author ◂</a></p> </div> <hr/> <div id="u-comments2" style="display: none;"> <p>{$comments2}</p> </div> <div class="u-faq"> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:info-ayers">F.A.Q.</a></p> </div> <div style="display: none;"> <p>{$doesthisfixthebug}</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div class="blockquote transcript"> <p><strong>Q:</strong> State your name for the record.</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> Case Temple.</p> <p><strong>Q:</strong> Your full legal name, please.</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> Erin Casey Temple.</p> <p><strong>Q:</strong> Thank you. What is your current place of employment?</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> Foundation, Research Department, Stellar Affairs Division.</p> <p><strong>Q:</strong> And what's your position?</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> Until about forty-eight hours ago, I was Deputy Director.</p> <p><strong>Q:</strong> And now?</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> That's a really good question.</p> </div> <hr/> <p>In 1954, we reached out to the stars, and were sent crashing back down to Earth.</p> <p>We being the Foundation, of course. The Sixth Occult War had drawn to a close, the rest of humanity was still busy licking their war wounds, and two former allies were just starting to give each other the stink eye. We had gotten through not just unscathed, but hardened, stronger than when we had started. We were optimistic, and we were bold enough to follow through on it. Which is why in 1952, Overwatch Command authorized Project SABER RIBBON: a mission to use a combination of cutting-edge engineering and the anomalous to put a man in space.</p> <p>It was well-funded, well-supported, and well-planned. We had a wonderful spot all picked out in the Indian interior, and our engineers worked tirelessly for two years to construct a prototype of the FSV <em>Dagger</em>. It was little more than a container, just enough room for three crew, and strapped with a hell of a lot of anomalously-modified rocketry and heatshielding. If I seem like I'm underselling the work involved, it's because I am — SABER RIBBON was an incredibly complicated and intricate project that inspires a level of technical awe when you consider the times and what we were working with. But that's not why I'm talking about it.</p> <p>No, I'm talking about it because on June 5th, 1954, we launched <em>Dagger</em> into the vast unknown, eyes wide with hope, the stars reflected in our vision. And we watched it breach upward, upward, until it began to crumble away into nothingness, breaking apart as it careened fatally to its side. It came apart in bits and chunks, spraying down into the Indian ocean. It failed, miserably. Three good men (and a lab rat or two) died. It was a tragedy, and we mourned.</p> <p>But in the end, we got back to work. The Foundation isn't deterred that easily. Humans aren't deterred that easily.</p> <hr/> <div class="blockquote transcript"> <p><strong>Q:</strong> Could you explain the nature of your work at Stellar Affairs?</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> It's kind of complicated. Not exactly the sort of thing a layman would easily understand.</p> <p><strong>Q:</strong> Simplify it for me.</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> Are you seriously going to make me sit through this preposterous exercise?</p> <p><strong>Q:</strong> Ms. Temple —</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> <em>Lieutenant</em> Temple. I earned the damn rank.</p> <p><strong>Q:</strong> You're correct, I apologize. Lieutenant Temple, RAISA protocol demands—</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> A clear and comprehensive summary of background information and events. I know.</p> <p><strong>Q:</strong> Then why are you being obstinate, Lieutenant?</p> <p style="text-align: center;">[Silence.]</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> Yeah. Yeah, okay. Sorry. It's been…. a day.</p> <p><strong>Q:</strong> I imagine. Now would you please answer the question?</p> </div> <hr/> <p>But much as the people on the ground would've loved to get back to shooting rockets into the sky, bureaucrats tend to get cold feet at the first sign of sacrifice. The institutional support for SABER RIBBON evaporated, and the fledgling Stellar Affairs Division was sent back to the drawing board, trying to come up with a way to safely get humans into orbit. For a few years, we took a backseat and watched from our moldy office chairs as America and the USSR raced each other into the heavens. Maybe the anomalous wasn't a benefit here — maybe conventional engineering really was the way, and we just had to wait for the Space Race to solve the quandry for us.</p> <p>At least, that's what the aforementioned yellowbellied bureaucrats said, not-so-subtly telling us to sit down and shut up. They wanted to go to space to do research, or to establish a preemptive dominant foot in the theatre, or any number of shortsighted reasons. It was a cost/benefit for them. For us? We wanted to go up there for the same reason the caveman walks to the distant hill, why the explorer crosses the ocean, why a famous mountaineer became the first person to summit Everest: because it was there. It's the horizon.</p> <p>So we kept at it. Designing, planning, doing the math, working out the kinks. By the time we finally had a suitable shuttle design in 1959, Stellar Affairs had quietly expanded from a dozen engineers to nearly a hundred strong, all already dreaming of the next horizon: a human habitat in space. I'm told by the oldtimers that watching that first rocket carrying the piece of the station go up in 1965 was like seeing your child be born, go off to college, and walk down the aisle all at once.</p> <p>FSS <em>Hecataeus</em> was a watershed moment for us. It took an incredible amount of labor, materials, and cost, but by 1971, the last of the dozen modules clicked into place and the Foundation's first off-planet facility was finished while the rest of the world was still cheering about the moon landing. To their credit, we hadn't gone to the moon. Yet. It had a crew of just over a dozen, mostly doing research on Safe anomalies in space. Really, its value was proving to ourselves that we could do it. That we had what it took to chase the horizon and win.</p> <hr/> <div class="blockquote transcript"> <p><strong>A:</strong> We handle anything that's off-planet.</p> <p><strong>Q:</strong> Could you be more specific?</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> Sometimes anomalous stuff, but usually not. Stellar Affairs' purview covers a number of offices and projects — Stellar Anomaly Surveillance, Off-Planet Maintenance, and yes, Extraterrestrial Surveillance, just to name a few. We work with RAISA to handle the Atreus Array satellites, we make sure our FSVs are ready to go, we ensure NASA and the rest of the space agencies are either in tune with us or don't find the stuff we don't want them to find. We investigate possibly-anomalous activity offworld, within a limited sphere.</p> <p><strong>Q:</strong> How limited is that sphere?</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> Mostly Luna, right now. Starsite-1 is in constant contact with us. We're planning on establishing an FOB on Mars — or at least, we were.</p> <p><strong>Q:</strong> Until today.</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> Yeah. Until today.</p> </div> <hr/> <p>Starsite-1 was, until recently, our greatest triumph. This time, it wasn't accompanied by a sudden expansion of our personnel count — by 1980, a hundred engineers with modern computers could accomplish what would take a thousand engineers in 1959. We didn't even wait until <em>Hecataeus</em> was complete to start work on it. The pendulum swung back in our direction — as an entire globe gawked at the site of the first man on the moon, there was a new fever from Command, a new drive to supply the rinky-dink Stellar Affairs Division with whatever it needed to accomplish the dream that humans had had ever since we crawled out of our caves to look at the orb in the sky: what if I could live up there?</p> <p>Incidentally, this was around when my boss joined the Division. The Director was just a regular old administrator back then, but he was put in charge of the mother of all projects: establishing a permanent Foundation facility on the Moon. We had a good start with the technology and anomalous applications and most importantly, the knowledge we'd gotten from <em>Hecataeus</em>. But this posed a unique challenge. It wouldn't be enough to be one prefab habitat plonked down on the lunar surface. No, having a dedicated facility on the Moon would be invaluable for containment efforts. The O5s were watching us. This one had to be perfect.</p> <p>Enter the MISTLETOE system.</p> <p>A stroke of genius, honestly. The two problems with a permanent lunar outpost were the design of the outpost itself and the delivery vehicle. So, two birds with one stone: the outpost was the delivery vehicle. A huge cylinderical vehicle, multiple stories tall, with a corkscrew design, carried from a shuttle and shot into the lunar surface. The anomalous shielding would make sure it didn't explode on impact, and then it would screw itself about two-thirds into the regolith of the dark side of the moon, laying down support struts to keep itself steady. Underground, we were nice and protected from the radiation inside the mass of the Site — and then auxilary structures could be built around the main facility as needed.</p> <p>Sounds fun on paper, right? Now imagine how fun it is being up there.</p> <p>Yeah, that's right. I was <em>up there</em>, baby. It's freeing. Not quite weightless, but it's unearthly. You shoot from wall to wall like it's nothing. And the view. When I signed up to be an astronaut, I thought it was implicit I'd never actually be going up there. Maybe a spacewalk around the ISS, at best. And then, suddenly, here was this guy saying he was the director of an independent space organization who wanted to send me to the goddamn Moon. I said yes in a heartbeat. I haven't regretted it since.</p> <p>I went up in 1980, a year after the station went online. Back then, of course, augments were the norm. I'm sure that's goddamn insane for you to hear. Nowadays they're reserved for only the most elite and trusted of the Foundation's combat operatives. But pre-1984, something like one in ten Foundation personnel had some kind of paratech augment. The Foundation paid for it straight from Prometheus, and it was just <em>better</em> — no need to worry about muscle atrophy with mechanical limbs, and maintenance is easy when everyone and their mom is an engineer. 65% of the initial wave of Starsite-1 personnel were augmented. I was one of them — both my legs, up to the knee. Prometheus KRAKATOAs.</p> <p>Those 4 years spent up there were the best of my life, hand to God. We weren't containing anything major — it was mostly a backup, an ace in the hole. Me and three dozen other Foundation astronauts, in our red-and-white jumpsuits, doing anomalous experimentation, communicating with the ground, I was living my dream.</p> <p>And then 1984 happened.</p> <p>I didn't even know what had happened at first. We just got the transmission from Command to begin bringing Starsite to what's called a 'cold stop', shutting down everything nonessential to conserve power. Only to be used for emergencies. We were confused, but complied — and then were told that an FSV was on its way to pick us up and bring us back to Earth within the week.</p> <p>I didn't know what to do, so I just put on my best brave CO face and assured my crew that it was probably just an issue on the ground and they wanted to be safe rather than sorry. The FSV came by a few days of bored, anxious waiting around later, and we completely shut off the facility's power draw before piling in. We took off, rocketing towards Earth at thousands of miles an hour. If I knew that was the last time I'd ever be in space I probably would've savored it longer.</p> <p>We were kept in the dark until we got down to Earth, splashing down off Cape Canaveral. I expected a hero's welcome. Instead, we got taken to a holding site, stripped down, inspected, interrogated, debriefed, interrogated again, and repeat. They took my fucking prosthetics. Can you believe that shit? They asked me questions I had no way of answering: "Does the name Robert Aram remind you of anyone?" "What does the word 'Bumaro' inspire?" "Have you had thoughts of betraying the Foundation?"</p> <p>They affirmed us as clean a few weeks after that. I obviously didn't learn the whole story for another few weeks. But I could sense the stares everywhere we went anyway. Then, eventually, we found out some nutjob researcher in the desert halfway across the world had gone batshit insane, and now every single one of us was grounded, pending review on our cybernetics.</p> <p>I was lucky enough for the Director to offer me a desk position in the Division. I knew a lot of good people that got transferred out, or just amnesticized and fired. I got to keep my prosthetics, and I just had to suck up the fact that I wasn't going to be able to live out that dream of floating weightless in the starry sky. I learned to like my job — there's a unique pleasure to organizing everyone else's duties and functions, one I've always enjoyed. I even got to help Starsite-1 get restaffed, after it lay empty and cold for a year. I just had to accept I wasn't going to be one of them — nonaugmented personnel only. But every time I went out at night, and looked up into the Moon, and remembered the half-decade I'd spent up there?</p> <p>Nothing better than that. Nothing could possibly compare.</p> <hr/> <div class="blockquote transcript"> <p><strong>Q:</strong> Could you explain what happened early yesterday morning?</p> </div> <hr/> <p>Fast forward sixteen years later. It’s been nice, I mean. It’s nothing compared to being on the goddamn moon, obviously. But Stellar Affairs is in a good spot. The skills and knowledge I had as a rocket-jockey are still useful in meetings and behind desks. In the end, it’s all just rocket science. I got deputy director four years ago. The Director is rarely at Site-69 (trust me, you’re not the first person to make that joke — you’re not even in the first five-hundred) so it falls on me to coordinate our two-dozen offices and projects and the absolute dregs of humanity, mechanical engineers.</p> <p>Normally, my day starts after I drag myself out of my office at seven in the morning and basically attach an IV drip of coffee into me. I sit in on the first of two bidaily briefings on the goings on at Starsite-1. Then when they inevitably tell me everything is fine and perfect and dandy, I go around our big-ass monitoring room where a legion of techs sit in front of a satellite map, investigating abnormal reports from any of our satellites, monitoring stations, embedded agents inside NASA, ESA, and Roscosmos. A Starsite-2 briefing after that - you don’t have clearance for that, so don’t bother asking what it is. By then it’s eleven, and the rest of my day is, you guessed it, meetings with a cornocupia of rocket scientists insistent <em>their</em> project is the most important. Lately, that’s been Mars ideas.</p> <p>Except today really, really hasn’t been a normal day.</p> <hr/> <div class="blockquote transcript"> <p><strong>A:</strong> I woke up, had breakfast, had my daily Starsite briefing, as usual.</p> <p><strong>Q:</strong> Where was the Director?</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> Away.</p> <p><strong>Q:</strong> Pardon me? Where?</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> You don't have the clearance for that, hon. I'm the person that takes the briefings.</p> <p><strong>Q:</strong> Was anything out of the ordinary reported at Starsite-1?</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> No. Nothing. At the time, it had a full crew complement of 47 — everyone was at work, experimenting, containing the anomalies we keep up there, running communication lines. An away team was out setting up the groundwork for a new module.</p> <p><strong>Q:</strong> I see. And when were you informed of SCP-8969?</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> An hour later, when I was taking a leak.</p> </div> <hr/> <p>A nice part about being Deputy Director is that I have my own personal bathroom attached to my office. No using the regular bathrooms for this big cheese. A not-so-nice part about being Deputy Director is that I'm always needed, somewhere, by somebody. I'm expected to be constantly reachable. Which is how I found myself having an intelligence briefing with my pants around my ankles through a stall door.</p> <p>"Ma'am, Satellite ARCHIMEDES-2 is giving us some strange results. We need you in the control room."</p> <p>I'd made the exceptionally poor decision of consuming a Philly cheesesteak that had been marinating in my office minifridge overnight as brunch. I suspected trying to make it to the control room right now would make me the latest casualty of the Foundation Space Program. "Okay. Okay, I'll be there in a minute. Just, give me the overview for now."</p> <p>"Ma'am?"</p> <p>"Seriously, Josh."</p> <p>"Uh, okay. About twenty-five minutes ago, ARCHIMEDES-2 began transmitting a lot of weird energy readings back to Starsite-1. They tried to clean it up but as far as they can tell, the data's good, so they passed it on to us."</p> <p>"Where is Two?"</p> <p>"Right now it's above the SPA Basin on the far side. The readings began to get malformed about 1100km from home."</p> <p>I furrowed my brow, and this time, it had nothing to do with the cheesesteak.</p> <p>"Wait, isn't Four also above the SPA Basin?"</p> <p>"Yeah. But only Two is transmitting the weird responses."</p> <p>"It's probably a software issue. Recall and debug."</p> <p>I heard Josh hiss through the stall. It's the little ejection of air he makes when he's heard something I've said and thinks he knows better. It's deeply irritating that he's usually right.</p> <p>"We got a big uptick from background conditions on the Terikof Exotic Radiation Array. Coherent tetryon emissions shot up from 0.1 to 34.7 in the span of an hour, just as it passed over Aitken, and then a sharp drop back to 0.75. Still well above average."</p> <p>"Terikof. Why does that sound familiar to me?"</p> <p>"Budget cuts."</p> <p>I was silent for a few seconds.</p> <p>"Ma'am?"</p> <p>"Gut feeling, Josh."</p> <p>This time, it was his turn to be silent for a second. Then he responded.</p> <p>"It's something. I don't know what, but it's something."</p> <p>"Go. Tell Starsite to get a team and a probe out there double-time. I want eyes on anything in there, and I want them now."</p> <p>He didn't even respond — I just heard the racing of feet and the door swinging shut. I sighed.</p> <hr/> <div class="blockquote transcript"> <p><strong>Q:</strong> You're going to have to explain some of that for me, Lieutenant Temple.</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> ARCHIMEDES-2 is one of 4 of our satellites currently on an eccentric lunar orbit. Each ARCHIMEDES sat is equipped with monitoring equipment that hooks to an uplink at Starsite-1, which in turn feeds the data back to us. They get mundane data, mapping, topology, penetrative sonar, and then Hume levels, alternative energy readings, that stuff.</p> <p><strong>Q:</strong> And the SPA Basin?</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> That's the South Pole-Aitken Basin. It's the largest, oldest, and deepest impact crater on the dark side of the moon — about as half as wide as the contiguous 48 states. Likely formed millions of years ago when another large body bumped against Luna. It's so huge that it has other craters inside of it — one of which is its namesake, Aitken.</p> <p><strong>Q:</strong> So — correct me if I'm wrong — this satellite passed over this Aitken crater and a piece of technology aboard it began returning malformed readings? Indicating something was down there?</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> Essentially, yeah.</p> <p><strong>Q:</strong> Why were you so surprised by the mention of the… Terikof Exotic Radiation Array?</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> ARCHIMEDES was never terribly well-funded, relative to some of our other projects. Put simply, the moon just… isn't very anomalous. There's nothing up there humans didn't put ourselves. Originally the plan was 7 comprehensive satellites, but it got trimmed down to 4 specialized ones. Not every ARCHIMEDES sat has the same monitoring equipment, is what I'm saying.</p> <p><strong>Q:</strong> So ARCHIMEDES-2 is the only one with the equipment, I see.</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> It was considered largely unnecessary and stripped from the other three.</p> <p><strong>Q:</strong> And what does this equipment monitor?</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> It detects the unique radiation and energy readings put out by Class-W dimensional gateways.</p> <p><strong>Q:</strong> Ways.</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> We call them wormholes here. But sure, if you're a lit major.</p> </div> <hr/> <p>I first laid eyes on SCP-8969 hours later.</p> <p>By the time I got back to the control room, news had leaked out. About a quarter of our monitors are dedicated to just the Moon. The remaining ones are split nearly half amongst solar system and deep-space anomalies. Monitoring your 179s, your 2399s, versus your weird deep space transmissions or signals. But the Luna team, like I said, doesn't deal with the anomalous. Which is why they were in such a tizzy when I came in.</p> <p>I told them to settle down — despite whatever Josh had said, it was very likely that it was still just a random bug. Same kind we get a dozen of every month. Either way, we wouldn't see a damn thing for a few hours. So it was better that we all get back to work. I said that all straight faced, sending them back to their stations, and then walked away with a bounce in my step, the exact same giddy excitement brewing in my stomach.</p> <p>Same feeling I got when I was told I'd be going to Starsite-1 nearly twenty years ago. It's the thrill of realizing you're on the edge of something great, something no one else has seen before. So I went back to my office, and got back to work, and when I got the page three hours later that the away team had arrived at Aitken, I took off down the hall so fast that I nearly flattened a junior researcher.</p> <p>When I came into the control room, every single person was staring at that screen. Which was utterly black, of course — we hadn't actually patched in to the team yet. Every minute of live video communication with Starsite is bounced across three of the Atreus Array sats, and there was no point doing all that for a 5 hour drive. So I ordered a video patch-in. And we waited. And we waited, and then three minutes later, it started to come through.</p> <p>The suit camera of one of the astronauts — a Researcher Delmar — showed the two others in the away team seated in the buggy. It's a Foundation original, a modified, more powerful, more rugged version of the original LRVs the Apollo astronauts used. The far side of the moon is a lot rougher terrain, and we were more than up to the challenge of traversing it. But I digress.</p> <p>Behind it, the buggy towed the probe. The thing was about the size and shape of a smart car, with six wheels — it had its own motor, but that was pretty slow. It had to be towed if you wanted to get it anywhere fast. Delmar's radio patched in, and I greeted him. They were at the base of Aitken, and were about to progress up — slow going uphill with the probe, but I told them to carry on while we watched in rapt attention. The drive up the lip of crater took another twenty minutes, but I didn't mind.</p> <p>Honestly — just seeing it again was phenomenal. If you've seen it in person, the lunar surface isn't something you can ever forget, not as long as you live. On the far side, the stars litter the sky, like little bits of glitter tossed over a sea of matte black. The near side has these vast, untouched open plains. The dark side is peppered with impact craters ranging from the size of a car to the size of a continent. There's no sound, and you feel like you're floating as you jump from crater to crater. It really is just alien.</p> <p>And that was the most alien thing I thought I'd ever see in my life until Delmar's camera peeked over the lip of the crater, giving us a view inside, and my jaw dropped.</p> <hr/> <div class="blockquote transcript"> <p><strong>Q:</strong> Can you describe what you saw?</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> Have you ever seen a rainbow in a puddle of oil?</p> <p><strong>Q:</strong> Sure.</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> No, you haven't. Those rainbows only show up when there's a sheen of oil floating on top of water — the oil refracts the light in such a way that when it passes through, bounces off the underlying water and back through the oil, it forms an iridescent rainbow and <em>wow</em>, I sound like a jackass right now, don't I?</p> <p><strong>Q:</strong> Just a bit. Your point, Lieutenant?</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> It was like seeing a puddle of oil and water that filled up the entirety of the crater. Aitken is about six kilometres in diameter and roughly circular, and it all looked like that, about six feet above there the base of the crater should've been. The entire 'base' was this purplish iridiscent sheen, but it wasn't physical — it phased in and out of my vision, like a heat mirage. Through it, I could still see the underlying regolith. It wasn't a trick of the visuals, either — Delmar's 'what the fck' made that much clear.</p> <p><strong>Q:</strong> And what did you do at that point?</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> I gave the order to let the probe roll down the hill, then turned around and called the Director.</p> </div> <hr/> <p>Frankly, no reason it should've worked. That's just not how signals work! Signals don't work <em>through dimensions</em>. And yet, an hour later, we were still getting visual data from the probe.</p> <p>When it rolled down the inside slope, it slipped into the Way without resistance, like it was falling into water. In a few seconds, it was swallowed up entirely. And then we waited. Starsite-1 began getting data almost immediately, while I was still on the phone explaining the situation to the Director. At some point, he put me on a conference call with a group he addressed as the VAGABOND Task Force. I had no idea who else was there and honestly, I was only half paying attention the moment the cameras on the probe started streaming.</p> <p>At first it was nothing but blackness. I thought the feed was just busted, and the wind went out of my sails. Then I caught a flash of <em>something</em> and realized it was still on. As the seconds ticked by, I realized there were a number of little flashes in the black stars, whizzing by, as the probe spun wildly, and the video wasn't good enough to give us quality with movement. Gradually, painfully slowly, it slowed down to a point where the video could compensate, and spun clockwise.</p> <p>The entire monitoring room was silent. We were somewhere. Probably not in this dimension, but somewhere in space. We could see a planet — about the same visual size as Earth from the moon, which meant we were either at the same distance and it was Earth-sized, or that we were closer and it was smaller, or that we were farther and it was larger. So basically, we didn't know squat. We watched in rapt attention as the probe continued to spin, exposing a distant, light blue star. I couldn't see any other planets, but that didn't really mean anything — you can't see most other planets from the Moon, either. The one we were looking at came into focus, and something slipped into frame behind it.</p> <p><em>Oh.</em></p> <p>It wasn't a planet, it was a moon. Specifically the moon of the huge purple gas giant hovering imposingly in the background. A few other bodies were visible in the distance. I'd love to say something shocking and mind-blowing happened, but that's really just not the reality of these situations — for the next six hours, we watched in a quiet blend of fixation and boredom as the probe spun in circles, as it drifted forward, slowing once the initial force of the ejection wore off. Then, eventually, getting faster as it was pulled into the moon's gravity.</p> <p>That's when the real data started coming in.</p> <hr/> <div class="blockquote transcript"> <p><strong>Q:</strong> The probe reported that that the atmosphere was composed of breathable gases?</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> Yes.</p> <p><strong>Q:</strong> And that the temperatures near the equator were conducive to life.</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> Also yes.</p> <p><strong>Q:</strong> And that while the probe began rocketing through the atmosphere, you saw oceans of something. And what could possibly have been plant life.</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> Yes.</p> <p><strong>Q:</strong> Lieutenant Temple, your analyses aren't supported by hard data. You realize that, right?</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> I watched the probe break up on reentry. You don't have to tell me twice.</p> <p><strong>Q:</strong> Yet in your official report you submitted that the moon could be landed on, in your opinion.</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> I did.</p> <p><strong>Q:</strong> Could you explain to me what inspired that decision?</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> Why I think we should land on it?</p> <p><strong>Q:</strong> Yes.</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> Because it's there.</p> </div> <hr/> <p>The rest of the day and the next was a blur. Meetings on meetings on meetings, with the Director, with the Research Director, and with the Council. It wasn't my first time in a room with a Council member, but it was just as terrifying — this one was an impossibly-old man in a wheelchair. He asked me questions, I answered to the best of my ability, the Director patted me on the back and assured me I was doing great, and then as fast as it began, it was over. Then I was sent home, and came back the next day for another round of meetings.</p> <p>The air of excitement in the Site was so intoxicating and pervasive that it took me halfway into my second meeting with my enginering advisors to check my schedule. Every single meeting was with a rank or staffer lower than me, and nothing where I could exercise any power — just factfinding, assembling, and organizing. No meetings with the Director, with Stellar Affairs Council, nothing. I wasn't in the room where the decisions were being made. That's when I started to panic a little bit.</p> <p>Was sending a probe in the wrong decision? Was my report wrong or faulty? Had I made a mistake? Had something horrible happened when I was asleep that they didn't want to tell me about? Was I being fired? If not, <em>why was the Director shutting me out?</em> Twenty years, he'd never shut me out like this. And then, on the apex of our greatest discovery not just as a department but maybe as a species?</p> <p>Radio silence. So I sat down, and took my meetings while half my brain was freaking the hell out, and tried to be useful and to advise and to take input. A good amount of information just whizzed over me. And then eventually, around noon, I heard a soft <em>ding</em> as my schedule updated. I checked my tablet.</p> <p>Everything was gone. I was cleared for the day. I was to summon to a RAISA debriefing in my office immediately.</p> <hr/> <div class="blockquote transcript"> <p><strong>Q:</strong> Lieutenant Temple, if I may?</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> I sense that I don't have the option to say no.</p> <p><strong>Q:</strong> You are very lucky the Director agrees with your analysis.</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> What?</p> <p><strong>Q:</strong> I work for RAISA. Our sphere of influence is substantially different from yours but it is incredibly far-reaching.</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> What's your point?</p> <p><strong>Q:</strong> That even as Deputy Director, there are things about Stellar Affairs we have been tasked with making sure you don't know. Would you take a look at these documents?</p> <p style="text-align: center;">[Silence.]</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> These are schematics for Starsite-1. The MISTLETOE system.</p> <p><strong>Q:</strong> Close, but not quite. Those are the schematics for the FSV <em>Otrera</em>. When Starsite-1 was founded, the Foundation took great pains to ensure its success — including building a backup prototype if the first went awry. After the success of Starsite-1, it was clear it wasn't needed. But we knew we one day might. For the past twenty years, the <em>Otrera</em> has been hidden in a crater on the dark side of the moon, and for the past ten, it has been under active, ongoing modification by our alchemists, engineers, and thaumaturges for an eventual landing on Mars. It has expanded from a small landing craft to humanity's first proper starship.</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> No fcking way. How did I not know about this? Why did I not know about this?</p> <p style="text-align: center;">[Silence.]</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> Oh, you have got to be kidding me.</p> <p><strong>Q:</strong> Augmented personnel have never been entirely trusted after Amoni-Ram.</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> Skating right past that total bullshit — I don't understand the connection. A starship is useless for a Way.</p> <p><strong>Q:</strong> That's because, after extensive consultation with Sigma-3, we've determined that SCP-8969 is not a Way.</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> What? Then what is it?</p> <p><strong>Q:</strong> Ways are interdimensional gateways, most leading out into the Library and requiring a specific ritual called a Knock to access. SCP-8969 clearly doesn't lead out into the Library, and doesn't need a Knock. Its energy readings are similar but not identical to that of a traditional Way. It's not an interdimensional passage — like you said, it's a wormhole, connecting two places in space and time. That said, much of its behavour does mimic a Way's — Sigma-3 are of the opinion that the probe was so easily torn apart on entry because it sustained significant 'stretching' — consistent with what happens to humans who travel through an immature Way.</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> Immature?</p> <p><strong>Q:</strong> I'll spare you the details, primarily because you're not cleared for knowledge on the Wanderer's Library. But Ways follow a predictable formation process. Sigma-3 predicts that SCP-8969 will reach its peak stability in approximately three months before rapidly dissipating. Stable enough to sustain travel.</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> We could go through it.</p> <p><strong>Q:</strong> We <strong>will</strong> go through it. Since last night, the Stellar Affairs Director and the Council have been in private session with a group named the VAGABOND Committee, responsible for executing Operation VAGABOND, a plan of action in the event of an opportunity to colonize an extrasolar planet.</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> We have a plan for that?</p> <p><strong>Q:</strong> We're the Foundation. We have a plan for everything. In three months, the FSV <em>Otrera</em> will be designated Starsite-3, equipped with a full crew complement, dropped through SCP-8969 to land on the moon, and will establish a forward operating base for the Foundation and for humanity.</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> But… Sigma-3 said SCP-8969 will probably dissipate after being stable enough to go through.</p> <p><strong>Q:</strong> That's correct. This is the mother of one-way trips, as it were.</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> This is insane. This is insane, but what does it have to do with me?</p> <p><strong>Q:</strong> Every ship needs her captain, Lieutenant Temple. How do you feel about finally earning those other two stripes?</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> <em>Me?</em> But… my legs.</p> <p><strong>Q:</strong> The Director has nominated you: you are his choice, and he is of the opinion that augments are a boon in interstellar travel and the Foundation overcorrected after Amoni-Ram. And recent events have made the Council much more amenable to his position — at least in the case of offworld personnel.</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> This is… a lot to take in.</p> <p><strong>Q:</strong> I need an answer, Lieutenant Temple.</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> Can I think about it? I mean, you're asking me to leave behind my family, friends, partner, my <em>life</em> for a trip I won't come back from.</p> <p><strong>Q:</strong> You have no surviving family, few social connections outside immediate colleagues, and are single.</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> Way to be gentle about it, man.</p> <p><strong>Q:</strong> It's part of why you were chosen.</p> <p><strong>A:</strong> Still, I… need time to think.</p> <p><strong>Q:</strong> You have the rest of the hour. We're on a clock, Lieutenant. I suggest you start thinking like it.</p> </div> <hr/> <p>The history of humanity is hung on a timeline of exploration. Once, it was the land, then the sea, then the New World. For the past half century or so, it's been the stars. We took to orbit, we stood on the moon, and we set our eyes on what lay beyond. We've been given an opportunity to chase the horizon to lengths unknown. The rest of the Foundation has a job to do, people to protect at home, but here at Stellar Affairs, we're still what we've always been: the explorers.</p> <p>I said I'd take the hour. Ten minutes later, I came out with my answer. I don't do indecisive and thankfully, neither does the Foundation. I could run you through what happened in the time between, but let's face it, you're not interested in the ephemera of training and seminars and a whole hell of a lot of learning-as-I-went and I'm not interested in relaying it.</p> <p>What both of us are interested in is that a month later, I was strapped in to the FSV <em>Iskander</em>, twenty years older but the same stupid grin on my face under my helmet as I and yet another crew of engineers and techs rocketed out of the atmosphere at eighteen thousand miles per hour. I was going back. We were going back.</p> <p>What both of us are interested in is the inaudible hiss as the craft depressurized and I walked down the ramp and took my first steps on the lunar regolith in sixteen years. Metal limbs clanking slightly inside my suit as I dropped to my knees and touched the grey rock, hardly daring to believe it was real. Seeing the spire of Starsite-1 in person again, this time surrounded by a veritable colony of auxiliary buildings, rovers, and astronauts slowly leapfrogging through the air to greet us.</p> <p>What both of us are interested in is the look on my dumb goddamn face when the buggy stopped by a lunar crater with a metal covering, and we slid inside to see the long, cylindrical and gargantuan form of my new commission. The FSV <em>Otrera</em>, its makeshift hangar a hive of activity as dozens of engineers worked in zero-oxygen, cold-welding more panels onto the long white ship. I laid a hand against it, and even though the roof of the crater was fully covered, I felt the cosmos.</p> <p>In 1954, we reached out to the stars and lost. In 2001, we're going back for round two.</p> <hr/> <hr/> <div class="rnb-navbar"> <div class="rnb-item rnb-current"> <p><a href="/redtape">STARSITE</a></p> </div> <div class="rnb-item rnb-next"> <p><a href="/scp-8969" style="display: block;"><span class="rnb-supertitle">NEXT</span><br/> « SCP-8969 »</a></p> </div> </div> <hr/> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/vagabond-actual">STARSITE: VAGABOND ACTUAL</a>" by Rounderhouse, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/vagabond-actual">https://scpwiki.com/vagabond-actual</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> moon.png<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> NASA<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Public Domain<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://nara.getarchive.net/media/earth-rising-behind-moon-photographed-during-the-apollo-11-and-apollo-17-missions-9e45ba">NASA Archives</a></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:black-highlighter-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:rso">:scp-wiki:component:rso</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:redtape">:scp-wiki:theme:redtape</a> \|dark=--] \|years=43 ]] [[module CSS]] :root { --bright-accent: 255, 196, 0; --medium-accent: 185, 140, 0; --dark-accent: 109, 84, 0; --barColour: #ffc400!important; --header-title: "STARSITE"; } #top-bar { --topmenu-category-color: 0, 0, 0; } .rnb-current { background-color: rgb(var(--bright-accent)); background-blend-mode: darken; } #extra-div-1 { background: url(https://hubblesite.org/files/live/sites/hubble/files/home/mission-and-telescope/hubble-30th-anniversary/iconic-images/_images/hubble_30th_images/hubble-30th-westerlund2.jpg); background-size: contain; } #extra-div-2 { display: none; } #extra-div-3 { filter: hue-rotate(65deg) brightness(2.5) saturate(1.5); } #page-content > p { text-justify: inter-word; text-align: justify; } .transcript { font-family: monospace; } [[/module]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:info-ayers">:scp-wiki:component:info-ayers</a> \|lang=en[!-- EN/RU/KO/CN/FR/PL/ES/TH/JP/DE/IT/UA/PTBR --] \|page=tempest[!-- url of your page on the scp wiki --] \|authorPage=https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/rounderhouse-s-author-page[!-- link to your author page --] \|comments= Coming Soon - Rounderhouse ]] [[=]] [[module Rate]] [[/=]] [[=image moon.jpg class="angled"]] [[div class="blockquote transcript"]] Q: State your name for the record. A: Case Temple. Q: Your full legal name, please. A: Erin Casey Temple. Q: Thank you. What is your current place of employment? A: Foundation, Research Department, Stellar Affairs Division. Q: And what's your position? A: Until about forty-eight hours ago, I was Deputy Director. Q: And now? A: That's a really good question. [[/div]] ---- In 1954, we reached out to the stars, and were sent crashing back down to Earth. We being the Foundation, of course. The Sixth Occult War had drawn to a close, the rest of humanity was still busy licking their war wounds, and two former allies were just starting to give each other the stink eye. We had gotten through not just unscathed, but hardened, stronger than when we had started. We were optimistic, and we were bold enough to follow through on it. Which is why in 1952, Overwatch Command authorized Project SABER RIBBON: a mission to use a combination of cutting-edge engineering and the anomalous to put a man in space. It was well-funded, well-supported, and well-planned. We had a wonderful spot all picked out in the Indian interior, and our engineers worked tirelessly for two years to construct a prototype of the FSV //Dagger//. It was little more than a container, just enough room for three crew, and strapped with a hell of a lot of anomalously-modified rocketry and heatshielding. If I seem like I'm underselling the work involved, it's because I am -- SABER RIBBON was an incredibly complicated and intricate project that inspires a level of technical awe when you consider the times and what we were working with. But that's not why I'm talking about it. No, I'm talking about it because on June 5th, 1954, we launched //Dagger// into the vast unknown, eyes wide with hope, the stars reflected in our vision. And we watched it breach upward, upward, until it began to crumble away into nothingness, breaking apart as it careened fatally to its side. It came apart in bits and chunks, spraying down into the Indian ocean. It failed, miserably. Three good men (and a lab rat or two) died. It was a tragedy, and we mourned. But in the end, we got back to work. The Foundation isn't deterred that easily. Humans aren't deterred that easily. ---- [[div class="blockquote transcript"]] Q: Could you explain the nature of your work at Stellar Affairs? A: It's kind of complicated. Not exactly the sort of thing a layman would easily understand. Q: Simplify it for me. A: Are you seriously going to make me sit through this preposterous exercise? Q: Ms. Temple -- A: //Lieutenant// Temple. I earned the damn rank. Q: You're correct, I apologize. Lieutenant Temple, RAISA protocol demands-- A: A clear and comprehensive summary of background information and events. I know. Q: Then why are you being obstinate, Lieutenant? = [Silence.] A: Yeah. Yeah, okay. Sorry. It's been.... a day. Q: I imagine. Now would you please answer the question? [[/div]] ---- But much as the people on the ground would've loved to get back to shooting rockets into the sky, bureaucrats tend to get cold feet at the first sign of sacrifice. The institutional support for SABER RIBBON evaporated, and the fledgling Stellar Affairs Division was sent back to the drawing board, trying to come up with a way to safely get humans into orbit. For a few years, we took a backseat and watched from our moldy office chairs as America and the USSR raced each other into the heavens. Maybe the anomalous wasn't a benefit here -- maybe conventional engineering really was the way, and we just had to wait for the Space Race to solve the quandry for us. At least, that's what the aforementioned yellowbellied bureaucrats said, not-so-subtly telling us to sit down and shut up. They wanted to go to space to do research, or to establish a preemptive dominant foot in the theatre, or any number of shortsighted reasons. It was a cost/benefit for them. For us? We wanted to go up there for the same reason the caveman walks to the distant hill, why the explorer crosses the ocean, why a famous mountaineer became the first person to summit Everest: because it was there. It's the horizon. So we kept at it. Designing, planning, doing the math, working out the kinks. By the time we finally had a suitable shuttle design in 1959, Stellar Affairs had quietly expanded from a dozen engineers to nearly a hundred strong, all already dreaming of the next horizon: a human habitat in space. I'm told by the oldtimers that watching that first rocket carrying the piece of the station go up in 1965 was like seeing your child be born, go off to college, and walk down the aisle all at once. FSS //Hecataeus// was a watershed moment for us. It took an incredible amount of labor, materials, and cost, but by 1971, the last of the dozen modules clicked into place and the Foundation's first off-planet facility was finished while the rest of the world was still cheering about the moon landing. To their credit, we hadn't gone to the moon. Yet. It had a crew of just over a dozen, mostly doing research on Safe anomalies in space. Really, its value was proving to ourselves that we could do it. That we had what it took to chase the horizon and win. ---- [[div class="blockquote transcript"]] A: We handle anything that's off-planet. Q: Could you be more specific? A: Sometimes anomalous stuff, but usually not. Stellar Affairs' purview covers a number of offices and projects -- Stellar Anomaly Surveillance, Off-Planet Maintenance, and yes, Extraterrestrial Surveillance, just to name a few. We work with RAISA to handle the Atreus Array satellites, we make sure our FSVs are ready to go, we ensure NASA and the rest of the space agencies are either in tune with us or don't find the stuff we don't want them to find. We investigate possibly-anomalous activity offworld, within a limited sphere. Q: How limited is that sphere? A: Mostly Luna, right now. Starsite-1 is in constant contact with us. We're planning on establishing an FOB on Mars -- or at least, we were. Q: Until today. A: Yeah. Until today. [[/div]] ---- Starsite-1 was, until recently, our greatest triumph. This time, it wasn't accompanied by a sudden expansion of our personnel count -- by 1980, a hundred engineers with modern computers could accomplish what would take a thousand engineers in 1959. We didn't even wait until //Hecataeus// was complete to start work on it. The pendulum swung back in our direction -- as an entire globe gawked at the site of the first man on the moon, there was a new fever from Command, a new drive to supply the rinky-dink Stellar Affairs Division with whatever it needed to accomplish the dream that humans had had ever since we crawled out of our caves to look at the orb in the sky: what if I could live up there? Incidentally, this was around when my boss joined the Division. The Director was just a regular old administrator back then, but he was put in charge of the mother of all projects: establishing a permanent Foundation facility on the Moon. We had a good start with the technology and anomalous applications and most importantly, the knowledge we'd gotten from //Hecataeus//. But this posed a unique challenge. It wouldn't be enough to be one prefab habitat plonked down on the lunar surface. No, having a dedicated facility on the Moon would be invaluable for containment efforts. The O5s were watching us. This one had to be perfect. Enter the MISTLETOE system. A stroke of genius, honestly. The two problems with a permanent lunar outpost were the design of the outpost itself and the delivery vehicle. So, two birds with one stone: the outpost was the delivery vehicle. A huge cylinderical vehicle, multiple stories tall, with a corkscrew design, carried from a shuttle and shot into the lunar surface. The anomalous shielding would make sure it didn't explode on impact, and then it would screw itself about two-thirds into the regolith of the dark side of the moon, laying down support struts to keep itself steady. Underground, we were nice and protected from the radiation inside the mass of the Site -- and then auxilary structures could be built around the main facility as needed. Sounds fun on paper, right? Now imagine how fun it is being up there. Yeah, that's right. I was //up there//, baby. It's freeing. Not quite weightless, but it's unearthly. You shoot from wall to wall like it's nothing. And the view. When I signed up to be an astronaut, I thought it was implicit I'd never actually be going up there. Maybe a spacewalk around the ISS, at best. And then, suddenly, here was this guy saying he was the director of an independent space organization who wanted to send me to the goddamn Moon. I said yes in a heartbeat. I haven't regretted it since. I went up in 1980, a year after the station went online. Back then, of course, augments were the norm. I'm sure that's goddamn insane for you to hear. Nowadays they're reserved for only the most elite and trusted of the Foundation's combat operatives. But pre-1984, something like one in ten Foundation personnel had some kind of paratech augment. The Foundation paid for it straight from Prometheus, and it was just //better// -- no need to worry about muscle atrophy with mechanical limbs, and maintenance is easy when everyone and their mom is an engineer. 65% of the initial wave of Starsite-1 personnel were augmented. I was one of them -- both my legs, up to the knee. Prometheus KRAKATOAs. Those 4 years spent up there were the best of my life, hand to God. We weren't containing anything major -- it was mostly a backup, an ace in the hole. Me and three dozen other Foundation astronauts, in our red-and-white jumpsuits, doing anomalous experimentation, communicating with the ground, I was living my dream. And then 1984 happened. I didn't even know what had happened at first. We just got the transmission from Command to begin bringing Starsite to what's called a 'cold stop', shutting down everything nonessential to conserve power. Only to be used for emergencies. We were confused, but complied -- and then were told that an FSV was on its way to pick us up and bring us back to Earth within the week. I didn't know what to do, so I just put on my best brave CO face and assured my crew that it was probably just an issue on the ground and they wanted to be safe rather than sorry. The FSV came by a few days of bored, anxious waiting around later, and we completely shut off the facility's power draw before piling in. We took off, rocketing towards Earth at thousands of miles an hour. If I knew that was the last time I'd ever be in space I probably would've savored it longer. We were kept in the dark until we got down to Earth, splashing down off Cape Canaveral. I expected a hero's welcome. Instead, we got taken to a holding site, stripped down, inspected, interrogated, debriefed, interrogated again, and repeat. They took my fucking prosthetics. Can you believe that shit? They asked me questions I had no way of answering: "Does the name Robert Aram remind you of anyone?" "What does the word 'Bumaro' inspire?" "Have you had thoughts of betraying the Foundation?" They affirmed us as clean a few weeks after that. I obviously didn't learn the whole story for another few weeks. But I could sense the stares everywhere we went anyway. Then, eventually, we found out some nutjob researcher in the desert halfway across the world had gone batshit insane, and now every single one of us was grounded, pending review on our cybernetics. I was lucky enough for the Director to offer me a desk position in the Division. I knew a lot of good people that got transferred out, or just amnesticized and fired. I got to keep my prosthetics, and I just had to suck up the fact that I wasn't going to be able to live out that dream of floating weightless in the starry sky. I learned to like my job -- there's a unique pleasure to organizing everyone else's duties and functions, one I've always enjoyed. I even got to help Starsite-1 get restaffed, after it lay empty and cold for a year. I just had to accept I wasn't going to be one of them -- nonaugmented personnel only. But every time I went out at night, and looked up into the Moon, and remembered the half-decade I'd spent up there? Nothing better than that. Nothing could possibly compare. ---- [[div class="blockquote transcript"]] Q: Could you explain what happened early yesterday morning? [[/div]] ---- Fast forward sixteen years later. It’s been nice, I mean. It’s nothing compared to being on the goddamn moon, obviously. But Stellar Affairs is in a good spot. The skills and knowledge I had as a rocket-jockey are still useful in meetings and behind desks. In the end, it’s all just rocket science. I got deputy director four years ago. The Director is rarely at Site-69 (trust me, you’re not the first person to make that joke — you’re not even in the first five-hundred) so it falls on me to coordinate our two-dozen offices and projects and the absolute dregs of humanity, mechanical engineers. Normally, my day starts after I drag myself out of my office at seven in the morning and basically attach an IV drip of coffee into me. I sit in on the first of two bidaily briefings on the goings on at Starsite-1. Then when they inevitably tell me everything is fine and perfect and dandy, I go around our big-ass monitoring room where a legion of techs sit in front of a satellite map, investigating abnormal reports from any of our satellites, monitoring stations, embedded agents inside NASA, ESA, and Roscosmos. A Starsite-2 briefing after that - you don’t have clearance for that, so don’t bother asking what it is. By then it’s eleven, and the rest of my day is, you guessed it, meetings with a cornocupia of rocket scientists insistent //their// project is the most important. Lately, that’s been Mars ideas. Except today really, really hasn’t been a normal day. ---- [[div class="blockquote transcript"]] A: I woke up, had breakfast, had my daily Starsite briefing, as usual. Q: Where was the Director? A: Away. Q: Pardon me? Where? A: You don't have the clearance for that, hon. I'm the person that takes the briefings. Q: Was anything out of the ordinary reported at Starsite-1? A: No. Nothing. At the time, it had a full crew complement of 47 -- everyone was at work, experimenting, containing the anomalies we keep up there, running communication lines. An away team was out setting up the groundwork for a new module. Q: I see. And when were you informed of SCP-8969? A: An hour later, when I was taking a leak. [[/div]] ---- A nice part about being Deputy Director is that I have my own personal bathroom attached to my office. No using the regular bathrooms for this big cheese. A not-so-nice part about being Deputy Director is that I'm always needed, somewhere, by somebody. I'm expected to be constantly reachable. Which is how I found myself having an intelligence briefing with my pants around my ankles through a stall door. "Ma'am, Satellite ARCHIMEDES-2 is giving us some strange results. We need you in the control room." I'd made the exceptionally poor decision of consuming a Philly cheesesteak that had been marinating in my office minifridge overnight as brunch. I suspected trying to make it to the control room right now would make me the latest casualty of the Foundation Space Program. "Okay. Okay, I'll be there in a minute. Just, give me the overview for now." "Ma'am?" "Seriously, Josh." "Uh, okay. About twenty-five minutes ago, ARCHIMEDES-2 began transmitting a lot of weird energy readings back to Starsite-1. They tried to clean it up but as far as they can tell, the data's good, so they passed it on to us." "Where is Two?" "Right now it's above the SPA Basin on the far side. The readings began to get malformed about 1100km from home." I furrowed my brow, and this time, it had nothing to do with the cheesesteak. "Wait, isn't Four also above the SPA Basin?" "Yeah. But only Two is transmitting the weird responses." "It's probably a software issue. Recall and debug." I heard Josh hiss through the stall. It's the little ejection of air he makes when he's heard something I've said and thinks he knows better. It's deeply irritating that he's usually right. "We got a big uptick from background conditions on the Terikof Exotic Radiation Array. Coherent tetryon emissions shot up from 0.1 to 34.7 in the span of an hour, just as it passed over Aitken, and then a sharp drop back to 0.75. Still well above average." "Terikof. Why does that sound familiar to me?" "Budget cuts." I was silent for a few seconds. "Ma'am?" "Gut feeling, Josh." This time, it was his turn to be silent for a second. Then he responded. "It's something. I don't know what, but it's something." "Go. Tell Starsite to get a team and a probe out there double-time. I want eyes on anything in there, and I want them now." He didn't even respond -- I just heard the racing of feet and the door swinging shut. I sighed. ---- [[div class="blockquote transcript"]] Q: You're going to have to explain some of that for me, Lieutenant Temple. A: ARCHIMEDES-2 is one of 4 of our satellites currently on an eccentric lunar orbit. Each ARCHIMEDES sat is equipped with monitoring equipment that hooks to an uplink at Starsite-1, which in turn feeds the data back to us. They get mundane data, mapping, topology, penetrative sonar, and then Hume levels, alternative energy readings, that stuff. Q: And the SPA Basin? A: That's the South Pole-Aitken Basin. It's the largest, oldest, and deepest impact crater on the dark side of the moon -- about as half as wide as the contiguous 48 states. Likely formed millions of years ago when another large body bumped against Luna. It's so huge that it has other craters inside of it -- one of which is its namesake, Aitken. Q: So -- correct me if I'm wrong -- this satellite passed over this Aitken crater and a piece of technology aboard it began returning malformed readings? Indicating something was down there? A: Essentially, yeah. Q: Why were you so surprised by the mention of the... Terikof Exotic Radiation Array? A: ARCHIMEDES was never terribly well-funded, relative to some of our other projects. Put simply, the moon just... isn't very anomalous. There's nothing up there humans didn't put ourselves. Originally the plan was 7 comprehensive satellites, but it got trimmed down to 4 specialized ones. Not every ARCHIMEDES sat has the same monitoring equipment, is what I'm saying. Q: So ARCHIMEDES-2 is the only one with the equipment, I see. A: It was considered largely unnecessary and stripped from the other three. Q: And what does this equipment monitor? A: It detects the unique radiation and energy readings put out by Class-W dimensional gateways. Q: Ways. A: We call them wormholes here. But sure, if you're a lit major. [[/div]] ---- I first laid eyes on SCP-8969 hours later. By the time I got back to the control room, news had leaked out. About a quarter of our monitors are dedicated to just the Moon. The remaining ones are split nearly half amongst solar system and deep-space anomalies. Monitoring your 179s, your 2399s, versus your weird deep space transmissions or signals. But the Luna team, like I said, doesn't deal with the anomalous. Which is why they were in such a tizzy when I came in. I told them to settle down -- despite whatever Josh had said, it was very likely that it was still just a random bug. Same kind we get a dozen of every month. Either way, we wouldn't see a damn thing for a few hours. So it was better that we all get back to work. I said that all straight faced, sending them back to their stations, and then walked away with a bounce in my step, the exact same giddy excitement brewing in my stomach. Same feeling I got when I was told I'd be going to Starsite-1 nearly twenty years ago. It's the thrill of realizing you're on the edge of something great, something no one else has seen before. So I went back to my office, and got back to work, and when I got the page three hours later that the away team had arrived at Aitken, I took off down the hall so fast that I nearly flattened a junior researcher. When I came into the control room, every single person was staring at that screen. Which was utterly black, of course -- we hadn't actually patched in to the team yet. Every minute of live video communication with Starsite is bounced across three of the Atreus Array sats, and there was no point doing all that for a 5 hour drive. So I ordered a video patch-in. And we waited. And we waited, and then three minutes later, it started to come through. The suit camera of one of the astronauts -- a Researcher Delmar -- showed the two others in the away team seated in the buggy. It's a Foundation original, a modified, more powerful, more rugged version of the original LRVs the Apollo astronauts used. The far side of the moon is a lot rougher terrain, and we were more than up to the challenge of traversing it. But I digress. Behind it, the buggy towed the probe. The thing was about the size and shape of a smart car, with six wheels -- it had its own motor, but that was pretty slow. It had to be towed if you wanted to get it anywhere fast. Delmar's radio patched in, and I greeted him. They were at the base of Aitken, and were about to progress up -- slow going uphill with the probe, but I told them to carry on while we watched in rapt attention. The drive up the lip of crater took another twenty minutes, but I didn't mind. Honestly -- just seeing it again was phenomenal. If you've seen it in person, the lunar surface isn't something you can ever forget, not as long as you live. On the far side, the stars litter the sky, like little bits of glitter tossed over a sea of matte black. The near side has these vast, untouched open plains. The dark side is peppered with impact craters ranging from the size of a car to the size of a continent. There's no sound, and you feel like you're floating as you jump from crater to crater. It really is just alien. And that was the most alien thing I thought I'd ever see in my life until Delmar's camera peeked over the lip of the crater, giving us a view inside, and my jaw dropped. ----- [[div class="blockquote transcript"]] Q: Can you describe what you saw? A: Have you ever seen a rainbow in a puddle of oil? Q: Sure. A: No, you haven't. Those rainbows only show up when there's a sheen of oil floating on top of water -- the oil refracts the light in such a way that when it passes through, bounces off the underlying water and back through the oil, it forms an iridescent rainbow and //wow//, I sound like a jackass right now, don't I? Q: Just a bit. Your point, Lieutenant? A: It was like seeing a puddle of oil and water that filled up the entirety of the crater. Aitken is about six kilometres in diameter and roughly circular, and it all looked like that, about six feet above there the base of the crater should've been. The entire 'base' was this purplish iridiscent sheen, but it wasn't physical -- it phased in and out of my vision, like a heat mirage. Through it, I could still see the underlying regolith. It wasn't a trick of the visuals, either -- Delmar's 'what the fck' made that much clear. Q:* And what did you do at that point? A: I gave the order to let the probe roll down the hill, then turned around and called the Director. [[/div]] ---- Frankly, no reason it should've worked. That's just not how signals work! Signals don't work //through dimensions//. And yet, an hour later, we were still getting visual data from the probe. When it rolled down the inside slope, it slipped into the Way without resistance, like it was falling into water. In a few seconds, it was swallowed up entirely. And then we waited. Starsite-1 began getting data almost immediately, while I was still on the phone explaining the situation to the Director. At some point, he put me on a conference call with a group he addressed as the VAGABOND Task Force. I had no idea who else was there and honestly, I was only half paying attention the moment the cameras on the probe started streaming. At first it was nothing but blackness. I thought the feed was just busted, and the wind went out of my sails. Then I caught a flash of //something// and realized it was still on. As the seconds ticked by, I realized there were a number of little flashes in the black stars, whizzing by, as the probe spun wildly, and the video wasn't good enough to give us quality with movement. Gradually, painfully slowly, it slowed down to a point where the video could compensate, and spun clockwise. The entire monitoring room was silent. We were somewhere. Probably not in this dimension, but somewhere in space. We could see a planet -- about the same visual size as Earth from the moon, which meant we were either at the same distance and it was Earth-sized, or that we were closer and it was smaller, or that we were farther and it was larger. So basically, we didn't know squat. We watched in rapt attention as the probe continued to spin, exposing a distant, light blue star. I couldn't see any other planets, but that didn't really mean anything -- you can't see most other planets from the Moon, either. The one we were looking at came into focus, and something slipped into frame behind it. //Oh.// It wasn't a planet, it was a moon. Specifically the moon of the huge purple gas giant hovering imposingly in the background. A few other bodies were visible in the distance. I'd love to say something shocking and mind-blowing happened, but that's really just not the reality of these situations -- for the next six hours, we watched in a quiet blend of fixation and boredom as the probe spun in circles, as it drifted forward, slowing once the initial force of the ejection wore off. Then, eventually, getting faster as it was pulled into the moon's gravity. That's when the real data started coming in. ---- [[div class="blockquote transcript"]] Q: The probe reported that that the atmosphere was composed of breathable gases? A: Yes. Q: And that the temperatures near the equator were conducive to life. A: Also yes. Q: And that while the probe began rocketing through the atmosphere, you saw oceans of something. And what could possibly have been plant life. A: Yes. Q: Lieutenant Temple, your analyses aren't supported by hard data. You realize that, right? A: I watched the probe break up on reentry. You don't have to tell me twice. Q: Yet in your official report you submitted that the moon could be landed on, in your opinion. A: I did. Q: Could you explain to me what inspired that decision? A: Why I think we should land on it? Q: Yes. A: Because it's there. [[/div]] ---- The rest of the day and the next was a blur. Meetings on meetings on meetings, with the Director, with the Research Director, and with the Council. It wasn't my first time in a room with a Council member, but it was just as terrifying -- this one was an impossibly-old man in a wheelchair. He asked me questions, I answered to the best of my ability, the Director patted me on the back and assured me I was doing great, and then as fast as it began, it was over. Then I was sent home, and came back the next day for another round of meetings. The air of excitement in the Site was so intoxicating and pervasive that it took me halfway into my second meeting with my enginering advisors to check my schedule. Every single meeting was with a rank or staffer lower than me, and nothing where I could exercise any power -- just factfinding, assembling, and organizing. No meetings with the Director, with Stellar Affairs Council, nothing. I wasn't in the room where the decisions were being made. That's when I started to panic a little bit. Was sending a probe in the wrong decision? Was my report wrong or faulty? Had I made a mistake? Had something horrible happened when I was asleep that they didn't want to tell me about? Was I being fired? If not, //why was the Director shutting me out?// Twenty years, he'd never shut me out like this. And then, on the apex of our greatest discovery not just as a department but maybe as a species? Radio silence. So I sat down, and took my meetings while half my brain was freaking the hell out, and tried to be useful and to advise and to take input. A good amount of information just whizzed over me. And then eventually, around noon, I heard a soft //ding// as my schedule updated. I checked my tablet. Everything was gone. I was cleared for the day. I was to summon to a RAISA debriefing in my office immediately. ---- [[div class="blockquote transcript"]] Q: Lieutenant Temple, if I may? A: I sense that I don't have the option to say no. Q: You are very lucky the Director agrees with your analysis. A: What? Q: I work for RAISA. Our sphere of influence is substantially different from yours but it is incredibly far-reaching. A: What's your point? Q: That even as Deputy Director, there are things about Stellar Affairs we have been tasked with making sure you don't know. Would you take a look at these documents? = [Silence.] A: These are schematics for Starsite-1. The MISTLETOE system. Q: Close, but not quite. Those are the schematics for the FSV //Otrera//. When Starsite-1 was founded, the Foundation took great pains to ensure its success -- including building a backup prototype if the first went awry. After the success of Starsite-1, it was clear it wasn't needed. But we knew we one day might. For the past twenty years, the //Otrera// has been hidden in a crater on the dark side of the moon, and for the past ten, it has been under active, ongoing modification by our alchemists, engineers, and thaumaturges for an eventual landing on Mars. It has expanded from a small landing craft to humanity's first proper starship. A: No fcking way. How did I not know about this? Why did I not know about this? = [Silence.] A:* Oh, you have got to be kidding me. Q: Augmented personnel have never been entirely trusted after Amoni-Ram. A: Skating right past that total bullshit -- I don't understand the connection. A starship is useless for a Way. Q: That's because, after extensive consultation with Sigma-3, we've determined that SCP-8969 is not a Way. A: What? Then what is it? Q: Ways are interdimensional gateways, most leading out into the Library and requiring a specific ritual called a Knock to access. SCP-8969 clearly doesn't lead out into the Library, and doesn't need a Knock. Its energy readings are similar but not identical to that of a traditional Way. It's not an interdimensional passage -- like you said, it's a wormhole, connecting two places in space and time. That said, much of its behavour does mimic a Way's -- Sigma-3 are of the opinion that the probe was so easily torn apart on entry because it sustained significant 'stretching' -- consistent with what happens to humans who travel through an immature Way. A: Immature? Q: I'll spare you the details, primarily because you're not cleared for knowledge on the Wanderer's Library. But Ways follow a predictable formation process. Sigma-3 predicts that SCP-8969 will reach its peak stability in approximately three months before rapidly dissipating. Stable enough to sustain travel. A: We could go through it. Q: We will go through it. Since last night, the Stellar Affairs Director and the Council have been in private session with a group named the VAGABOND Committee, responsible for executing Operation VAGABOND, a plan of action in the event of an opportunity to colonize an extrasolar planet. A: We have a plan for that? Q: We're the Foundation. We have a plan for everything. In three months, the FSV //Otrera// will be designated Starsite-3, equipped with a full crew complement, dropped through SCP-8969 to land on the moon, and will establish a forward operating base for the Foundation and for humanity. A: But... Sigma-3 said SCP-8969 will probably dissipate after being stable enough to go through. Q: That's correct. This is the mother of one-way trips, as it were. A: This is insane. This is insane, but what does it have to do with me? Q: Every ship needs her captain, Lieutenant Temple. How do you feel about finally earning those other two stripes? A: //Me?// But... my legs. Q: The Director has nominated you: you are his choice, and he is of the opinion that augments are a boon in interstellar travel and the Foundation overcorrected after Amoni-Ram. And recent events have made the Council much more amenable to his position -- at least in the case of offworld personnel. A: This is... a lot to take in. Q: I need an answer, Lieutenant Temple. A: Can I think about it? I mean, you're asking me to leave behind my family, friends, partner, my //life// for a trip I won't come back from. Q: You have no surviving family, few social connections outside immediate colleagues, and are single. A: Way to be gentle about it, man. Q: It's part of why you were chosen. A: Still, I... need time to think. Q: You have the rest of the hour. We're on a clock, Lieutenant. I suggest you start thinking like it. [[/div]] ---- The history of humanity is hung on a timeline of exploration. Once, it was the land, then the sea, then the New World. For the past half century or so, it's been the stars. We took to orbit, we stood on the moon, and we set our eyes on what lay beyond. We've been given an opportunity to chase the horizon to lengths unknown. The rest of the Foundation has a job to do, people to protect at home, but here at Stellar Affairs, we're still what we've always been: the explorers. I said I'd take the hour. Ten minutes later, I came out with my answer. I don't do indecisive and thankfully, neither does the Foundation. I could run you through what happened in the time between, but let's face it, you're not interested in the ephemera of training and seminars and a whole hell of a lot of learning-as-I-went and I'm not interested in relaying it. What both of us are interested in is that a month later, I was strapped in to the FSV //Iskander//, twenty years older but the same stupid grin on my face under my helmet as I and yet another crew of engineers and techs rocketed out of the atmosphere at eighteen thousand miles per hour. I was going back. We were going back. What both of us are interested in is the inaudible hiss as the craft depressurized and I walked down the ramp and took my first steps on the lunar regolith in sixteen years. Metal limbs clanking slightly inside my suit as I dropped to my knees and touched the grey rock, hardly daring to believe it was real. Seeing the spire of Starsite-1 in person again, this time surrounded by a veritable colony of auxiliary buildings, rovers, and astronauts slowly leapfrogging through the air to greet us. What both of us are interested in is the look on my dumb goddamn face when the buggy stopped by a lunar crater with a metal covering, and we slid inside to see the long, cylindrical and gargantuan form of my new commission. The FSV //Otrera//, its makeshift hangar a hive of activity as dozens of engineers worked in zero-oxygen, cold-welding more panels onto the long white ship. I laid a hand against it, and even though the roof of the crater was fully covered, I felt the cosmos. In 1954, we reached out to the stars and lost. In 2001, we're going back for round two. ---- [[=]] [[module Rate]] [[/=]] ---- [[div class="rnb-navbar"]] [[div class="rnb-item rnb-current"]] [[a href="/redtape"]]STARSITE[[/a]] [[/div]] [[div class="rnb-item rnb-next"]] [[a href="/scp-8969" style="display: block;"]][[span class="rnb-supertitle"]]NEXT[[/span]] << SCP-8969 >>[[/a]] [[/div]] [[/div]] ---- [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] ===== > Filename: moon.png > Author: NASA > License: Public Domain > Source Link: [https://nara.getarchive.net/media/earth-rising-behind-moon-photographed-during-the-apollo-11-and-apollo-17-missions-9e45ba NASA Archives] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-06-04T22:51:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "otherworldly", "science-fiction", "space-opera", "tale" ]	STARSITE: VAGABOND ACTUAL - SCP Foundation	64	[ "rounderhouse-s-author-page", "component:info-ayers", "redtape", "scp-8969", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "redtape" ]	[]	1453864890	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/vagabond-actual
vex-database	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=3&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Anew-age/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=4&theme={$theme}&css=%3Aroot%20%7B%20--accent-color%3A%20var%28--lavender-violet%29%3B%20%7D" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <div class="modal" style="margin-bottom: unset; border-bottom-left-radius: 0; border-bottom-right-radius: 0; padding: 15px 15px 0px 15px;"> <div class="expoblock" style="padding-top: .15rem; padding-bottom: .15rem;"> <p><tt><span style="color: grey">Type here to search all available records…</span></tt></p> </div> <p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><tt><strong><span style="color: rgb(var(--accent-color));">18,452</span></strong> VEX records have been documented by <strong><a href="/simulacrum-project-hub">SIMULACRUM</a></strong> authorities.</tt></span></p> </div> <div class="modal" style="background-color: rgb(var(--accent-color)); border-color: rgb(var(--accent-color)); color: rgb(var(--pitch-black)); margin-top: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; line-height: 19px; border-top-left-radius: 0; border-top-right-radius: 0;"> <p><span style="font-size:90%;"><strong>ⓘ Unsure how to continue? Refer below for further information.</strong></span></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <h1 id="toc0"><span>OVERVIEW</span></h1> <hr/> <p>Security is crucial to Project <strong>SIMULACRUM</strong>'s continued success. The <span class="hilighter">Vulnerability Exposure Index (VEX)</span> database provides a centralized catalogue for disclosing and documenting known threats to <strong>SIMULACRUM</strong>'s environment, inhabitants, items, virtual sandboxes, and external infrastructure. VEX records are enumerated by their entry IDs (VEX-YYYY-NNN) which documents the year that the identified vulnerability was discovered in and a unique sequence numerical for categorization.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">Click here for more information...</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div style="text-align: left;"> <p>VEX records provide in-depth information regarding specific vulnerabilities. This includes a description, impact, status, severity, related item(s), assigned authorities, mitigation procedures, and any repercussions determined to be directly or indirectly caused by the threat itself. All records are appropriately color-coded based on severity.</p> <p><span class="hilighter">Severity</span> indicates the perceived risk that a vulnerability possesses if left unmitigated. This metric is assessed by a numerical scale ranging from <span style="font-weight: bold;color: rgb(var(--accent-color));">0.0</span> (Informational) to <span style="font-weight: bold;color: rgb(var(--mutant-green));">0.1 - 2.5</span> (Low), <span style="font-weight: bold;color: rgb(var(--skylight-blue));">2.6 - 5.0</span> (Medium), <span style="font-weight: bold;color: rgb(var(--neon-orange));">5.1 - 7.5</span> (High), or <span style="font-weight: bold;color: rgb(var(--deep-crimson));">7.6 - 10.0</span> (Critical). Severity does not always suggest that an unmitigated threat will have widespread effects; rather it indicates the perceived damage that it can potentially cause overall.</p> <p>To determine the scale at which a vulnerability can affect multiple systems or users, VEX records document a vulnerability's <span class="hilighter">Impact</span>. Impact is measured as <span style="font-weight: bold;color: rgb(var(--accent-color));">MINIMAL</span>, <span style="font-weight: bold;color: rgb(var(--mutant-green));">LOW</span>, <span style="font-weight: bold;color: rgb(var(--skylight-blue));">MEDIUM</span>, <span style="font-weight: bold;color: rgb(var(--neon-orange));">HIGH</span>, or <span style="font-weight: bold;color: rgb(var(--deep-crimson));">CRITICAL</span>, depending on the number of items (if any) that may be affected by a specific threat. Impact assessments are not all inclusive, and may incorporate additional considerations such as <strong>SIMULACRUM</strong> sandbox size, Site structure, player capacity, or <a href="/scp-4523">physical resource utilization</a>.</p> <p>In order to assist operators and personnel utilizing this database, VEX records will also display the last known <span class="hilighter">Status</span> of a vulnerability. Status documents whether a vulnerability is <span style="font-weight: bold;color: rgb(var(--accent-color));">PENDING</span>, <span style="font-weight: bold;color: rgb(var(--mutant-green));">ERADICATED</span>, <span style="font-weight: bold;color: rgb(var(--skylight-blue));">REMEDIED</span>, <span style="font-weight: bold;color: rgb(var(--neon-orange));">ACTIVE</span>, or <span style="font-weight: bold;color: rgb(var(--deep-crimson));">FUTILE</span>. As status only reflects a vulnerability's last known activity, any outstanding impact or repercussions caused by a particular threat are not considered in this metric.<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-1" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-1')">1</a></sup></p> <p>Individual VEX records are documented and supported by an assigned <span class="hilighter">Authority</span>. Authorities can be comprised of <strong>SIMULACRUM</strong> operators, administrators, or other third-party organizations and Groups of Interest (GoI). Assigned authorities are responsible for reporting, and classifying cyberanomalous threats as they manifest. Multiple authorities may also collaborate together in order to properly document discovered vulnerabilities, improve relations, and/or enhance cooperation efforts made between other virtualized or physical parties. Utilize the above search function to locate particular VEX records, or refer below to several of the most recently submitted entries.</p> </div> </div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">Click here to hide information...</a></div> </div> </div> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <h1 id="toc1"><span>RECENT RECORDS</span></h1> <hr/> <div class="orange"> <table style="width: 100%; border-collapse:collapse; margin-top: 2.5rem; margin-bottom: 2.5rem;"> <tr> <th><strong>VEX ID:</strong></th> <td colspan="3" style="text-align: center;">VEX-2045-003</td> <th><strong>SEVERITY:</strong></th> <td style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(var(--accent-color));">7.4</td> </tr> <tr> <th colspan="6"><strong>RELATED ITEMS:</strong></th> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="6"> <ul> <li><a href="/scp-6882">SCP-6882</a></li> </ul> </td> </tr> <tr> <th colspan="6"><strong>DESCRIPTION:</strong></th> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="6"> <p>Improper access controls across <strong>SIMULACRUM</strong> meshlayer firmware versions would allow affected players to bypass predefined world boundaries. This, in essence, allowed for uninterrupted access to any bordering sandboxes.</p> <p>In some versions, players were not only able to bypass these borders, but could also access edit parameters within their sandbox, thus granting them access to elevated administrator commands.</p> </td> </tr> <tr> <th colspan="6"><strong>REPERCUSSIONS:</strong></th> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="6"> <p>Simulations bordering vulnerable sandboxes were mostly reserved for testing and containment of undocumented large-scale virtual aggressors (LSVAs) or other unknown anomalous phenomenon. Players exploiting this vulnerability could disrupt these simulations through physical interaction or by executing elevated commands.</p> <p>Players with internal system access to their own sandboxes could also "piggyback" off their instances and into other remote sandboxes. In one case, several unknown attackers were able to sabotage the SCP-6882 virtual instance and hijack its noospheric platform interface, causing connected players to undergo rapid mental and physical deterioration before an unexpected sandbox crash later occured.</p> <p>Attackers were able to successfully input coordinate commands to bypass detection; however, improper values resulted in threat actors falling out-of-bounds and missing subsequent bound checks. Recovery efforts have been futile.</p> </td> </tr> <tr> <th colspan="6"><strong>MITIGATION:</strong></th> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="6">Firmware updates are available for all affected virtual sandboxes. Complete system restart is necessary to apply changes. Additional vendor-specific hotfix patches have been successfully deployed across all platforms and unattached virtual instances.</td> </tr> <tr> <th><strong>STATUS:</strong></th> <td style="font-weight: bold; text-align: center;"><span class="green">ERADICATED</span></td> <th><strong>IMPACT:</strong></th> <td style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold;"><span class="green">Low</span></td> <th><strong>AUTHORITY:</strong></th> <td style="text-align: center;"><a href="/scp-7766">Dr. Jakob Reigen</a></td> </tr> </table> </div> <div class="red"> <table style="width: 100%; border-collapse:collapse; margin-top: 2.5rem; margin-bottom: 2.5rem;"> <tr> <th><strong>VEX ID:</strong></th> <td colspan="3" style="text-align: center;">VEX-2032-682</td> <th><strong>SEVERITY:</strong></th> <td style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(var(--accent-color));">9.8</td> </tr> <tr> <th colspan="6"><strong>RELATED ITEMS:</strong></th> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="6"> <ul> <li><strong><span class="blue"><a href="/scp-5242">SCP-INTEGER</a></span></strong></li> <li><span class="green">MAKER</span></li> <li>SIMULA-9025-1B</li> <li>SIMULA-7621-3C</li> </ul> </td> </tr> <tr> <th colspan="6"><strong>DESCRIPTION:</strong></th> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="6">Unsecured data root paths between sandboxes from the <strong><span class="green"><a href="/scp-7346">PRIME INDEX</a></span></strong> could allow <a href="/domc-hub">semiohazardous</a> phenomenon to affect multiple <strong>SIMULACRUM</strong> layers.</td> </tr> <tr> <th colspan="6"><strong>REPERCUSSIONS:</strong></th> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="6"> <p>Disaster recovery systems flagged and restored a cascading network file system crash after a failed interaction between two sandboxes. Prior to the alerted incident, SIMULA-9025-1B — an abstracted reality intended to test interactions between <a href="/scp-5795">ontokinetic</a>, semiohazardous, and other reality-altering anomalies — had initiated a resource request from SIMULA-7621-3C.</p> <p>During the response operation by SIMULA-7621-3C, an undetected <span class="blue">HAZARD</span> was also transferred. This <span class="blue">COMPLEX</span> was then successfully executed after both sandboxes confirmed its presence and attempted to forcibly delete the <span class="blue">THREAT</span>. Due to outdated data signatures, the <span class="blue">HAZARD</span> began systematically updating all reference pointers, files, and datasets with abstractions, halting system functions across 3,451 connected instances.</p> <p><span class="blue">COMPLEX</span> manifested itself within SIMULA-9025-1B, alerting host player <span class="green">MAKER</span>. Attempts by <span class="green">MAKER</span> to notify <strong>SIMULACRUM</strong> administrators of the <span class="blue">MALWARE</span><sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-2" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-2')">2</a></sup> subsequently failed as null counters disrupted operations. Automated systems were unable to fully repair either sandboxes or regenerate <span class="green">MAKER</span> from backup player matrices.</p> </td> </tr> <tr> <th colspan="6"><strong>MITIGATION:</strong></th> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="6"> <p>Standard requests sent by client and serving sandboxes have been updated to introduce an additional CHECK flag to determine if data being sent or received contains anomalous traces. Host-based detection/removal systems have also been updated across all active <strong>SIMULACRUM</strong> instances to cleanse deployments of potential reality-altering hazards.</p> <p><span class="green">PRIME INDEX</span> roots have been updated to utilize the latest security protocols. Improved pathing methods between sandboxes have also been introduced to now disconnect instances determined to be at risk of anomalous leakage.</p> <p><strong>SIMULACRUM</strong> authorities have all received additional training on dealing with active cognitive hazards, including semiohazardous and infohazardous phenomenon.</p> </td> </tr> <tr> <th><strong>STATUS:</strong></th> <td style="font-weight: bold; text-align: center;"><span class="orange">ACTIVE</span></td> <th><strong>IMPACT:</strong></th> <td style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold;"><span class="red">CRITICAL</span></td> <th><strong>AUTHORITY:</strong></th> <td style="text-align: center;">Dr. Devin Collins</td> </tr> </table> </div> <div class="blue"> <table style="width: 100%; border-collapse:collapse; margin-top: 2.5rem; margin-bottom: 2.5rem;"> <tr> <th><strong>VEX ID:</strong></th> <td colspan="3" style="text-align: center;">VEX-2423-019</td> <th><strong>SEVERITY:</strong></th> <td style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(var(--accent-color));">4.8</td> </tr> <tr> <th colspan="6"><strong>RELATED ITEMS:</strong></th> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="6"> <ul> <li><a href="/scp-6872">SCP-6872</a></li> <li><a href="/scp-2718">SCP-2718</a></li> </ul> </td> </tr> <tr> <th colspan="6"><strong>DESCRIPTION:</strong></th> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="6"> <p>A buffer overflow in the <tt>commit_action</tt> module in SCP-6872 would incorrectly reference SCP-2718, resulting in multiple errors and extraordinary physical harm onto players. Continued conflicts could cause a denial of service (crash) and possibly execute additional root-level commands.</p> <p>In some instances, players experiencing multiple requests between both SCP-6872 and SCP-2718 could also be afflicted by both conditions simultaneously, leading to corrupted reference caches and other errors.</p> </td> </tr> <tr> <th colspan="6"><strong>REPERCUSSIONS:</strong></th> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="6"> <p>During the rapid deployment of sub-simulations within SCP-6872, an increased strain on incoming state requests resulted in players being incorrectly assigned to SCP-2718. During this period, players experiencing the "DECEASED" state would not be transported to their simulated death sequences— rather, affected individuals would either be terminated from their hosting simulation entirely or remain permanently immobile and unable to disconnect from their sessions. This resulted in players being in multiple states of "DECEASED" between several sandboxes.</p> <p>In other circumstances, physical players would be completely ejected from all sandboxes. Excessive electric discharge caused by the vulnerability sent uncontrolled shocks through sensitive neural interfaces, physically disabling players and locking their player pods indefinitely. Players would still report active heartbeats despite being clinically deceased, bypassing all system monitoring tools for extended periods of time. This resulted in player pods being contaminated with excess organisms, including bacteria, mites, mold, and flies.</p> <p>All later attempts to remove players from their pods universally ended in failure.</p> </td> </tr> <tr> <th colspan="6"><strong>MITIGATION:</strong></th> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="6">Additional software-level checks against possible overflows have been implemented to prevent any issues with SCP-6872 and SCP-2718. Additional system monitoring tools have been implemented to confirm player status through haptic and audio feedback. All active neural network interfaces have also been issued a firmware update and all player pods have been refitted with emergency release latches.</td> </tr> <tr> <th><strong>STATUS:</strong></th> <td style="font-weight: bold; text-align: center;"><span class="blue">REMEDIED</span></td> <th><strong>IMPACT:</strong></th> <td style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold;"><span class="orange">Medium</span></td> <th><strong>AUTHORITY:</strong></th> <td style="text-align: center;"><strong><tt>[AUTOMATED]</tt></strong></td> </tr> </table> </div> <div class="green"> <table style="width: 100%; border-collapse:collapse; margin-top: 2.5rem; margin-bottom: 2.5rem;"> <tr> <th><strong>VEX ID:</strong></th> <td colspan="3" style="text-align: center;">VEX-2076-303</td> <th><strong>SEVERITY:</strong></th> <td style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(var(--accent-color));">1.7</td> </tr> <tr> <th colspan="6"><strong>RELATED ITEMS:</strong></th> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="6"> <ul> <li>SIMULA-Y200-2K</li> <li><tt>cron</tt> version 23</li> <li>Docker version 1001001010001.3</li> </ul> </td> </tr> <tr> <th colspan="6"><strong>DESCRIPTION:</strong></th> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="6">On Docker versions that form a valid number string in binary, <tt>cron</tt> would read it as a valid character string instead. This would cause various issues, including system failure.</td> </tr> <tr> <th colspan="6"><strong>REPERCUSSIONS:</strong></th> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="6"> <p>SIMULA-Y200-2K is a sandboxed reality designed to output a single value — the default system time of baseline reality pre-<strong>SIMULACRUM.</strong> This is done to maintain legacy systems that expect a standard time on certain functions instead of the advanced system time of IEEE 4098.32, the standardized <strong>SIMULACRUM</strong> timestamp.</p> <p>Retrieval of the legacy system timestamp is done through a <tt>cron</tt> script, which first checks for the current Docker version, and only fetches a new system timestamp if the version number had recently changed. Due to issues with <tt>cron</tt>, Docker version number strings would sometimes be misinterpreted as invalid character strings when updated.</p> <p>Because of this, severe momentary failure for all SIMULA instances that depended on the legacy system time occurred. As of 2075, 321 SIMULA instances were dependent on legacy timestamps, subsequently leading to indirect system failures of those sandboxes and 8,321,098,321 other connected dependencies.</p> </td> </tr> <tr> <th colspan="6"><strong>MITIGATION:</strong></th> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="6">A patch to <tt>cron</tt>'s developer has been sent to disable interpretation of binary strings as regular characters. System administrators are currently collaborating with Docker to ensure that no version number is an interpretable character string.</td> </tr> <tr> <th><strong>STATUS:</strong></th> <td style="font-weight: bold; text-align: center;"><span class="blue">REMEDIED</span></td> <th><strong>IMPACT:</strong></th> <td style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold;"><span class="red">CRITICAL</span></td> <th><strong>AUTHORITY:</strong></th> <td style="text-align: center;">Dr. Basir</td> </tr> </table> </div> <div class="orange"> <table style="width: 100%; border-collapse:collapse; margin-top: 2.5rem; margin-bottom: 2.5rem;"> <tr> <th><strong>VEX ID:</strong></th> <td colspan="3" style="text-align: center;">VEX-2099-002</td> <th><strong>SEVERITY:</strong></th> <td style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(var(--accent-color));">7.2</td> </tr> <tr> <th colspan="6"><strong>RELATED ITEMS:</strong></th> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="6"> <ul> <li><a href="/scp-8155">SCP-8155</a></li> <li>Neurological Maternal Decay Syndrome</li> </ul> </td> </tr> <tr> <th colspan="6"><strong>DESCRIPTION:</strong></th> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="6">A collection of five unaccounted glitches manifesting over the course of two months that were able to successfully severely damage the hosted mainframe via the use of <span style="text-decoration: line-through;">9</span> 16 server crashes.</td> </tr> <tr> <th colspan="6"><strong>REPERCUSSIONS:</strong></th> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="6">In the immediate culmination of SCP-8155 via all five glitches resulted in a severe malfunction within SIMULA-2099-02 manifesting as an account of a en masse ontological breakdown as well as all female <strong>SIMULACRUM</strong> participants to contract a supreme version of "Maternal Decay Syndrome," a <strong>SIMULACRUM</strong> virus acting as a neurological memetic impairment that ceased all female inhabitants abilities to reproduce, reciprocate love for their young, as well as a deconstruction and destruction of all familial conceptual base components implemented into the <strong>SIMULACRUM</strong> server.</td> </tr> <tr> <th colspan="6"><strong>MITIGATION:</strong></th> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="6"> <p>Attempts to derail the situation via repairs to the mainframe were attempted by VEX-2196-002. Initial attempts were futile, however over the course of multiple server restarts, 2196-002 were successful in mitigating the threat posed by SCP-8155, albeit with significant financial and mental costs that resulted in the derealization of their participation within all SCP Foundation-acting parties, most likely due to an error in the management of VEX-2099-002.</p> <p>Mitigation was deemed successful, however, the actual nature as well as origins of how SCP-8155 was able to impact the vex server mainframe's on such a large and impactful basis is unknown and currently being extensively investigated.</p> </td> </tr> <tr> <th><strong>STATUS:</strong></th> <td style="font-weight: bold; text-align: center;"><span class="green">ERADICATED</span></td> <th><strong>IMPACT:</strong></th> <td style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold;"><span class="red">HIGH</span></td> <th><strong>AUTHORITY:</strong></th> <td style="text-align: center;"><a href="/scp-7793">Dr. Christopher Blashman</a></td> </tr> </table> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <h1 id="toc2"><span>CONTRIBUTION</span></h1> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Contributions can be made using the following VEX record format:</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">Click here to view VEX format template...</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div style="text-align: left;"> <div class="code"> <div class="hl-main"> <pre><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[</span><span class="hl-var">div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">class</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-string">red/blue/orange/green/purple</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[</span><span class="hl-var">table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">style</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-string">width: 100%; border-collapse:collapse; margin-top: 2.5rem; margin-bottom: 2.5rem;</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[</span><span class="hl-var">row</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[</span><span class="hl-var">hcell</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-identifier">VEX</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ID</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[/</span><span class="hl-var">hcell</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[</span><span class="hl-var">cell</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">colspan</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-string">3</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">style</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-string">text-align: center;</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-identifier">VEX-YYYY-NNN</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[/</span><span class="hl-var">cell</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[</span><span class="hl-var">hcell</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-identifier">SEVERITY</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[/</span><span class="hl-var">hcell</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[</span><span class="hl-var">cell</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">style</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-string">text-align: center; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(var(--accent-color));</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-identifier">Severity</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">should</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">be</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">placed</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">here</span><span class="hl-code">. </span><span class="hl-identifier">Be</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">sure</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">that</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">the</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">color</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">of</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">the</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">matches</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">the</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">value</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">range</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">of</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">the</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">severity</span><span class="hl-code">. (0 </span><span class="hl-identifier">should</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">be</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">purple</span><span class="hl-code">, 0.1 - 2.5 </span><span class="hl-identifier">should</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">be</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">green</span><span class="hl-code">, 2.5 - 5 </span><span class="hl-identifier">should</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">be</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">blue</span><span class="hl-code">, 5 - 7.5 </span><span class="hl-identifier">should</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">be</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">orange</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> 7.5 </span><span class="hl-identifier">to</span><span class="hl-code"> 10 </span><span class="hl-identifier">should</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">red</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[/</span><span class="hl-var">cell</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[/</span><span class="hl-var">row</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[</span><span class="hl-var">row</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[</span><span class="hl-var">hcell</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">colspan</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-string">6</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-identifier">RELATED</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ITEMS</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[/</span><span class="hl-var">hcell</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[/</span><span class="hl-var">row</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[</span><span class="hl-var">row</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[</span><span class="hl-var">cell</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">colspan</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-string">6</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">A</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">list</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">of</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">anomalies</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">or</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">systems</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">relating</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">to</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">or</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">directly</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">caused</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">the</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">vulnerability</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">should</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">be</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">placed</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">here</span><span class="hl-code">. </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Add</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">as</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">many</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">items</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">as</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">needed</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">here</span><span class="hl-code">. </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[/</span><span class="hl-var">cell</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[/</span><span class="hl-var">row</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[</span><span class="hl-var">row</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[</span><span class="hl-var">hcell</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">colspan</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-string">6</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-identifier">DESCRIPTION</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[/</span><span class="hl-var">hcell</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[/</span><span class="hl-var">row</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[</span><span class="hl-var">row</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[</span><span class="hl-var">cell</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">colspan</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-string">6</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-identifier">Information</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">describing</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">what</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">the</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">actual</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">vulnerability</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">is</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">should</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">go</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">here</span><span class="hl-code">. </span><span class="hl-identifier">Refrain</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">from</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">adding</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">too</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">much</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">information</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">regarding</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">other</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">systems</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">or</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">processes</span><span class="hl-code">. </span><span class="hl-identifier">This</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">field</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">should</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">be</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">solely</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">reserved</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">for</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">documenting</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">what</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">the</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">vulnerability</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">is</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">how</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">it</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">operates</span><span class="hl-code">. </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[/</span><span class="hl-var">cell</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[/</span><span class="hl-var">row</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[</span><span class="hl-var">row</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[</span><span class="hl-var">hcell</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">colspan</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-string">6</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-identifier">REPERCUSSIONS</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[/</span><span class="hl-var">hcell</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[/</span><span class="hl-var">row</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[</span><span class="hl-var">row</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[</span><span class="hl-var">cell</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">colspan</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-string">6</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-identifier">Information</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">describing</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">the</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">effects</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">of</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">the</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">described</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">vulnerability</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">should</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">go</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">here</span><span class="hl-code">. </span><span class="hl-identifier">This</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">field</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">can</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">be</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">used</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">to</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">document</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">the</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">systems</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">responsible</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">for</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">the</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">vulnerability</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">events</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">which</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">happened</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">as</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">direct</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">or</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">indirect</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">result</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">of</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">the</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">vulnerability</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">or</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">any</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">other</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">pertinent</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">details</span><span class="hl-code">. </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[/</span><span class="hl-var">cell</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[/</span><span class="hl-var">row</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[</span><span class="hl-var">row</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[</span><span class="hl-var">hcell</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">colspan</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-string">6</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-identifier">MITIGATION</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[/</span><span class="hl-var">hcell</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[/</span><span class="hl-var">row</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[</span><span class="hl-var">row</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[</span><span class="hl-var">cell</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">colspan</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-string">6</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-identifier">Information</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">involving</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">how</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">to</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">mitigate</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">the</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">described</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">vulnerability</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">should</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">go</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">here</span><span class="hl-code">. </span><span class="hl-identifier">Be</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">descriptive</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">regarding</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">the</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">steps</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">or</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">actions</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">required</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">to</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">be</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">taken</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">to</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">prevent</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">further</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">issues</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">or</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">exploitation</span><span class="hl-code">. </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[/</span><span class="hl-var">cell</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[/</span><span class="hl-var">row</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[</span><span class="hl-var">row</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[</span><span class="hl-var">hcell</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-identifier">STATUS</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[/</span><span class="hl-var">hcell</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[</span><span class="hl-var">cell</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">style</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-string">font-weight: bold; text-align: center;</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[</span><span class="hl-var">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">class</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-string">red/blue/orange/green/purple</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">]</span><span class="hl-identifier">STATUS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">HERE</span><span class="hl-code"> (</span><span class="hl-identifier">PENDING</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">ERADICATED</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">REMEDIED</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">INACTIVE</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">ACTIVE</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">FUTILE</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-var">span</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[/</span><span class="hl-var">cell</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[</span><span class="hl-var">hcell</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-identifier">IMPACT</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[/</span><span class="hl-var">hcell</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[</span><span class="hl-var">cell</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">style</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-string">text-align: center; font-weight: bold;</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[</span><span class="hl-var">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">class</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-string">red/blue/orange/green/purple</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">]</span><span class="hl-identifier">IMPACT</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">HERE</span><span class="hl-code"> (</span><span class="hl-identifier">MINIMAL</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">LOW</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">MEDIUM</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">HIGH</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">CRITICAL</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[/</span><span class="hl-var">span</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[/</span><span class="hl-var">cell</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[</span><span class="hl-var">hcell</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-identifier">AUTHORITY</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[/</span><span class="hl-var">hcell</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[</span><span class="hl-var">cell</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">style</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-string">text-align: center;</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-identifier">The</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">individual</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">or</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">group</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">responsible</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">for</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">documenting</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">this</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">vulnerabilty</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">goes</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">here</span><span class="hl-code">. </span><span class="hl-identifier">This</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">will</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">most</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">likely</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">be</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">researcher</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">doctor</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">or</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Foundation</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">agent</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">who</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">takes</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">responsibility</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">for</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">this</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">record</span><span class="hl-code">. </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[/</span><span class="hl-var">cell</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[/</span><span class="hl-var">row</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[/</span><span class="hl-var">table</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">] </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-code">[/</span><span class="hl-var">div</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">]</span></pre></div> </div> </div> </div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">Click here to close VEX format template...</a></div> </div> </div> </div> <p>Note that only a single color (<span class="violet">VIOLET</span>, <span class="green">GREEN</span>, <span class="blue">BLUE</span>, <span class="orange">ORANGE</span>, or <span class="red">RED</span>) should be selected when using a <tt>[[div]]</tt> or <tt><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">[[span]]</span></tt>, if required. For example, in order to properly display a colored word like <span class="red">FUTILE</span>, please use the following formatting:</p> <blockquote> <p><tt><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">[[span class="red"]]FUTILE[[/span]]</span></tt></p> </blockquote> <p>Alternatively, if a VEX record needs to be <span class="blue">BLUE</span>, please encapsulate your VEX record table with the following syntax:</p> <blockquote> <p><tt><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">[[div class="blue"]]</span></tt><br/> <tt>…</tt><br/> <tt><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">[[/div]]</span></tt></p> </blockquote> <p>Upon documenting a VEX record, please be sure to verify that all of the formatting is correct and accurate. If there are no issues, a new VEX record should populate in the Recent Records section.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/vex-database">Vulnerability Exposure Index (VEX) Database</a>" by JakdragonX and basirskipreader, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/vex-database">https://scpwiki.com/vex-database</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div class="footnotes-footer"> <div class="title">Footnotes</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-1"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-1')">1</a>. For example, a successfully executed malware signature that was quarantined and <span style="font-weight: bold;color: rgb(var(--skylight-blue));">REMEDIED</span> by intrusion prevention systems (IPSs) would not be considered <span style="font-weight: bold;color: rgb(var(--neon-orange));">ACTIVE</span> even if impacted data or systems are still currently affected.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-2"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-2')">2</a>. <span class="red">SLANDER</span>.</div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:black-highlighter-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:new-age">:scp-wiki:theme:new-age</a> violet=a \| hidetitle=a]] [[=]] [[module Rate]] [[/=]] [[div class="modal" style="margin-bottom: unset; border-bottom-left-radius: 0; border-bottom-right-radius: 0; padding: 15px 15px 0px 15px;"]] [[div class="expoblock" style="padding-top: .15rem; padding-bottom: .15rem;"]] {{##grey\|Type here to search all available records...##}} [[/div]] = [[size 85%]]{{[[span style="color: rgb(var(--accent-color));"]]18,452[[/span]] VEX records have been documented by [[[/simulacrum-project-hub\|SIMULACRUM]]] authorities.}}[[/size]] [[/div]] [[div class="modal" style="background-color: rgb(var(--accent-color)); border-color: rgb(var(--accent-color)); color: rgb(var(--pitch-black)); margin-top: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; line-height: 19px; border-top-left-radius: 0; border-top-right-radius: 0;"]] [[size 90%]]ⓘ Unsure how to continue? Refer below for further information.[[/size]] [[/div]] @@ @@ + OVERVIEW ---- Security is crucial to Project SIMULACRUM's continued success. The [[span class="hilighter"]]Vulnerability Exposure Index (VEX)[[/span]] database provides a centralized catalogue for disclosing and documenting known threats to SIMULACRUM's environment, inhabitants, items, virtual sandboxes, and external infrastructure. VEX records are enumerated by their entry IDs (VEX-YYYY-NNN) which documents the year that the identified vulnerability was discovered in and a unique sequence numerical for categorization. [[=]] [[collapsible show="Click here for more information..." hide="Click here to hide information..." hideLocation="bottom"]] [[<]] VEX records provide in-depth information regarding specific vulnerabilities. This includes a description, impact, status, severity, related item(s), assigned authorities, mitigation procedures, and any repercussions determined to be directly or indirectly caused by the threat itself. All records are appropriately color-coded based on severity. [[span class="hilighter"]]Severity[[/span]] indicates the perceived risk that a vulnerability possesses if left unmitigated. This metric is assessed by a numerical scale ranging from [[span style="font-weight: bold;color: rgb(var(--accent-color));"]]0.0[[/span]] (Informational) to [[span style="font-weight: bold;color: rgb(var(--mutant-green));"]]0.1 - 2.5[[/span]] (Low), [[span style="font-weight: bold;color: rgb(var(--skylight-blue));"]]2.6 - 5.0[[/span]] (Medium), [[span style="font-weight: bold;color: rgb(var(--neon-orange));"]]5.1 - 7.5[[/span]] (High), or [[span style="font-weight: bold;color: rgb(var(--deep-crimson));"]]7.6 - 10.0[[/span]] (Critical). Severity does not always suggest that an unmitigated threat will have widespread effects; rather it indicates the perceived damage that it can potentially cause overall. To determine the scale at which a vulnerability can affect multiple systems or users, VEX records document a vulnerability's [[span class="hilighter"]]Impact[[/span]]. Impact is measured as [[span style="font-weight: bold;color: rgb(var(--accent-color));"]]MINIMAL[[/span]], [[span style="font-weight: bold;color: rgb(var(--mutant-green));"]]LOW[[/span]], [[span style="font-weight: bold;color: rgb(var(--skylight-blue));"]]MEDIUM[[/span]], [[span style="font-weight: bold;color: rgb(var(--neon-orange));"]]HIGH[[/span]], or [[span style="font-weight: bold;color: rgb(var(--deep-crimson));"]]CRITICAL[[/span]], depending on the number of items (if any) that may be affected by a specific threat. Impact assessments are not all inclusive, and may incorporate additional considerations such as SIMULACRUM sandbox size, Site structure, player capacity, or [[[/scp-4523\|physical resource utilization]]]. In order to assist operators and personnel utilizing this database, VEX records will also display the last known [[span class="hilighter"]]Status[[/span]] of a vulnerability. Status documents whether a vulnerability is [[span style="font-weight: bold;color: rgb(var(--accent-color));"]]PENDING[[/span]], [[span style="font-weight: bold;color: rgb(var(--mutant-green));"]]ERADICATED[[/span]], [[span style="font-weight: bold;color: rgb(var(--skylight-blue));"]]REMEDIED[[/span]], [[span style="font-weight: bold;color: rgb(var(--neon-orange));"]]ACTIVE[[/span]], or [[span style="font-weight: bold;color: rgb(var(--deep-crimson));"]]FUTILE[[/span]]. As status only reflects a vulnerability's last known activity, any outstanding impact or repercussions caused by a particular threat are not considered in this metric.[[footnote]]For example, a successfully executed malware signature that was quarantined and [[span style="font-weight: bold;color: rgb(var(--skylight-blue));"]]REMEDIED[[/span]] by intrusion prevention systems (IPSs) would not be considered [[span style="font-weight: bold;color: rgb(var(--neon-orange));"]]ACTIVE[[/span]] even if impacted data or systems are still currently affected.[[/footnote]] Individual VEX records are documented and supported by an assigned [[span class="hilighter"]]Authority[[/span]]. Authorities can be comprised of SIMULACRUM operators, administrators, or other third-party organizations and Groups of Interest (GoI). Assigned authorities are responsible for reporting, and classifying cyberanomalous threats as they manifest. Multiple authorities may also collaborate together in order to properly document discovered vulnerabilities, improve relations, and/or enhance cooperation efforts made between other virtualized or physical parties. Utilize the above search function to locate particular VEX records, or refer below to several of the most recently submitted entries. [[/<]] [[/collapsible]] [[/=]] @@ @@ + RECENT RECORDS ---- [[div class="orange"]] [[table style="width: 100%; border-collapse:collapse; margin-top: 2.5rem; margin-bottom: 2.5rem;"]] [[row]] [[hcell]] VEX ID: [[/hcell]] [[cell colspan="3" style="text-align: center;"]] VEX-2045-003 [[/cell]] [[hcell]] SEVERITY: [[/hcell]] [[cell style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(var(--accent-color));"]] 7.4 [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[hcell colspan="6"]] RELATED ITEMS: [[/hcell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[cell colspan="6"]] * [[[SCP-6882]]] [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[hcell colspan="6"]] DESCRIPTION: [[/hcell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[cell colspan="6"]] Improper access controls across SIMULACRUM meshlayer firmware versions would allow affected players to bypass predefined world boundaries. This, in essence, allowed for uninterrupted access to any bordering sandboxes. In some versions, players were not only able to bypass these borders, but could also access edit parameters within their sandbox, thus granting them access to elevated administrator commands. [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[hcell colspan="6"]] REPERCUSSIONS: [[/hcell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[cell colspan="6"]] Simulations bordering vulnerable sandboxes were mostly reserved for testing and containment of undocumented large-scale virtual aggressors (LSVAs) or other unknown anomalous phenomenon. Players exploiting this vulnerability could disrupt these simulations through physical interaction or by executing elevated commands. Players with internal system access to their own sandboxes could also "piggyback" off their instances and into other remote sandboxes. In one case, several unknown attackers were able to sabotage the SCP-6882 virtual instance and hijack its noospheric platform interface, causing connected players to undergo rapid mental and physical deterioration before an unexpected sandbox crash later occured. Attackers were able to successfully input coordinate commands to bypass detection; however, improper values resulted in threat actors falling out-of-bounds and missing subsequent bound checks. Recovery efforts have been futile. [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[hcell colspan="6"]] MITIGATION: [[/hcell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[cell colspan="6"]] Firmware updates are available for all affected virtual sandboxes. Complete system restart is necessary to apply changes. Additional vendor-specific hotfix patches have been successfully deployed across all platforms and unattached virtual instances. [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[hcell]] STATUS: [[/hcell]] [[cell style="font-weight: bold; text-align: center;"]] [[span class="green"]]ERADICATED[[/span]] [[/cell]] [[hcell]] IMPACT: [[/hcell]] [[cell style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold;"]] [[span class="green"]]Low[[/span]] [[/cell]] [[hcell]] AUTHORITY: [[/hcell]] [[cell style="text-align: center;"]] [[[/scp-7766\|Dr. Jakob Reigen]]] [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[/table]] [[/div]] [[div class="red"]] [[table style="width: 100%; border-collapse:collapse; margin-top: 2.5rem; margin-bottom: 2.5rem;"]] [[row]] [[hcell]] VEX ID: [[/hcell]] [[cell colspan="3" style="text-align: center;"]] VEX-2032-682 [[/cell]] [[hcell]] SEVERITY: [[/hcell]] [[cell style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(var(--accent-color));"]] 9.8 [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[hcell colspan="6"]] RELATED ITEMS: [[/hcell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[cell colspan="6"]] * [[span class="blue"]][[[/scp-5242\|SCP-INTEGER]]][[/span]] * [[span class="green"]]MAKER[[/span]] * SIMULA-9025-1B * SIMULA-7621-3C [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[hcell colspan="6"]] DESCRIPTION: [[/hcell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[cell colspan="6"]] Unsecured data root paths between sandboxes from the [[span class="green"]][[[/scp-7346\|PRIME INDEX]]][[/span]] could allow [[[/domc-hub\|semiohazardous]]] phenomenon to affect multiple SIMULACRUM layers. [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[hcell colspan="6"]] REPERCUSSIONS: [[/hcell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[cell colspan="6"]] Disaster recovery systems flagged and restored a cascading network file system crash after a failed interaction between two sandboxes. Prior to the alerted incident, SIMULA-9025-1B -- an abstracted reality intended to test interactions between [[[/scp-5795\|ontokinetic]]], semiohazardous, and other reality-altering anomalies -- had initiated a resource request from SIMULA-7621-3C. During the response operation by SIMULA-7621-3C, an undetected [[span class="blue"]]HAZARD[[/span]] was also transferred. This [[span class="blue"]]COMPLEX[[/span]] was then successfully executed after both sandboxes confirmed its presence and attempted to forcibly delete the [[span class="blue"]]THREAT[[/span]]. Due to outdated data signatures, the [[span class="blue"]]HAZARD[[/span]] began systematically updating all reference pointers, files, and datasets with abstractions, halting system functions across 3,451 connected instances. [[span class="blue"]]COMPLEX[[/span]] manifested itself within SIMULA-9025-1B, alerting host player [[span class="green"]]MAKER[[/span]]. Attempts by [[span class="green"]]MAKER[[/span]] to notify SIMULACRUM administrators of the [[span class="blue"]]MALWARE[[/span]][[footnote]][[span class="red"]]SLANDER[[/span]].[[/footnote]] subsequently failed as null counters disrupted operations. Automated systems were unable to fully repair either sandboxes or regenerate [[span class="green"]]MAKER[[/span]] from backup player matrices. [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[hcell colspan="6"]] MITIGATION: [[/hcell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[cell colspan="6"]] Standard requests sent by client and serving sandboxes have been updated to introduce an additional CHECK flag to determine if data being sent or received contains anomalous traces. Host-based detection/removal systems have also been updated across all active SIMULACRUM instances to cleanse deployments of potential reality-altering hazards. [[span class="green"]]PRIME INDEX[[/span]] roots have been updated to utilize the latest security protocols. Improved pathing methods between sandboxes have also been introduced to now disconnect instances determined to be at risk of anomalous leakage. SIMULACRUM authorities have all received additional training on dealing with active cognitive hazards, including semiohazardous and infohazardous phenomenon. [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[hcell]] STATUS: [[/hcell]] [[cell style="font-weight: bold; text-align: center;"]] [[span class="orange"]]ACTIVE[[/span]] [[/cell]] [[hcell]] IMPACT: [[/hcell]] [[cell style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold;"]] [[span class="red"]]CRITICAL[[/span]] [[/cell]] [[hcell]] AUTHORITY: [[/hcell]] [[cell style="text-align: center;"]] Dr. Devin Collins [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[/table]] [[/div]] [[div class="blue"]] [[table style="width: 100%; border-collapse:collapse; margin-top: 2.5rem; margin-bottom: 2.5rem;"]] [[row]] [[hcell]] VEX ID: [[/hcell]] [[cell colspan="3" style="text-align: center;"]] VEX-2423-019 [[/cell]] [[hcell]] SEVERITY: [[/hcell]] [[cell style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(var(--accent-color));"]] 4.8 [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[hcell colspan="6"]] RELATED ITEMS: [[/hcell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[cell colspan="6"]] * [[[SCP-6872]]] * [[[SCP-2718]]] [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[hcell colspan="6"]] DESCRIPTION: [[/hcell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[cell colspan="6"]] A buffer overflow in the {{commit_action}} module in SCP-6872 would incorrectly reference SCP-2718, resulting in multiple errors and extraordinary physical harm onto players. Continued conflicts could cause a denial of service (crash) and possibly execute additional root-level commands. In some instances, players experiencing multiple requests between both SCP-6872 and SCP-2718 could also be afflicted by both conditions simultaneously, leading to corrupted reference caches and other errors. [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[hcell colspan="6"]] REPERCUSSIONS: [[/hcell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[cell colspan="6"]] During the rapid deployment of sub-simulations within SCP-6872, an increased strain on incoming state requests resulted in players being incorrectly assigned to SCP-2718. During this period, players experiencing the "DECEASED" state would not be transported to their simulated death sequences-- rather, affected individuals would either be terminated from their hosting simulation entirely or remain permanently immobile and unable to disconnect from their sessions. This resulted in players being in multiple states of "DECEASED" between several sandboxes. In other circumstances, physical players would be completely ejected from all sandboxes. Excessive electric discharge caused by the vulnerability sent uncontrolled shocks through sensitive neural interfaces, physically disabling players and locking their player pods indefinitely. Players would still report active heartbeats despite being clinically deceased, bypassing all system monitoring tools for extended periods of time. This resulted in player pods being contaminated with excess organisms, including bacteria, mites, mold, and flies. All later attempts to remove players from their pods universally ended in failure. [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[hcell colspan="6"]] MITIGATION: [[/hcell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[cell colspan="6"]] Additional software-level checks against possible overflows have been implemented to prevent any issues with SCP-6872 and SCP-2718. Additional system monitoring tools have been implemented to confirm player status through haptic and audio feedback. All active neural network interfaces have also been issued a firmware update and all player pods have been refitted with emergency release latches. [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[hcell]] STATUS: [[/hcell]] [[cell style="font-weight: bold; text-align: center;"]] [[span class="blue"]]REMEDIED[[/span]] [[/cell]] [[hcell]] IMPACT: [[/hcell]] [[cell style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold;"]] [[span class="orange"]]Medium[[/span]] [[/cell]] [[hcell]] AUTHORITY: [[/hcell]] [[cell style="text-align: center;"]] {{[AUTOMATED]}} [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[/table]] [[/div]] [[div class="green"]] [[table style="width: 100%; border-collapse:collapse; margin-top: 2.5rem; margin-bottom: 2.5rem;"]] [[row]] [[hcell]] VEX ID: [[/hcell]] [[cell colspan="3" style="text-align: center;"]] VEX-2076-303 [[/cell]] [[hcell]] SEVERITY: [[/hcell]] [[cell style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(var(--accent-color));"]] 1.7 [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[hcell colspan="6"]] RELATED ITEMS: [[/hcell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[cell colspan="6"]] * SIMULA-Y200-2K * {{cron}} version 23 * Docker version 1001001010001.3 [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[hcell colspan="6"]] DESCRIPTION: [[/hcell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[cell colspan="6"]] On Docker versions that form a valid number string in binary, {{cron}} would read it as a valid character string instead. This would cause various issues, including system failure. [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[hcell colspan="6"]] REPERCUSSIONS: [[/hcell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[cell colspan="6"]] SIMULA-Y200-2K is a sandboxed reality designed to output a single value -- the default system time of baseline reality pre-SIMULACRUM. This is done to maintain legacy systems that expect a standard time on certain functions instead of the advanced system time of IEEE 4098.32, the standardized SIMULACRUM timestamp. Retrieval of the legacy system timestamp is done through a {{cron}} script, which first checks for the current Docker version, and only fetches a new system timestamp if the version number had recently changed. Due to issues with {{cron}}, Docker version number strings would sometimes be misinterpreted as invalid character strings when updated. Because of this, severe momentary failure for all SIMULA instances that depended on the legacy system time occurred. As of 2075, 321 SIMULA instances were dependent on legacy timestamps, subsequently leading to indirect system failures of those sandboxes and 8,321,098,321 other connected dependencies. [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[hcell colspan="6"]] MITIGATION: [[/hcell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[cell colspan="6"]] A patch to {{cron}}'s developer has been sent to disable interpretation of binary strings as regular characters. System administrators are currently collaborating with Docker to ensure that no version number is an interpretable character string. [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[hcell]] STATUS: [[/hcell]] [[cell style="font-weight: bold; text-align: center;"]] [[span class="blue"]]REMEDIED[[/span]] [[/cell]] [[hcell]] IMPACT: [[/hcell]] [[cell style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold;"]] [[span class="red"]]CRITICAL[[/span]] [[/cell]] [[hcell]] AUTHORITY: [[/hcell]] [[cell style="text-align: center;"]] Dr. Basir [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[/table]] [[/div]] [[div class="orange"]] [[table style="width: 100%; border-collapse:collapse; margin-top: 2.5rem; margin-bottom: 2.5rem;"]] [[row]] [[hcell]] VEX ID: [[/hcell]] [[cell colspan="3" style="text-align: center;"]] VEX-2099-002 [[/cell]] [[hcell]] SEVERITY: [[/hcell]] [[cell style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(var(--accent-color));"]] 7.2 [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[hcell colspan="6"]] RELATED ITEMS: [[/hcell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[cell colspan="6"]] * [[[SCP-8155]]] * Neurological Maternal Decay Syndrome [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[hcell colspan="6"]] DESCRIPTION: [[/hcell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[cell colspan="6"]] A collection of five unaccounted glitches manifesting over the course of two months that were able to successfully severely damage the hosted mainframe via the use of --9-- 16 server crashes. [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[hcell colspan="6"]] REPERCUSSIONS: [[/hcell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[cell colspan="6"]] In the immediate culmination of SCP-8155 via all five glitches resulted in a severe malfunction within SIMULA-2099-02 manifesting as an account of a en masse ontological breakdown as well as all female SIMULACRUM participants to contract a supreme version of "Maternal Decay Syndrome," a SIMULACRUM virus acting as a neurological memetic impairment that ceased all female inhabitants abilities to reproduce, reciprocate love for their young, as well as a deconstruction and destruction of all familial conceptual base components implemented into the SIMULACRUM server. [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[hcell colspan="6"]] MITIGATION: [[/hcell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[cell colspan="6"]] Attempts to derail the situation via repairs to the mainframe were attempted by VEX-2196-002. Initial attempts were futile, however over the course of multiple server restarts, 2196-002 were successful in mitigating the threat posed by SCP-8155, albeit with significant financial and mental costs that resulted in the derealization of their participation within all SCP Foundation-acting parties, most likely due to an error in the management of VEX-2099-002. Mitigation was deemed successful, however, the actual nature as well as origins of how SCP-8155 was able to impact the vex server mainframe's on such a large and impactful basis is unknown and currently being extensively investigated. [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[hcell]] STATUS: [[/hcell]] [[cell style="font-weight: bold; text-align: center;"]] [[span class="green"]]ERADICATED[[/span]] [[/cell]] [[hcell]] IMPACT: [[/hcell]] [[cell style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold;"]] [[span class="red"]]HIGH[[/span]] [[/cell]] [[hcell]] AUTHORITY: [[/hcell]] [[cell style="text-align: center;"]] [[[/scp-7793\|Dr. Christopher Blashman]]] [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[/table]] [[/div]] @@ @@ + CONTRIBUTION ---- @@ @@ Contributions can be made using the following VEX record format: [[=]] [[collapsible show="Click here to view VEX format template..." hide="Click here to close VEX format template..." hideLocation="bottom"]] [[<]] [[code type="css"]] [[div class="red/blue/orange/green/purple"]] [[table style="width: 100%; border-collapse:collapse; margin-top: 2.5rem; margin-bottom: 2.5rem;"]] [[row]] [[hcell]] VEX ID: [[/hcell]] [[cell colspan="3" style="text-align: center;"]] VEX-YYYY-NNN [[/cell]] [[hcell]] SEVERITY: [[/hcell]] [[cell style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(var(--accent-color));"]] Severity should be placed here. Be sure that the color of the table matches the value range of the severity. (0 should be purple, 0.1 - 2.5 should be green, 2.5 - 5 should be blue, 5 - 7.5 should be orange, and 7.5 to 10 should red) [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[hcell colspan="6"]] RELATED ITEMS: [[/hcell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[cell colspan="6"]] * A list of anomalies or systems relating to, or directly caused by the vulnerability should be placed here. * Add as many items as needed here. [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[hcell colspan="6"]] DESCRIPTION: [[/hcell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[cell colspan="6"]] Information describing what the actual vulnerability is should go here. Refrain from adding too much information regarding other systems or processes. This field should be solely reserved for documenting what the vulnerability is and how it operates. [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[hcell colspan="6"]] REPERCUSSIONS: [[/hcell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[cell colspan="6"]] Information describing the effects of the described vulnerability should go here. This field can be used to document the systems responsible for the vulnerability, events which happened as a direct or indirect result of the vulnerability, or any other pertinent details. [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[hcell colspan="6"]] MITIGATION: [[/hcell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[cell colspan="6"]] Information involving how to mitigate the described vulnerability should go here. Be descriptive regarding the steps or actions required to be taken to prevent further issues or exploitation. [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[hcell]] STATUS: [[/hcell]] [[cell style="font-weight: bold; text-align: center;"]] [[span class="red/blue/orange/green/purple"]]STATUS HERE (PENDING/ERADICATED/REMEDIED/INACTIVE/ACTIVE/FUTILE)[/span]] [[/cell]] [[hcell]] IMPACT: [[/hcell]] [[cell style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold;"]] [[span class="red/blue/orange/green/purple"]]IMPACT HERE (MINIMAL/LOW/MEDIUM/HIGH/CRITICAL)[[/span]] [[/cell]] [[hcell]] AUTHORITY: [[/hcell]] [[cell style="text-align: center;"]] The individual or group responsible for documenting this vulnerabilty goes here. This will most likely be a researcher, doctor, or Foundation agent who takes responsibility for this record. [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[/table]] [[/div]] [[/code]] [[/<]] [[/collapsible]] [[/=]] Note that only a single color ([[span class="violet"]]VIOLET[[/span]], [[span class="green"]]GREEN[[/span]], [[span class="blue"]]BLUE[[/span]], [[span class="orange"]]ORANGE[[/span]], or [[span class="red"]]RED[[/span]]) should be selected when using a {{[[div]]}} or {{@@[[span]]@@}}, if required. For example, in order to properly display a colored word like [[span class="red"]]FUTILE[[/span]], please use the following formatting: > {{@@[[span class="red"]]FUTILE[[/span]]@@}} Alternatively, if a VEX record needs to be [[span class="blue"]]BLUE[[/span]], please encapsulate your VEX record table with the following syntax: > {{@@[[div class="blue"]]@@}} > {{...}} > {{@@[[/div]]@@}} Upon documenting a VEX record, please be sure to verify that all of the formatting is correct and accurate. If there are no issues, a new VEX record should populate in the Recent Records section. [[=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=JakdragonX and basirskipreader]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]] [[/=]] [[module CSS]] th { border: 2px solid rgb(var(--accent-color)); background-color: rgb(var(--accent-color)); color: rgb(var(--pitch-black)); padding: 0.5rem; white-space: nowrap; width: 0.01%; } td { border: 2px solid rgb(var(--dark-midnight)); background-color: rgb(var(--dark-midnight)); padding: 0.5rem; } span.green { color: rgb(var(--mutant-green)); font-weight: bold; } span.blue { color: rgb(var(--skylight-blue)); font-weight: bold; } span.violet { color: rgb(var(--lavender-violet)); font-weight: bold; } span.orange { color: rgb(var(--neon-orange)); font-weight: bold; } span.red { color: rgb(var(--deep-crimson)); font-weight: bold; } .footnotes-footer { display: none; } [[/module]]	2024-03-12T17:22:00	[ "_licensebox", "co-authored", "collaboration", "science-fiction", "simulacrum", "tale", "worldbuilding" ]	Vulnerability Exposure Index (VEX) Database - SCP Foundation	28	[ "simulacrum-project-hub", "scp-4523", "scp-6882", "scp-7766", "scp-5242", "scp-7346", "domc-hub", "scp-5795", "scp-6872", "scp-2718", "scp-8155", "scp-7793", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[]	[]	1453030517	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/vex-database
violet-black-red	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><tt>Loading further files for <a href="/scp-8901">SCP-8901</a></tt></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><tt>The following documents have been recovered from a datapack captured by the <span style="text-decoration: underline;">Project Aidita</span><sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-1" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-1')">1</a></sup> Office. This document seems to describe a color paradigm shift phenomenon on a single individual. Below are these transcribed records.</tt></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> </div> <div class="darkdocument blue"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc0"><span><span style="color: #10aec2"><strong>I</strong></span></span></h1> <h3 id="toc1"><span>1900 A.D.</span></h3> </div> <hr/> <p>It's at that time I firmly believed that the <strong>VIOLET</strong> is the origin of everything in the world.</p> <p>Can you understand it? Both the verdant grass of spring and the ripe fruits of autumn originate from the initial tremor of faintness and rapidness. It is in this tremor that violet is involuntarily arising. The colour deemed "noble" can be found in Phoenicians' chaplets, exalted robes of Carthaginian kings, and the glazed tiles from fabled China. In which maybe just slightly deeper outside where ordinary mortals can never look into, flowing violet is everywhere. They are dancing gracefully beyond the reach of Newton's band of light, like fireworks that bloom only in our dreams.</p> <p>I can, however, <em>witness</em> them within those digits, variables and constants. These spirits dwell at rainbow's end, beckoning to me from the opposite side of the negative biquadratic doorway. And yet, I have never really met them. Whenever Kirchhoff's fire ignites the purest object which can be rarely seen, the band which these items <em>should</em> exist is always stuffed up with darkness of fruitlessness. Can you understand? It's just a cup of Scotch whisky mixed with cigar smoke, where there is nothing but a wisp of a phantasmagoria that anaesthetises the ectoplasm.</p> <p>But I know that they must be there. I will pursue them.</p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="darkdocument yellow"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc2"><span><span style="color: #f6c430"><strong>II</strong></span></span></h1> <h3 id="toc3"><span>1896 A.D.</span></h3> </div> <hr/> <p><strong>RED</strong> is disappearing from my vision. Maybe there shouldn't be so much red in the world, or maybe it's all in my head? I don't know about that.</p> <p>It is generally accepted that red is the light that goes hand in hand with warmth. The shimmering light on the candelabra, the campfire by the bay, and the non-imaginary sunlight that shines equally on everyone. They are all glimmered with an inviting scarlet. It's just that despite the bright red and something beyond that is indeed undulating in the flames, some kind of instinct told me that they shouldn't be so bright.</p> <p>Well, which color could remain undiluted under such a frightening exponential decay? the <em>displacement</em>, often called written destiny, is the iron law proclaimed by the gods that excludes the seductive red, the bright red, the vivid red and some other hues from the feast of colors. In Kirchhoff's private garden, however, red grows stubbornly, no matter how brilliant the luster might be. It's a hard, peeling spot on the bar of a bistro, or a stain that can't be wiped off the streets of Munich. It torments me day and night, and those attempts to escape it by closing my eyes prove useless.</p> <p>I think this is not a hallucination. I'll set the fabricated red on fire and reduce it to blackened embers in the dazzling colored light.</p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="darkdocument indigo"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc4"><span><span style="color: #1661ab"><strong>III</strong></span></span></h1> <h3 id="toc5"><span>1911 A.D.</span></h3> </div> <hr/> <p>I just want to complain that I'm so fed up with stupidity. The purity and sanctity of St. Dido's violet has been thrown to these dogs. This is even deemed to be a <em>catastrophe</em> — My goodness, they would rather believe that Chimera rules the world than admit that the truth behind everything is just so simple and perfect.</p> <p>Look, the shimmering spirits are there. They're laughing out loud at people's shortsightedness, shallowness, and the slightest hint of deep-seated fear. In my recent attempts, several different omens appeared. A tiny light-violet ray was sparkling where almost everyone thought there should be nothing. Though the light is so fragile and fleeting, I saw the aquamarine waters of the far eastern Mediterranean. They are there, smiling at our devotee who is thirsty for discovery.</p> <p>I will complete my pilgrimage. I will reach the paradise of the virgin violet, no matter how.</p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="darkdocument orange"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc6"><span><span style="color: #fa7e23"><strong>IV</strong></span></span></h1> <h3 id="toc7"><span>1911 A.D.</span></h3> </div> <hr/> <p>Flowers and applause mean nothing to me.</p> <p>Frankly, I just want to get out of here, out of this hell of interlocking goblets and flattering flattery. The swaying glass of Burgundy Red projected an annoying bright red beam into my lens then through my optic nerves, sending the primal shudder into my perception. Candlelight flickered above me, long blood-red carpets below. Everything was a <em>mistake</em>, and even the very fact that I had come here for those ridiculous formulas was a complete <em>mistake</em>.</p> <p>I closed my eyes and tried once more to push these things out of my mind. To my delight, it worked for the first time. Red faded into brown, chestnut, and finally pure darkness with the descending exponential curve. I enjoyed the peaceful moment. I was surrounded by the mesmerising scent of rubia and sappan, which gradually gave way to the fresh scent of purple perilla, rosemary and parsley. I must say, this can really relax me.</p> <p>I would try that <em>ritual</em> again. I've never trusted it more and I'm sure it will reward me.</p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="darkdocument violet"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc8"><span><span style="color: #813c85"><strong>V</strong></span></span></h1> <h3 id="toc9"><span>1919 A.D.</span></h3> </div> <hr/> <p>I did it! That's the ideal curve!</p> <p>The violet is so bright that even the St.Vincent's green is hidden from the brilliance of sacred violet. I can see the colour beyond the iridescence hidden by Newton. They, the colour much brighter than violet, are the splendour of divinity. They are trembling, as the piling Fibonacci rainbow dyed with overflowing neon, then reaching out to eternity on a short and wide band of light.</p> <p>I looked out the window. The heaven of London is violet. Solar is violet lunar eclipse. Cloud and water are violet stairs and ladders. Stars are winking at me, telling me of the many mysteries that lie beyond the violet. Huh, James Hopwood, you gave it all up <em>there</em>. Can you appreciate this spectacle? The tiny arc of iridescence may well be the phantasmagoria that pities the loser.</p> <p>……</p> <p>I pray to the violet vessel. I will ascend in the iridescent violet.</p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="darkdocument red"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc10"><span><span style="color: #de2a18"><strong>VI</strong></span></span></h1> <h3 id="toc11"><span>1928 A.D.</span></h3> </div> <hr/> <p>Well, that's it. They disappeared into that spot, just as I expected.</p> <p>Bright red is indeed the lie of the past, or the constant illusion inside everyone's eyes. <em>He</em> was wrong, but somehow right. The jumble of theories had no <em>realistic</em> validity whatsoever. Red is the misconception only belongs to cold items in the unheated twilight. In the blazing daylight, the crest displacing towards the uncanny jasper, along with the half-decayed light, have taken away the old glory of red.</p> <p>The August sky is so bright, right? Needless enthusiasm should not exist. Effectless thinking should not exist. Meaningless light should not exist. Everything will evolve into eternal tranquillity in the midst of this hot sun.</p> <p>……</p> <p>I chant to the crimson heart. I will descent in the colorless red.</p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="document"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc12"><span><span style="color: #1a6840"><strong>VII</strong></span></span></h1> <h3 id="toc13"><span>2004 A.D.</span></h3> </div> <hr/> <p><tt>"It is important to note that Wien's Formula accurately predicts blackbody radiation in the short wave band, but underestimates it in the long wave band. Conversely, the Rayleigh-Kings formula, which is an efficiency estimation of radiation intensity in the long wave band, but approaches infinity in the short-wave band. That's what we often referred to as the 'Ultraviolet Catastrophe' — You don't need to memorise these two formulas, just know how to calculate with them."</tt></p> <p><tt>"Here are some interesting facts. Wilhelm Wien, the German scientist who derived Wien's formula, died of hypothermia in 1928. The Englishman John William Strutt, aka Baron Riley, died in 1919 of an immunological disease caused by exogenous electromagnetic waves. Of them all, however, mathematician James Hopwood Kings lived the longest — he lived until 1946, during which time he wrote several popular science articles".</tt></p> <p>Lingering summer is always annoying. This is especially true of the Radiation Optics course, which has been scheduled for 8 a.m. since the beginning of the semester. Unfortunately, even though I'm sitting in this classroom and listening to the lecturer, the content of the course is slipping through my cerebral cortex without leaving a trace. Outside the window, the ceibas and magnolias are swaying their green leaves. This, of course, can only make me more sleepy.</p> <p><tt>"Our group's research is also a bold challenge to the Planck formula. Although we recognise that the Planck formula for blackbody radiation is undoubtedly mathematically perfect, the plain interpolation solution used to form this formula in the mid-range of the spectrum fails to find a counterpart in the material world for the apparent phenomena. Therefore, our team suggests that all previous methods of observing blackbody radiation in the mid-visible band are somehow flawed, leaving an extremely large peak in the blackbody radiation intensity curve between 500nm and 600nm unobserved. If you want to track the progress of our research, you can visit Arxiv for ……"</tt></p> <p><tt><strong>"Professor! Princeton has replicated our findings! They also observed the green spot!"</strong></tt></p> <p>Suddenly, some shout interrupted the lecturer's eloquent speech, shattering the drowsy atmosphere in the classroom. He must be the lecturer's favourite student, I suppose. Our lecturer seemed to be quite accomplished in the field he teaches and is well known both at home and abroad. Although I don't know the significance of this, he seemed extremely enthusiastic and ran out of the classroom, leaving dozens of his students, including me, in the classroom.</p> <p>Of course, none of this makes sense to me. All I need now is just a nap at my desk. A cool summer breeze blows through the classroom, the green deciduous trees outside making a refreshing rustle. What a wonderful early autumn day, I think.</p> </div> <div class="footnotes-footer"> <div class="title">Footnotes</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-1"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-1')">1</a>. <strong>Translator's Note:</strong> A CN-branch Canon Hub which introduces interaction between multiverses.</div> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/violet-black-red">Violet, Black, Red</a>" by Sharia Vanilla, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/violet-black-red">https://scpwiki.com/violet-black-red</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:toggle-sidebar">:scp-wiki:component:toggle-sidebar</a>]] [[module css]] .darkdocument { outline-offset: -10px; padding: 50px !important; color: #eef7f2; } .document { outline: 3px solid #1a6840; outline-offset: -10px; padding: 50px !important; background-color: #f9e9cd; color: #131124; } .red { outline: 3px solid #de2a18; background-color: #2b130d; } .orange{ outline: 3px solid #fa7e23; background-color: #2b130d; } .yellow { outline: 3px solid #f6c430; background-color: #2b130d; } .blue { outline: 3px solid #10aec2; background-color: #131124; } .indigo { outline: 3px solid #1661ab; background-color: #131124; } .violet { outline: 3px solid #813c85; background-color: #131124; } @media only screen and (max-width: 1020px) { .darkdocument { padding: 20px !important; } .document { padding: 20px !important; } } [[/module]] [[>]] [[module rate]] [[/>]] [[=]] {{Loading further files for [[[SCP-8901]]]}} @@ @@ . @@ @@ . @@ @@ . @@ @@ {{The following documents have been recovered from a datapack captured by the __Project Aidita__[[footnote]] Translator's Note: A CN-branch Canon Hub which introduces interaction between multiverses. [[/footnote]] Office. This document seems to describe a color paradigm shift phenomenon on a single individual. Below are these transcribed records.}} @@ @@ . @@ @@ . @@ @@ . @@ @@ [[/=]] [[div class="darkdocument blue"]] [[=]] + ###10aec2\|I## +++ 1900 A.D. [[/=]] ---- It's at that time I firmly believed that the VIOLET is the origin of everything in the world. Can you understand it? Both the verdant grass of spring and the ripe fruits of autumn originate from the initial tremor of faintness and rapidness. It is in this tremor that violet is involuntarily arising. The colour deemed "noble" can be found in Phoenicians' chaplets, exalted robes of Carthaginian kings, and the glazed tiles from fabled China. In which maybe just slightly deeper outside where ordinary mortals can never look into, flowing violet is everywhere. They are dancing gracefully beyond the reach of Newton's band of light, like fireworks that bloom only in our dreams. I can, however, //witness// them within those digits, variables and constants. These spirits dwell at rainbow's end, beckoning to me from the opposite side of the negative biquadratic doorway. And yet, I have never really met them. Whenever Kirchhoff's fire ignites the purest object which can be rarely seen, the band which these items //should// exist is always stuffed up with darkness of fruitlessness. Can you understand? It's just a cup of Scotch whisky mixed with cigar smoke, where there is nothing but a wisp of a phantasmagoria that anaesthetises the ectoplasm. But I know that they must be there. I will pursue them. [[/div]] @@ @@ [[div class="darkdocument yellow"]] [[=]] + ###f6c430\|II## +++ 1896 A.D. [[/=]] ---- RED is disappearing from my vision. Maybe there shouldn't be so much red in the world, or maybe it's all in my head? I don't know about that. It is generally accepted that red is the light that goes hand in hand with warmth. The shimmering light on the candelabra, the campfire by the bay, and the non-imaginary sunlight that shines equally on everyone. They are all glimmered with an inviting scarlet. It's just that despite the bright red and something beyond that is indeed undulating in the flames, some kind of instinct told me that they shouldn't be so bright. Well, which color could remain undiluted under such a frightening exponential decay? the //displacement//, often called written destiny, is the iron law proclaimed by the gods that excludes the seductive red, the bright red, the vivid red and some other hues from the feast of colors. In Kirchhoff's private garden, however, red grows stubbornly, no matter how brilliant the luster might be. It's a hard, peeling spot on the bar of a bistro, or a stain that can't be wiped off the streets of Munich. It torments me day and night, and those attempts to escape it by closing my eyes prove useless. I think this is not a hallucination. I'll set the fabricated red on fire and reduce it to blackened embers in the dazzling colored light. [[/div]] @@ @@ [[div class="darkdocument indigo"]] [[=]] + ###1661ab\|III## +++ 1911 A.D. [[/=]] ---- I just want to complain that I'm so fed up with stupidity. The purity and sanctity of St. Dido's violet has been thrown to these dogs. This is even deemed to be a //catastrophe// -- My goodness, they would rather believe that Chimera rules the world than admit that the truth behind everything is just so simple and perfect. Look, the shimmering spirits are there. They're laughing out loud at people's shortsightedness, shallowness, and the slightest hint of deep-seated fear. In my recent attempts, several different omens appeared. A tiny light-violet ray was sparkling where almost everyone thought there should be nothing. Though the light is so fragile and fleeting, I saw the aquamarine waters of the far eastern Mediterranean. They are there, smiling at our devotee who is thirsty for discovery. I will complete my pilgrimage. I will reach the paradise of the virgin violet, no matter how. [[/div]] @@ @@ [[div class="darkdocument orange"]] [[=]] + ###fa7e23\|IV## +++ 1911 A.D. [[/=]] ---- Flowers and applause mean nothing to me. Frankly, I just want to get out of here, out of this hell of interlocking goblets and flattering flattery. The swaying glass of Burgundy Red projected an annoying bright red beam into my lens then through my optic nerves, sending the primal shudder into my perception. Candlelight flickered above me, long blood-red carpets below. Everything was a //mistake//, and even the very fact that I had come here for those ridiculous formulas was a complete //mistake//. I closed my eyes and tried once more to push these things out of my mind. To my delight, it worked for the first time. Red faded into brown, chestnut, and finally pure darkness with the descending exponential curve. I enjoyed the peaceful moment. I was surrounded by the mesmerising scent of rubia and sappan, which gradually gave way to the fresh scent of purple perilla, rosemary and parsley. I must say, this can really relax me. I would try that //ritual// again. I've never trusted it more and I'm sure it will reward me. [[/div]] @@ @@ [[div class="darkdocument violet"]] [[=]] + ###813c85\|V## +++ 1919 A.D. [[/=]] ---- I did it! That's the ideal curve! The violet is so bright that even the St.Vincent's green is hidden from the brilliance of sacred violet. I can see the colour beyond the iridescence hidden by Newton. They, the colour much brighter than violet, are the splendour of divinity. They are trembling, as the piling Fibonacci rainbow dyed with overflowing neon, then reaching out to eternity on a short and wide band of light. I looked out the window. The heaven of London is violet. Solar is violet lunar eclipse. Cloud and water are violet stairs and ladders. Stars are winking at me, telling me of the many mysteries that lie beyond the violet. Huh, James Hopwood, you gave it all up //there//. Can you appreciate this spectacle? The tiny arc of iridescence may well be the phantasmagoria that pities the loser. ...... I pray to the violet vessel. I will ascend in the iridescent violet. [[/div]] @@ @@ [[div class="darkdocument red"]] [[=]] + ###de2a18\|VI## +++ 1928 A.D. [[/=]] ---- Well, that's it. They disappeared into that spot, just as I expected. Bright red is indeed the lie of the past, or the constant illusion inside everyone's eyes. //He// was wrong, but somehow right. The jumble of theories had no //realistic// validity whatsoever. Red is the misconception only belongs to cold items in the unheated twilight. In the blazing daylight, the crest displacing towards the uncanny jasper, along with the half-decayed light, have taken away the old glory of red. The August sky is so bright, right? Needless enthusiasm should not exist. Effectless thinking should not exist. Meaningless light should not exist. Everything will evolve into eternal tranquillity in the midst of this hot sun. ...... I chant to the crimson heart. I will descent in the colorless red. [[/div]] @@ @@ [[div class="document"]] [[=]] + ###1a6840\|VII## +++ 2004 A.D. [[/=]] ---- {{"It is important to note that Wien's Formula accurately predicts blackbody radiation in the short wave band, but underestimates it in the long wave band. Conversely, the Rayleigh-Kings formula, which is an efficiency estimation of radiation intensity in the long wave band, but approaches infinity in the short-wave band. That's what we often referred to as the 'Ultraviolet Catastrophe' -- You don't need to memorise these two formulas, just know how to calculate with them."}} {{"Here are some interesting facts. Wilhelm Wien, the German scientist who derived Wien's formula, died of hypothermia in 1928. The Englishman John William Strutt, aka Baron Riley, died in 1919 of an immunological disease caused by exogenous electromagnetic waves. Of them all, however, mathematician James Hopwood Kings lived the longest -- he lived until 1946, during which time he wrote several popular science articles".}} Lingering summer is always annoying. This is especially true of the Radiation Optics course, which has been scheduled for 8 a.m. since the beginning of the semester. Unfortunately, even though I'm sitting in this classroom and listening to the lecturer, the content of the course is slipping through my cerebral cortex without leaving a trace. Outside the window, the ceibas and magnolias are swaying their green leaves. This, of course, can only make me more sleepy. {{"Our group's research is also a bold challenge to the Planck formula. Although we recognise that the Planck formula for blackbody radiation is undoubtedly mathematically perfect, the plain interpolation solution used to form this formula in the mid-range of the spectrum fails to find a counterpart in the material world for the apparent phenomena. Therefore, our team suggests that all previous methods of observing blackbody radiation in the mid-visible band are somehow flawed, leaving an extremely large peak in the blackbody radiation intensity curve between 500nm and 600nm unobserved. If you want to track the progress of our research, you can visit Arxiv for ......"}} {{"Professor! Princeton has replicated our findings! They also observed the green spot!"}} Suddenly, some shout interrupted the lecturer's eloquent speech, shattering the drowsy atmosphere in the classroom. He must be the lecturer's favourite student, I suppose. Our lecturer seemed to be quite accomplished in the field he teaches and is well known both at home and abroad. Although I don't know the significance of this, he seemed extremely enthusiastic and ran out of the classroom, leaving dozens of his students, including me, in the classroom. Of course, none of this makes sense to me. All I need now is just a nap at my desk. A cool summer breeze blows through the classroom, the green deciduous trees outside making a refreshing rustle. What a wonderful early autumn day, I think. [[/div]] [[footnoteblock]] [[=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=Sharia Vanilla ]] ===== ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]] [[/=]]	2024-03-16T16:06:00	[ "_cn", "_licensebox", "international", "tale" ]	Violet, Black, Red - SCP Foundation	8	[ "scp-8901", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "scp-international" ]	[]	1453059188	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/violet-black-red
walter-the-omniversal-rabbit	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=4&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/component%3Abhl-dark-sidebar/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Walter, the Omniversal Rabbit</strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><strong>Author:</strong> Doctor Scrappy</p> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>\| Arkansas, United States of America \|</strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Edith sprinted with what little air was left in her body. The front door of her little farmhouse in the middle of Arkansas burst open with such a might that her husband walked out of the kitchen to check on the commotion. He was struck with such fear that he hadn’t felt in decades.</p> <p>”Edith, what’s going on?”</p> <p>She stammered in her words. ”G—get the kids, Morgan.”</p> <p>”Wh—”</p> <p>”Grab the kids!”</p> <p>But the children, Beth and Melanie, came down by themselves. Unable to sleep any second longer, they ran into the warm embrace of their father. They trembled in his arms. Morgan looked back at his wife in utter confusion.</p> <p>There was no time. Edith grabbed Beth’s arm and sprinted through the doorway. Morgan, carrying Melanie, followed suit. A million thoughts ran through his head, his muscles aching under the body of his daughter.</p> <p>He didn’t know what had gone into his wife — whether it was the berries in the pie he had made, or if she saw something in the night’s darkness that wasn’t there. He’d soon get his answer, as the four of them sprinted under the nightsky, littered with streaks of red, and the sky collapsing upon the earth. It looked as if the stars themselves bled out, as the sky contorted into forms too big for his small brain to even begin to understand.</p> <p>A planet, greater than the size of Jupiter, hailed down upon the earth. It erupted hundreds of meters above them. It evaporated into colorful gas, dissipating just as quickly as it appeared. Not before blanketing the entire landscape — their house, their barn, their fields.</p> <p>Morgan fell. And with him, Melanie. The ground they had just been running on folded in on itself. Edith saw her husband and daughter falling into the inky abyss below, stopped in her tracks and reached a hand out for them. For just a moment, it felt like she could reach her husband, hold onto his hand, his fingertips. But they fell. Consumed by the darkness.</p> <p>”Mommy, let’s go!” Beth shouted from the top of her lungs. She pulled harshly at her mother’s arm. The horizon sun rose too early and too fast, with rectangles and circles of the colors of the rainbow zip-zapping across its orange surface.</p> <p>When Edith finally stood up, Beth was gone. She looked all across the heaving chaos that was her new reality. Swarms of insects flew above her, desperate for escape, while the cows and pigs fled from the rising darkness that covered the ground. Like a gaping maw, it consumed everything in its path.</p> <p>She fell to her knees. Her entire world was gone. She looked up at what remained of the sky, prayed to whomever was left to hear her words. Before she fell into the maw below.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>\| New South Wales, Australia \|</strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>”That’d be $24.50, sir.”</p> <p>The customer gave her the money on their sticky tentacle appendage. She took the money, gave them their change, smiled a smile, and they left.</p> <p>Hobnalr was a humble flower shop owner. The store had just been open for about a month, yet it had already made quite a name for itself. There were already four people in her shop just fourty minutes after she had opened it in the morning. Hobnalr couldn’t help herself, but smile internally. Literally.</p> <p>Another customer made their way to the cashier. The flowers they held were vibrant and beautiful. This time, it was a bundle of Neptunian hyperblossoms, glowing a soft cyan. <em>Oh, how she loved the smell of those!</em></p> <p>”Valentine’s day gift?” Hobnalr asked curiously.</p> <p>The blob creature in front of her vibrated in excitement. Hobnalr checked them out. ”That’d be $5.60, please.”</p> <p>The blob spat out some rubies out of one of its mouths that began floating toward Hobnalr. She reached out to the rubies, already calculating the change, when they suddenly flew out the window. The glass pane of the shop shattered into a thousand fragments, making everyone’s hearts stop beating for just a second. Hobnalr looked confusedly at the blob, who looked back at her with the same rough expression.</p> <p>She opened her mouth to say something. But a plant pot flew out the window, too. And another. And another, and another. Everything in her shop burst through the glass, out into the outside. Including those Neptunian hyperblossoms.</p> <p>Hobnalr felt her feet no longer touching the floor anymore. She wailed helplessly in the air, and so, too, did the customers in her humble little flower shop. One by one, they each were sucked outside, like dust mites by a vacuum cleaner. Only that this vacuum cleaner was the size of the entire sky, blanketing the stars in pitch blackness. Hobnalr tried to hold onto something for dear life, but her hooves grew weak, and she flew outside, up into the sky as all the others.</p> <p>Entire apartment blocks and skyscrapers floated beside her, as she turned to look at the maw, and closed her eyes.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>\| Site-19, [REDACTED] \|</strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Senior Researcher Autumn Klein sat at her desk, completely unfazed by the present situation. Klaxons were sounding, red lights were blinking, researchers screaming for their lives rushed down the hallways.</p> <p>She, however, accepted her impending demise. She had prepared for such an eventuality, even without the message from universe designation-number <em>bleugh, bleugh, bleugh</em>. She couldn’t be bothered to care anymore. Just unscrewing the cap of her wine bottle, she poured half of its contents down her throat, before placing it on her wooden desk.</p> <p>The framed picture of her cat, William, fell to the floor. She didn’t pick it up. Senior Researcher Autumn Klein couldn’t be bothered anymore. She wondered what alternate universe her did, before it all ended.</p> <p>The inky blackness soon befell her. Usually, from what she’d heard, it manifested as an anomaly in the distant skies or as a hole in the ground. Not directly on any one body. The dark spots kept appearing, and spread. Like tiny rabbit teeth chewing her up from the inside.</p> <p>She sighed. ”<em>Oh</em>, so that’s how it ends.”</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>\| Site-19, [REDACTED] \|</strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Dr. Gerald ran faster than his legs could carry him. He near stumbled over his feet multiple times, catching concerned glances of the staff members nearby. Sweat was rolling down his forehead. He could barely see, so thick were the drops that landed on his eyelids. There was a document swaying in his left hand.</p> <p>He passed the secretary, Katie Lungloff, without so much as a glance. ”Hey, Gerald, what are you up t—”</p> <p>The senior researcher’s office door burst open. Autumn Klein was seated at that wooden desk of hers, doing some mandatory paperwork. An ink pen rested firmly in her right hand.</p> <p>Silence permeated between them.</p> <p>”… Can I help you, Gerald?”</p> <p>”Look!” he finally spoke. He placed the document, stained with his sweat, onto the senior researcher’s desk.</p> <p>”… There’s been an update to <a href="/scp-524">five-twenty-four</a>’s file…?” She wasn’t sure what to make of any of this.</p> <p>”Read it!” Gerald almost yelled.</p> <p>Her eyes darted from sentence to sentence. Her mind took everything in — a rabbit that could eat anything without any harm, even, <em>paradoxically</em>, itself. Nothing she didn’t already know of 524. Until she read the addendum, and her eyes widened. She looked back at Dr. Gerald.</p> <p>”Is this… true?”</p> <p>”Y—yeah,” Gerald stammered for air.</p> <p>Autumn Klein lowered the document. She wiped some sweat off of her forehead. Finally, she let out a long, drawn-out sigh.</p> <p>”How long has this been going on for?”</p> <p>”Twenty-four hours,” Gerald replied.</p> <p><em>Twenty-four hours.</em> It had been nibbling for a day already. They still had time to do something against it. What exactly, she didn’t know. But she knew they couldn’t let everything that they’ve did, done, and will continue to do, due to the insatiable hunger of one, black-white furred common white rabbit mean nothing. <em>No way in hell.</em></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <blockquote> <p><strong>Addendum 524-002:</strong> On ██/██/20██, SCP-524 displayed behavior inconsistent with what had previously been recorded. It proceeded to remain in place within its cell and ”nibble” at the air, and has not ceased this activity since.</p> <p>Measurements of the surrounding Hume-level were taken. Results showed that the Hume-levels nearest to the entity were drastically lower in comparison to other areas.</p> <p>Potential effects this may possess on local reality are uncertain. Further investigation is underway.</p> </blockquote> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p>*</p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/walter-the-omniversal-rabbit">Walter, the Omniversal Rabbit</a>" by Doctor Scrappy , from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/walter-the-omniversal-rabbit">https://scpwiki.com/walter-the-omniversal-rabbit</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:space">:scp-wiki:theme:space</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:bhl-dark-sidebar">:scp-wiki:component:bhl-dark-sidebar</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:toggle-sidebar-bhl">:scp-wiki:component:toggle-sidebar-bhl</a>]] [[module CSS]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:fade-in">:scp-wiki:component:fade-in</a> speed=1.5]] @@ @@ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] [[=]] Walter, the Omniversal Rabbit [[/=]] @@ @@ Author: Doctor Scrappy [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:end">:scp-wiki:info:end</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:ratio-bar">:scp-wiki:component:ratio-bar</a> base=--]] @@ @@ [[=]] \| Arkansas, United States of America \| [[/=]] @@ @@ Edith sprinted with what little air was left in her body. The front door of her little farmhouse in the middle of Arkansas burst open with such a might that her husband walked out of the kitchen to check on the commotion. He was struck with such fear that he hadn’t felt in decades. ”Edith, what’s going on?” She stammered in her words. ”G--get the kids, Morgan.” ”Wh--” ”Grab the kids!” But the children, Beth and Melanie, came down by themselves. Unable to sleep any second longer, they ran into the warm embrace of their father. They trembled in his arms. Morgan looked back at his wife in utter confusion. There was no time. Edith grabbed Beth’s arm and sprinted through the doorway. Morgan, carrying Melanie, followed suit. A million thoughts ran through his head, his muscles aching under the body of his daughter. He didn’t know what had gone into his wife -- whether it was the berries in the pie he had made, or if she saw something in the night’s darkness that wasn’t there. He’d soon get his answer, as the four of them sprinted under the nightsky, littered with streaks of red, and the sky collapsing upon the earth. It looked as if the stars themselves bled out, as the sky contorted into forms too big for his small brain to even begin to understand. A planet, greater than the size of Jupiter, hailed down upon the earth. It erupted hundreds of meters above them. It evaporated into colorful gas, dissipating just as quickly as it appeared. Not before blanketing the entire landscape -- their house, their barn, their fields. Morgan fell. And with him, Melanie. The ground they had just been running on folded in on itself. Edith saw her husband and daughter falling into the inky abyss below, stopped in her tracks and reached a hand out for them. For just a moment, it felt like she could reach her husband, hold onto his hand, his fingertips. But they fell. Consumed by the darkness. ”Mommy, let’s go!” Beth shouted from the top of her lungs. She pulled harshly at her mother’s arm. The horizon sun rose too early and too fast, with rectangles and circles of the colors of the rainbow zip-zapping across its orange surface. When Edith finally stood up, Beth was gone. She looked all across the heaving chaos that was her new reality. Swarms of insects flew above her, desperate for escape, while the cows and pigs fled from the rising darkness that covered the ground. Like a gaping maw, it consumed everything in its path. She fell to her knees. Her entire world was gone. She looked up at what remained of the sky, prayed to whomever was left to hear her words. Before she fell into the maw below. @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] \| New South Wales, Australia \| [[/=]] @@ @@ ”That’d be $24.50, sir.” The customer gave her the money on their sticky tentacle appendage. She took the money, gave them their change, smiled a smile, and they left. Hobnalr was a humble flower shop owner. The store had just been open for about a month, yet it had already made quite a name for itself. There were already four people in her shop just fourty minutes after she had opened it in the morning. Hobnalr couldn’t help herself, but smile internally. Literally. Another customer made their way to the cashier. The flowers they held were vibrant and beautiful. This time, it was a bundle of Neptunian hyperblossoms, glowing a soft cyan. //Oh, how she loved the smell of those!// ”Valentine’s day gift?” Hobnalr asked curiously. The blob creature in front of her vibrated in excitement. Hobnalr checked them out. ”That’d be $5.60, please.” The blob spat out some rubies out of one of its mouths that began floating toward Hobnalr. She reached out to the rubies, already calculating the change, when they suddenly flew out the window. The glass pane of the shop shattered into a thousand fragments, making everyone’s hearts stop beating for just a second. Hobnalr looked confusedly at the blob, who looked back at her with the same rough expression. She opened her mouth to say something. But a plant pot flew out the window, too. And another. And another, and another. Everything in her shop burst through the glass, out into the outside. Including those Neptunian hyperblossoms. Hobnalr felt her feet no longer touching the floor anymore. She wailed helplessly in the air, and so, too, did the customers in her humble little flower shop. One by one, they each were sucked outside, like dust mites by a vacuum cleaner. Only that this vacuum cleaner was the size of the entire sky, blanketing the stars in pitch blackness. Hobnalr tried to hold onto something for dear life, but her hooves grew weak, and she flew outside, up into the sky as all the others. Entire apartment blocks and skyscrapers floated beside her, as she turned to look at the maw, and closed her eyes. @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] \| Site-19, [REDACTED] \| [[/=]] @@ @@ Senior Researcher Autumn Klein sat at her desk, completely unfazed by the present situation. Klaxons were sounding, red lights were blinking, researchers screaming for their lives rushed down the hallways. She, however, accepted her impending demise. She had prepared for such an eventuality, even without the message from universe designation-number //bleugh, bleugh, bleugh//. She couldn’t be bothered to care anymore. Just unscrewing the cap of her wine bottle, she poured half of its contents down her throat, before placing it on her wooden desk. The framed picture of her cat, William, fell to the floor. She didn’t pick it up. Senior Researcher Autumn Klein couldn’t be bothered anymore. She wondered what alternate universe her did, before it all ended. The inky blackness soon befell her. Usually, from what she’d heard, it manifested as an anomaly in the distant skies or as a hole in the ground. Not directly on any one body. The dark spots kept appearing, and spread. Like tiny rabbit teeth chewing her up from the inside. She sighed. ”//Oh//, so that’s how it ends.” @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] \| Site-19, [REDACTED] \| [[/=]] @@ @@ Dr. Gerald ran faster than his legs could carry him. He near stumbled over his feet multiple times, catching concerned glances of the staff members nearby. Sweat was rolling down his forehead. He could barely see, so thick were the drops that landed on his eyelids. There was a document swaying in his left hand. He passed the secretary, Katie Lungloff, without so much as a glance. ”Hey, Gerald, what are you up t--” The senior researcher’s office door burst open. Autumn Klein was seated at that wooden desk of hers, doing some mandatory paperwork. An ink pen rested firmly in her right hand. Silence permeated between them. ”... Can I help you, Gerald?” ”Look!” he finally spoke. He placed the document, stained with his sweat, onto the senior researcher’s desk. ”... There’s been an update to [[[SCP-524\|five-twenty-four]]]’s file...?” She wasn’t sure what to make of any of this. ”Read it!” Gerald almost yelled. Her eyes darted from sentence to sentence. Her mind took everything in -- a rabbit that could eat anything without any harm, even, //paradoxically//, itself. Nothing she didn’t already know of 524. Until she read the addendum, and her eyes widened. She looked back at Dr. Gerald. ”Is this... true?” ”Y--yeah,” Gerald stammered for air. Autumn Klein lowered the document. She wiped some sweat off of her forehead. Finally, she let out a long, drawn-out sigh. ”How long has this been going on for?” ”Twenty-four hours,” Gerald replied. //Twenty-four hours.// It had been nibbling for a day already. They still had time to do something against it. What exactly, she didn’t know. But she knew they couldn’t let everything that they’ve did, done, and will continue to do, due to the insatiable hunger of one, black-white furred common white rabbit mean nothing. //No way in hell.// @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] > Addendum 524-002: On ██/██/20██, SCP-524 displayed behavior inconsistent with what had previously been recorded. It proceeded to remain in place within its cell and ”nibble” at the air, and has not ceased this activity since. > > Measurements of the surrounding Hume-level were taken. Results showed that the Hume-levels nearest to the entity were drastically lower in comparison to other areas. > > Potential effects this may possess on local reality are uncertain. Further investigation is underway. [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ ------ @@ @@ [[=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]] [[/=]] @@ @@ ------	2024-11-01T18:35:00	[ "absurdism", "apocalyptic", "comedy", "cosmic-horror", "mystery", "tale" ]	Walter, the Omniversal Rabbit - SCP Foundation	6	[ "scp-524", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "scp-series-1-tales-edition" ]	[]	1457239533	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/walter-the-omniversal-rabbit
warmonger	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <br/> "Orok," Halyna once asked. "What am I?" <p>The Klavigar said nothing, but the faintest tilt of his head gestured for her to continue.</p> <p>"I hear their whispers, Orok. They say I am not unlike the Deva that enslaved our people. I myself am not blind to my own actions. I slaughter and kill and I <em>hate</em>. Every damned mystic refuses to go near me for it, and my hate grows yet. Am I still human?"</p> <p>Orok said nothing, and for a moment Halyna felt her temper stir. She would not strike her leader - she had learned far too many times the limits of the Klavigar's patience - but even she was prone to irrational actions in the heat of the moment.</p> <p>"You are my follower," replied the Klavigar. "The Path of Strength guides you, but it cannot define you. Your war protects our people. Is that not enough to satisfy you?"</p> <p>"No." There were many words she wished to tack onto that answer, but all eluded her. Instead, she raised her right fist, her thumb angled slightly upward. She trusted that Orok would understand.</p> <p>And he did.</p> <p>Orok reciprocated the gesture. The Klavigar then raised his fist and struck her, causing her form to explode into bloody mist. He watched silently as the blood slowly gathered again, reforming back into the being known as Halyna Ieva within minutes.</p> <p>"Your… gift," said Orok. "Of the Six."</p> <p>"My curse," she corrected. "Legions of my brothers and sisters die while I live on. I am from a bygone era. Like you."</p> <p>"Like me." He nodded and closed his eye. "And yet, you too will outlive us all."</p> <p>The Klavigar stood up and gestured toward the horizon. Halyna's gaze followed his arm. In the distance, she watched as others toiled in the fields.</p> <p>"We are a peaceful people, Halyna," said Orok. "Many of us fight, but the peaceful outnumber us still. Children must be protected. Crops must be tended to. Not everyone has the resolve to kill like you."</p> <p>"They fight to live. And I…"</p> <p>Orok nodded. "You fight because you want to. You fight out of vengeance when he took your innocence away. As generations pass, Halyna, our people will forget the resentment and oppression that brought us to the Ozi̮rmok in the first place. We will grow complacent. But you, one of our first-"</p> <p>"Will never forget."</p> <p>Her first memory of meeting Orok was seared into her memory. Having killed Subandhu, she left with nothing. She joined the vagrants that made up Ion's revolution in rags, still stained in the blood of that night. She watched as slaves died around her, yet Ion's brilliance shone, rallying the people to push on against the Deva. And by his side was the Cyclops.</p> <p>Where Halyna struck down one man, Orok slew a thousand. She was a murderer, but he - he was a weapon.</p> <p>She needed to become like him.</p> <p>"At times," said Orok, interrupting her thoughts. "I believed that you should not have joined the Path of Strength."</p> <p>She said nothing.</p> <p>"Its members believe in honor, in loyalty. But you, Halyna, are selfish. You fight neither for the Ozi̮rmok nor for your colleagues. You call them comrades, but you never truly believed in his words of unity, have you?"</p> <p>Halyna did not need to respond. She had confessed these to Orok before, the only one she felt would be willing to hear her out. The only one who understood her goals.</p> <p>"Saarn would have understood," he continued. "Her origins are not unlike yours, Halyna. More than anyone else, she would understand necessity. Of the role you play for our culture."</p> <p>"I've no longer the wits for deception and poison Orok," said Halyna. "I kill, but from those fields alone, you can pick a score of children who would be more suited for subterfuge than me. I am a weapon."</p> <p>Orok nodded. "You are that, and more."</p> <p>Halyna tilted her head.</p> <p>"You are our warmonger, our reaper. The Six did not curse you with immortality out of capriciousness. They did so because they are cruel gods, incapable of understanding what you truly hate. They see your war as an opportunity for sacrifice, to feast on your kills."</p> <p>She nodded. She had felt the oceans of emotions and temptations hit her no matter how much she jeered and mocked those wicked angels. Visions of gifts and waves of euphoria would hit her time and again as she conversed with them, insults and ridicule met with more promises of power. If the Archons could understand her, or her hatred of control, they never showed it.</p> <p>All they knew were false promises and bargains of power.</p> <p>"I have heard your theories and even I find them absurd," confessed the Klavigar. "'Bloat the angels with corpses until they fall from the heavens.' Killing in the name of the gods until they grow indolent."</p> <p>"Yet, you never censured me for them, unlike the Ozi̮rmok."</p> <p>Orok shrugged. "His censures mean nothing to you, and he knows it. We four do. It is why he is comfortable admonishing you, Halyna. As for me, it is not my place to do so."</p> <p>"'Men of action,'" recited Halyna. "'There is no judgment but for the still.'"</p> <p>"I think your goals, however reckless, are attainable. The Ozi̮rmok was able to pass the trials of the Six. I have no right to tell you what is and is not possible."</p> <p>He closed his eyes. "But for now, I have one final task for you, Halyna, before I send you to the West."</p> <p>Halyna's jaw clenched and she tensed up a little.</p> <p>"I need you to continue living. To remember."</p> <p>She blinked.</p> <p>"You, who hate. You, who remember what it was like under the chains of the Deva, what it was like to be at their whims. You, who remember our shameful history and burns with undying vengeance. Our people may prosper under our crusade, but Adytum will not last. No movement lives forever. Even I will die someday. We will grow complacent. Their leaders will not inherit our will. You, who have been cursed with immortality, can remember what our people refuse to record. Without you, the complete legacy of Adytum would be forgotten. I need you to remember the fires of the first Nälkä, of the first stones thrown, the first chains broken. Continue your crusade against the gods who have shackled you until even they cannot threaten our people again. Will you accept?"</p> <p>For the first time in decades, a smile graced Halyna's face.</p> <p>"By your will, Klavigar."</p> <hr/> <p>Halyna did not know how many awakenings she had had since her first death. Sometimes returns took mere minutes. Sometimes she found herself alone, buried in the rubble of an ambush of decades past. Sometimes she would stir to the screams of madmen who found her disfigured form, whatever beauty she once had offset by her grotesque lower body.</p> <p>Sometimes her fellow Nälkä would be by her side, expecting the Scourge to fight for them. It disgusted her to see what had become of the Ozi̮rmok's followers, their lack of drive. Orok's warning had come true: their people had forgotten their fangs.</p> <p>They chained others, they fattened themselves on spoils, they became the oppressors, and she struggled to see a difference between them and the Deva her people once overthrew. Instead of looking at her actions with fear, tactics she stole from her oppressors, they revered her.</p> <p>The honeyed words of sycophants disgusted her far more than the wary looks her former companions once gave her did.</p> <p>She wished Orok was there to scold her, or any of the four. They grounded her, reminded her of the true meaning of her war, that she fought to kill gods. Here… she fought for the pleasures of rich men, using long-forgotten magicks to lay carnage as entertainment for the ruling.</p> <p>And her hate grew yet.</p> <p>She hated the Nälkä for how low they had forgotten, terrorizing the weak that she had once belonged to. She hated the Ozi̮rmok for his absence, allowing his followers to become as wicked as they were now. She hated Orok for his acumen, for understanding how pathetic their people would be.</p> <p>Above all, she hated herself, for allowing herself to be used time and time again, the faintest spark of hope still alive in her heart as she accepted the offerings, believing that her new allegiances would remember what it meant to be a follower of Ion. They all failed her.</p> <p>In the end, she lost her patience when she stirred in a tube, suspended in an indeterminate liquid, while men and women clad in white observed her and took notes. They spoke in a tongue she was not familiar with, but one word stuck out to her.</p> <p><em>Sarkic.</em> An insult from the Men of Iron, the delusional who viewed their crusade as the time of ending. It annoyed her that even in this modern era those nuisances would continue to pester.</p> <p>She would have moved had she not noticed one slight thing - she was bound. The chains were fragile, a single tentacle could have snapped them all.</p> <p>Yet that was the breaking point for her.</p> <p>The chains showed how weak she had become, that mortals believed that a cage as pathetic as that could restrain her. Once she commanded fear and adoration, her very gaze reducing even the mightiest warrior into a ball of flesh and blood.</p> <p>Now, she was but a curiosity to be studied.</p> <p>Alarms screamed around her and the Men in White panicked as she burst from her imprisonment with less effort than a jerk. She imaged they thought her dead, not needing but the lightest chains so that she would not crack the glass they kept her in. She wondered how many moons she slept while the inquisitive prodded her body, studying how her tentacles formed. She felt hollow, and an emptiness within her noted that she was missing organs that no amount of hunger-provoked cannibalism could explain.</p> <p>It mattered not to her. The wicked Six had ensured that even if she were to have her entire head crushed, inevitably she would return. She was their insult to the Nälkä, a recurring nightmare that reminded them their presence still lingered. That every kill she made would be sacrificed to the very gods they were meant to slay.</p> <p>The Men in White resisted fiercely. She did not know what weapons they used that could hurl chunks of metal at blinding speed, but they did little to impede her advance. Tentacles lashed out from under her, grabbing those who had yet to flee and forcing their bodies to bloat, becoming shields that blocked the projectiles.</p> <p>She held out her hand and the spilled blood, both her own and her foes', surged to its palm. It wrought itself into a scythe, a gift imparted by Orok on the last day she saw the Old Nälkä. Perhaps he foresaw that her next awakening would not be for decades, long after Adytum was fractured by the world's empires. Perhaps he knew how lonely she would be, the last warrior from the first days of the crusade, that every Nälkä she would ever meet would never understand their origins.</p> <p>She honored it with the title that Orok gave her, Warmonger.</p> <p>She hacked away at the Men in White and their black-clad fighters, hate blending with catharsis as Warmonger tore through cloth and armor alike. A savage glee bubbled inside her, bloodlust singing as she moved from corridor to corridor. The lucky died quickly as the cursed scythe cleaved them and sent them to the wicked angels in an instant. The less fortunate had to fight against ever-growing tentacles of blood and bone - piercing them, crushing them, turning their weapons against them.</p> <p>And the less said of those she wrought her magic on, the better.</p> <p>The Men in White and Men in Black resisted heavily, she had to admit. Biological weapons caused her to heave even as she flung her diseased limbs at her attackers. Acids melted through her fleshcraft, and she would return the favor by sending her own assortment of dissolving liquid at them.</p> <p>This was what she lived for. This was how she would fulfill the Ozi̮rmok's dream.</p> <hr/> <p>Of her opposers, one stood out. He was a Man in White, of a smaller stature than his peers, yet he stood before her without a weapon.</p> <p>"Scourge of Iron," he said. Halyna could not resist the widening of her eyes, for the man spoke her tongue. "I have studied your myths. Last warrior of Adytum."</p> <p>She narrowed her eyes but did not respond.</p> <p>"I studied the Nälkä," said the Man in White. "The Old Nälkä, those of Ion's time. Yet, you are a mystery to me. Why does Halyna Ieva, a name that even the Grand Karcist would personally admonish, show up across history when the Klavigar do not? Why are you still alive?"</p> <p>Halyna felt a tightening in her chest. The man confirmed to her everything she had suspected up til that point - that nothing remained of the people she once belonged to.</p> <p>"Answer me this, Man in White," she said, dispelling Warmonger. "Why should I care, when all my peers and customs have been forgotten?"</p> <p>The Man in White did not have a verbal response. Instead, he raised his right fist, his thumb angled slightly upward.</p> <p>Halyna blinked.</p> <p>She moved toward the man, her tentacles receding into her body. Legs, something she had not used in centuries, carried her before him.</p> <p>To him, she would have looked like a normal woman.</p> <p>"Do you understand what you are doing?" she demanded. "You. Challenge me?"</p> <p>A firm nod.</p> <p>Halyna stared in disbelief. Slowly a grin graced her face, a genuine one. "So be it." She stretched out her arms to indicate she had no hidden weapons or schemes. She raised her own fist before setting it down.</p> <p>Then threw a punch in the Man in White's face.</p> <p>It was not a powerful punch. Her strength had wasted away, as always as she slumbered in recuperation. Centuries had passed since the last time she had fought with only her hands, not since the days of Adytum.</p> <p>Yet, the man himself was not very strong. Neither was his response, but for her part, she had dispelled all the usual protections she applied to herself.</p> <p>A raw, unrestricted strike, reckless with abandon and sloppy with strength. It hit Halyna square in the face, and though she regained her bearings soon, she felt blood trickle down from her nose.</p> <p>Her blood.</p> <p>They spoke no words to one another. Such was the Path of Strength's duel of honor. All enhanced strength removed. No magic, no diplomacy. The only language that needed to be conveyed was the determination to fight on.</p> <p>Perhaps the only thing she recognized that still endured into the present.</p> <p>One blow after another was delivered by both parties, one at a time. Neither tried to block or evade, for that would have sullied the sanctity of the duel. A hook to the left temple dazed Halyna for a few seconds before she reciprocated with an uppercut so terrible that she swore broke both her fingerbones and the Man in White's teeth.</p> <p>Halyna imagined herself as a freed slave, fighting in Ion's army. During those early days, they could barely be considered carnomancers, having just been freed. She fought with fists and rocks, her only fuel the fervor that the Ozi̮rmok inspired in his followers. A single Deva guard could slaughter a score of her people but they would clamor over their dead bodies, with her using the numbers advantage they had, desperate to strike down her foes with her bruised fists. That was all she could offer to Ion.</p> <p>Slowly, the Man in White's blows slowed and became weaker. Yet Halyna's grew faster and stronger, bloodlust surging through her veins as memories of fighting in Ion's army clouded her vision. The last time she was truly happy, unburdened with the powers of fleshcraft or immortality. When she could die at any moment, yet fought on carelessly, wholeheartedly devoted to Ion's teachings, the beliefs that together, they could uproot the Deva oppressors and take back their destinies.</p> <p>Halyna did not know when the man stopped punching or which one of her strikes had finally killed him. Perhaps it was when she grasped his temples and headbutted him. Perhaps one of her strikes had missed his chin and struck his neck. She was unsure of when she stopped punching.</p> <p>As she heaved, her knuckles bruised and drenched in the man's blood, her hand screaming in pain from all the bones she had dislocated or fractured, she sat down. In her time, a healer would have come forward, or Orok himself, who would save the lives of the fighters. It was an honor battle, and though deaths were not forbidden, it would do little to further the Ozi̮rmok's cause to lose followers before a fight took place.</p> <p>But Orok was not here. She had killed the man.</p> <p>She felt the whispers return, the gnawing feeling of the Archons encroaching on her head, demanding the man as a sacrifice.</p> <p>She picked up Warmonger, and slowly pointed it at the man. She was barely able to hold the weapon, and though she could have used her powers to heal herself of all the superficial wounds, she decided not to.</p> <p>She swung the scythe, and for the first time in centuries, she claimed the man's soul not as Halyna Ieva, traitor-servant of the Archons.</p> <p>She was Halyna Ieva, Warmonger of Adytum.</p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/warmonger">Warmonger</a>" by Naepic, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/warmonger">https://scpwiki.com/warmonger</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module rate]] [[/>]] "Orok," Halyna once asked. "What am I?" The Klavigar said nothing, but the faintest tilt of his head gestured for her to continue. "I hear their whispers, Orok. They say I am not unlike the Deva that enslaved our people. I myself am not blind to my own actions. I slaughter and kill and I //hate//. Every damned mystic refuses to go near me for it, and my hate grows yet. Am I still human?" Orok said nothing, and for a moment Halyna felt her temper stir. She would not strike her leader - she had learned far too many times the limits of the Klavigar's patience - but even she was prone to irrational actions in the heat of the moment. "You are my follower," replied the Klavigar. "The Path of Strength guides you, but it cannot define you. Your war protects our people. Is that not enough to satisfy you?" "No." There were many words she wished to tack onto that answer, but all eluded her. Instead, she raised her right fist, her thumb angled slightly upward. She trusted that Orok would understand. And he did. Orok reciprocated the gesture. The Klavigar then raised his fist and struck her, causing her form to explode into bloody mist. He watched silently as the blood slowly gathered again, reforming back into the being known as Halyna Ieva within minutes. "Your... gift," said Orok. "Of the Six." "My curse," she corrected. "Legions of my brothers and sisters die while I live on. I am from a bygone era. Like you." "Like me." He nodded and closed his eye. "And yet, you too will outlive us all." The Klavigar stood up and gestured toward the horizon. Halyna's gaze followed his arm. In the distance, she watched as others toiled in the fields. "We are a peaceful people, Halyna," said Orok. "Many of us fight, but the peaceful outnumber us still. Children must be protected. Crops must be tended to. Not everyone has the resolve to kill like you." "They fight to live. And I..." Orok nodded. "You fight because you want to. You fight out of vengeance when he took your innocence away. As generations pass, Halyna, our people will forget the resentment and oppression that brought us to the Ozi̮rmok in the first place. We will grow complacent. But you, one of our first-" "Will never forget." Her first memory of meeting Orok was seared into her memory. Having killed Subandhu, she left with nothing. She joined the vagrants that made up Ion's revolution in rags, still stained in the blood of that night. She watched as slaves died around her, yet Ion's brilliance shone, rallying the people to push on against the Deva. And by his side was the Cyclops. Where Halyna struck down one man, Orok slew a thousand. She was a murderer, but he - he was a weapon. She needed to become like him. "At times," said Orok, interrupting her thoughts. "I believed that you should not have joined the Path of Strength." She said nothing. "Its members believe in honor, in loyalty. But you, Halyna, are selfish. You fight neither for the Ozi̮rmok nor for your colleagues. You call them comrades, but you never truly believed in his words of unity, have you?" Halyna did not need to respond. She had confessed these to Orok before, the only one she felt would be willing to hear her out. The only one who understood her goals. "Saarn would have understood," he continued. "Her origins are not unlike yours, Halyna. More than anyone else, she would understand necessity. Of the role you play for our culture." "I've no longer the wits for deception and poison Orok," said Halyna. "I kill, but from those fields alone, you can pick a score of children who would be more suited for subterfuge than me. I am a weapon." Orok nodded. "You are that, and more." Halyna tilted her head. "You are our warmonger, our reaper. The Six did not curse you with immortality out of capriciousness. They did so because they are cruel gods, incapable of understanding what you truly hate. They see your war as an opportunity for sacrifice, to feast on your kills." She nodded. She had felt the oceans of emotions and temptations hit her no matter how much she jeered and mocked those wicked angels. Visions of gifts and waves of euphoria would hit her time and again as she conversed with them, insults and ridicule met with more promises of power. If the Archons could understand her, or her hatred of control, they never showed it. All they knew were false promises and bargains of power. "I have heard your theories and even I find them absurd," confessed the Klavigar. "'Bloat the angels with corpses until they fall from the heavens.' Killing in the name of the gods until they grow indolent." "Yet, you never censured me for them, unlike the Ozi̮rmok." Orok shrugged. "His censures mean nothing to you, and he knows it. We four do. It is why he is comfortable admonishing you, Halyna. As for me, it is not my place to do so." "'Men of action,'" recited Halyna. "'There is no judgment but for the still.'" "I think your goals, however reckless, are attainable. The Ozi̮rmok was able to pass the trials of the Six. I have no right to tell you what is and is not possible." He closed his eyes. "But for now, I have one final task for you, Halyna, before I send you to the West." Halyna's jaw clenched and she tensed up a little. "I need you to continue living. To remember." She blinked. "You, who hate. You, who remember what it was like under the chains of the Deva, what it was like to be at their whims. You, who remember our shameful history and burns with undying vengeance. Our people may prosper under our crusade, but Adytum will not last. No movement lives forever. Even I will die someday. We will grow complacent. Their leaders will not inherit our will. You, who have been cursed with immortality, can remember what our people refuse to record. Without you, the complete legacy of Adytum would be forgotten. I need you to remember the fires of the first Nälkä, of the first stones thrown, the first chains broken. Continue your crusade against the gods who have shackled you until even they cannot threaten our people again. Will you accept?" For the first time in decades, a smile graced Halyna's face. "By your will, Klavigar." ----- Halyna did not know how many awakenings she had had since her first death. Sometimes returns took mere minutes. Sometimes she found herself alone, buried in the rubble of an ambush of decades past. Sometimes she would stir to the screams of madmen who found her disfigured form, whatever beauty she once had offset by her grotesque lower body. Sometimes her fellow Nälkä would be by her side, expecting the Scourge to fight for them. It disgusted her to see what had become of the Ozi̮rmok's followers, their lack of drive. Orok's warning had come true: their people had forgotten their fangs. They chained others, they fattened themselves on spoils, they became the oppressors, and she struggled to see a difference between them and the Deva her people once overthrew. Instead of looking at her actions with fear, tactics she stole from her oppressors, they revered her. The honeyed words of sycophants disgusted her far more than the wary looks her former companions once gave her did. She wished Orok was there to scold her, or any of the four. They grounded her, reminded her of the true meaning of her war, that she fought to kill gods. Here... she fought for the pleasures of rich men, using long-forgotten magicks to lay carnage as entertainment for the ruling. And her hate grew yet. She hated the Nälkä for how low they had forgotten, terrorizing the weak that she had once belonged to. She hated the Ozi̮rmok for his absence, allowing his followers to become as wicked as they were now. She hated Orok for his acumen, for understanding how pathetic their people would be. Above all, she hated herself, for allowing herself to be used time and time again, the faintest spark of hope still alive in her heart as she accepted the offerings, believing that her new allegiances would remember what it meant to be a follower of Ion. They all failed her. In the end, she lost her patience when she stirred in a tube, suspended in an indeterminate liquid, while men and women clad in white observed her and took notes. They spoke in a tongue she was not familiar with, but one word stuck out to her. //Sarkic.// An insult from the Men of Iron, the delusional who viewed their crusade as the time of ending. It annoyed her that even in this modern era those nuisances would continue to pester. She would have moved had she not noticed one slight thing - she was bound. The chains were fragile, a single tentacle could have snapped them all. Yet that was the breaking point for her. The chains showed how weak she had become, that mortals believed that a cage as pathetic as that could restrain her. Once she commanded fear and adoration, her very gaze reducing even the mightiest warrior into a ball of flesh and blood. Now, she was but a curiosity to be studied. Alarms screamed around her and the Men in White panicked as she burst from her imprisonment with less effort than a jerk. She imaged they thought her dead, not needing but the lightest chains so that she would not crack the glass they kept her in. She wondered how many moons she slept while the inquisitive prodded her body, studying how her tentacles formed. She felt hollow, and an emptiness within her noted that she was missing organs that no amount of hunger-provoked cannibalism could explain. It mattered not to her. The wicked Six had ensured that even if she were to have her entire head crushed, inevitably she would return. She was their insult to the Nälkä, a recurring nightmare that reminded them their presence still lingered. That every kill she made would be sacrificed to the very gods they were meant to slay. The Men in White resisted fiercely. She did not know what weapons they used that could hurl chunks of metal at blinding speed, but they did little to impede her advance. Tentacles lashed out from under her, grabbing those who had yet to flee and forcing their bodies to bloat, becoming shields that blocked the projectiles. She held out her hand and the spilled blood, both her own and her foes', surged to its palm. It wrought itself into a scythe, a gift imparted by Orok on the last day she saw the Old Nälkä. Perhaps he foresaw that her next awakening would not be for decades, long after Adytum was fractured by the world's empires. Perhaps he knew how lonely she would be, the last warrior from the first days of the crusade, that every Nälkä she would ever meet would never understand their origins. She honored it with the title that Orok gave her, Warmonger. She hacked away at the Men in White and their black-clad fighters, hate blending with catharsis as Warmonger tore through cloth and armor alike. A savage glee bubbled inside her, bloodlust singing as she moved from corridor to corridor. The lucky died quickly as the cursed scythe cleaved them and sent them to the wicked angels in an instant. The less fortunate had to fight against ever-growing tentacles of blood and bone - piercing them, crushing them, turning their weapons against them. And the less said of those she wrought her magic on, the better. The Men in White and Men in Black resisted heavily, she had to admit. Biological weapons caused her to heave even as she flung her diseased limbs at her attackers. Acids melted through her fleshcraft, and she would return the favor by sending her own assortment of dissolving liquid at them. This was what she lived for. This was how she would fulfill the Ozi̮rmok's dream. ----- Of her opposers, one stood out. He was a Man in White, of a smaller stature than his peers, yet he stood before her without a weapon. "Scourge of Iron," he said. Halyna could not resist the widening of her eyes, for the man spoke her tongue. "I have studied your myths. Last warrior of Adytum." She narrowed her eyes but did not respond. "I studied the Nälkä," said the Man in White. "The Old Nälkä, those of Ion's time. Yet, you are a mystery to me. Why does Halyna Ieva, a name that even the Grand Karcist would personally admonish, show up across history when the Klavigar do not? Why are you still alive?" Halyna felt a tightening in her chest. The man confirmed to her everything she had suspected up til that point - that nothing remained of the people she once belonged to. "Answer me this, Man in White," she said, dispelling Warmonger. "Why should I care, when all my peers and customs have been forgotten?" The Man in White did not have a verbal response. Instead, he raised his right fist, his thumb angled slightly upward. Halyna blinked. She moved toward the man, her tentacles receding into her body. Legs, something she had not used in centuries, carried her before him. To him, she would have looked like a normal woman. "Do you understand what you are doing?" she demanded. "You. Challenge me?" A firm nod. Halyna stared in disbelief. Slowly a grin graced her face, a genuine one. "So be it." She stretched out her arms to indicate she had no hidden weapons or schemes. She raised her own fist before setting it down. Then threw a punch in the Man in White's face. It was not a powerful punch. Her strength had wasted away, as always as she slumbered in recuperation. Centuries had passed since the last time she had fought with only her hands, not since the days of Adytum. Yet, the man himself was not very strong. Neither was his response, but for her part, she had dispelled all the usual protections she applied to herself. A raw, unrestricted strike, reckless with abandon and sloppy with strength. It hit Halyna square in the face, and though she regained her bearings soon, she felt blood trickle down from her nose. Her blood. They spoke no words to one another. Such was the Path of Strength's duel of honor. All enhanced strength removed. No magic, no diplomacy. The only language that needed to be conveyed was the determination to fight on. Perhaps the only thing she recognized that still endured into the present. One blow after another was delivered by both parties, one at a time. Neither tried to block or evade, for that would have sullied the sanctity of the duel. A hook to the left temple dazed Halyna for a few seconds before she reciprocated with an uppercut so terrible that she swore broke both her fingerbones and the Man in White's teeth. Halyna imagined herself as a freed slave, fighting in Ion's army. During those early days, they could barely be considered carnomancers, having just been freed. She fought with fists and rocks, her only fuel the fervor that the Ozi̮rmok inspired in his followers. A single Deva guard could slaughter a score of her people but they would clamor over their dead bodies, with her using the numbers advantage they had, desperate to strike down her foes with her bruised fists. That was all she could offer to Ion. Slowly, the Man in White's blows slowed and became weaker. Yet Halyna's grew faster and stronger, bloodlust surging through her veins as memories of fighting in Ion's army clouded her vision. The last time she was truly happy, unburdened with the powers of fleshcraft or immortality. When she could die at any moment, yet fought on carelessly, wholeheartedly devoted to Ion's teachings, the beliefs that together, they could uproot the Deva oppressors and take back their destinies. Halyna did not know when the man stopped punching or which one of her strikes had finally killed him. Perhaps it was when she grasped his temples and headbutted him. Perhaps one of her strikes had missed his chin and struck his neck. She was unsure of when she stopped punching. As she heaved, her knuckles bruised and drenched in the man's blood, her hand screaming in pain from all the bones she had dislocated or fractured, she sat down. In her time, a healer would have come forward, or Orok himself, who would save the lives of the fighters. It was an honor battle, and though deaths were not forbidden, it would do little to further the Ozi̮rmok's cause to lose followers before a fight took place. But Orok was not here. She had killed the man. She felt the whispers return, the gnawing feeling of the Archons encroaching on her head, demanding the man as a sacrifice. She picked up Warmonger, and slowly pointed it at the man. She was barely able to hold the weapon, and though she could have used her powers to heal herself of all the superficial wounds, she decided not to. She swung the scythe, and for the first time in centuries, she claimed the man's soul not as Halyna Ieva, traitor-servant of the Archons. She was Halyna Ieva, Warmonger of Adytum. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-07-06T18:39:00	[ "_licensebox", "fantasy", "halyna-ieva", "orok", "religious-fiction", "sarkic", "tale" ]	Warmonger - SCP Foundation	21	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "sarkicism-hub" ]	[]	1455104150	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/warmonger
water-diet	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="preview"> <p>Take me in, oh blue. Let me be your fuel.</p> </div> <blockquote> <p style="text-align: center;">⚠️ Content warning: This article contains depictions of drowning and body horror.</p> </blockquote> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><strong>You are going to die in two minutes and thirty-seven seconds.</strong></p> <p>At some point, it was still. The surface of the pool felt almost welcoming, the water wrapping itself around your torso. Slight pressure applied on your lower half as you gave into the steady waves dancing from one end to the other. You stayed where it was shallow, it was a while since you had a dip. It was already rejuvenating in and of itself, the blue bringing you an experience so soothing.</p> <p>But as you let yourself settle in the liquid comfort, you shot a glance at the other side—the deep end. The floor slanted downward to a point where it was more than twice your height. Temptation was inviting you, the other side was <em>entrancing</em> you. You found yourself dancing around the idea, your feet carrying you across an artificial, a small-scale sea.</p> <p>The idea whistled in your head, prancing from one ear to the other. Circling your index on the tiled wall, you figured 'why not?' and made the journey forward, forward, forward.</p> <p>You pushed through the water, its wintry sensation tickling your body as you pass through where you were and where you would be. An ice cube traced the nerves of your insides.</p> <p>You gripped the edge of the pool as you made your way to the other side. You held on lightly as fluid interlocked its fingers with yours, the cold calming the tension.</p> <p>You tiptoed down the length of the water's body, feeling everything it gave you. Perusing through a constant calmness keeps you at surface level even as you eventually departed from it.</p> <hr/> <p><strong>You are going to die in one minute and forty-six seconds.</strong></p> <p>There you were, on the other side. 'Are you ready?' you questioned yourself as your legs dangled above the bottom. The pressure was building, and the air was a choking hazard. Would you blame the water's temperature when you're getting cold feet? It was only a matter of time, <em>you</em> were only a matter of time until such temptations were in arm's reach.</p> <p>Now you lowered your head, adjusting yourself to the aqueous breeze. You knew this chilling embrace wouldn't betray you; it accepted you. Trust was a two-way street, and you had to jump into its arms, give into it. You could feel your heart racing. Your chest rose and fell, and quickened in pace. There was a beauty in letting it take you, and you were about to leave yourself.</p> <p>Thus, as you slowly laid yourself flat, you felt the sky carried your body on a bed. You let your hands go and kicked yourself toward the pool's deep end. A human parade was marching through pocket-sized tides, taking in the tactile sights of each droplet making up its pleasure. It was as if all the pains and stresses in your body washed away to a place beyond you.</p> <p>You held your arm out and remained as it took your hand and guided you to the end's center. It was if a path opened before you as you ventured through.</p> <p>You held your breath, a reminder of what's to come. Frozen to a point of serenity, you teetered on the line between movement and stillness. You pushed through regardless.</p> <p>You closed your eyes as you arrived at your final destination. You took in the tranquility, the surface creeping in over you like lines of euphoria crossing at points all over you.</p> <hr/> <p><strong>You are going to die in fifty seconds.</strong></p> <p>Something felt different. There was a tickling by your heel, a sensation enrapturing your ankle. A glacier-like touch, droplets fresh from the icicle making marks on your base. It was inviting all the same, maybe more so with how unique it was. Maybe from it being the first in a while, maybe you weren't used to it, but its grasp around your leg, then your knee, then your hips, the water had a hold of you like no other.</p> <p>There, you could almost outline a hand having a feel of your stomach, then your chest, then your shoulders. It was a predator and you were its prey, it took in every part of yourself as you gave all you had to offer. Could it be an angel forming from your fondness, arriving as a chariot to a body outside of yours. You never had such peace resting within until now.</p> <p>And so, it bloomed from the surface—a pair of arms wrapping themselves around your midriff. You were there to be taken, you were there to be brought, you were there to depart.</p> <p>You graced the illusionary skin of your savior's arms, such sharp frigidness meeting every sensor on your fingers. It never felt so refreshing until now.</p> <p>You felt a force pulling you in. This was the beginning of your ascent downwards. Every part of you followed, from your toes to your head. This was your redemption.</p> <p>You let go of yourself as you're submerged in the sea, a calming cold surrounding you. All the warmth fled for its purpose was elsewhere. The water welcomed you inside.</p> <hr/> <p><strong>You are going to die in twenty-three seconds,</strong></p> <p>and you were ready, you were complete. An eternity of this emotion was all you could ever ask for, a solitude of solitudes from the threads outside you. Inhale. The water found its home inside you, your body. It hugged the interior of your lungs, filling them up like balloons. When you ignore the reflex gagging and hurling, you could leave behind the worries of the world.</p> <p>Deeper and deeper, further from the surface, you couldn't experience a joy any purer. The endless stream captured you as a cocoon, pulsating and gifting you the sensation of every tension and release. What luxuries of blue, you were thrown into its peristalsis, as it pushed you below into a fate of your name. You couldn't experience a joy any purer.</p> <p>Thus, you left in place as a taste of their efforts. Breaking away and breaking apart, the aspects formerly making up the body you hosted washed and taken in for nutrients. From skin to flesh, from flesh to bone, you were always and only a delicacy. Even as your vision grew dark and the light grew bright, you were met with a sense of bliss. With every crack of your appendages separating from one another, it was another moment of reassurance. It was worth it, all of it.</p> <p>You spent these last moments disposing what thoughts remained, offering them for the ocean to take. It occupied what once was yours, as you fled to utopia.</p> <p>You felt what little severances at every joint of your name, as you left faint kisses as it danced to a world that was no longer yours. 'What pleasure a swim could provide,' you realized.</p> <p>You accepted your place as you returned to Neptune. Fading into obscurity, fading into transparency, you took the final step and gave into temptation.</p> <hr/> <p><strong>You accepted your place</strong></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><strong>as the water took you</strong></p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><strong>to the shore.</strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <blockquote> <p style="text-align: center;"><strong>A single bone breaches the surface.</strong></p> </blockquote> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="collection"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">More From This Author</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">More From This Author</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <table style="1px solid black; width: 100%;"> <tr> <th class="namerow" colspan="2"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p>winkwonkboi's Works</p> </div> </div></th> </tr> <tr> <th class="titlecolumn">SCPs</th> <th class="articlecolumn"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/protected:scp-7156">SCP-7156</a> <em>(+21)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-2689">SCP-2689</a> <em>(+53)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-6545">SCP-6545</a> <em>(+76)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-8184">SCP-8184</a> <em>(+8)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-7538">SCP-7538</a> <em>(+110)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-7488">SCP-7488</a> <em>(+46)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-3204">SCP-3204</a> <em>(+73)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-6245">SCP-6245</a> <em>(+62)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-7735">SCP-7735</a> <em>(+31)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-6199">SCP-6199</a> <em>(+137)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-6895">SCP-6895</a> <em>(+31)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-6306">SCP-6306</a> <em>(+55)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-7657">SCP-7657</a> <em>(+40)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-7245">SCP-7245</a> <em>(+54)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-8386">SCP-8386</a> <em>(+33)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> </div></th> </tr> <tr> <th class="titlecolumn">Tales/GoI Formats</th> <th class="articlecolumn"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/goodnight-sweet-dreams">Goodnight, Sweet Dreams</a> <em>(+21)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/a-sinking-feeling">A Sinking Feeling</a> <em>(+26)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/man-overboard">man overboard!</a> <em>(+29)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/roses-and-thorns">Roses And Thorns</a> <em>(+18)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/something-burning">Something's Burning</a> <em>(+40)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/critter-profile-miss-cassandra">Critter Profile: Miss Cassandra!</a> <em>(+38)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/ur-typical-unrequited-love">ur typical unrequited love</a> <em>(+33)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/in-an-attempt-to-feel-something">In an attempt to feel something.</a> <em>(+32)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/inkirbycase1">In Kirby's Case, Part I: An Antithesis</a> <em>(+11)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/aeed-orientation">Anomalous Entity Engagement Division Orientation</a> <em>(+52)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/a-taste-for-sore-eyes">A Taste For Sore Eyes</a> <em>(+12)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/people-care-dear">People Care, Dear</a> <em>(+14)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/employee-of-the-century">Why Jones Marcel Should Be Employee of the Century</a> <em>(+11)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/wettle-appreciation-post">#WettleAppreciationPost</a> <em>(+136)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> </div></th> </tr> <tr> <th class="titlecolumn">Other</th> <th class="articlecolumn"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:king-calcaruler-halloween-emperor">King CalcaRuler: Halloween Emperor</a> <em>(+29)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:crackhead-173-fanart">CRACKHEAD: SCP-173 Fanart</a> <em>(+31)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:froot-froggo">froot froggo :)</a> <em>(+41)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:artwitness-5843-fanart">ARTWITNESS: SCP-5843 Fanart</a> <em>(+30)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:fading-stars-doodles">fading stars doodles (straight from my phone's sketchbook app)</a> <em>(+35)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/the-winkwonk-page">the winkwonk page v2</a> <em>(+38)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:respond-tmo-fanart">RESPOND: Telecommunications Monitoring Office Fanart</a> <em>(+48)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:sciptember-doodles">SCiPTEMBER DOODLES</a> <em>(+23)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:helthy-6780-fanart">HELTHY: SCP-6780 Fanart</a> <em>(+29)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:fisher-2689-fanart">FISHER: SCP-2689 Fanart</a> <em>(+24)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:noticed-7345-fanart">NOTICED: SCP-7345 Fanart</a> <em>(+19)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:jim-fart-exchange">fart exchange gift for jim (7384 fanart)</a> <em>(+22)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:combust-6057-fanart">COMBUST: SCP-6057 Fanart</a> <em>(+22)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:certified-criminal">Certified Criminal</a> <em>(+36)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:enlightenment-6059-fanart">ENLIGHTENMENT: SCP-6059 Fanart</a> <em>(+42)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> </div></th> </tr> </table> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/water-diet">water diet</a>" by winkwonkboi, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/water-diet">https://scpwiki.com/water-diet</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> indazone<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Splash Zone<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> lemonfilmblog<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 2.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/22245339@N05/2516719579">Flickr</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> drowning<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Water Splash<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> steve.garner32<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY 2.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/22032337@N02/4514631874">Flickr</a></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	===== [[include <a href="/component:preview">component:preview</a> text= Take me in, oh blue. Let me be your fuel. ]] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:toggle-sidebar">:scp-wiki:component:toggle-sidebar</a>]] [[module CSS]] html { -webkit-filter: grayscale(1); /* Older Webkit / -webkit-filter: grayscale(100%); -moz-filter: grayscale(100%); -ms-filter: grayscale(100%); -o-filter: grayscale(100%); filter: grayscale(100%); background-color: white; } [[/module]] [[=]] [[module rate]] [[/=]] > = ⚠️ Content warning: This article contains depictions of drowning and body horror. @@ @@ [[=image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/water-diet/indazone.jpg]] @@ @@ You are going to die in two minutes and thirty-seven seconds.* At some point, it was still. The surface of the pool felt almost welcoming, the water wrapping itself around your torso. Slight pressure applied on your lower half as you gave into the steady waves dancing from one end to the other. You stayed where it was shallow, it was a while since you had a dip. It was already rejuvenating in and of itself, the blue bringing you an experience so soothing. But as you let yourself settle in the liquid comfort, you shot a glance at the other side—the deep end. The floor slanted downward to a point where it was more than twice your height. Temptation was inviting you, the other side was //entrancing// you. You found yourself dancing around the idea, your feet carrying you across an artificial, a small-scale sea. The idea whistled in your head, prancing from one ear to the other. Circling your index on the tiled wall, you figured 'why not?' and made the journey forward, forward, forward. You pushed through the water, its wintry sensation tickling your body as you pass through where you were and where you would be. An ice cube traced the nerves of your insides. You gripped the edge of the pool as you made your way to the other side. You held on lightly as fluid interlocked its fingers with yours, the cold calming the tension. You tiptoed down the length of the water's body, feeling everything it gave you. Perusing through a constant calmness keeps you at surface level even as you eventually departed from it. ---- You are going to die in one minute and forty-six seconds. There you were, on the other side. 'Are you ready?' you questioned yourself as your legs dangled above the bottom. The pressure was building, and the air was a choking hazard. Would you blame the water's temperature when you're getting cold feet? It was only a matter of time, //you// were only a matter of time until such temptations were in arm's reach. Now you lowered your head, adjusting yourself to the aqueous breeze. You knew this chilling embrace wouldn't betray you; it accepted you. Trust was a two-way street, and you had to jump into its arms, give into it. You could feel your heart racing. Your chest rose and fell, and quickened in pace. There was a beauty in letting it take you, and you were about to leave yourself. Thus, as you slowly laid yourself flat, you felt the sky carried your body on a bed. You let your hands go and kicked yourself toward the pool's deep end. A human parade was marching through pocket-sized tides, taking in the tactile sights of each droplet making up its pleasure. It was as if all the pains and stresses in your body washed away to a place beyond you. You held your arm out and remained as it took your hand and guided you to the end's center. It was if a path opened before you as you ventured through. You held your breath, a reminder of what's to come. Frozen to a point of serenity, you teetered on the line between movement and stillness. You pushed through regardless. You closed your eyes as you arrived at your final destination. You took in the tranquility, the surface creeping in over you like lines of euphoria crossing at points all over you. ---- You are going to die in fifty seconds. Something felt different. There was a tickling by your heel, a sensation enrapturing your ankle. A glacier-like touch, droplets fresh from the icicle making marks on your base. It was inviting all the same, maybe more so with how unique it was. Maybe from it being the first in a while, maybe you weren't used to it, but its grasp around your leg, then your knee, then your hips, the water had a hold of you like no other. There, you could almost outline a hand having a feel of your stomach, then your chest, then your shoulders. It was a predator and you were its prey, it took in every part of yourself as you gave all you had to offer. Could it be an angel forming from your fondness, arriving as a chariot to a body outside of yours. You never had such peace resting within until now. And so, it bloomed from the surface—a pair of arms wrapping themselves around your midriff. You were there to be taken, you were there to be brought, you were there to depart. You graced the illusionary skin of your savior's arms, such sharp frigidness meeting every sensor on your fingers. It never felt so refreshing until now. You felt a force pulling you in. This was the beginning of your ascent downwards. Every part of you followed, from your toes to your head. This was your redemption. You let go of yourself as you're submerged in the sea, a calming cold surrounding you. All the warmth fled for its purpose was elsewhere. The water welcomed you inside. ---- You are going to die in twenty-three seconds, and you were ready, you were complete. An eternity of this emotion was all you could ever ask for, a solitude of solitudes from the threads outside you. Inhale. The water found its home inside you, your body. It hugged the interior of your lungs, filling them up like balloons. When you ignore the reflex gagging and hurling, you could leave behind the worries of the world. Deeper and deeper, further from the surface, you couldn't experience a joy any purer. The endless stream captured you as a cocoon, pulsating and gifting you the sensation of every tension and release. What luxuries of blue, you were thrown into its peristalsis, as it pushed you below into a fate of your name. You couldn't experience a joy any purer. Thus, you left in place as a taste of their efforts. Breaking away and breaking apart, the aspects formerly making up the body you hosted washed and taken in for nutrients. From skin to flesh, from flesh to bone, you were always and only a delicacy. Even as your vision grew dark and the light grew bright, you were met with a sense of bliss. With every crack of your appendages separating from one another, it was another moment of reassurance. It was worth it, all of it. You spent these last moments disposing what thoughts remained, offering them for the ocean to take. It occupied what once was yours, as you fled to utopia. You felt what little severances at every joint of your name, as you left faint kisses as it danced to a world that was no longer yours. 'What pleasure a swim could provide,' you realized. You accepted your place as you returned to Neptune. Fading into obscurity, fading into transparency, you took the final step and gave into temptation. ---- You accepted your place = as the water took you [[>]] to the shore. [[/>]] ~~~~ @@ @@ [[=image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/water-diet/drowning.jpg]] > = A single bone breaches the surface. @@ @@ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:wikimodule">:scp-wiki:component:wikimodule</a> \|ratings= --]]] [[=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=winkwonkboi]] ===== > Filename: indazone > Name: Splash Zone > Author: lemonfilmblog > License: CC BY-SA 2.0 > Source Link: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/22245339@N05/2516719579 Flickr] > Filename: drowning > Name: Water Splash > Author: steve.garner32 > License: CC BY 2.0 > Source Link: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/22032337@N02/4514631874 Flickr] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]] [[/=]]	2024-10-31T15:39:00	[ "_image", "_licensebox", "body-horror", "horror", "second-person", "tale" ]	water diet - SCP Foundation	27	[ "protected:scp-7156", "scp-2689", "scp-6545", "scp-8184", "scp-7538", "scp-7488", "scp-3204", "scp-6245", "scp-7735", "scp-6199", "scp-6895", "scp-6306", "scp-7657", "scp-7245", "scp-8386", "goodnight-sweet-dreams", "a-sinking-feeling", "man-overboard", "roses-and-thorns", "something-burning", "critter-profile-miss-cassandra", "ur-typical-unrequited-love", "in-an-attempt-to-feel-something", "inkirbycase1", "aeed-orientation", "a-taste-for-sore-eyes", "people-care-dear", "employee-of-the-century", "wettle-appreciation-post", "art:king-calcaruler-halloween-emperor", "art:crackhead-173-fanart", "art:froot-froggo", "art:artwitness-5843-fanart", "art:fading-stars-doodles", "the-winkwonk-page", "art:respond-tmo-fanart", "art:sciptember-doodles", "art:helthy-6780-fanart", "art:fisher-2689-fanart", "art:noticed-7345-fanart", "art:jim-fart-exchange", "art:combust-6057-fanart", "art:certified-criminal", "art:enlightenment-6059-fanart", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[]	[]	1457235896	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/water-diet
wayward-forlorn-kin	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div style="display: none"> <div style="text-align: left;"> <div class="code"> <div class="hl-main"> <pre><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Foxtrot</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Sigma-9</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">2022</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">Wikidot</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">Theme</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">By</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Liryn</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">FONTS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Montserrat</span><span class="hl-special">:ital</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">wght</span><span class="hl-var">@0</span><span class="hl-code">,800;1,800&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Lexend</span><span class="hl-special">:wght</span><span class="hl-var">@700</span><span class="hl-code">;800&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">JetBrains</span><span class="hl-code">+</span><span class="hl-identifier">Mono</span><span class="hl-special">:ital</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">wght</span><span class="hl-var">@0</span><span class="hl-code">,400;0,700;1,400;1,700&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Fira</span><span class="hl-code">+</span><span class="hl-identifier">Code</span><span class="hl-special">:wght</span><span class="hl-var">@400</span><span class="hl-code">;700&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Sofia</span><span class="hl-code">+</span><span class="hl-identifier">Sans</span><span class="hl-special">:ital</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">wght</span><span class="hl-var">@0</span><span class="hl-code">,400;0,700;1,400;1,700&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">rsms.me</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">inter</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">inter.css</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Figtree</span><span class="hl-special">:wght</span><span class="hl-var">@800</span><span class="hl-code">;900&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">IBM</span><span class="hl-code">+</span><span class="hl-identifier">Plex</span><span class="hl-code">+</span><span class="hl-identifier">Sans</span><span class="hl-special">:ital</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">wght</span><span class="hl-var">@0</span><span class="hl-code">,400;0,500;0,600;0,700;1,400;1,500;1,600;1,700&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">VARIABLES</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-special">:root</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">VARIABLES</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Core</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ --</span><span class="hl-reserved">header-title:</span><span class="hl-code"> "SCP Foundation"</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">header-subtitle:</span><span class="hl-code"> "SECURE, CONTAIN, PROTECT"</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">logo-img:</span><span class="hl-code"> url(https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/theme:foxtrot/fxtrt-scp_logo_lightmode.svg)</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">darkmode-logo-img:</span><span class="hl-code"> url(https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/theme:foxtrot/fxtrt-scp_logo_darkmode.svg)</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">logo-opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">14</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">head-font:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'Sans Normalcy'</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">ui-font:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'IBM Plex Sans'</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">mono-font:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'JetBrains Mono', 'Fira </span><span class="hl-string">Code</span><span class="hl-code">', </span><span class="hl-string">monospace</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">page-font:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'Inter', 'verdana'</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">base-font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.9</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">page-font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">VARIABLES</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Misc</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ --</span><span class="hl-reserved">header-txt-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">subheader-txt-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">misc-txt-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#464646</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">link-txt-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#E6283C</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">link-hover-txt-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">white</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">VARIABLES</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Color</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Accents</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ --</span><span class="hl-reserved">accent:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--acc-default)</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-default:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">59</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">59</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">59</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-wyoming:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">142</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">18</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-canada:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--acc-default)</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-poland:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">87</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">44</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">17</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-slothspit:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">27</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">60</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">133</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-vanguard:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">153</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">75</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-threshold:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">121</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">113</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">130</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-overwatch:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">28</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">37</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">56</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-spc:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">165</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">200</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-fishing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">67</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">111</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">145</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-nightfall:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">151</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-hybrasil:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">27</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">60</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">133</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-goc:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">39</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">84</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">149</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-spooky:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">252</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">112</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">40</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">VARIABLES</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">BetterFootnotes</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ --</span><span class="hl-reserved">fnColor:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--link-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">fnLinger:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">VARIABLES</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.info-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">barColour:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">linkColour:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#EDEDED</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MAIN</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">html</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">scroll-behavior:</span><span class="hl-code"> smooth</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow-x:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">body</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font), </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--base-font-size)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(</span><span class="hl-number">51</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">51</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">51</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> linear-gradient(to </span><span class="hl-string">bottom</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">200</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-rendering:</span><span class="hl-code"> optimizeLegibility</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow-wrap:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">break-word</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#container-wrap</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#content-wrap</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--page-font), var(--ui-font), </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--page-font-size)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">440</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">strong</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">700</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tt</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-source</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">pre</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-page-textarea</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--mono-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ol</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">p</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-underline-offset:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">40</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> :</span><span class="hl-special">:selection</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Clicky</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">links</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.newpage</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:visited</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:visited</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--link-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.newpage</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:visited:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:visited:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--link-hover-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--link-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">patch</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">for</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">sidebar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">media</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">collapsibles</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">ACS</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ayers</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">module</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">so</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">doesn</span><span class="hl-code">'</span><span class="hl-identifier">t</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">override</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-folded</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-unfolded-link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.danger-diamond</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.info-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-folded</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.info-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--linkColour) !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MAIN</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">160</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font), </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">900</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">0.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> fit-content</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-title)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-subtitle)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font) !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">700</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--misc-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">26</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.35</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">block</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-transform:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">uppercase</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#extra-div-1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">160</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">7</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--logo-img) </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">30</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">130</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--logo-opacity)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MAIN</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Header</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Search</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">text</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#efefef</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--page-font-size) - </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.empty</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#999999</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">47</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MAIN</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Header</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">white</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li.sfhover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.83</span><span class="hl-code">) !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">230</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-indent:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.mobile-top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MAIN</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Header</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Login</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">19</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 767</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.printuser</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.printuser</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.printuser</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">img.small</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">18</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">18</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 767</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.printuser</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">img.small</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">transform:</span><span class="hl-code"> translate(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#my-account</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 767</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#account-topbutton</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MAIN</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Header</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Side</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.open-menu</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">white</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (min-width: 768</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.6</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.6</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">18.75</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">left</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">direction:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">rtl</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">left</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.resources</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.media</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#interwiki</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">direction:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">ltr</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.resources</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.heading</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--misc-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#cfcfcf</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">9</span><span class="hl-string">pt</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">800</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-transform:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">uppercase</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Blockquotes</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">Custom</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Divs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">blockquote</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.15</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#f7f7f7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">dashed</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#f7f7f7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.35</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.35</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#f7f7f7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.15</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fbfbfb</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.quote</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#bbb</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">9</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">9</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#bbb</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.note</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#afafaf</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.round</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Headings</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">Titles</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-title</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.meta-title</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font), </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">800</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#3b3b3b</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> fit-content</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-title</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.meta-title</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#breadcrumbs</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.pseudocrumbs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font), </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">800</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#3b3b3b</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">800</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.footnotes-footer</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.title</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font), </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#3b3b3b</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">800</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Rate</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Module</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.creditRate</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#bbb</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#bbb</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-points</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inline-block</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Rate</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Module</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Author</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Label</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.authorlink-wrapper</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">author-top-adjust:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">author-bottom-adjust:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">author-right-adjust:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--base-font-size)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Side</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anchor</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> sticky</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.14</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc((</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vw - </span><span class="hl-number">870</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">)/</span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vh - </span><span class="hl-number">18</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">103.5</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 1290</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">visibility:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Image</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#f4f4f4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#3b3b3b</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">img</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.imagediv</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">right</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 540</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.imagediv</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">only</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">screen</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 600</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block.block-right</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tables</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Base</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">12</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#bfbfbf</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.35</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tables</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Customization</span><span class="hl-code"> (</span><span class="hl-identifier">Table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Coloring</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">System</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tables</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Customization</span><span class="hl-code"> (</span><span class="hl-identifier">Table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Coloring</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">System</span><span class="hl-code">) > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Headings</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">Image</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Captions</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#E0FFD4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#D8ECF4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FDF6D7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFDFCD</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFCFCF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">146</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.wiki-content-table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-collapse:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">separate</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tables</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Customization</span><span class="hl-code"> (</span><span class="hl-identifier">Table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Coloring</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">System</span><span class="hl-code">) > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Other</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colored</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Divs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote.table1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote.table1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting.table1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation.table1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal.table1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(</span><span class="hl-number">224</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">212</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote.table2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote.table2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting.table2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation.table2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal.table2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(</span><span class="hl-number">226</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">244</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote.table3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote.table3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting.table3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation.table3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal.table3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(</span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">245</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">189</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote.table4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote.table4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting.table4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation.table4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal.table4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(</span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">223</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">205</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote.table5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote.table5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting.table5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation.table5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal.table5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(</span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">207</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">207</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote.table6</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote.table6</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting.table6</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation.table6</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal.table6</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(</span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">218</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tabs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Base</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tabs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Customization</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-wrap:</span><span class="hl-code"> wrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">.125</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">UNSELECTED</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#efefef</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">HOVER</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Listitem</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">relative</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-bottom</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">align-items:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.35</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.75</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> ellipsis</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">white-space:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">nowrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Selection</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">SELECTED</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:active</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">WORDS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">NO</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BROKEY</span><span class="hl-code">. </span><span class="hl-identifier">CROQ</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">HAS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">SPOKEY</span><span class="hl-code">. </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">other</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">things</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">word-break:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">normal</span><span class="hl-code"> !important </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.avatar-hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Dustjacket</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Assets</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fancyhr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--bright-accent), </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-source:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://wanderers-library.wikidot.com/local--files/component:dustjacket-theme/wl_hr.png')</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> round round</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-slice:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-code"> fill</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fancyborder</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://wanderers-library.wikidot.com/local--files/component:dustjacket-theme/wl_border.png') </span><span class="hl-number">600</span><span class="hl-code"> round</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Collapsibles</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">underline</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--link-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-special">:not</span><span class="hl-code">(</span><span class="hl-identifier">.licensebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.info-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.default-col</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">white</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">7</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">9</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--base-font-size)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inline-block</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-special">:not</span><span class="hl-code">(</span><span class="hl-identifier">.licensebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.info-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.default-col</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--accent), </span><span class="hl-number">0.7</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">ACS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Adjustments</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.top-left-box</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">.item</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anom-bar-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anom-bar-container</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anom-bar-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font), Inter, </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.acs-extra-1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.acs-extra-2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.acs-extra-3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.acs-extra-4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font), Inter, </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anom-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">.top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-transform:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Woed</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Adjustments</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.scale</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.item1</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-transform:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">uppercase</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.scale</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.class1</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.9</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.scale</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">woedbar-class-bar-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.scale</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.obj</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.7</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.scale</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.obj</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.55</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MISC</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.bt</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#footer</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#444</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">45</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#footer</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#7b7b7b</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.footer-wikiwalk-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">700</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">88</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">word-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-info-break</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-options-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">213</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">213</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">213</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-watch-options</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.6</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">77</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-options-bottom</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-direction:</span><span class="hl-code"> row</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-wrap:</span><span class="hl-code"> wrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">align-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-options-bottom</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">13</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">13</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom-left-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom-right-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-options-bottom</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--accent), </span><span class="hl-number">0.8</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-info-break</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#license-area</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#5f5f5f</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ecf2f1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#d9d9d9</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#license-area</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> "."</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (min-width: 768</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">16</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> "tags "</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--misc-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">800</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--page-font-size)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inline-block</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.8125</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">.75</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.1875</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">.3125</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">.1875</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom-right-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.25</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top-right-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.25</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">13</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.8125</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--page-font-size) - </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">.1875</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">.625</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.0625</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">.1875</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent)) </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-style:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> ""</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">relative</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">left</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.25</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.25</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.2813</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.125</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-tags-input</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">word-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-page-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.text</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font), </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">800</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">150</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-page-form</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">table.form</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">tbody</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-special">:nth-child</span><span class="hl-code">(1) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.edit-help-34</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">85</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">60</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.3</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> fit-content</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.edit-help-34</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.edit-help-34</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">table.edit-page-bottomtable</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-page-comments</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">86</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#lock-info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.8</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">86</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#lock-info</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> "!"</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">12</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">110</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">60</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#lock-timer</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">115</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#lock-timer</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> "⏲ "</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">textarea</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-page-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.text</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">outline:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ccc</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.3</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-property:</span><span class="hl-code"> box-shadow</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">textarea</span><span class="hl-special">:focus-visible</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-page-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.text</span><span class="hl-special">:focus-visible</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#a3a3a3</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#a3a3a3</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#action-area</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">p</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">85</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> darkslategrey</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#action-area</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">p</span><span class="hl-special">:nth-child</span><span class="hl-code">(5)></span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">block</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">120</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#who-rated-page-area</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">column-count:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 900</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#who-rated-page-area</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">column-count:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 700</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#who-rated-page-area</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">column-count:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 540</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#who-rated-page-area</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">column-count:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.content-warning.creditRate</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">21</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.preview-message</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.9</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">29</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">filter:</span><span class="hl-code"> drop-shadow(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#EDEDED</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.error-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">48</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#B00</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top-left-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top-right-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">table.page-history</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tbody</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-special">:nth-child</span><span class="hl-code">(2</span><span class="hl-identifier">n</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--accent), </span><span class="hl-number">0.05</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation:</span><span class="hl-code"> fade </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@keyframes</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">fade</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> 0% </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> 100% </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.button-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">11</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.button-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--link-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--link-hover-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.button-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.title</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">cursor:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">default</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">800</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">155</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">187</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">187</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">187</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#F7F7F7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow.owait</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow.owait</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.content</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> " "</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">block</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">0.9</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation:</span><span class="hl-code"> loading </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-code">s linear infinite</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> grey</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> grey</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@keyframes</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">loading</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> 0% </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">transform:</span><span class="hl-code"> rotate(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">deg)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> 100% </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">transform:</span><span class="hl-code"> rotate(</span><span class="hl-number">360</span><span class="hl-code">deg)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow.osuccess</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.content</span><span class="hl-special">:nth-child</span><span class="hl-code">(2)></span><span class="hl-identifier">img</span><span class="hl-special">:nth-child</span><span class="hl-code">(1) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.odialog-shader</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#262a39</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.btn</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.15</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.btn</span><span class="hl-special">:not</span><span class="hl-code">(</span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.btn</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-string">submit</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">), </span><span class="hl-identifier">.btn.btn-primary</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.buttons</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.button</span><span class="hl-special">:not</span><span class="hl-code">(</span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-string">submit</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">11</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">cursor:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">pointer</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-cancel-button</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-diff-button</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-preview-button</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-draft-button</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-continue-button</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ccc</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">cursor:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">pointer</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">14</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-cancel-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-diff-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-preview-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-draft-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-continue-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#eaeaea</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-continue-button</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#dbffd6</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.3</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#005a0a</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-continue-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#0d951c</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-cancel-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffe1e1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.3</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#c52727</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-cancel-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#c5272e</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">table.page-history</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tbody</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#757575</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fncon</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--page-font-size) !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fncon</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--page-font-size) !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.hovertip</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">400</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.checkbox</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-history</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#h-perpage</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">cursor:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">pointer</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">textarea</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#breadcrumbs</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.pseudocrumbs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">110</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">REDUCED</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MOTION</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ACCESSIBILITY</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (prefers-reduced-motion: </span><span class="hl-identifier">reduce</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">::</span><span class="hl-identifier">before</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">::</span><span class="hl-identifier">after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.001</span><span class="hl-code">s !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-iteration-count:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.001</span><span class="hl-code">s !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@MEDIA</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 850</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">h2:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 700</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">h2:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8.8</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 620</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">h2:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.15</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">123</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 520</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">h2:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { line-height: </span><span class="hl-number">16</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">9.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">145</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> }</span></pre></div> </div> </div> </div> <div style="text-align: right;"> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong><a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/ralliston-s-authorpage">More by this author</a></strong></p> </div> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> </div> <div style="text-align: justify;"> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <table style="margin:0; padding:0"> <tr> <td style="margin:0; padding:0"> <div id="toc"> <div id="toc-action-bar"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.foldToc(event)">Fold</a><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.unfoldToc(event)" style="display: none">Unfold</a></div> <div class="title">Table of Contents</div> <div id="toc-list"> <div style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#toc0">5</a></div> <div style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#toc1">4</a></div> <div style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#toc2">3</a></div> <div style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#toc3">2</a></div> <div style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#toc4">1</a></div> <div style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#toc5">0</a></div> </div> </div> </td> </tr> </table> <h1 id="toc0"><span>5</span></h1> <p>America is a nation at war; at war with itself.</p> <p>This isn't a recent development. Not really. This particular pot has been stirring ever since America's birth, but right now, it's boiling. With the nation neatly torn in half between those willing to destroy all that is foreign to their idea of order and those willing to perpetuate a hurtful status quo for as long as it remains under their control, things are not going well. This isn't a fault in the system, however, not some flaw in an otherwise functioning structure — it is an inherent feature of its design.</p> <p>Both parties are fully aware of this, of course. They actively enjoy this game. It's a thrill, to wait and see which of the two will come out on top this time. Is it those willing to go to war under the pretense of equity, or those willing to sit back and relax as the world bursts into dollar-writ flames? Well, sit at the table, take a gamble, and see who wins this round — and if a few people die in the process, so be it. It's a fair price.</p> <p>And so one spin after another the wheel keeps on moving, forever breaking those unfortunate enough to find themselves under its heel. A few decades ago, it was the socialists and the muslims — right now, though, it's those who were born with a talent for magic. For those on top of the wheel, it's all the same. It matters not who they break for as long as somebody <em>is</em> being broken — the machine cares not for the kind of blood that fuels its engines.</p> <p>Still, for better or for worse, today's age is that of Dan Crenshaw, prime delegate of the shameless warmongers. And it so happens that the war he's waged targets the magic inside his country — a conflict most fair, as half the nation would certainly agree. But he doesn't fight just with disinformation and hatred, as all his former friends did — <a href="/project-scarlet-dawn">his weapon</a> is <em>perfect</em>. A virus, one that will spread to the whole country and take away all that which is special about those he opposes — all that makes them who they really are.</p> <p>Naturally, the second half of the nation does not quite like this. They do not hesitate to fight back, but neither do their opponents — it's a vicious, cancerous cycle.</p> <p>This is how things have been for the last few months, at the very least. If one were to describe the America of today, the picture they'd paint would be one of flame and violence — not of liberty and prosperity.</p> <p>But perhaps not all is lost. Maybe there is still some humanity to be found in spite of the divisions, in spite of the <a href="/kte-9817-bluebuster-mendel-shelley-renegade-armbrusteri">Coalition occupation</a>, and in spite of the quarantine that chokes the country. That is certainly what two people believe, still stuck inside Washington, the heart of the disease that is slowly eating away at the rotting carcass of America.</p> <p>But will they remain in their optimism if they see what the rest of the country has fallen into?</p> <p>The man just sighs. "Miss, I don't think you understand. Nothing has changed. I can't let you out." He pauses. "Not until we get our rounds of the cure, at least."</p> <p>She gives him a look that used to challenge gods. "No, I don't think <em>you</em> understand. I've tolerated sitting here and doing nothing for half a year — but things have changed." She crosses her arms, and lifts her chin in defiance. "I have more important things to do than listening to what some goddamned bureaucrat thinks is best for me."</p> <p>For a few seconds, he doesn't reply. He just blinks, tired, and slowly looks down at the ID she's presented with him. When he recognizes the name, he blinks two more times — this time with a bit more energy, but all the same frustration — and looks back up at her.</p> <p>"Miss Hadfield," he says, his tone firm. "I realize that coming to terms with how things work in our society may not be easy for… people of your former position. But here's the hard truth:" He leans in from inside the booth, his face almost touching the plexi panel meant to separate them in case either is sick. "You are no longer special. So learn to live in the world you've decided to build, and stop acting like you still own it."</p> <p>He waits a moment for the words to land, then clears his throat, and looks at the person behind her in line. "Next!"</p> <p>Abigail Hadfield, former SCP Foundation Overseer Eight, now little more than a wealthy nobody under the Veilless world, clenches her fists and furrows her brows, but complies with the order. The kid might be little more than one-tenth her age, but he's right. She won't change anything about the machine she's raging against — not by shouting at people who've only gotten their jobs thanks to nepotism, at least. (She recognizes the irony of that thought, but refuses to dwell on it — she has better things to do than to reminiscent on <a href="/scp-8120">her father</a>.)</p> <p>With an angry grunt, she steps out of the line, and heads back to her Coalition-appointed Temporary Washington Virion Relocation Camp living quarters.</p> <p>"And?" John asks the second she slam-shuts the doors to their dorm. "How did it go?"</p> <p>She sighs, and falls down on her bed. "About as well as you'd expect." She props her head up with her hand and turns to look at her brother. He's still staring at some old tome he's brought with them when they got stuck here all those months ago, and doesn't give her the courtesy of eye contact. She doesn't mind. She's gotten used to it over the centuries they've lived with each other. "The kid gave me a talk and an attitude, but the gist is the Coalition's not letting us out until they get the vaccine, our former positions be damned. Goddamned prick."</p> <p>Abigail isn't the most pleasant person on a good day, and recent days have been quite far from even decent; John is well aware of this, as well as of the fact that most of his words won't do anything to persuade his sister. Still, he doesn't blame her. Anybody would be frustrated if what was meant as a two-day-break and connecting flight between London and the Daevon excavation site turned into a ten-month detention against their will.</p> <p>Of course, both of them know their current circumstances are necessary, which naturally does nothing to make them any less irritating.</p> <p>"You shouldn't be so hard on him," he says, and closes the book. He turns in his chair and looks at her, crossing his arms. "He probably got the job thinking it will be a two-week adventure he could put down on his CV. He wasn't expecting this."</p> <p>She groans and throws her hands in the air, letting them land on the questionably soft mattress and blanket they've been given. "I know. Still. If I could just call Al Fine through Ran, they'd—"</p> <p>He rolls his eyes, and moves the chair closer. "Abi. You know you can't do that anymore." Before she cuts him off, he adds, "Besides. Do you <em>really</em> think they still remain in touch? After all those years?"</p> <p>"Ugh. You're right." She sits back up. "You're right."</p> <p>For a few moments, they just sit in silence in their Coalition-appointed barrack. Their two figures stand in almost comical contrast to the dwelling; it's a painfully modern piece of quickly put-together wooden and steel architecture stretched across what could maybe amount to twenty square meters total, including two beds, a table, and a bathroom. Their things lay scattered all around it, breaking the tidy symmetry its architects have probably intended; they certainly weren't expecting the messy backpacks, suitcases, clothes, and books its current residents have brought in. (Under normal circumstances, John would have long since made sure that everything is tidied up, but — be it from contempt at the ones who have assigned them here or the realization that this state is only temporary — this time, he hasn't bothered.)</p> <p>John and Abigail are an antithesis to the place. Both look as if they are pushing eighty. He is a tall, lanky, and smartly dressed man with a tidy gray beard and mustache. Though his wrinkled face doesn't even account for half of his true age, you can see it all in his exhausted, gray eyes. They'd be bespeckled if he hadn't been receiving the best possible healthcare in the world for most of his life. On the other hand, she is a tiny figure, maybe one-and-a-half meters at most, her diminutive body covered in a black button-up dress that was probably a great fashion sensation in the early twentieth century. With curly hair in a short ponytail and a grimace on her aging face, she could almost come off as just another helpless geriatric at first glance, but her bright purple eyes remain a testament to the reality-bending might held by her small figure.</p> <p>After a longer while, John clears his throat. "So," he says, taking a slow breath. "What is your plan?"</p> <p>She raises an eyebrow.</p> <p>"I mean, what we should do now. It is clear that you are not happy sitting around here. Not that I blame you," he adds and puts his hands up before she can intercede, "but you have to realize that going to the supervisor and asking to leave every single day might come off as… hmm, suspicious, after a while. Especially considering the letters you sent out to our lawyers back home."</p> <p>She gives him the type of look she used to give Overwatch Command bureaucrats. "John," she says very calmly. "It's in five days."</p> <p>He furrows his brows. "Wh—" he tries to say; a brief spark of realization flies across his face almost immediately. "Oh. Oh my."</p> <p>"Yeah."</p> <p>"Good heavens. That certainly complicates things." There is genuine worry plastered across his face.</p> <p>She crosses her arms. "Yes. We can't miss it."</p> <p>He almost shakes his head. "Certainly not. He would be heartbroken. If we haven't missed it during the late thirties, then…" He scratches his forehead. "Good lord. Has it really already been almost a year?"</p> <p>She first eyes his books, then him, as if trying to suggest something; he doesn't notice. "Yes, John. So what do we do? It's clear that my requests are not going to be listened to. Not unless <a href="/scientia-potentia-est">Torres' cure</a> makes it to the camp, at least. Which," she says, rolling her eyes. "Could be days, could be months. We don't have the time to sit around and hand our life to that man. However competent he may be."</p> <p>John silently contemplates for a few seconds. When he speaks up again, his tone is calm and quiet — he's already made up his mind. "We cannot stay here."</p> <p>She nods. "I'm glad that you agree. For what it's worth, I really <em>am</em> sorry we'll have to break the—"</p> <p>He holds up his hand. "It's all right. I have already made my peace with it. There are things far more important than the rules."</p> <p>She smiles with honesty, and just a tint of surprise. "Aye." She pauses, and considers the issue herself. "So, how do we go about it? I can break us out of the actual camp no problem," she says, letting a few purple sparks of power fly around her irises. "but getting away from it is a whole another issue entirely, let alone actually getting to him."</p> <p>He slowly inhales. "Well. With planes, teleportation, and ships out of the question, we don't have much choice, do we?"</p> <p>"You can't mean it."</p> <p>"I'm afraid I can."</p> <p>She rubs her temple, and stands up from the bed. "Ugh. Fine. But you're the one driving. Someone's going to have to put on the music and take pictures," she says, already reaching for the camera hung near her bed. It's an old relic of a far less civilized age, but she wouldn't have it any other way — though the hobby might be new, she likes it the way she has remembered it for most of her life. "Besides, if the Coalition pricks get us, someone's going to have to fight back, eh?"</p> <p>He chuckles, and stands up himself. He stretches, and reaches for his backpack.</p> <p>Before an hour passes, they are both ready to say goodbye to their dwelling.</p> <p>Four things happen that night.</p> <p>One: there is a breach in the security perimeter around the Temporary Washington Virion Relocation Camp Number 32; it's a small hole in one of its fences, one that won't get noticed until the first guard patrols the grounds in sixteen hours. Still, the strength with which the bars were pulled apart will remain a testament to the strength of the perpetrator, whoever they may be.</p> <p>Two: John and Abigail Hadfield are officially reported as missing by the appointed supervisor of the facility the moment they don't show up for the mandated breakfast in the canteen. Their dwelling is searched and found empty, save for a single middle finger ontokinetically engraved upon its doors. A search party is sent immediately to catch them for breaching their quarantine, in accordance with all of the procedures set by the Coalition. The remaining officials find that the signage on the door cannot be cleared; it remains etched into its atomic structure no matter the effort.</p> <p>Three: a broken, half-functioning SUV built well before the Veil had fallen and the mode of transportation was optimized sets its tires on the Interstate Highway number 95. It can barely move faster than sixty kilometers per hour and was paid off with House Hadfield memorabilia through less-than-legal channels owned by long-forgotten friends, but it will have to do. It can cover the fifteen hundred kilometers separating its two passengers from their destination just well enough, even with the little time they still have remaining.</p> <p>Four: Abigail Elizabeth Hadfield leans back in her seat, staring into the rising sun, and turns on the radio.</p> <p style="text-align: center;">♪</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <blockquote> <p><em><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ILNFvOvme_I">What if the world dies with the sunrise?</a></em><br/> <em><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ILNFvOvme_I">Baby it's all right, we'll be up all night</a></em><br/> <em><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ILNFvOvme_I">What if we're unmade when the stars fade?</a></em><br/> <em><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ILNFvOvme_I">Keep me going 'til the night turns into the day</a></em></p> </blockquote> </div> <p style="text-align: center;">♪</p> <h1 id="toc1"><span>4</span></h1> <p>In time, and after one too many albums, the sun finally rises. It does nothing to fend away the chilly though snowless December air. It does make Abigail realize how much time has passed, though; she changes the station so as to not torment her brother any further with her excellent music taste. (He's an old relic; he still only enjoys the classics.)</p> <p>The first thing that comes on is the news.</p> <p>"…for the fugitives John and Abigail Hadfield continues," the radio buzzes, only barely still compatible with the waves it was tasked with intercepting. "Last seen at 11:23 PM on December the—"</p> <p>Abigail abruptly turns down the volume, making it just enough to be heard but not loud enough to interrupt their thoughts. She and John exchange a nervous look, but neither is really shocked — they fully expected this to happen when they made their choice. The only thing that comes as a surprise is just how fast the chase came. Still; with Abigail's skills and a six hours head-start, they know they can make it without getting caught.</p> <p>Nevertheless, over the next hour and in-between Abigail's curses and John's drawn-out sighs, they hatch together a plan.</p> <p>They can't travel by day, that much is certain. The chance of actually getting spotted by some loose Coalition drone or convoy is far too high to risk it, meaning the night's their only friend. Their ride probably can't drive faster than the legal lower limit on Interstates, but that's not an issue — the nights are long, this time of the year, and both can manage driving some six hours after every sunset. (In truth, Abigail almost prefers it this way — the music doesn't feel quite the same during the day.) Their SUV might be almost ancient by paratech standards, but whoever cobbled this thing together made damn sure to include a thaumo-compressor in the mess they decided to call an engine. Thanks to that — as well as several other technological advances made by the oil lobby, unwilling to give up its seat at the table — they have well enough petrol to pass through most of the journey without needing to stop.</p> <p>The second they'll pass through Georgia, though, their car won't cut it anymore. They won't be able to get into Florida proper through land. They'll need a ship to somehow cross through that canal, but a few calls made by John quickly take care of that issue. The Veil faded more than one quarter of a century ago, but some friendships — especially those fueled by the dollar — prove stronger than time.</p> <p>Suffice to say, with thirteen hundred kilometers on the road and four-and-a-half days left, the twins remain firmly positive they can make it. They've driven through the hellscape of American highways many times before, and the fact that they're doing so illegally this time around changes almost nothing.</p> <p>Their first issue arises almost immediately.</p> <p>"We're out of food," Abigail mumbles out in-between hasty mouthfulls of Coalition-branded beef jerky. They were well aware that they'd need to stock up sometime down the road, but John hoped that maybe they'd last at least a day before needing to make a stop. He indicates that thought to Abigail through a tired look. She doesn't much mind, and instead finishes the packet and throws its wrapping to the backseat. John flinches, but doesn't say anything. "We could use some more water, too. What we've got will only last us two days. And I'd rather we stop only when it's absolutely necessary." She eyes the petrol meter. Its indicator is sitting comfortably at an approximated eighty-five percent.</p> <p>John sighs. It's no use fighting; the decision's already been made. Left with no other choice, he rubs his eyes and changes lanes from central to right, leaving Abigail on the lookout for any still-operational buildings left somewhere in-between the quarantined cities of the United States.</p> <p>Soon enough, a faded sign that reads "affl ous" looms on the horizon. Judging by the amount of cars present both in its parking lots and on the strips of road leading to the establishment, there's a fair chance it's open for business.</p> <p>John sighs again, and takes a quick turn towards the building. He makes triple sure that their car is locked when they exit. Even then, he still has his doubts, but Abigail's enthusiasm almost makes him forget them.</p> <p>The restaurant is chock-full of people from every age group and ethnicity. Abigail is almost certain she can spot a few Yeren and Fae strung somewhere in-between the average American truck driver and the occasional mercenary. All of them are here illegally — under official quarantine guidelines, transit between cities is strictly prohibited for the non-Coalition hoi polloi, no matter the reason — and all of them know that. Bound by an unspoken pact of mutually-assured self-destruction, every client here is damn well aware of the lot they're sitting and eating with. There's a common understanding between all of those smugglers, dealers, on-the-run criminals, and concerned parents: for as long as they sit inside this building, they are in this together.</p> <p>So, the second the newcomers enter through, all eyes fall on them.</p> <p>From concern to frustration to just plain worry, it's clear that people don't take kindly to potential leaks here. They stare down John and Abigail, trying their best to see if there's any chance the twins are Coalition agents, sent here to break their little party and drag them behind bars. A few patrons even grope guns hidden behind their long jackets — it's clear that in spite of its transitory circumstances, these people consider this place serious business.</p> <p>Suddenly, one of the people next to the counter clears their throat. They grab the TV remote and bring the volume up, causing everyone present to take a look.</p> <p>Displayed upon one of the walls sit the faces of John and Abigail, plastered alongside the faces of the many other escapees and relevant information pertaining to their wanted status.</p> <p>The eyes of the customers fall back to the twins.</p> <p>Then, as if nothing had happened, the building explodes with chatter. Everyone returns to their business, and the presenter on the TV swiftly moves on to the subject of the New Shanghai Commune sentencing the management of the All-China Federation of Industry to death.</p> <p>"See?" Abigail says, grabbing John by the hand and leading him to one of the free tables. "I told you there was nothing to worry about."</p> <p>John almost sighs from relief. "Right. Of course." He picks up the menu laying atop the sticky wood. He clears his throat. "So. What are you having?"</p> <p>"Hmm." Abigail skews her head and bites her lip. "Well. It'd be a crime to visit and not order their firstborn, eh?"</p> <p>John blinks twice.</p> <p>"You know. The house special. The thing they're named after."</p> <p>"Oh. Right. I was also thinking that. And tea."</p> <p>Abigail nods. "Absolutely."</p> <p>The waiting time is surprisingly low, for an establishment this jam-packed; after just a few minutes — and a common agreement that they'll do their shopping after they've eaten — their order is already noted down for the kitchen to handle.</p> <p>In the meantime, the two turn to face the TV. The presenter's tone hasn't changed — it's as dull and uninteresting as ever. What has changed, however, is the state of her studio. Sitting next to her is an aging man, maybe somewhere in his sixties, dressed in a dark blue suit decorated by a US flag pin on his chest. With a face adorned by a sly grin and hands put together in a Mother Theresa gesture, it's clear he's quite enjoying himself.</p> <p>The news line below him reads: "<a href="/chronicle-of-the-worm">SECRETARY OF STATE THOMAS GRAHAM</a> RE: THE WASHINGTON VIRION." Neither can quite make out any words spoken on the broadcast, but that doesn't stop Abigail from frowning. She furrows her brows and clenches her fists.</p> <p>"Ugh. I should have taken care of that little worm when I still had the chance," she mumbles out, nervously tapping the dirty table with her fingers. "Would have done the world a final favor."</p> <p>John gives her a heavy look.</p> <p>"Abigail."</p> <p>"I know. I know. But you can't say he wouldn't deserve it."</p> <p>A smile of brief amusement flies across his face. "If Graham were to die, I think the American people would remain forever angry that the rest of congress didn't follow his stead."</p> <p>Abigail smiles too, but mostly out of politeness — there's little happiness in the gesture. She has always hated subordinates like Graham, just as much as she's hated the fact her former partners in Overseerdom remained flagrantly supportive of the efficiency carried by his methods. Even then, she had little choice but to tolerate him — one of the few pains of her privileged position. Now that Graham has climbed the ladder to become one of the most influential people in the country — and now that she's no longer who she once was — her hatred for him has only grown. "I suppose." She shrugs, and puts her hands together. "But it's not like we'll ever know."</p> <p>John nods. "Certainly not with our blood on his hands, yes. But who is to say how well that bastard's heart will keep on beating?"</p> <p>She chuckles. This time, it's fully sincere. "We can only hope."</p> <p>Their food arrives a few minutes later. It's shockingly tasty for a product of the American chain cuisine. Though the amount of sugar in it is far from healthy or reasonable, the taste it adds up to ends up being much better than either would have dared to hope.</p> <p>What isn't so good, though, is the tea. It's exactly what you'd expect from a half-stocked American restaurant. Abigail drinks it all anyway — at this point, anything that will wash out the sweetness of the meal before will do. John isn't willing to be complicit in such a crime against good taste, though. As a proper English gentleman almost as old as this damned country, he won't tolerate what the consumerist hell calls tea around those parts. He refuses to engage with it past the first sip.</p> <p>Without much hesitation, Abigail takes his cup and empties it. She won't let already-paid-for goods go to waste. Not ones she can tolerate, at the very least.</p> <p>When they're done half an hour later, John pays the bill, thanks the waiter, and kindly requests that their wanted information not be actively proliferated to any newcomers anymore. When that's taken care of, he and Abigail quickly leave the locale.</p> <p>"Like I said," Abigail says as they begin crossing the parking lot, heading for the small grocery store located on its second end. "It wasn't so bad. Neither the place nor the people, I mean."</p> <p>John nods, but still isn't fully convinced. "I will count those chickens only when we are back on the road."</p> <p>She raises an eyebrow, surprised at her brother using a metaphor — a most uncommon occurrence — but continues her stride in silence. She wouldn't openly admit it, but he <em>is</em> probably right.</p> <p>Still, when they reach the shop, she remains positive it'll go all right. She looks at John. He clears his throat and points at the doors with an "after you" gesture. Abigail smiles, and walks through.</p> <p>The inside isn't as bad as John has expected, but is far less stocked than Abigail has hoped. Most of its shelves are either in the process of being emptied or are already bereft of any goods. The "higher-quality" products — which, in this economy and <a href="/price-of-forty-days">under these trade quarantines</a>, means coffee, sugar, spices, cigarettes, and alcohol — are nowhere to be seen. The only things that <em>are</em> left are giant 5-liter bottles of water, rice, and some military-grade food that one would normally expect in a nuclear fallout shelter. Still, it's not like they've got any choice — all of this will have to do.</p> <p>While Abigail keeps looking at the local TV — which keeps on broadcasting a Phoenix Technology programme showcasing the few areas the cure has already been distributed to — John walks up to the cash register and shoots the attendee a small smile. She's one of five other people present in the shop alongside the twins — both of the other clients are in the back of the shop scavenging for resources. It is clear they are in the same exact position as John and Abigail.</p> <p>In spite of this, Abigail keeps careful watch on her fellow customers. They might not be openly hostile, but the fact they're here makes them already suspicious. She does this as John continues his conversation with the cashier, trying very politely to see if the shop has what they need and if it even accepts cash as payment.</p> <p>After a moment, one of the patrons slowly walks up to the register. They are hooded and wear ragged, worn-down clothes. With one hand in their pocket and the other tightened into a fist, they carry a vague smell of alcohol and cigarettes around them. It's not the smell of an everyday homeless person, though — it's the smell of adrenaline and intentional intoxication. Abigail eyes them.</p> <p>Something is wrong.</p> <p>"That will be—" John tries to say as he finishes packing what he's just purchased, only for the newcomer's fist to hit the register. John gives them a confused look, and from inside their good, the face of a bearded middle-aged man appears. His eyes are bloody and his muscles are tense. He does not look at John — his eyes are fully focused on the girl behind the register.</p> <p>With his left hand, he gropes something beneath his jacket.</p> <p>"Everybody stay fucking still or I'll blow your goddamn heads off," he says in a shaking, throaty voice as he nervously eyes first the register, then its atendee. "I want everything you have there. Everything anyone's paid with in the last few d—"</p> <p>John puts his hands up. "Sir, please, I really do not believe this is necess—"</p> <p>"I said STAY FUCKING STILL," the man shouts, drops of spit falling onto John's shirt, whom he's now come to face. He furrows his brows and unpockets his weapon, pointing the old-fashioned gun directly towards John. "You think you're so clever, eh, smartass? Want to be the hero of the d—"</p> <p>Behind them, Abigail's eyes suddenly go violently purple. Without any hesitation, she lets the power run through her veins and raises her hand, spreading the fingers in a crooked manner. Brief purple sparks begin to fly around her as she furrows her brows and lets her face twist in cold fury.</p> <p>Shocked — and barely comprehending thanks to the booze — the man quickly turns towards Abigail, his weapon following the direction of his shaking hand.</p> <p>She doesn't give him time to react. Instead, she crooks her finger further and bends the barrel of the gun, making it impossible to fire. Then, with one movement of her hand, she makes him fly towards the nearest wall. She doesn't use much force, but the man is in no position to oppose an attack of a reality bender as powerful as her. He collapses a few shelves on his way down towards the floor.</p> <p>When he does fall, the rest of the structure follows, entombing him in broken rubble and planks.</p> <p>Still shaking from anger, Abigail lets the air out and takes a deep breath, "He'll be fine. Sure as hell won't be going anywhere, though. Not anytime soon," she pants out, and turns to look at the cashier.</p> <p>Only then does she notice the look the rest of the customers are giving her. There is disgust and fear plastered across their faces, some deep-rooted hatred for not what she's done, but for her character as a whole. One that wasn't present there a few moments before.</p> <p>As she tries to cool down, one of the customers spits on the floor. He looks her dead in the eyes, and furrows his brows further. "Crenshaw should have taken care of your kind, too."</p> <p>Abigail and John don't talk on their way back to the car, or on the few tens of kilometers they still dare to cross today before stopping. Even the music plays only for a few minutes before Abigail turns the radio off, and looks soberly at the winter-ridden American roadside, now covered by an approaching snowstorm.</p> <p>That time of the year, it's almost as cold as its people.</p> <p style="text-align: center;">♪</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <blockquote> <p><em><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eKconGz9JRw">I stared right into the endless void</a></em><br/> <em><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eKconGz9JRw">And I ain't going back if I got any choice</a></em><br/> <em><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eKconGz9JRw">I know how to live, I don't know how to die</a></em><br/> <em><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eKconGz9JRw">And there ain't no thrills in the afterlife</a></em></p> </blockquote> </div> <p style="text-align: center;">♪</p> <h1 id="toc2"><span>3</span></h1> <p>When the dawn breaks, they make their stop in some off-road parking lot and wait out the day in-between John skimming some book he's taken along and Abigail napping on the blanket-covered backseats. Halfway through the stop, they switch places — John takes his rest in the driver's seat and Abigail remains on the lookout, her arms crossed with a cigarette in-between her lips. (Normally, she doesn't smoke with John around, so she uses any chance she can get.)</p> <p>Soon enough, darkness engulfs them again, and they hit the road in continued silence.</p> <p>They only speak again when they enter North Carolina, sometime after midnight has passed.</p> <p>"Almost halfway there," Abigail says, tapping the paper map held up in front of her. Her tone isn't quite sad, but there is a tint of exasperation to it. "To the border with Florida, I mean."</p> <p>John nods, and continues looking at the road in front of him in silence.</p> <p>"You're sure the ride across the canal is taken care of, yeah?"</p> <p>He nods again. "Yes. I am most certain."</p> <p>"Good. That's good."</p> <p>She crosses her arms, and begins tapping the fragile paper with her fingernails. She hasn't cut them in longer than she probably should have.</p> <p>"I wonder what he will think when we—"</p> <p>Slowly, John turns to look at her. "You know we can talk about it if you want to, right?"</p> <p>"What?"</p> <p>"We can talk about it. I'm here for you."</p> <p>She looks down. "It's fine," she says, tightening her lips. "Really. I mean it."</p> <p>John looks at her for a few seconds more, then turns back to face the road. He considers for a moment. "You know, with how boring the road has gotten, I think I could use something playing in the background. Do you think you could put that playlist back on?"</p> <p>Abigail smiles faintly, and clicks a few of the car's archaic buttons.</p> <p>When the rhythm starts playing again, she continues tapping the map. This time, though, the gesture is much calmer — and much less solemn.</p> <p>Perhaps out of kindness, perhaps out of genuine enjoyment of the music, John starts tapping the steering wheel, too.</p> <p>A few hours later, John spots lights on the horizon.</p> <p>"What is that?" he says, pointing to the vague warm glow with his left hand. "Can you make anything out?"</p> <p>Abigail furrows her brows, and scratches her chin. "It… It looks like some sort of stadium. I can't quite see it, but… there's people there, all around it. Lots of them." She shakes her head. "There's cars parked all around it, too. Big trucks just as much as small cars."</p> <p>John furrows his brows. So far on their journey, barring their encounter at the Waffle House, they've only ever seen one other vehicle traverse the Interstate. Any meeting, no matter how small, might mean terrible trouble — at best, it could result in them getting into another situation, and at worst, it could end with them being sent back to the camp and missing their occasion. Risking anyone else noticing them — especially a place with so many people in spite of their circumstances — is very questionably worth not taking some other, safer route.</p> <p>Whatever's going on here cannot be a good sign.</p> <p>"Coalition?" he asks, already beginning to brake the car. Seconds later it stops, leaving them in almost total darkness. "PENTAGRAM? Police?"</p> <p>She considers for a moment. "N-No?" Abigail skews her head. "No. No, definitely not."</p> <p>"What makes you say that?"</p> <p>She turns to face him. "The very large banners displaying the Manna Charitable Foundation motto above the entrance."</p> <p>He furrows his brows. "That can just as well be a trap. Who is to say it isn't some outlaws using the symbol to lure in travelers?"</p> <p>She crosses her arms. "Well, unless you want to backtrack and lose six more hours by taking another route, there's only one way to find out."</p> <p>When they drive closer, the first thing they're greeted by is all the noise. It isn't the usual ambience of American cities or the white noise of nature surrounding the road — it's genuine, human laughter. It's the sound of conversation and people eating together, sitting nearby campfires and telling each other stories — doing all this in spite of the cold, in spite of the time of day, and in spite of their differences.</p> <p>The warm glow soon turns into a series of warming fires lit up around and inside the open stadium, surrounded by tents; makeshift abodes constructed from open trunks, some blankets, and seats repurposed from the abandoned sports center. All around this provisional encampment there are larger tents decorated with the charity's green logo, sitting there alongside many of the organization's trucks occupied by exhausted personnel.</p> <p>The snow hasn't yet reached here — it's still relatively warm.</p> <p>The twins slowly ride towards the whole organized mess, and park the car wherever there's still space left. This time, John doesn't protest.</p> <p>In time, they get close enough to the tents to see all the people.</p> <p>There are a lot of them. Most of them don't have anywhere else to go.</p> <p>From the permanently homeless to those only made so by Coalition displacements, it is clear that this place does not quite care that if the GOC was to catch wind of what is going on here, they wouldn't like it. Between its soup kitchens, makeshift medicare centers, and just all-around support groups, it stands in opposition to everything the Coalition — or the American government, for that matter — has ever represented.</p> <p>Worse yet, it is doing it all rather selflessly, judging by the state of the volunteers and the infrastructure in general. Manna has never been one for well-established, official means of helping others (in spite of this operation <em>de facto</em> falling under the jurisdiction of the Coalition under Pizzicato); they've always been the kind of people to do whatever they can directly on the frontlines of their circumstances, not from behind comfortable offices and bureaucratic excuses.</p> <p>Abigail smiles. She's glad to see that though this is no longer a world she recognises as her own, some things never do change.</p> <p>John walks up to her, and shakes his head. "I didn't think there would be that many."</p> <p>She raises an eyebrow. "That many what? Sick people? Refugees?"</p> <p>"That many willing to help."</p> <p>For a while, they soberly observe the campsite. Nobody present — neither the camp's inhabitants nor the Manna personnel keeping it running — seems to notice them. Nearby life just makes its way around the two still figures, carrying on as if they weren't even there.</p> <p>For what it's worth, both of the twins much prefer it that way. The last thing they need in a Manna camp is someone recognizing that, a lifetime ago, they both were one of the primary people opposing the organization's continued operation.</p> <p>John sighs. "I think we should see what this place's deal is. If we are going to stay here—" He looks at the already-setting sun, its first rays of light making their way from below the distant horizon. "—then we better see if we can somehow help."</p> <p>Abigail nods in agreement, and they both set off towards the nearest official-looking tent.</p> <p>The structure's an ugly thing, all dirty white insulated material plastered with the charity's green logos. A few small windows made from what looks like some translucent metal allow both to peep inside, into the one-room hospital.</p> <p>It, too, is not pretty.</p> <p>Lined in rows there stand beds, all equipped with some fancy paratech apparatus neither of the twins is qualified enough to recognize. Strapped to all of it lay patients, all diverse malnourished figures connected up to breathing tubes and monitors displaying data they can't quite read. Medical personnel run all around those sick from the virus, carrying needles, food, fresh blankets, and other things necessary for the continued survival of dignity and decency in such a place. Their bodies, though covered by masks and what Abigail recognizes as Broken Church-made quarantine exclusion harnesses — a very, <em>very</em> expensive piece of technology tasked with ensuring a 99.5% safety rate from infection — are all ridden by signs of exhaustion.</p> <p>Though those wearing them are managing for the sake of others, they are doing so only barely.</p> <p>Abigail looks once more at the bed-ridden. There are maybe two hundred of them in this particular structure, all miserable, all barely keeping on, all awaiting their dose of the cure to arrive and be distributed. In the meantime, all they can hope for is postponement — in spite of its genius, modern medicine has found no other safe cure for the Virion except the one made and distributed by Simón Torres. Slowing the virus down and hoping for the best until their savior comes is the only thing still left.</p> <p>It will be a long wait, Abigail thinks.</p> <p>From an angle, when she looks at them right, they almost remind her of their destination, of why they even set on this road in the first place. Both bed-ridden, both put to a misery by a world not quite appreciative of their existence, both—</p> <p>Her train of thought is broken as a nurse exits the tent through the nearest airlock. She's no longer wearing the harness — beneath all of that metal and glowing wires, she's just herself again. A tall, dark-haired figure with bags under her eyes and a tablet in her hands looks at the two people standing before her workplace.</p> <p>She blinks twice. "Can I help you?"</p> <p>John clears his throat. "Yes, actually. Apologies for interrupting your work—"</p> <p>"What happened here?" Abigail cuts in. "Why camp out here, out of all places?"</p> <p>The nurse sighs, and massages her temples. "There was a game hosted here. Illegally, of course, but who can blame them after so many months. A few locals got together to watch their teams compete in conceptual wrestling, and since nobody was using the stadium, they picked this as the place." She sighs again, and looks at the rest of the encampment. "They were all sure they were not sick." She pauses. "When we were called in, it was already too late to allow them to be sent home. The rest of the folks joined in when they saw we offered a place to stay."</p> <p>"Why you, though?" John asks. "Why call you and not the Coalition? Would they not have a better chance at actually getting the cure more quickly through official channels?"</p> <p>The nurse gives her a tired look. "And risk getting fined or arrested or worse afterwards?" She shakes her head. "No. Loss is an alternative far preferable to shame, for most.</p> <p>"Besides," she adds, "you can't blame them for not exactly having faith in the Coalition anymore. I don't think anyone's had any since the late thirties." She pauses, and takes a deep breath. "It's all a mess."</p> <p>For a while, nobody speaks. All three just stand there, idly looking at the still-restless base before them.</p> <p>Eventually, the nurse clears her throat. "Is there anything else I can help you with? I… I really would rather be sleeping right now, I won't lie."</p> <p>John looks at her. "Is there anything <em>we</em> could do to help?"</p> <p>The nurse eyes the patients. "For them? No. Their only hope is that bastard Torres, whenever he gets off his high horse and sends us the cure." She looks back at the camp. "But for them, though? Yeah. Go bring some life into their existence. Help them cook some soup, or something. They've been here for months now. I'm sure that they would appreciate a good story to go alongside their food to break the monotony."</p> <p>The camp is shockingly active for the time of day. It doesn't come as much of a surprise to either of the twins, though — a prolonged quarantine does interesting things to the internal day and night cycle of the human body.</p> <p>Over the next few hours, John and Abigail do as they were told. He cuts some vegetables and prepares some meat; she uses her skills to do the same, only at three times the efficiency. (Though John is an excellent cook, there is no outmaneuvering three whole sets of kitchen utensils moving through the air, animated by ontokinetics.) When the meal finishes brewing on the thaumically-lit flames beneath them, they bring the many brown clay bowls to those that are still hungry, in spite of the hour.</p> <p>This time, there are also more of them than they had expected. Many, many more than they had hoped.</p> <p>When all is said and done, the twins take their own bowls (any chance to not use the food they've got in the car cannot be missed) and sit at the nearest still-free campfire.</p> <p>It's surrounded by half a dozen people. Most of them are sitting there in silence, focused only on their meal. Two of them, however, are engaged in a very loud and very passionate discussion.</p> <p>"…and now you're surprised?" the first person spits out, crossing their arms. "You vote for Crenshaw, that's what you get. Exactly the same thing the Republicans have been promising since Reagan."</p> <p>The other person scoffs. "Yeah, as if Buttigieg winning would have changed anything. You really think the Dems would pass a chance to get a project like this running? Come on. They would have taken it and branded it as their own. They would have taken all the credit, first maybe released it in some third world country, and then given it to the cops. Congress will consider it a rational policy no matter who proposes it.</p> <p>"It's all the same. It always <em>is</em> the same. It doesn't matter who's in that office, man." They pause. "You're not choosing a lesser of the two evils. You're <em>just</em> choosing evil, no matter what you do."</p> <p>Suddenly, John clears his throat. All sets of eyes fall on him, quickly followed by Abigail giving him a 'what the hell do you think you're doing' look. He nods reassuringly and turns to face the others.</p> <p>"Then why… why continue this charade? Why participate in a system if you know it's broken?"</p> <p>The first person scoffs. "And what would you do instead, old man? Better folks than us have tried. Besides," they say, "what else is there to choose? The system's bad, but we don't got no alternatives. The commies sure as hell ain't doing any better."</p> <p>That spawns a few chuckles from the crowd.</p> <p>"Truth is, old man, if you try to fix a broken wire, you can always get shocked in the process." They pause. "Not worth it, if you ask me."</p> <p>For a while, John considers. "So you really do believe it is better to let the wheel break you, instead of risking getting splinters in your hands when you take a swing at it?"</p> <p>The other almost laughs. "Yeah, man, 'cause I sure as hell ain't no carpenter."</p> <p>They spend the rest of the day in relative silence, helping a few locals move and giving out more food. Eventually though, sometime around noon, sleep catches up with them. They retreat to their car, an old relic among the newest vehicles gathered around the stadium, and both doze off.</p> <p>This time, there's no need for anyone to remain on guard. Even John agrees that with these people, they are safe.</p> <p>They sleep all the way until the evening.</p> <p>When they enter the campsite under a dark sky again, yawning and rubbing their eyes, it's even more lively than before. There's some sort of dance around the largest campfire, a routine neither can quite make out, played to the whistles and sung tune coming from many not-quite-synched throats. A few dozen people just move around the fire, smiling to the sounds of laughter, of conversation, of tones coming from makeshift guitars and the voices of people that had once perhaps loved to sing, when they were younger and still had the time and passion to truly love something as selflessly as one loves the act of making art.</p> <p>It is the music of humanity. Of mankind in its purest form, now the same as hundreds of thousands of years ago; still huddling around a fire, still with its tribe, each member still the same as all the others in spite of their appearance and history.</p> <p>Somewhere beyond the reach of the fire's light, Abigail smiles again. In her time as Overseer, she's seen different mankinds through different lens and in different times. She's seen it all. And yet, for a second time this evening, she grows ever so certain that though time goes on, nothing truly does change.</p> <p>When ten in the evening strikes the clock, they eat one more portion of soup, say their goodbyes, and hit the road once more. They don't really belong here anyway. It isn't their place to join this dance, to participate in this particular aspect of mankind with the displaced and the hungry.</p> <p>Besides, they have their own portion of humanity to deliver to an old, almost-empty house in Florida anyway.</p> <p style="text-align: center;">♪</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <blockquote> <p><em><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qc4biuTaaKc">Ages come and go but her life goes on the same</a></em><br/> <em><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qc4biuTaaKc">She lives to see the sun and feel the wind and drink the rain</a></em><br/> <em><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qc4biuTaaKc">Her colors change to mark the passing of the days</a></em><br/> <em><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qc4biuTaaKc">No earthly sight can match the beauty she displays</a></em></p> </blockquote> </div> <p style="text-align: center;">♪</p> <h1 id="toc3"><span>2</span></h1> <p>Not late after, midnight passes. The border with South Carolina follows close behind.</p> <p>John remains unphased by the change, and just continues staring at the road in front of them. (There's quite literally nobody else on the Interstate, so giving it his full focus is unnecessary; still, he insists it's for their safety. Abigail doesn't argue.) Meanwhile, beyond the window of their car, Abigail takes a few photos of the forests they continue to pass; though its almost the same as the landscape in the Northern twin state they have just left, this time, her thoughts aren't as occupied, and she can give it her full attention.</p> <p>This time of the year — and in opposition to North Carolina — the many trees are covered by a thick layer of snow, just as they have always been ever since their sprouting an odd century ago. To them, this winter is no different to all the hundreds of others that came before, and the hundreds that will still come in the future. It's a calm cycle, one that leaves them unbothered by the raging politics of the world around them.</p> <p>One that, on some level, Abigail almost grows envious of. Some part of her would like to just forever settle down and do nothing, until the long-awaited end of her prolonged life inevitably comes, sometime in the next hundred years.</p> <p>Still, for better or for worse, she knows she's made her choice centuries ago, when she said yes to the position of Overseer Eight. The fact that the position's faded doesn't mean her character or attitude has. She's already chosen to be an active player in this world's history the second she agreed to privilege. After so many years of living that life, she can't possibly ever back down and relax. It would be against her nature.</p> <p>Old habits die hard; ancient habits remain alive like cancer. And there's very few people on this planet older in their routine than Abigail Hadfield.</p> <p>She sighs, crosses her arms, and looks back at the monotonous road still in front of them. She's seen a lot of it in the past few days, and she sure as hell isn't expecting that streak to change anytime soon; not until they get to Georgia and enter their ship, at the very least. Still, she's not complaining. She's well aware that the American road in-between cities could have been much, <em>much</em> <a href="/scp-7034">worse for them</a>.</p> <p>Left with no other choice, she leans back, and tries to enjoy the music.</p> <p>It's almost a good time.</p> <p>They continue like this for a few hours. A few hours they spend on reminiscing about old times, and what will come still later on. It's a tradition they've kept up for centuries, ever since they were children — for what could a family ever be without a conversation? Well. They <em>know</em> what a family like that would be. They both remember their father, even all those years later, even after they've cut themselves off from his legacy. They both remember his coldness. It's only fair they do everything in their might to never allow his specter to haunt them again.</p> <p>The laughs stop the second Abigail notices a car coming their way from the opposite lane.</p> <p>She blinks twice, unsure if what she's seeing is real or just a product of her brain reacting to the monotony of the road and late hour. But no, it's definitely there; though it's still far away, the large TIR truck remains unmistakable for anything else.</p> <p>Worryingly, its lights are turned off, and it hauls no container alongside it. It's just the front module, blasting through the Interstate at a speed that is definitely not allowed for a vehicle of its size and make.</p> <p>Abigail narrows her eyes. It doesn't add up as just another lone wanderer trying to get through the Coalition-set boundaries. Not with that panicked speed. Something's wrong.</p> <p>When the truck passes next to them, Abigail gets a very brief moment to look at the driver. In that split second, she notices a face plastered with worry and determination.</p> <p>She immediately turns towards John. "Drive faster," she says in a firm, cold tone. "Drive faster and find the nearest exit."</p> <p>He doesn't turn back at her. He just grabs the steering wheel more firmly. "What? Why on earth—"</p> <p>"That truck's being chased by someone. Or some<em>thing</em>. Presumably it's the cops, but it could also be scavengers or something that's gotten loose from the <a href="/vnp-111">local national parks</a>." She pauses, and leans out of her chair, trying to get a better line of sight to the other lane. "Either way, it's bad. If it's Coalition, it is <em>really</em> bad."</p> <p>John nods, and floors the gas pedal without further questions. Somehow, their half-broken ride manages to convert it into some two-hundred on the speed meter. (Though only barely and very briefly, judging by the sounds the engine is starting to make.)</p> <p>Soon enough, the pursuer reveals itself.</p> <p>It's an armored PENTAGRAM van, a long, black and dark-gray vehicle like the ones made for war. Equipped with bullet-proof glass and segments of paratech covering, it isn't the standard police car the regime sends to interventions against a protesting public; it's an active and deadly tool of the industrial military complex, one made for merciless and effective operations as dictated directly by the generals and colonels sitting deep beneath the Pentagon.</p> <p>Worse yet, though it is still far away, it has definitely seen them. If this was a Coalition asset, the twins could hope for <em>some</em> level of humanity; the United Nations enjoy maintaining a facade of decency and mercy. They'd get arrested, sure, and probably beaten, but all in all they'd make it out mostly good. But PENTAGRAM? That's a whole different story entirely. As members of the privileged one-percent, they can argue and negotiate with cops; they can't even dare to hope for the same mercy from hardened military types, given freedom to do whatever they like with criminals under Procedure Pizzicato.</p> <p>"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Abigail mouths out, and turns back to look at her map. The nearest exit from the Interstate is at least ten kilometers away. Even at their speed, that's still some three minutes before they can even begin an actual escape. Far too much time. She grabs John by the shoulder. "Drive!"</p> <p>John pushes the pedal even further. At this speed, neither can quite make out if it has any effect; still, for better or for worse, he keeps on pushing. He considers the illusion of counter-action far better than the panic that would inevitably arise from realizing he's already met the end of his resources.</p> <p>"What the hell are you doing?!" John says towards Abigail, still not turning away from the road. His arms are almost fully straightened out, and his grip on the steering wheel's already making his knuckles turn white.</p> <p>Abigail just grunts, unmaking her belt and jumping towards the backseats. When she lands in-between the bags, bottles of water, and blankets, she grunts again, but quickly stands up on her knees and looks out beyond the back window. "Preparing for the inevitable!" she shouts back at John, trying to make her voice heard in spite of the ever-louder growls and clanks of the overworked engine.</p> <p>She grits her teeth, narrows her eyes, and focuses on the truck.</p> <p>Then, just as expected, there it comes.</p> <p>As the truck passes forward to continue chasing the TIR, from the back of it — some hidden compartment, perhaps, Abigail's no expert in evil engineering in spite of her expertise in shadow governments — comes… something. Abigail can't quite make out its shape or make. It is blurred before her eyes, as if hidden behind some attention-diffusing veil or antimemetic membrane. All she can discern is that she can't focus on it like she'd want to, and that it is capable of flight.</p> <p>That and that, in spite of their great speed, it is intently focused on following and catching up to them.</p> <p>"Fuck!" she shouts again, and closes her eyes for a few moments, trying to calm down. Still, even then, behind her closed eyelids, the image of their pursuer remains, almost as if it was engraved upon some deeper level of her psyche. She grits her teeth further, opens her eyes, and tightens her fists.</p> <p>"What's going on?!" John shouts from the front. Again he doesn't turn back.</p> <p>"A drone. They sent a fucking drone after us."</p> <p>"What?!"</p> <p>"PENTAGRAM-issued weaponry. If it catches us in close enough range, it can and probably will shoot us. With thaumic missiles."</p> <p>This time, John <em>does</em> look back. "WHAT?!"</p> <p>"It's a military drone repurposed for the sake of peacekeeping." Her breathing is almost steady. She tries her best to control her heartbeat, so with a forcibly calm tone, she adds, "They took Pizzicato more literally than most."</p> <p>"Oh lord."</p> <p>"So floor that goddamn pedal like your life depends on it."</p> <p>John nods, and turns back to face the road.</p> <p>Meanwhile, Abigail narrows her eyes even further. She knows that, if she can just focus on the drone for even a split second, she can rip it out with ontokinetic pressure from the inside. Unfortunately, its designers were keenly aware of that too, hence the whole cloaking veil to begin with. Whichever bastard at Lockheed Martin or whatever other company put this thing together was smart enough to know that no conventional defence will do against people with the power to wield magic or reality-bending in their palm.</p> <p>She always did believe that the industrial military complex's worst crime was employing actually competent people.</p> <p>That entire train of thought lasts maybe two seconds, but the drone uses that time to its full advantage, too.</p> <p>From some internal pocket beyond human perception it fires two missiles, both small and short cylinders aimed directly at their car, both capable of independent movement and actual focus.</p> <p>Thankfully, this time around, Abigail <em>can</em> comprehend what's coming at them. She's glad that training her reflexes for two centuries didn't go to waste.</p> <p>With one swipe of her hand, she forces the rockets back, back towards the drone, hoping she can overwhelm their own drive and take out their pursuer.</p> <p>Though the movement works and the rockets do indeed get sent back, the drone isn't dumb, either. Whatever artificial facsimile of intelligence pilots it moves out of the way, letting the two weapons hit each other and explode right behind it.</p> <p>Abigail curses beneath her nose. "How much longer until the exit?" she shouts, already counting the nearby area for whatever else she can use as a weapon.</p> <p>Suddenly, she gets an idea.</p> <p>"Some two minutes! Can you hold it off until then?"</p> <p>"I'll try my goddamn best," she mutters out, and rolls up her sleeves. She closes her eyes and focuses on the trees around the road, all those hundreds of thousands of tonnes of flora entombing their passage from every side. She focuses on it and, with a movement so violent it nearly fractures a blood vessel somewhere in her brain, she uproots as much of it as she can possibly lift.</p> <p>With trembling hands, Abigail Hadfield raises a forest. Well. As much of said forest as she can; still, the trees around them come to life, slowly levitating beneath where they previously sat for a peaceful century.</p> <p>"Agh!" she shouts in some guttural growl, and imitates a throwing gesture with her right hand. Maybe a quarter of the trees obey, and fall towards the drone at speeds rivaling that of sound.</p> <p>Neither of the twins see the results. John is too preoccupied with scouting the nearest exit — now within eye's reach — to even comprehend what just happened. Abigail meanwhile falls back towards the backrest of the nearest seat, too tired to even stand up straight. For a few seconds, darkness looms inside her eyes as death rings inside her ears. She's tried many feats of colossal proportions in the past, but this? This was a step too far, this late into her lifespan. It takes her breath away.</p> <p>Nearly permanently so.</p> <p>"Abigail? Are you all right?" John asks, his tone rid with worry.</p> <p>"I… Fine. I'm fine." Abigail manages to mutter out in-between gasps for air. "I'll live." Her voice is barely louder than a whisper. With lights still dancing before her eyes, she turns back to see what has come of her grand maneuver.</p> <p>The road behind them is buried in wood and leaves. It looks as if a hurricane or some tornado has gone through the area, sweeping the whole passage into an impassable mess some-dozen meters in height. Though she cannot make the drone out, she isn't sure if it's due to the fact she got it, or if she's just too tired to make out its blurred-out shape.</p> <p>Only after a few seconds of staring does she take a calm breath. The weapon is nowhere to be seen.</p> <p>"How much longer?" she whispers out weakly, taking a large gulp of the nearest open water bottle.</p> <p>"Fifteen seconds," John replies, already changing lanes to the freshly-extant right one, headed for the exit. He knows that leaving the interstate and instead opting for another road will cost them countless hours, but they've got no choice. It's either this or getting caught. He's sure that by now, PENTAGRAM's made it known they were spotted. They need to get out of view as quickly as possible.</p> <p>Abigail sighs in relief.</p> <p>A few moments pass and they're no longer on Interstate 95. Instead, they are now driving on some old forest road, barely wide enough to fit a single vehicle. Abigail isn't quite sure how they made it there directly from the Interstate — after all, a passage as large as ninety-five wouldn't <em>just</em> directly connect to whatever facsimile of a road this is — but she's far too tired to think about it too much.</p> <p>Far too tired to think about anything, really. Far too tired to even keep her eyelids open.</p> <p>Before she can ask John where they are, she feels the grasp of sleep tighten around her mind.</p> <p>When she awakes, it's day again.</p> <p>She grabs her aching head as she props herself up against the uneven surface of the backseat, already feeling a massive migraine rush to her forehead. To her surprise, she finds herself covered by some of the blankets they took along when they left their camp. What surprises her even more is that all of the car's windows — including the one in the ceiling — seem covered by some mix of leaves and other nearby fauna, making none of the outside visible to her.</p> <p>Meanwhile, John is nowhere to be seen.</p> <p>She arches her brows, and slowly sits up.</p> <p>The headache nearly makes her sit back down, but she powers through it. Barely. Gulping down a bottle of water helps, but also barely.</p> <p>Over the next few minutes, she gathers her strength, and opens up the door to the chilly outside. The light gives her another migraine nearly powerful enough to strap her back to the inside.</p> <p>When she powers through it, though, she's greeted by an image of John, sitting on some large stone near their car. He's sitting legs-crossed and holds a packet of chips in his hands, very slowly eating them as he stares into the horizon. He's surrounded by thick, snowy foliage from every direction, even from above, with only enough space to fit their car and maybe three more people.</p> <p>Even if something were to fly directly above their heads, it would not notice them.</p> <p>Weakly, and in many slow moves, Abigail steps down the car and joins John.</p> <p>"Please don't do that again," he says the second she sits down, offering her the remainder of his snack. She accepts.</p> <p>"It was necessary."</p> <p>"It was stupid, Abi." He pauses, and takes a slow breath. When he speaks again, his tone is quiet. "You are not a hundred-twenty anymore. You could have died. I…" His voice trails off.</p> <p>She smiles faintly. "Yeah, you're probably right. Still. Next time I risk an aneurysm, I'll tell you first."</p> <p>He smiles too. "Thank you."</p> <p>Over the next few minutes, she finishes eating, and washes it down with the remainder of the water.</p> <p>"Now, if you'll excuse me," she says, slowly standing back up. "I'll go back to sleep. I don't think my head's quite ready to function properly yet."</p> <p>John nods, and returns to sentry-looking in-between the trees as Abigail climbs back up towards her makeshift bed.</p> <p>When she closes her eyes again, she feels like she hears a vague tune begin to play from somewhere deep inside her memory, but before she can focus on it or really recognize it. she dozes into half-coherent, half-sober dreams.</p> <p style="text-align: center;">♪</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <blockquote> <p><em><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BnCEmbk6vPk">Oh, you fool, there are rules, I am coming for you</a></em><br/> <em><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BnCEmbk6vPk">(You can run but you can't escape)</a></em><br/> <em><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BnCEmbk6vPk">Darkness brings evil things, oh, the reckoning begins</a></em><br/> <em><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BnCEmbk6vPk">(You will open the yawning grave)</a></em></p> </blockquote> </div> <p style="text-align: center;">♪</p> <h1 id="toc4"><span>1</span></h1> <p>When the night comes again, Abigail still hasn't woken up, but that makes no difference to John. He stands up, gets in the car, covers her with the remaining blankets (and puts on her seatbelt!), and starts to drive forward, towards their now-near destination.</p> <p>He's tired — both from the chase and not having slept — but by this point in his life, he's gotten used to it. As a former Overseer himself, he's spent much, <em>much</em> of the twentieth century without any rest, let alone actual sleep. And as an historian, he's almost grown to appreciate the long, long hours he's spent at night. Besides — Abigail needs him. It doesn't matter how tired he is. He knows that he'll make do. He has to.</p> <p>As to not interrupt Abigail's sleep, when they hit the road, John's barely breaking forty kilometers per hour — a speed low enough to get a chance to study the physical paper map Abigail's left in the front passenger seat.</p> <p>Having left the Interstate, John knows they cannot possibly ever go back. It's far too dangerous. In their current circumstances, even driving with lights turned on means taking unnecessary risks. They need to make use of the dirt pathways and one-lane roads he's driven onto for as long as it'll take to get to their destination at whatever shady port their boat is awaiting.</p> <p>Worse yet, they don't have that much time left — with just two days remaining, he's got no choice but to power through the fog of exhaustion and carry on until they get to the end of their journey. Losing a few weeks of his life due to the strain this journey will put on his body is an alternative far preferable to missing tomorrow's occasion.</p> <p>John sighs. Between trying his best to avoid being spotted, attempting to not wake his sister up, and actually getting closer to their destination, it's going to be a long night.</p> <p>By the time Abigail wakes up, they've already crossed into Georgia.</p> <p>She stands back up very slowly, massaging her temple as she takes a deep breath. The headache returns almost immediately. It's far worse than any hangover she's ever had, even the ones that came after <a href="/scp-7600">Druv'tuulian</a> feasts in the seventies. Worse yet, unlike any hangover, it doesn't just come from her head and stomach — it feels like it's coming from the very middle of her soul.</p> <p>She inhales again, this time much more deeply. This scar will take a long time to heal. Still, when John notices she's conscious again and asks how she is, she tells him everything's fine. She couldn't bare the thought of him losing even more sleep over her safety than he already has.</p> <p>Very, <em>very</em> slowly, Abigail climbs out of her blankets and onto the front seat, next to John. She smiles faintly, and crosses her arms. She's back in the game, even if the game isn't terribly interesting and once again consists of just looking at whatever they are passing by.</p> <p>At least this time around, it's no longer the bland concrete desert of the Interstate.</p> <p>She sighs, and looks at John. She can see he's very, very tired. She knows he can see the same in her, too.</p> <p>She's suddenly very aware that it is indeed going to be a long day. However, when she looks down at her map and at the dashboard in front of John, she realizes that that won't have to be the case. In reality, there's little road left, maybe two hundred kilometers until they reach the end of their drive; unfortunately for them, though, the tank's running similarly low.</p> <p>She sighs again, and looks back at the map, already scouting the nearest gas station.</p> <p>Neither is satisfied with the decision to stop, with John tired, Abigail hurt, and the country running rampant with idiots akin to those they met at the Waffle House. But risking another mess, even in their states, is something they'd much prefer to not getting to their destination on time.</p> <p>Even with Abigail's instructions, it takes them most of the night to find a still-open spot. When the purple sign announcing that this particular instance of Carter Petrol is still operational, they drive over without any hesitation, even though the sun is nearly rising.</p> <p>Suspicion catches them almost immediately.</p> <p>It isn't just the fact that a place like this hasn't closed during the pandemic, or that more than five people still sit inside the building in spite of the very early hour (Marshall, Carter & Dark isn't particularly famous for caring about most regulations, including those about protecting its employees). It's everything <em>else</em>. Each of the dispensing stations save for one have been looted, with concrete around them broken and morphed alongside wood and plastic into some facsimile of defensive structures. Even the shop inside the station is out of the ordinary — with little actual products on its shelves, it has been refurnished to look more like a large living room than any instance of the corporate, MC&D-owned chain.</p> <p>Worse yet, one of the people present on the station is sitting directly in front of its doors, legs crossed and with a gun resting neatly on his lap. The man takes a long drag off his cigarette as he carefully eyes them.</p> <p>Nevertheless, the twins don't back out. Whatever this whole mess is, they need the gas. Everything else is less important.</p> <p>They decide to both exit the vehicle when they finally stop near the only still-operational distributor. The last thing they want is for this to turn into a mess, so they opt for the path of full clarity.</p> <p>"Hello!" John says loudly as he takes the first step on the concrete, his and Abigail's arms up in the air. "We don't want any trouble."</p> <p>"Then what <em>do</em> you want?" the man replies, also standing up from his chair. His four companions, still remaining inside the building, also stop whatever it is they're doing and start eyeing the twins.</p> <p>"Me and my wife just need some gas, is all," John says, pointing at Abigail with his head. He's not happy about needing to lie, but he knows they should do anything to avoid drawing attention and risking someone connecting the facts with the publically available arrest warrant.</p> <p>The man grips his weapon harder. "Crossing between cities is illegal, you know that? I could just call the Coalition and have you lot arrested for breaking the quarantine."</p> <p>Before John can reply, Abigail cuts in, "So is being outside said cities, let alone operating a business here." She focuses all her strength on not sounding weak and hurt and tired. It isn't easy. "But here we are." She pauses. "So, will you use our unfortunate circumstances to your profit, or will you continue pretending you don't want money?"</p> <p>The man pauses to consider for a moment. After a few seconds, he lowers his gun, and looks at them with just a little less suspicion than before. "How much do you need?" His tone is still unpleasant, but now that he's sensed the chance for profit, he knows he can't back out.</p> <p>"Around thirty liters," John says. "We're ready to pay cash."</p> <p>Again the man stops, this time to calculate something in his head. He scratches his chin, and furrows his brows. "That'll be six big ones."</p> <p>Brief surprise flies across John's face. "But—"</p> <p>Once again, Abigail interrupts him. She extends her hand in a 'let me handle this' gesture, and turns back to face the dealer. "Five and a half and it's fine by us."</p> <p>The man narrows his eyes, but nods in agreement. He comes towards their car, ready to do the deed himself.</p> <p>As he starts pouring gas into the vehicle, John and Abigail walk towards its other side, and open one of its doors. "What the hell are you doing?" John whispers out as he grabs one of the bags with their money, his face still turned towards Abigail, who remains outside the car. "We cannot spend that much! We will not be able to afford the sh—"</p> <p>She gives him a heavy look. "Do you want trouble or do you want to actually get to Aaron? Just let me do this, John. It's far easier this way. Besides," she adds, crossing her arms. "Worst comes to shove we can just sell more family trinkets. They're of no use anyway."</p> <p>Instead of protesting, John just sighs, and hands her the bills. "Fine. Do your worst."</p> <p>She nods, and smiles faintly. "Thank you."</p> <p>A few moments later, their tank is full again. Abigail comes closer to the man, and gives him the money. He quickly counts it — twice — before nodding silently and beginning his stroll back towards his chair.</p> <p>The twins smile, wave off, and open the doors to their car. Abigail stops for a moment. Somewhere at the edge of hear hearing, she thinks she hears something almost like… almost like rotor blades turning very far away, and—</p> <p>Before she can focus on it, one of the four men inside the building walks out.</p> <p>"Hold up," he says very loudly, alerting his sitting friend to his presence and suspicion. "Show me your face." He points at John.</p> <p>"Excuse me?" John manages to mutter out.</p> <p>"What is this about?" Abigail asks, furrowing her brows.</p> <p>He doesn't even look at her. "Shut up, woman," he says, and reinstates his gesture. "I said, show me your face, old man."</p> <p>Very slowly, John first exchanges a worried look with Abigail, then turns to face the two men. For a few moments, he stands still.</p> <p>A crooked smile enters the man's face. "Just what I thought. You're Hadfield, aren't you, old man," he states more than he asks.</p> <p>Again, Abigail answers in John's stead, ignorant of the men paying her no attention. "And what would that change, even if he were? What good would reporting two on-the-run criminals give you — you, who operate here illegally and without permit?" She waits a moment for her words to land properly. "Come on now. Let's be reasonable here."</p> <p>Suddenly, the smile turns into a frown. "You don't seem to understand," he says as his companion once again readies his gun. "I don't care about what the Coalition wants with you. I care what <em>I</em> want with you." He corrects his leather jacket. "I don't care if you're on the run. All I care about is that you're formerly Overseer," he spits out, anger twisting his face. "And I'm not letting you get away with that, you fucking shadow commie piece of shit."</p> <p>The man whistles, and the remaining companions inside the building quickly start to move out towards the outside.</p> <p>For a very long second, John and Abigail's hearts stop beating.</p> <p>Without any hesitation, as if in synch, they both jump behind the car, the only thing separating from the approaching five, armed men.</p> <p>"What the hell do we do?!" John practically shouts out, grabbing his head. "Are you in shape to… to do anything?" he adds, this time with more worry.</p> <p>She shakes her head. "I can maybe hold them off for a moment, but…" She quickly opens the door to the car. "We need to get out, <span style="text-decoration: underline;">now</span>."</p> <p>As she finishes speaking, a bullet shatters the open door's window. Then, three more shots follow it, each breaking one more part of the already poorly-standing car. They hear one hit and rapture the tire, and two break into the barely structurally sound metal of the other doors.</p> <p>"Well then," Abigail rolls up her sleeves. "No choice this time around."</p> <p>She tries to stand up, but is immediately stopped by John grabbing her by the leg.</p> <p>"What do you think—?! You can't—"</p> <p>"It's the only way."</p> <p>"You promised! For god's sake, you promised, Abigail! You're too weak! I will not let you die!" His voice is full of genuine desperation.</p> <p>She just smiles. "And I won't let both of us get shot by rednecks. Besides," she says, rising to her full height. "I'll be fine. They're no trees. I can take care of idiots much more easily."</p> <p>Before John can protest again, she closes her eyes, and crooks her fingers.</p> <p>When she emerges from behind the car, in one swift motion, she throws two of the men half a dozen meters back. Both of them break the station's glass as they fall, having hit the back wall and collapsing against it.</p> <p>Before she can turn to the three remaining adversaries — who are now too shocked to react in any way — she lets out a yelp of pain and hides behind the car.</p> <p>There is a stream of blood trickling down her nose.</p> <p>"Fuck," she whispers out to nobody in particular. Her voice is very weak.</p> <p>"Abigail," John repeats, his tone almost begging. "Please."</p> <p>"I…" She tries to hold her hand up. It's trembling. "I can do this, John. Just one more attack, and—"</p> <p>"And you'll die, for god's—"</p> <p>She isn't listening, not anymore. Instead, she reveals herself again and tries to focus her power on whatever loose elements lay near the three remaining men, trying her best to take them out in one fluid movement. She finds it almost immediately. The chair the first gun-wielding man was sitting on. If she can throw it with enough might, she will get all three of the lined-up attackers, and—</p> <p>When she raises her hand to do the deed, nothing happens. The power doesn't come.</p> <p>The shock that makes her feel freezes her for a fraction of a second. A fraction of a second long enough for one of the men to take aim and fire, hitting the hood maybe three centimeters away from Abigail's face. That forces her to come back to life; she quickly takes cover behind the vehicle again.</p> <p>"I can't do it," she breathes out, her tone panicked. "I can't. It doesn't— doesn't work. I—"</p> <p>She grabs her head with her hands. Her eyes are moving rapidly.</p> <p>Three more gunshots ring out. They ring out much more closely than before.</p> <p>"I can't do this. I…" Her heart is beating louder than her thoughts. "Oh god, we are going—"</p> <p>Suddenly, three things happen at once.</p> <p>One: as the first lights of the day shine through the cracked horizon to the louder sound of propellers, they reveal a gigantic, long shape in the sky. It is white with blue-colored stripes, and is unmistakable for anything but GOCAS <em>Madrigal</em>, an airborne ship of the Global Occult Coalition. An instrument of war looming over their very heads, maybe fifty meters at most. Even from this distance, John can clearly see open doors leading to its bridge and military-grade personnel staring directly at them from the distance.</p> <p>Two: one of the attackers reaches the twins, and readies his gun. Before he can fire, though, a shock goes through his whole body, making him lose control and fall down on the hard concrete before him. He drops his weapon and surrenders to gravity as another figure emerges from behind him — an armored, tall person adorned by a Coalition-blue helmet, a stun gun ready in their hands. They knock down the attacker once more, and then turn to look at the Hadfields. Their face is filled with determination.</p> <p>Three: Abigail feels something break inside her head, and passes out on the cold concrete floor. The last thing she remembers is more Coalition agents entering her vision, all gesturing to each other and John, and…</p> <p>When she comes back to consciousness, she's sitting next to John on some Coalition-set-up makeshift benches maybe a hundred meters from the gas station. She's covered in a bright blue thermal blanket, with one of John's hands wrapped around her to prop her up.</p> <p>He smiles when he sees she is all right, but doesn't say anything; instead, he continues staring at a group of maybe a dozen people, standing a few meters before them.</p> <p>They're all very obviously Coalition soldiers and operatives, field agents she recognizes from her final moments at the shootout, all of them armed except for a single figure, taller than the rest. They are looking directly at John and Abigail.</p> <p>Dressed in an immaculately groomed suit, Goldbaker of the Goldbaker-Reinz Ltd. insurance group lets a smile fly across their face when they see they have the twins' attention. They approach John and Abigail, spry in their movements as ever.</p> <p>When they get within talking distance, they come to a sudden halt. They clear their throat, wave towards their men to leave them alone, and put their hands behind their back. For a moment, they just stand there, one meter away from the twins, scanning the bloodied, tired Hadfields from top to bottom.</p> <p>When they finally speak, their tone is perfectly calm. "It's good to see you again. How long has it been? Two decades?" They look as though they genuinely struggle to remember. "Though it's even better to be proven right, I suppose. Not that I ever had any doubts."</p> <p>Abigail arches an eyebrow. Goldbaker almost chuckles.</p> <p>"Come on now. It doesn't take a prophet to realize who was driving the SUV that PENTAGRAM drones picked up yesterday." <em>Though being one certainly helps,</em> they don't add. They clap their hands. "But none of that matters now that you're here."</p> <p>"What are <em>you</em> doing here?" John asks, crossing his arms. "You're the last person I expected out in the field."</p> <p>Goldbaker rolls their eyes. "Doing my due diligence to the Council. Everyone has to do their part, no matter my own personal opinions on the current status quo. Besides," they say, shrugging and pointing to the airship located behind them with their head, "it hasn't been all that bad. My part's mostly included getting to remote towns with that beast and giving them what we legally owe them. Or at least that's what it has included until we received reports of rogue criminals nearby escaping a PENTAGRAM convoy, and then nearly killing some four people." They pause. "It really wasn't hard to track you two down when they started firing."</p> <p>Before Abigail can intercede, they raise their hand. "Rest assured my men have already taken care of the mess. It's all tidied up and explained with local authorities," they say, eyeing the beaten up twins and the gas station behind them. When their eyes return to the twins, they add, "The lesser half of it is, anyhow. I can justify self-defence in court, but I cannot do the same for someone blatantly ignoring the quarantine procedures."</p> <p>John sighs, stands up, and just extends his hands forward. Abigail gives him a look, but does the same. "Just get on with it," she says, her voice tired. "No point in drawing it out." She knows that, as opposed to the rest of their colleagues sitting on the Council of 108, Goldbaker only enjoys bureaucracy when it comes to business. Still, they have no choice but to arrest someone who's clearly and shamelessly broken the Coalition-mandated quarantine.</p> <p>Goldbaker shakes their head. "I do not believe that will be necessary. We are going the same way, after all. We have been called to the motherbase on Florida even before we stumbled upon you two."</p> <p>John furrows his brows.</p> <p>"Again — your motivations are far from imperceptible. So, knowing that, I see no reason why you can't come with us as civilized men. You're no criminal scum, you Hadfields. Haven't been for a generation, at the very least least. That's certainly the impression I got of you when we were still doing business.</p> <p>"So," they say, already starting to head towards their airship, now on the ground a few meters in the distance. "Can I expect you to act in accordance with those expectations?"</p> <p>"What… What about our things?" John asks.</p> <p>"Already taken care of. Technically, they are evidence against you which we need to take with us — besides, your vehicle is in no shape to even carry them anymore. So my men took them with."</p> <p>In a few steps, the twins catch up to Goldbaker. "Why?" Abigail mouths, facing directly at the unphased businessperson. "You could have just as well chained us the second you got us. What's the point of risking it all?"</p> <p>They don't turn to face Abigail. "Do you want the official answer or the honest one?"</p> <p>John slowly exhales. "Both, preferably?"</p> <p>Goldbaker nods. Their smile shows he chose well. "If you're asking what I'll write up in my report, then know that even tired and battle-worn, Miss Abigail still vastly outshines all of us in pure ontokinetic might, myself included. There is no reason to make this all ugly — if you were to oppose us, it wouldn't be a battle we could survive without heavy casualties. So here comes my courtesy — an act of pure diplomacy, of course. Besides," they add, "allowing you two to carry on alone or as prisoners only risks further damage — no doubt insured damage I would personally have to pay for.</p> <p>"But truth be told, I'm doing this because I like you." They stop on the steps leading up to the airship. "I don't quite trust you — I'm not that much of a fool — but you two have shown yourself to be reasonable people, back when you still ran the show. Taking you by force would only result in more chaos — but allowing you to willingly come with? That's a whole story entirely."</p> <p>They shrug. "All I'm saying is I certainly do not want to end up like those gun nuts at the gas station. I think it's a reasonable offer for a reasonable concern." They pause for a moment. "So. Come with me like civilized human beings, do your business when we finally arrive, and come back once you're done with your evening. Because I do know that you will come back. Civility — and the fact that once this is over, your only reason for breaking the law will be dealt with — requires that you do so. And like we've already established, I'd expect nothing but from you two.</p> <p>"Besides." They shrug again. "I know that binding John by the expectation of adhering to rules will almost certainly ensure that he indeed abides by them." They give John an apologetic look. "So yes, it's all just so much easier than forcing you to come by pointing guns at you."</p> <p>Abigail just blinks, almost incapable of believing what she's hearing; still, she doesn't complain. She's far too tired — and in far too good a position — to do that.</p> <p>"T-Thank you," John mumbles out, dumbfounded by their circumstances. He steps up the stairs, walking towards Goldbaker, and smiles faintly. Abigail soon joins him. "I doubt this means anything anymore, but know I won't forget this. If there's anything—"</p> <p>Goldbakers's face is suddenly as still and firm as a stone. "Good," they say, their tone tolerant to no disobedience. "Because do know that if you break my trust, you being holed up with Miss Ranyue will not hold my men back."</p> <p>John gulps and nods, and quickly hurries up aboard the vehicle.</p> <p>Though equipped with luxuries that make the day and night travel a breeze, the airship does not have a radio system — not one tuned in to entertainment-focused frequencies, at the very least. Still, Abigail soon discovers that through ever so slightly bending the incoming waves and in spite of her exhaustion, she can make them change from Coalition orders to any tune she likes. Goldbaker initially opposes this, but after the communication proves to be little more than repeating information, they allow her to have her fun inside their temporary quarters before she goes to well-earned sleep.</p> <p>That, and — though they'd never publicly admit this — they kind of like the tune. It reminds them of the long, long time that has passed since they came to be — and everyone close that's passed alongside it.</p> <p style="text-align: center;">♪</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <blockquote> <p><em><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gjqtXxpogjE">'Cause I know I don't wanna stay here forever</a></em><br/> <em><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gjqtXxpogjE">It's time to be movin' on</a></em><br/> <em><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gjqtXxpogjE">Oh, I don't want to be the only one living</a></em><br/> <em><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gjqtXxpogjE">When all of my friends are gone</a></em></p> </blockquote> </div> <p style="text-align: center;">♪</p> <h1 id="toc5"><span>0</span></h1> <p>One thing becomes immediately apparent when they land in Tallahassee: in spite of everything that's happened in the last three decades, it's still a shithole.</p> <p>Current circumstances certainly do not help; if anything, the unofficial Coalition occupation only makes it worse. While the center of the city mostly remains intact, save for a few blocked-off roads and armored trucks patrolling the area, the outskirts is where things get really serious. In-between Tallahassee's own Relocation Camp, many dozens of military-grade tents, and support buildings to the many vehicles parked all around the encampment, it's a lot.</p> <p>Even from up in the sky, John and Abigail can still see the many hundreds of Coalition officers and soldiers marching around the base. From this height, they look barely bigger than ants. With their numbers, they're like some alien, invasive swarm that's taken this town by right of conquest and plunder, proudly parading around beneath their blue shells and with their paratech guns.</p> <p>That feeling doesn't disappear even when they soon land next to three more Coalition airships, docked at the far edge of the camp next to a giant, make-shift hangar. It doesn't disappear even when they get off their ride, pick up what little of their luggage they took along, and join the crowd of foreigners filling the capital of Florida.</p> <p>Goldbaker walks up to them almost immediately.</p> <p>"I expect to see you two again tomorrow at noon," they say, their face unreadable and their tone stone-cold. "I do not care how you self-report, for as long as you do it through my office."</p> <p>Goldbaker points towards the remainder of their team with their head. The few dozen people are still boarding off the airship, carrying crates and weaponry around the hangar.</p> <p>"Either way, I wish you luck in your endeavors." Their voice is much more relaxed, now. "Oh, and a piece of advice: if I were you, I would avoid using public transport in this place, if any still functions." They turn to face Abigail. "I'm afraid you will not find any allies in this state, Miss Hadfield. With their… appreciation of law enforcement, I do not think they would hesitate to report you, either." They look at John. "But with how close your destination is, I do not think walking will be that much of an issue anyway, even considering Miss Abigail's condition."</p> <p>John nods. "Thank you. I sincerely do mean it."</p> <p>Goldbaker almost smiles. "I know you do."</p> <p>In one fluid movement, they turn towards the rest of their men, and start their spry stroll forward.</p> <p>"Oh, and one more thing!" They shout from the distance, their voice carried by the echo of the structure around them. "If he's still receptive, please do give my regards to Aaron, and my sincerest sympathies to Miss Ranyue. That, and carry my regret we couldn't have met under better circumstances. Even if," they say, "with what the world's fallen into, I do not think any other were or ever indeed will be possible."</p> <p>Outside the camp, Tallahassee is a mess, even more so than during peacetime.</p> <p>With its empty streets, curtain-covered windows, and trash-filled pavements, it almost looks like a ghost town. The only thing that's any proof of any citizens still dwelling inside it is the occasional "FUCK CRENSHAW!" graffiti or "GO(C) HOME" lettering thaumically engraved onto the nearby sidewalk.</p> <p>Still, when John and Abigail begin their stroll towards their destination, they can't help but feel they are walking through a ruin.</p> <p>It's a slow march, one made so by Abigail barely being able to walk with what little strength she still holds onto and John carrying all of their luggage. They don't think it's ideal, not by a long shot — after all, the last thing they want is to be recognized by some bored onlooker staring out of the window of their quarantined apartment — but they know they have to make do.</p> <p>In-between taking the backstreets and avoiding plazas and other large openings near public buildings, they almost feel like rats scurrying around an abandoned city. The presence of actual rats all around them certainly doesn't help. Though, unlike the twins, the little rodents don't really seem all that concerned with the situation at hand — they just lay in whatever trash that still hasn't been collected by the absent garbage trucks, and continue their feast, even when their rest is interrupted by the steps of the first humans to cross those streets in a long, long time.</p> <p>Eating away at the ruin of America, the rats almost seem happy.</p> <p>Some four hours later, they are almost there.</p> <p>The journey through Tallahassee's many avenues and streets was long and ungrateful. Now that it's over, they are exhausted, and the sun is almost setting. Abigail is barely able to stand straight, and John's back is killing him. If they weren't quite literally in front of their destination, they are certain they couldn't ever muster the will to power through and walk forward.</p> <p>There's one issue, though: although they are indeed standing at the edge of Lake Jackson, staring directly at the large house they are meant to enter, the building is located on an island on the lake. One located maybe twenty meters away from shore, sure, but on an island nonetheless.</p> <p>Abigail takes a very deep breath. John just sighs.</p> <p>"I can't call them," John says, touching the almost-ancient phone in his pocket. "I'm certain they have a boat but with no actual phones in there…" He shakes his head.</p> <p>"I know," Abigail says dully, fully accepting of what she knows they'll be forced to do. "I think I can do it."</p> <p>He turns to face her. "Are you sure?"</p> <p>She raises a hand. "Look, if I could, I'd just split the water, or take a nearby boat, or…" She shrugs. "But I don't have the energy and there's no boats left anywhere. So what can you do," she states more than she asks. "I will manage. I didn't cross half the country to not manage."</p> <p>"But—"</p> <p>"I said I'll manage."</p> <p>For a while, John doesn't say anything. He just looks at her with concern.</p> <p>Eventually, though, he nods. "All right." He walks up to the nearby tree, and leaves their bags there. He's certain that nobody will take them — or even notice them, with how holed up in their houses everybody is — and it's not like they can swim across those twenty meters with their bags. Abigail soon joins him and before long, they are ready.</p> <p>When they tip their first toes into the water, they immediately regret it. Even though it hasn't yet snowed in Tallahassee — and the nearby region has kept up relatively warm in spite of the winter ravaging through the rest of the east coast — it still feels like they're about to freeze. It doesn't get better even when they're fully submerged and start to swim, but it's not like they've got any other choice.</p> <p>John hates being wet, and hates being cold, but he somehow manages through very rapid breaths and sheer goddamn will. In his long-past prime, he's <a href="/manifest-704">sailed half the world under the sails of the Commission on Unusual Cargo</a>. Though he's never been any professional, during those days, he's learned how to be a great swimmer. He makes it across in maybe half a minute, and turns back to see how much Abigail's got left.</p> <p>She's nowhere to be seen.</p> <p>"ABIGAIL?!" he shouts out, scouting the area for any signs of her. He can already feel his heart beart louder than his thoughts. "ABIGAIL!"</p> <p>Her head isn't anywhere above the water.</p> <p>Without hesitation, John immediately jumps back back into the lake.</p> <p>When he opens his eyes beneath the frostbite-inducing water, two things happen: one, his brain starts to feel like it's getting stabbed by a thousand needles, a pain so great it nearly makes him unable to think; two, he notices Abigail's small shape, slowly drifting towards the bottom of the water, like some corpse thrown into the lake.</p> <p>Worse yet, she isn't moving. Or breathing.</p> <p>In just a few movements, still powerful in spite of his age, John swims towards her and grabs her. It's one of the hardest things he's ever had to do, but he powers through it. He's lived through being thrown off the deck of a ship twice; he treats this as nothing different. When he grabs his sister, he realizes she's far heavier than he thinks he can manage, but the strength added to him by the sheer adrenaline almost makes up for the added weight.</p> <p>Before long, they are back up on the shore. As if by instinct, he gently puts her on the ground and immediately starts the resuscitation.</p> <p>He only stops when Abigail spits out enough water to fill up a kettle. Her eyes shot wide open.</p> <p>"Never do that again!" he shouts, already starting to shiver. With the adrenaline already wearing off, he can again feel the chilling temperature of both the air and the water they've just left.</p> <p>She doesn't say anything. Instead, she just nods, and starts to shiver herself.</p> <p>Within a moment, John's expression grows softer. He quickly takes off his jacket and hands it to her. It's soaking wet, so the gesture is barely more than symbolic, but she still accepts it.</p> <p>John takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and tries to stand up. He stops when he feels a very warm hand suddenly land on his shoulder. Within a second, the warmth spreads throughout his whole body, and — judging by the expression on her face — leaps onto Abigail, too. Before he can even blink, they no longer feel any cold at all — and neither do their clothes, which now look as if they had been drying in the desert sun for the last few days.</p> <p>"I'm glad you could make it," says a female voice from behind him. "I was getting worried you wouldn't come."</p> <p>He knows the voice. He's heard it many, many times over the centuries they've worked alongside each other. If he had more energy still left, he'd be furious <em>that's</em> the first thing she says to him after all this time; but, exhausted like he hasn't been in a lifetime, he just turns around towards the diminutive Asian woman.</p> <p>Ranyue Lin, pyromancer battlemage and former SCP Foundation Overseer Five, almost smiles when she sees him.</p> <p>"Hello, John," she says, her tone as warm as always. "It's been a while."</p> <p>He nods again. "Yes, Ran. It really has." He turns back towards Abigail, and helps her stand up, too.</p> <p>"Let's get you inside," Ran says, already turning to walk towards the nearest doors. "You look like you could use a hot cup of tea."</p> <p>Neither of the twins respond. Instead, they exchange a look, and follow their former colleague into the end of their journey.</p> <p>Some hour later, both have taken a shower, drank and eaten up, and changed their clothes. (They are indeed <em>very</em> lucky that Aaron and Ranyue's figures match their own almost one to one.)</p> <p>Now, they are sitting in a small, art-deco fashioned living room. It's filled with old memorabilia from four centuries into the past — in-between different books, globes, swords, and photos, it's all a mess. A mess they might not understand, but one whose actual owner they figure is able to navigate quite well.</p> <p>Just like the rest of the house, the room is furnished along fashion choices that haven't been in style for over a century, but one that still remains a nicely-kept memory of what once was. With two sofas the twins and Ran occupy, a table in-between them, and a fireplace near one of its walls, it's just fancy enough to look good without coming off as pretentious.</p> <p>John certainly enjoys just looking at it. Just like all relics of ages long-gone, he's naturally drawn to it. Perhaps due to his passion as an historian, perhaps because of its genuinely good appearance — or perhaps because subconsciously, he knows he too is not of this time.</p> <p>Abigail, meanwhile, is not as enthusiastic. She looks at Ranyue. Though Abigail's lost most of her attitude over the last few days (she's still exhausted, and is only carrying on because she still has to do what they came here to do in the first place), that doesn't stop her from crossing her legs and furrowing her brows.</p> <p>"So," she says, crossing her arms, too. "Where is he?"</p> <p>Ran doesn't meet her eyes. She sighs. "Same place he's been for the last month." Her tone is very quiet. "He's sitting on the balcony."</p> <p>She stands up, and walks up towards the nearest cabinet. From inside it, she pulls out a bottle of wine probably older than most of the Earth's population, and three glasses. She looks at the twins, the unsaid question hanging in the air. John nods; Abigail just marrows her eyes.</p> <p>"Three?"</p> <p>Again, Ran avoids eye contact. "I… I don't think he's going to need one."</p> <p>Abigail doesn't say anything. Instead, she just blankly stares as Ranyue pours the alcohol into the glasses, and passes them towards her guests. The red wine, John notices, is almost of the exact same color as Ran's plain dress.</p> <p>"So," she says, not sitting back down and not putting down the bottle. "Are you ready?"</p> <p>John and Abigail exchange a look, then both nod.</p> <p>"Good." Ran points to the nearest doors with her head. "Follow me."</p> <p>The outside air is chilly, even after the warm shower, food, and alcohol.</p> <p>The balcony itself isn't anything special — it's maybe twelve square meters surrounded by an intricate railing made of black steel. Its floor is decorated by some white tiles that haven't been cleaned in many, many years. There's a few plant pots scattered around the balcony, but — just like the rest of Florida's flora, that time of the year — it's very barely clinging onto life.</p> <p>But, just like Ranyue said, he is there.</p> <p>He's sitting in a wheelchair on the other end of the balcony. Next to him stands some medical apparatus — one not aimed at curing or preventing the Virion (this isolated in this house, neither of its occupants are at risk of contracting it) but one tasked with the impossible mission of postponing this man's already long-held-off death. His bald face is full of wrinkles so deep it should be impossible, as is the rest of his lanky body, propped up against the chair and situated in sight of the lake, which he's intently staring at. His eyes are glassy, and don't appear to really see anything anymore.</p> <p>Even when they enter within meters of him, Aaron Siegel, former SCP Foundation Overseer One and Administrator, once the most powerful man in the world, does not turn towards them, or indeed react in any other way. He just sits there, taking rapid and shallow breaths, staring out beyond a horizon they aren't even sure he sees.</p> <p>Still, John walks up to him, and puts a hand on his shoulder. Abigail meanwhile looks at Ranyue. Her eyes are glassy now, too. She briefly closes them, and looks at the lake. Abigail observes her for a few seconds, and joins her brother. They both lower themselves so their faces match Aaron's level, and from a pocket inside his jacket, John takes out a small package.</p> <p>He doesn't hand it to Aaron.</p> <p>"Happy birthday, friend," he quietly whispers, his tone shaky.</p> <p>Aaron doesn't react in any way. Behind him, Ran drinks the rest of her wine.</p> <p>"Yeah, happy birthday, old man." Abigail chuckles. It's insincere. "Not even the virion can get you, eh? You—"</p> <p>"Abigail," John says calmly.</p> <p>"—that bastard Graham—"</p> <p>"Abigail." He puts a hand on her shoulder. She just looks at him with a defeated expression. "Please. You're only hurting yourself."</p> <p>She looks down on the floor. "I know." Her tone is barely louder than a whisper. She doesn't have the strength to muster anything else. Between this heartbreak and everything else that's happened in the last few days, she's certain this won't just wear off. The rip in her soul, the damage done to her body, and this… she's been hurt too much for the scar to just heal.</p> <p>For a moment, it dawns on her with utmost clarity that this pain will stay with her, perhaps until the very end of her days.</p> <p>She sighs.</p> <p>John stands up, clears his throat, and hands Ran the small package he's held in his hands. "I… I wanted to give it to Aaron, but… well," he says. "If he cannot have it, I think you should. For taking care of him when we couldn't."</p> <p>She doesn't say anything. Instead, she just nods and begins to unwrap the paper.</p> <p>Beneath it, she finds a small photograph in a metal frame. It's black and white and depicts nine people. Though she herself wasn't present for it — just as many others it should also depict — she immediately recognizes it.</p> <p>It's the first ever official photo of the Overseer Council, taken back when life was simple, their hearts genuine, and their intentions still clear.</p> <p>She starts to blink very rapidly.</p> <p>"I…" John begins. "I thought he should have it. With everything that's been going on recently, I just… I was worried about the others, if they're still out there. I think he should remember them. Even if this photo isn't perfect, it's the best I could get. Besides, it holds sentimental value, so…" his voice trails off.</p> <p>Ran closes her eyes. "Thank you, John," she says. "I think he'd love it."</p> <p>John nods twice, tightening his lips.</p> <p>For a few seconds, they just stand there, staring at the photo and thinking about the thirteen individuals that should have been present for its taking — who should be present <em>here</em> — and what has happened to them and those who inherited their mantle.</p> <p>Aaron Siegel. Now little more than a ghost of a ghost of his former self. Barely more than nothing.</p> <p>Two. First sold like something less than human, then forced into <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-6500/offset/15">solitude among a foreign kin</a>. Restless to the bitter end.</p> <p>Jackson Miller. A bastard through and through. Perhaps finally at peace with the rest of his hive.</p> <p>John Hadfield. A tired old wreck. A relic of an era long gone.</p> <p>Ranyue Lin. A heartbroken mess, capable of little but longing. No longer host to a fire so great it could warm the whole world.</p> <p>Jan Twardowski. Still stranded in his lunar prison. Maybe no longer alone, with all the <a href="/david-hunt-on-galileo">new company he's gotten</a>; but just maybe.</p> <p>Eylana Graíné. A lonely spider in the center of a self-woven web. Untraceable and off the grid, just as she always has been.</p> <p>Abigail Hadfield. A final link in an accursed bloodline. Its last and most desperate echo.</p> <p>Natalie Asheworth. First <a href="/and-every-time-we-meet-again-hub">stolen by a force beyond her power</a>, then taken by heartbreak. Buried underneath a tree somewhere in Poland.</p> <p>Evelynn Bright. A mother and friend. Maybe finally happy in her newfound freedom.</p> <p>Elias Mair. Driven nearly mad by visions. Now bound to an economic beast far greater than anything he's ever fought.</p> <p>Mikell Bright. Hung for his crimes by the people. A martyr in the eyes of some; a monster in the eyes of most.</p> <p>Pierre Blanchet. Still bound by his working to what remains of Overwatch Command. A teacher to those unwilling to repeat the mistakes of his colleagues.</p> <p>All of them, once a facsimile of a family, now little more than scattered, lonely children.</p> <p>Eventually. John takes his own glass, signs a toast to Abigail and Ran, and drinks it all up in one quick swing. Abigail does the same, and Ranyue just takes the bottle and empties what's left.</p> <p>Though they speak no words, they are all very much aware that just like the rest of their story, this moment will not last. Though Ran will remain here, taking care of what remains of Aaron, she knows that sooner or later, he too will pass. She herself isn't the youngest, either. And though they will stay here for the night, come tomorrow, John and Abigail will have to leave and report themselves to the Coalition. They won't escape the price of humanity.</p> <p>John sighs.</p> <p>With a heavy heart, all four look out beyond the balcony, towards a sun setting above a dying nation, awaiting any sort of catharsis in a world no longer theirs.</p> <p>It never comes.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="earthworm earthworm--old-syntax-first-false earthworm--old-syntax-last-false earthworm--old-syntax-hub-yes {$class}"> <div class="first earthworm__previous" data-title="Icarus Unburned"> <p><a href="/scientia-potentia-est">Icarus Unburned</a></p> </div> <div class="hub earthworm__hub" data-title="8,000 Dead Rats"> <p><a href="/8000-dead-rats-hub">8,000 Dead Rats</a></p> </div> <div class="last earthworm__next" data-title="Coda for the Capitol"> <p><a href="/coda-for-the-capitol">Coda for the Capitol</a></p> </div> </div> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/wayward-forlorn-kin">Wayward, Forlorn Kin</a>" by Ralliston, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/wayward-forlorn-kin">https://scpwiki.com/wayward-forlorn-kin</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> 1.png<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> End of I-95 in Maine - panoramio.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Wallace Parry<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:End_of_I-95_in_Maine_-_panoramio.jpg">Wikimedia Commons</a><br/> <strong>Additional Notes:</strong> Edited by <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/jasiu06" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6669398); return false;"><img alt="Jasiu06" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6669398&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1736090794" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6669398)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/jasiu06" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6669398); return false;">Jasiu06</a></span></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> 2.png<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> ESwatini Road Sunrise with road works.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Reflexus34<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 4.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:ESwatini_Road_Sunrise_with_road_works.jpg">Wikimedia Commons</a><br/> <strong>Additional Notes:</strong> Edited by <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/harryblank" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6479803); return false;"><img alt="HarryBlank" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6479803&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1736090794" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6479803)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/harryblank" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6479803); return false;">HarryBlank</a></span> and <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/plaguepjp" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5813664); return false;"><img alt="PlaguePJP" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5813664&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1736090794" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5813664)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/plaguepjp" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5813664); return false;">PlaguePJP</a></span></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> 3.png<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Ypwfh 1b (17912692923).jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Greg Goebel<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 2.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Ypwfh_1b_(17912692923).jpg">Wikimedia Commons</a><br/> <strong>Additional Notes:</strong> Edited by <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/jasiu06" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6669398); return false;"><img alt="Jasiu06" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6669398&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1736090794" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6669398)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/jasiu06" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6669398); return false;">Jasiu06</a></span></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> 4.png<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Logan Canyon Scenic Byway - Moose Rests by Roadside in Snow - NARA - 7720246.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> N/A<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Public Domain<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Logan_Canyon_Scenic_Byway_-_Moose_Rests_by_Roadside_in_Snow_-_NARA_-_7720246.jpg">Wikimedia Commons</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> 5.png<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> US Navy 100128-N-8828S-119 The Petionville Country Club in Port-au-Prince, Haiti is being used as a field hospital, food distribution location and as a tent city to house 50,000 earthquake survivors.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> U.S. Navy photo by Interior Communications Electrician 1st Class Jason Richard Stephens<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Public Domain<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:US_Navy_100128-N-8828S-119_The_Petionville_Country_Club_in_Port-au-Prince,_Haiti_is_being_used_as_a_field_hospital,_food_distribution_location_and_as_a_tent_city_to_house_50,000_earthquake_survivors.jpg">Wikimedia Commons</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> 6.png<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> People sitting around a camp fire.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Hynek Janáč<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Public Domain<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:People_sitting_around_a_camp_fire.jpg">Wikimedia Commons</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> 7.png<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Winter road in Estonia.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Hannu<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Public Domain<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Winter_road_in_Estonia.jpg">Wikimedia Commons</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> 8.png<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Lots of trees with snow.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Clump<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Public Domain<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Lots_of_trees_with_snow.jpg">Wikimedia Commons</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> 9.png<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> LockheedMartin P-791.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> AMIRAAZAMI6<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 4.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:LockheedMartin_P-791.jpg">Wikimedia Commons</a><br/> <strong>Additional Notes:</strong> Edited by <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/jasiu06" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6669398); return false;"><img alt="Jasiu06" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6669398&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1736090794" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6669398)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/jasiu06" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6669398); return false;">Jasiu06</a></span>, using "GOCLogo.png" by <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/aelanna" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(334454); return false;"><img alt="Aelanna" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=334454&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1736090794" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=334454)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/aelanna" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(334454); return false;">Aelanna</a></span> from the <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/groups-of-interest">SCP Foundation Wiki</a>, CC BY-SA 3.0.</p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> 10.png<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> TallahasseeSkyline2.JPG<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> UrbanTallahassee<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:TallahasseeSkyline2.JPG">Wikimedia Commons</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> chapter1.jpg<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Russian lawyers. Early 20th century. Saint-Petersburg.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> N/A<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Public Domain<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Russian_lawyers._Early_20th_century._Saint-Petersburg.jpg">Wikimedia Commons</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> asterisk.png<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Heraldique Rose.svg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> ludger1961<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Heraldique_Rose.svg">Wikimedia Commons</a><br/> <strong>Additional Notes:</strong> Edited by <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/jasiu06" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6669398); return false;"><img alt="Jasiu06" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6669398&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1736090794" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6669398)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/jasiu06" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6669398); return false;">Jasiu06</a></span></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> logo.png<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> CoA of the Mises family.svg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Alejandro Basombrio<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 4.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:CoA_of_the_Mises_family.svg">Wikimedia Commons</a><br/> <strong>Additional Notes:</strong> Edited by <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/jasiu06" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6669398); return false;"><img alt="Jasiu06" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6669398&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1736090794" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6669398)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/jasiu06" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6669398); return false;">Jasiu06</a></span></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:foxtrot">:scp-wiki:theme:foxtrot</a>]] [[module CSS]] :root { --logo-img: url(https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/wayward-forlorn-kin/logo.png); --header-title: "Hadfield Estate"; --header-subtitle: "In tenebris perseveramus"; --logo-opacity: 25%; } #header h2::before { text-transform: capitalize; font-style: italic; } div#extra-div-1 { background-size: 100px; } #toc { margin: 0; padding: 0.5em; border: none; background-color: none; } [[/module]] [[>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] [[=]] [http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/ralliston-s-authorpage More by this author] [[/=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:end">:scp-wiki:info:end</a>]] [[/>]] [[==]] @@ @@ [[toc]] + 5 America is a nation at war; at war with itself. This isn't a recent development. Not really. This particular pot has been stirring ever since America's birth, but right now, it's boiling. With the nation neatly torn in half between those willing to destroy all that is foreign to their idea of order and those willing to perpetuate a hurtful status quo for as long as it remains under their control, things are not going well. This isn't a fault in the system, however, not some flaw in an otherwise functioning structure -- it is an inherent feature of its design. Both parties are fully aware of this, of course. They actively enjoy this game. It's a thrill, to wait and see which of the two will come out on top this time. Is it those willing to go to war under the pretense of equity, or those willing to sit back and relax as the world bursts into dollar-writ flames? Well, sit at the table, take a gamble, and see who wins this round -- and if a few people die in the process, so be it. It's a fair price. And so one spin after another the wheel keeps on moving, forever breaking those unfortunate enough to find themselves under its heel. A few decades ago, it was the socialists and the muslims -- right now, though, it's those who were born with a talent for magic. For those on top of the wheel, it's all the same. It matters not who they break for as long as somebody //is// being broken -- the machine cares not for the kind of blood that fuels its engines. Still, for better or for worse, today's age is that of Dan Crenshaw, prime delegate of the shameless warmongers. And it so happens that the war he's waged targets the magic inside his country -- a conflict most fair, as half the nation would certainly agree. But he doesn't fight just with disinformation and hatred, as all his former friends did -- [[[project-scarlet-dawn\|his weapon]]] is //perfect//. A virus, one that will spread to the whole country and take away all that which is special about those he opposes -- all that makes them who they really are. Naturally, the second half of the nation does not quite like this. They do not hesitate to fight back, but neither do their opponents -- it's a vicious, cancerous cycle. This is how things have been for the last few months, at the very least. If one were to describe the America of today, the picture they'd paint would be one of flame and violence -- not of liberty and prosperity. But perhaps not all is lost. Maybe there is still some humanity to be found in spite of the divisions, in spite of the [[[kte-9817-bluebuster-mendel-shelley-renegade-armbrusteri\|Coalition occupation]]], and in spite of the quarantine that chokes the country. That is certainly what two people believe, still stuck inside Washington, the heart of the disease that is slowly eating away at the rotting carcass of America. But will they remain in their optimism if they see what the rest of the country has fallen into? [[=]] @@ @@ [[image asterisk.png height="30px"]] @@ @@ [[/=]] The man just sighs. "Miss, I don't think you understand. Nothing has changed. I can't let you out." He pauses. "Not until we get our rounds of the cure, at least." She gives him a look that used to challenge gods. "No, I don't think //you// understand. I've tolerated sitting here and doing nothing for half a year -- but things have changed." She crosses her arms, and lifts her chin in defiance. "I have more important things to do than listening to what some goddamned bureaucrat thinks is best for me." For a few seconds, he doesn't reply. He just blinks, tired, and slowly looks down at the ID she's presented with him. When he recognizes the name, he blinks two more times -- this time with a bit more energy, but all the same frustration -- and looks back up at her. "Miss Hadfield," he says, his tone firm. "I realize that coming to terms with how things work in our society may not be easy for... people of your former position. But here's the hard truth:" He leans in from inside the booth, his face almost touching the plexi panel meant to separate them in case either is sick. "You are no longer special. So learn to live in the world you've decided to build, and stop acting like you still own it." He waits a moment for the words to land, then clears his throat, and looks at the person behind her in line. "Next!" Abigail Hadfield, former SCP Foundation Overseer Eight, now little more than a wealthy nobody under the Veilless world, clenches her fists and furrows her brows, but complies with the order. The kid might be little more than one-tenth her age, but he's right. She won't change anything about the machine she's raging against -- not by shouting at people who've only gotten their jobs thanks to nepotism, at least. (She recognizes the irony of that thought, but refuses to dwell on it -- she has better things to do than to reminiscent on [[[scp-8120\|her father]]].) With an angry grunt, she steps out of the line, and heads back to her Coalition-appointed Temporary Washington Virion Relocation Camp living quarters. [[=]] @@ @@ [[image asterisk.png height="30px"]] @@ @@ [[/=]] "And?" John asks the second she slam-shuts the doors to their dorm. "How did it go?" She sighs, and falls down on her bed. "About as well as you'd expect." She props her head up with her hand and turns to look at her brother. He's still staring at some old tome he's brought with them when they got stuck here all those months ago, and doesn't give her the courtesy of eye contact. She doesn't mind. She's gotten used to it over the centuries they've lived with each other. "The kid gave me a talk and an attitude, but the gist is the Coalition's not letting us out until they get the vaccine, our former positions be damned. Goddamned prick." Abigail isn't the most pleasant person on a good day, and recent days have been quite far from even decent; John is well aware of this, as well as of the fact that most of his words won't do anything to persuade his sister. Still, he doesn't blame her. Anybody would be frustrated if what was meant as a two-day-break and connecting flight between London and the Daevon excavation site turned into a ten-month detention against their will. Of course, both of them know their current circumstances are necessary, which naturally does nothing to make them any less irritating. "You shouldn't be so hard on him," he says, and closes the book. He turns in his chair and looks at her, crossing his arms. "He probably got the job thinking it will be a two-week adventure he could put down on his CV. He wasn't expecting this." She groans and throws her hands in the air, letting them land on the questionably soft mattress and blanket they've been given. "I know. Still. If I could just call Al Fine through Ran, they'd--" He rolls his eyes, and moves the chair closer. "Abi. You know you can't do that anymore." Before she cuts him off, he adds, "Besides. Do you //really// think they still remain in touch? After all those years?" "Ugh. You're right." She sits back up. "You're right." For a few moments, they just sit in silence in their Coalition-appointed barrack. Their two figures stand in almost comical contrast to the dwelling; it's a painfully modern piece of quickly put-together wooden and steel architecture stretched across what could maybe amount to twenty square meters total, including two beds, a table, and a bathroom. Their things lay scattered all around it, breaking the tidy symmetry its architects have probably intended; they certainly weren't expecting the messy backpacks, suitcases, clothes, and books its current residents have brought in. (Under normal circumstances, John would have long since made sure that everything is tidied up, but -- be it from contempt at the ones who have assigned them here or the realization that this state is only temporary -- this time, he hasn't bothered.) John and Abigail are an antithesis to the place. Both look as if they are pushing eighty. He is a tall, lanky, and smartly dressed man with a tidy gray beard and mustache. Though his wrinkled face doesn't even account for half of his true age, you can see it all in his exhausted, gray eyes. They'd be bespeckled if he hadn't been receiving the best possible healthcare in the world for most of his life. On the other hand, she is a tiny figure, maybe one-and-a-half meters at most, her diminutive body covered in a black button-up dress that was probably a great fashion sensation in the early twentieth century. With curly hair in a short ponytail and a grimace on her aging face, she could almost come off as just another helpless geriatric at first glance, but her bright purple eyes remain a testament to the reality-bending might held by her small figure. After a longer while, John clears his throat. "So," he says, taking a slow breath. "What is your plan?" She raises an eyebrow. "I mean, what we should do now. It is clear that you are not happy sitting around here. Not that I blame you," he adds and puts his hands up before she can intercede, "but you have to realize that going to the supervisor and asking to leave every single day might come off as... hmm, suspicious, after a while. Especially considering the letters you sent out to our lawyers back home." She gives him the type of look she used to give Overwatch Command bureaucrats. "John," she says very calmly. "It's in five days." He furrows his brows. "Wh--" he tries to say; a brief spark of realization flies across his face almost immediately. "Oh. Oh my." "Yeah." "Good heavens. That certainly complicates things." There is genuine worry plastered across his face. She crosses her arms. "Yes. We can't miss it." He almost shakes his head. "Certainly not. He would be heartbroken. If we haven't missed it during the late thirties, then..." He scratches his forehead. "Good lord. Has it really already been almost a year?" She first eyes his books, then him, as if trying to suggest something; he doesn't notice. "Yes, John. So what do we do? It's clear that my requests are not going to be listened to. Not unless [[[scientia-potentia-est\|Torres' cure]]] makes it to the camp, at least. Which," she says, rolling her eyes. "Could be days, could be months. We don't have the time to sit around and hand our life to that man. However competent he may be." John silently contemplates for a few seconds. When he speaks up again, his tone is calm and quiet -- he's already made up his mind. "We cannot stay here." She nods. "I'm glad that you agree. For what it's worth, I really //am// sorry we'll have to break the--" He holds up his hand. "It's all right. I have already made my peace with it. There are things far more important than the rules." She smiles with honesty, and just a tint of surprise. "Aye." She pauses, and considers the issue herself. "So, how do we go about it? I can break us out of the actual camp no problem," she says, letting a few purple sparks of power fly around her irises. "but getting away from it is a whole another issue entirely, let alone actually getting to him." He slowly inhales. "Well. With planes, teleportation, and ships out of the question, we don't have much choice, do we?" "You can't mean it." "I'm afraid I can." She rubs her temple, and stands up from the bed. "Ugh. Fine. But you're the one driving. Someone's going to have to put on the music and take pictures," she says, already reaching for the camera hung near her bed. It's an old relic of a far less civilized age, but she wouldn't have it any other way -- though the hobby might be new, she likes it the way she has remembered it for most of her life. "Besides, if the Coalition pricks get us, someone's going to have to fight back, eh?" He chuckles, and stands up himself. He stretches, and reaches for his backpack. Before an hour passes, they are both ready to say goodbye to their dwelling. [[=]] @@ @@ [[image asterisk.png height="30px"]] @@ @@ [[/=]] Four things happen that night. One: there is a breach in the security perimeter around the Temporary Washington Virion Relocation Camp Number 32; it's a small hole in one of its fences, one that won't get noticed until the first guard patrols the grounds in sixteen hours. Still, the strength with which the bars were pulled apart will remain a testament to the strength of the perpetrator, whoever they may be. Two: John and Abigail Hadfield are officially reported as missing by the appointed supervisor of the facility the moment they don't show up for the mandated breakfast in the canteen. Their dwelling is searched and found empty, save for a single middle finger ontokinetically engraved upon its doors. A search party is sent immediately to catch them for breaching their quarantine, in accordance with all of the procedures set by the Coalition. The remaining officials find that the signage on the door cannot be cleared; it remains etched into its atomic structure no matter the effort. Three: a broken, half-functioning SUV built well before the Veil had fallen and the mode of transportation was optimized sets its tires on the Interstate Highway number 95. It can barely move faster than sixty kilometers per hour and was paid off with House Hadfield memorabilia through less-than-legal channels owned by long-forgotten friends, but it will have to do. It can cover the fifteen hundred kilometers separating its two passengers from their destination just well enough, even with the little time they still have remaining. Four: Abigail Elizabeth Hadfield leans back in her seat, staring into the rising sun, and turns on the radio. [[=]] @@ @@ [[image asterisk.png height="30px"]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[=image 1.png style="position: relative; left: -8px; border: 8px solid #ffffff; box-shadow: 0 0 5px #999; margin-top: 15x; margin-bottom: 15px; transform: rotate(1.5deg); width: 100%; max-width: 400px;"]] = ♪ [[=]] > //[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ILNFvOvme_I What if the world dies with the sunrise?]// > //[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ILNFvOvme_I Baby it's all right, we'll be up all night]// > //[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ILNFvOvme_I What if we're unmade when the stars fade?]// > //[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ILNFvOvme_I Keep me going 'til the night turns into the day]// [[/=]] = ♪ [[=image 2.png style="position: relative; left: -8px; border: 8px solid #ffffff; box-shadow: 0 0 5px #999; margin-top: 15x; margin-bottom: 15px; transform: rotate(-1.5deg); width: 100%; max-width: 400px;"]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image asterisk.png height="30px"]] @@ @@ [[/=]] + 4 In time, and after one too many albums, the sun finally rises. It does nothing to fend away the chilly though snowless December air. It does make Abigail realize how much time has passed, though; she changes the station so as to not torment her brother any further with her excellent music taste. (He's an old relic; he still only enjoys the classics.) The first thing that comes on is the news. "...for the fugitives John and Abigail Hadfield continues," the radio buzzes, only barely still compatible with the waves it was tasked with intercepting. "Last seen at 11:23 PM on December the--" Abigail abruptly turns down the volume, making it just enough to be heard but not loud enough to interrupt their thoughts. She and John exchange a nervous look, but neither is really shocked -- they fully expected this to happen when they made their choice. The only thing that comes as a surprise is just how fast the chase came. Still; with Abigail's skills and a six hours head-start, they know they can make it without getting caught. Nevertheless, over the next hour and in-between Abigail's curses and John's drawn-out sighs, they hatch together a plan. They can't travel by day, that much is certain. The chance of actually getting spotted by some loose Coalition drone or convoy is far too high to risk it, meaning the night's their only friend. Their ride probably can't drive faster than the legal lower limit on Interstates, but that's not an issue -- the nights are long, this time of the year, and both can manage driving some six hours after every sunset. (In truth, Abigail almost prefers it this way -- the music doesn't feel quite the same during the day.) Their SUV might be almost ancient by paratech standards, but whoever cobbled this thing together made damn sure to include a thaumo-compressor in the mess they decided to call an engine. Thanks to that -- as well as several other technological advances made by the oil lobby, unwilling to give up its seat at the table -- they have well enough petrol to pass through most of the journey without needing to stop. The second they'll pass through Georgia, though, their car won't cut it anymore. They won't be able to get into Florida proper through land. They'll need a ship to somehow cross through that canal, but a few calls made by John quickly take care of that issue. The Veil faded more than one quarter of a century ago, but some friendships -- especially those fueled by the dollar -- prove stronger than time. Suffice to say, with thirteen hundred kilometers on the road and four-and-a-half days left, the twins remain firmly positive they can make it. They've driven through the hellscape of American highways many times before, and the fact that they're doing so illegally this time around changes almost nothing. [[=]] @@ @@ [[image asterisk.png height="30px"]] @@ @@ [[/=]] Their first issue arises almost immediately. "We're out of food," Abigail mumbles out in-between hasty mouthfulls of Coalition-branded beef jerky. They were well aware that they'd need to stock up sometime down the road, but John hoped that maybe they'd last at least a day before needing to make a stop. He indicates that thought to Abigail through a tired look. She doesn't much mind, and instead finishes the packet and throws its wrapping to the backseat. John flinches, but doesn't say anything. "We could use some more water, too. What we've got will only last us two days. And I'd rather we stop only when it's absolutely necessary." She eyes the petrol meter. Its indicator is sitting comfortably at an approximated eighty-five percent. John sighs. It's no use fighting; the decision's already been made. Left with no other choice, he rubs his eyes and changes lanes from central to right, leaving Abigail on the lookout for any still-operational buildings left somewhere in-between the quarantined cities of the United States. Soon enough, a faded sign that reads "affl ous" looms on the horizon. Judging by the amount of cars present both in its parking lots and on the strips of road leading to the establishment, there's a fair chance it's open for business. John sighs again, and takes a quick turn towards the building. He makes triple sure that their car is locked when they exit. Even then, he still has his doubts, but Abigail's enthusiasm almost makes him forget them. [[=]] @@ @@ [[image asterisk.png height="30px"]] @@ @@ [[/=]] The restaurant is chock-full of people from every age group and ethnicity. Abigail is almost certain she can spot a few Yeren and Fae strung somewhere in-between the average American truck driver and the occasional mercenary. All of them are here illegally -- under official quarantine guidelines, transit between cities is strictly prohibited for the non-Coalition hoi polloi, no matter the reason -- and all of them know that. Bound by an unspoken pact of mutually-assured self-destruction, every client here is damn well aware of the lot they're sitting and eating with. There's a common understanding between all of those smugglers, dealers, on-the-run criminals, and concerned parents: for as long as they sit inside this building, they are in this together. So, the second the newcomers enter through, all eyes fall on them. From concern to frustration to just plain worry, it's clear that people don't take kindly to potential leaks here. They stare down John and Abigail, trying their best to see if there's any chance the twins are Coalition agents, sent here to break their little party and drag them behind bars. A few patrons even grope guns hidden behind their long jackets -- it's clear that in spite of its transitory circumstances, these people consider this place serious business. Suddenly, one of the people next to the counter clears their throat. They grab the TV remote and bring the volume up, causing everyone present to take a look. Displayed upon one of the walls sit the faces of John and Abigail, plastered alongside the faces of the many other escapees and relevant information pertaining to their wanted status. The eyes of the customers fall back to the twins. Then, as if nothing had happened, the building explodes with chatter. Everyone returns to their business, and the presenter on the TV swiftly moves on to the subject of the New Shanghai Commune sentencing the management of the All-China Federation of Industry to death. "See?" Abigail says, grabbing John by the hand and leading him to one of the free tables. "I told you there was nothing to worry about." John almost sighs from relief. "Right. Of course." He picks up the menu laying atop the sticky wood. He clears his throat. "So. What are you having?" "Hmm." Abigail skews her head and bites her lip. "Well. It'd be a crime to visit and not order their firstborn, eh?" John blinks twice. "You know. The house special. The thing they're named after." "Oh. Right. I was also thinking that. And tea." Abigail nods. "Absolutely." The waiting time is surprisingly low, for an establishment this jam-packed; after just a few minutes -- and a common agreement that they'll do their shopping after they've eaten -- their order is already noted down for the kitchen to handle. In the meantime, the two turn to face the TV. The presenter's tone hasn't changed -- it's as dull and uninteresting as ever. What has changed, however, is the state of her studio. Sitting next to her is an aging man, maybe somewhere in his sixties, dressed in a dark blue suit decorated by a US flag pin on his chest. With a face adorned by a sly grin and hands put together in a Mother Theresa gesture, it's clear he's quite enjoying himself. The news line below him reads: "[[[chronicle-of-the-worm\|SECRETARY OF STATE THOMAS GRAHAM]]] RE: THE WASHINGTON VIRION." Neither can quite make out any words spoken on the broadcast, but that doesn't stop Abigail from frowning. She furrows her brows and clenches her fists. "Ugh. I should have taken care of that little worm when I still had the chance," she mumbles out, nervously tapping the dirty table with her fingers. "Would have done the world a final favor." John gives her a heavy look. "Abigail." "I know. I know. But you can't say he wouldn't deserve it." A smile of brief amusement flies across his face. "If Graham were to die, I think the American people would remain forever angry that the rest of congress didn't follow his stead." Abigail smiles too, but mostly out of politeness -- there's little happiness in the gesture. She has always hated subordinates like Graham, just as much as she's hated the fact her former partners in Overseerdom remained flagrantly supportive of the efficiency carried by his methods. Even then, she had little choice but to tolerate him -- one of the few pains of her privileged position. Now that Graham has climbed the ladder to become one of the most influential people in the country -- and now that she's no longer who she once was -- her hatred for him has only grown. "I suppose." She shrugs, and puts her hands together. "But it's not like we'll ever know." John nods. "Certainly not with our blood on his hands, yes. But who is to say how well that bastard's heart will keep on beating?" She chuckles. This time, it's fully sincere. "We can only hope." [[=]] @@ @@ [[image asterisk.png height="30px"]] @@ @@ [[/=]] Their food arrives a few minutes later. It's shockingly tasty for a product of the American chain cuisine. Though the amount of sugar in it is far from healthy or reasonable, the taste it adds up to ends up being much better than either would have dared to hope. What isn't so good, though, is the tea. It's exactly what you'd expect from a half-stocked American restaurant. Abigail drinks it all anyway -- at this point, anything that will wash out the sweetness of the meal before will do. John isn't willing to be complicit in such a crime against good taste, though. As a proper English gentleman almost as old as this damned country, he won't tolerate what the consumerist hell calls tea around those parts. He refuses to engage with it past the first sip. Without much hesitation, Abigail takes his cup and empties it. She won't let already-paid-for goods go to waste. Not ones she can tolerate, at the very least. [[=]] @@ @@ [[image asterisk.png height="30px"]] @@ @@ [[/=]] When they're done half an hour later, John pays the bill, thanks the waiter, and kindly requests that their wanted information not be actively proliferated to any newcomers anymore. When that's taken care of, he and Abigail quickly leave the locale. "Like I said," Abigail says as they begin crossing the parking lot, heading for the small grocery store located on its second end. "It wasn't so bad. Neither the place nor the people, I mean." John nods, but still isn't fully convinced. "I will count those chickens only when we are back on the road." She raises an eyebrow, surprised at her brother using a metaphor -- a most uncommon occurrence -- but continues her stride in silence. She wouldn't openly admit it, but he //is// probably right. Still, when they reach the shop, she remains positive it'll go all right. She looks at John. He clears his throat and points at the doors with an "after you" gesture. Abigail smiles, and walks through. The inside isn't as bad as John has expected, but is far less stocked than Abigail has hoped. Most of its shelves are either in the process of being emptied or are already bereft of any goods. The "higher-quality" products -- which, in this economy and [[[price-of-forty-days\|under these trade quarantines]]], means coffee, sugar, spices, cigarettes, and alcohol -- are nowhere to be seen. The only things that //are// left are giant 5-liter bottles of water, rice, and some military-grade food that one would normally expect in a nuclear fallout shelter. Still, it's not like they've got any choice -- all of this will have to do. While Abigail keeps looking at the local TV -- which keeps on broadcasting a Phoenix Technology programme showcasing the few areas the cure has already been distributed to -- John walks up to the cash register and shoots the attendee a small smile. She's one of five other people present in the shop alongside the twins -- both of the other clients are in the back of the shop scavenging for resources. It is clear they are in the same exact position as John and Abigail. In spite of this, Abigail keeps careful watch on her fellow customers. They might not be openly hostile, but the fact they're here makes them already suspicious. She does this as John continues his conversation with the cashier, trying very politely to see if the shop has what they need and if it even accepts cash as payment. After a moment, one of the patrons slowly walks up to the register. They are hooded and wear ragged, worn-down clothes. With one hand in their pocket and the other tightened into a fist, they carry a vague smell of alcohol and cigarettes around them. It's not the smell of an everyday homeless person, though -- it's the smell of adrenaline and intentional intoxication. Abigail eyes them. Something is wrong. "That will be--" John tries to say as he finishes packing what he's just purchased, only for the newcomer's fist to hit the register. John gives them a confused look, and from inside their good, the face of a bearded middle-aged man appears. His eyes are bloody and his muscles are tense. He does not look at John -- his eyes are fully focused on the girl behind the register. With his left hand, he gropes something beneath his jacket. "Everybody stay fucking still or I'll blow your goddamn heads off," he says in a shaking, throaty voice as he nervously eyes first the register, then its atendee. "I want everything you have there. Everything anyone's paid with in the last few d--" John puts his hands up. "Sir, please, I really do not believe this is necess--" "I said STAY FUCKING STILL," the man shouts, drops of spit falling onto John's shirt, whom he's now come to face. He furrows his brows and unpockets his weapon, pointing the old-fashioned gun directly towards John. "You think you're so clever, eh, smartass? Want to be the hero of the d--" Behind them, Abigail's eyes suddenly go violently purple. Without any hesitation, she lets the power run through her veins and raises her hand, spreading the fingers in a crooked manner. Brief purple sparks begin to fly around her as she furrows her brows and lets her face twist in cold fury. Shocked -- and barely comprehending thanks to the booze -- the man quickly turns towards Abigail, his weapon following the direction of his shaking hand. She doesn't give him time to react. Instead, she crooks her finger further and bends the barrel of the gun, making it impossible to fire. Then, with one movement of her hand, she makes him fly towards the nearest wall. She doesn't use much force, but the man is in no position to oppose an attack of a reality bender as powerful as her. He collapses a few shelves on his way down towards the floor. When he does fall, the rest of the structure follows, entombing him in broken rubble and planks. Still shaking from anger, Abigail lets the air out and takes a deep breath, "He'll be fine. Sure as hell won't be going anywhere, though. Not anytime soon," she pants out, and turns to look at the cashier. Only then does she notice the look the rest of the customers are giving her. There is disgust and fear plastered across their faces, some deep-rooted hatred for not what she's done, but for her character as a whole. One that wasn't present there a few moments before. As she tries to cool down, one of the customers spits on the floor. He looks her dead in the eyes, and furrows his brows further. "Crenshaw should have taken care of your kind, too." [[=]] @@ @@ [[image asterisk.png height="30px"]] @@ @@ [[/=]] Abigail and John don't talk on their way back to the car, or on the few tens of kilometers they still dare to cross today before stopping. Even the music plays only for a few minutes before Abigail turns the radio off, and looks soberly at the winter-ridden American roadside, now covered by an approaching snowstorm. That time of the year, it's almost as cold as its people. [[=]] @@ @@ [[image asterisk.png height="30px"]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[=image 3.png style="position: relative; left: -8px; border: 8px solid #ffffff; box-shadow: 0 0 5px #999; margin-top: 15x; margin-bottom: 15px; transform: rotate(-1.5deg); width: 100%; max-width: 400px;"]] = ♪ [[=]] > //[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eKconGz9JRw I stared right into the endless void]// > //[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eKconGz9JRw And I ain't going back if I got any choice]// > //[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eKconGz9JRw I know how to live, I don't know how to die]// > //[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eKconGz9JRw And there ain't no thrills in the afterlife]// [[/=]] = ♪ [[=image 4.png style="position: relative; left: -8px; border: 8px solid #ffffff; box-shadow: 0 0 5px #999; margin-top: 15x; margin-bottom: 15px; transform: rotate(1.5deg); width: 100%; max-width: 400px;"]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image asterisk.png height="30px"]] @@ @@ [[/=]] + 3 When the dawn breaks, they make their stop in some off-road parking lot and wait out the day in-between John skimming some book he's taken along and Abigail napping on the blanket-covered backseats. Halfway through the stop, they switch places -- John takes his rest in the driver's seat and Abigail remains on the lookout, her arms crossed with a cigarette in-between her lips. (Normally, she doesn't smoke with John around, so she uses any chance she can get.) Soon enough, darkness engulfs them again, and they hit the road in continued silence. They only speak again when they enter North Carolina, sometime after midnight has passed. "Almost halfway there," Abigail says, tapping the paper map held up in front of her. Her tone isn't quite sad, but there is a tint of exasperation to it. "To the border with Florida, I mean." John nods, and continues looking at the road in front of him in silence. "You're sure the ride across the canal is taken care of, yeah?" He nods again. "Yes. I am most certain." "Good. That's good." She crosses her arms, and begins tapping the fragile paper with her fingernails. She hasn't cut them in longer than she probably should have. "I wonder what he will think when we--" Slowly, John turns to look at her. "You know we can talk about it if you want to, right?" "What?" "We can talk about it. I'm here for you." She looks down. "It's fine," she says, tightening her lips. "Really. I mean it." John looks at her for a few seconds more, then turns back to face the road. He considers for a moment. "You know, with how boring the road has gotten, I think I could use something playing in the background. Do you think you could put that playlist back on?" Abigail smiles faintly, and clicks a few of the car's archaic buttons. When the rhythm starts playing again, she continues tapping the map. This time, though, the gesture is much calmer -- and much less solemn. Perhaps out of kindness, perhaps out of genuine enjoyment of the music, John starts tapping the steering wheel, too. [[=]] @@ @@ [[image asterisk.png height="30px"]] @@ @@ [[/=]] A few hours later, John spots lights on the horizon. "What is that?" he says, pointing to the vague warm glow with his left hand. "Can you make anything out?" Abigail furrows her brows, and scratches her chin. "It... It looks like some sort of stadium. I can't quite see it, but... there's people there, all around it. Lots of them." She shakes her head. "There's cars parked all around it, too. Big trucks just as much as small cars." John furrows his brows. So far on their journey, barring their encounter at the Waffle House, they've only ever seen one other vehicle traverse the Interstate. Any meeting, no matter how small, might mean terrible trouble -- at best, it could result in them getting into another situation, and at worst, it could end with them being sent back to the camp and missing their occasion. Risking anyone else noticing them -- especially a place with so many people in spite of their circumstances -- is very questionably worth not taking some other, safer route. Whatever's going on here cannot be a good sign. "Coalition?" he asks, already beginning to brake the car. Seconds later it stops, leaving them in almost total darkness. "PENTAGRAM? Police?" She considers for a moment. "N-No?" Abigail skews her head. "No. No, definitely not." "What makes you say that?" She turns to face him. "The very large banners displaying the Manna Charitable Foundation motto above the entrance." He furrows his brows. "That can just as well be a trap. Who is to say it isn't some outlaws using the symbol to lure in travelers?" She crosses her arms. "Well, unless you want to backtrack and lose six more hours by taking another route, there's only one way to find out." [[=]] @@ @@ [[image asterisk.png height="30px"]] @@ @@ [[/=]] When they drive closer, the first thing they're greeted by is all the noise. It isn't the usual ambience of American cities or the white noise of nature surrounding the road -- it's genuine, human laughter. It's the sound of conversation and people eating together, sitting nearby campfires and telling each other stories -- doing all this in spite of the cold, in spite of the time of day, and in spite of their differences. The warm glow soon turns into a series of warming fires lit up around and inside the open stadium, surrounded by tents; makeshift abodes constructed from open trunks, some blankets, and seats repurposed from the abandoned sports center. All around this provisional encampment there are larger tents decorated with the charity's green logo, sitting there alongside many of the organization's trucks occupied by exhausted personnel. The snow hasn't yet reached here -- it's still relatively warm. The twins slowly ride towards the whole organized mess, and park the car wherever there's still space left. This time, John doesn't protest. In time, they get close enough to the tents to see all the people. There are a lot of them. Most of them don't have anywhere else to go. From the permanently homeless to those only made so by Coalition displacements, it is clear that this place does not quite care that if the GOC was to catch wind of what is going on here, they wouldn't like it. Between its soup kitchens, makeshift medicare centers, and just all-around support groups, it stands in opposition to everything the Coalition -- or the American government, for that matter -- has ever represented. Worse yet, it is doing it all rather selflessly, judging by the state of the volunteers and the infrastructure in general. Manna has never been one for well-established, official means of helping others (in spite of this operation //de facto// falling under the jurisdiction of the Coalition under Pizzicato); they've always been the kind of people to do whatever they can directly on the frontlines of their circumstances, not from behind comfortable offices and bureaucratic excuses. Abigail smiles. She's glad to see that though this is no longer a world she recognises as her own, some things never do change. John walks up to her, and shakes his head. "I didn't think there would be that many." She raises an eyebrow. "That many what? Sick people? Refugees?" "That many willing to help." For a while, they soberly observe the campsite. Nobody present -- neither the camp's inhabitants nor the Manna personnel keeping it running -- seems to notice them. Nearby life just makes its way around the two still figures, carrying on as if they weren't even there. For what it's worth, both of the twins much prefer it that way. The last thing they need in a Manna camp is someone recognizing that, a lifetime ago, they both were one of the primary people opposing the organization's continued operation. John sighs. "I think we should see what this place's deal is. If we are going to stay here—" He looks at the already-setting sun, its first rays of light making their way from below the distant horizon. "—then we better see if we can somehow help." Abigail nods in agreement, and they both set off towards the nearest official-looking tent. The structure's an ugly thing, all dirty white insulated material plastered with the charity's green logos. A few small windows made from what looks like some translucent metal allow both to peep inside, into the one-room hospital. It, too, is not pretty. Lined in rows there stand beds, all equipped with some fancy paratech apparatus neither of the twins is qualified enough to recognize. Strapped to all of it lay patients, all diverse malnourished figures connected up to breathing tubes and monitors displaying data they can't quite read. Medical personnel run all around those sick from the virus, carrying needles, food, fresh blankets, and other things necessary for the continued survival of dignity and decency in such a place. Their bodies, though covered by masks and what Abigail recognizes as Broken Church-made quarantine exclusion harnesses -- a very, //very// expensive piece of technology tasked with ensuring a 99.5% safety rate from infection -- are all ridden by signs of exhaustion. Though those wearing them are managing for the sake of others, they are doing so only barely. Abigail looks once more at the bed-ridden. There are maybe two hundred of them in this particular structure, all miserable, all barely keeping on, all awaiting their dose of the cure to arrive and be distributed. In the meantime, all they can hope for is postponement -- in spite of its genius, modern medicine has found no other safe cure for the Virion except the one made and distributed by Simón Torres. Slowing the virus down and hoping for the best until their savior comes is the only thing still left. It will be a long wait, Abigail thinks. From an angle, when she looks at them right, they almost remind her of their destination, of why they even set on this road in the first place. Both bed-ridden, both put to a misery by a world not quite appreciative of their existence, both-- Her train of thought is broken as a nurse exits the tent through the nearest airlock. She's no longer wearing the harness -- beneath all of that metal and glowing wires, she's just herself again. A tall, dark-haired figure with bags under her eyes and a tablet in her hands looks at the two people standing before her workplace. She blinks twice. "Can I help you?" John clears his throat. "Yes, actually. Apologies for interrupting your work--" "What happened here?" Abigail cuts in. "Why camp out here, out of all places?" The nurse sighs, and massages her temples. "There was a game hosted here. Illegally, of course, but who can blame them after so many months. A few locals got together to watch their teams compete in conceptual wrestling, and since nobody was using the stadium, they picked this as the place." She sighs again, and looks at the rest of the encampment. "They were all sure they were not sick." She pauses. "When we were called in, it was already too late to allow them to be sent home. The rest of the folks joined in when they saw we offered a place to stay." "Why you, though?" John asks. "Why call you and not the Coalition? Would they not have a better chance at actually getting the cure more quickly through official channels?" The nurse gives her a tired look. "And risk getting fined or arrested or worse afterwards?" She shakes her head. "No. Loss is an alternative far preferable to shame, for most. "Besides," she adds, "you can't blame them for not exactly having faith in the Coalition anymore. I don't think anyone's had any since the late thirties." She pauses, and takes a deep breath. "It's all a mess." For a while, nobody speaks. All three just stand there, idly looking at the still-restless base before them. Eventually, the nurse clears her throat. "Is there anything else I can help you with? I... I really would rather be sleeping right now, I won't lie." John looks at her. "Is there anything //we// could do to help?" The nurse eyes the patients. "For them? No. Their only hope is that bastard Torres, whenever he gets off his high horse and sends us the cure." She looks back at the camp. "But for them, though? Yeah. Go bring some life into their existence. Help them cook some soup, or something. They've been here for months now. I'm sure that they would appreciate a good story to go alongside their food to break the monotony." [[=]] @@ @@ [[image asterisk.png height="30px"]] @@ @@ [[/=]] The camp is shockingly active for the time of day. It doesn't come as much of a surprise to either of the twins, though -- a prolonged quarantine does interesting things to the internal day and night cycle of the human body. Over the next few hours, John and Abigail do as they were told. He cuts some vegetables and prepares some meat; she uses her skills to do the same, only at three times the efficiency. (Though John is an excellent cook, there is no outmaneuvering three whole sets of kitchen utensils moving through the air, animated by ontokinetics.) When the meal finishes brewing on the thaumically-lit flames beneath them, they bring the many brown clay bowls to those that are still hungry, in spite of the hour. This time, there are also more of them than they had expected. Many, many more than they had hoped. When all is said and done, the twins take their own bowls (any chance to not use the food they've got in the car cannot be missed) and sit at the nearest still-free campfire. It's surrounded by half a dozen people. Most of them are sitting there in silence, focused only on their meal. Two of them, however, are engaged in a very loud and very passionate discussion. "...and now you're surprised?" the first person spits out, crossing their arms. "You vote for Crenshaw, that's what you get. Exactly the same thing the Republicans have been promising since Reagan." The other person scoffs. "Yeah, as if Buttigieg winning would have changed anything. You really think the Dems would pass a chance to get a project like this running? Come on. They would have taken it and branded it as their own. They would have taken all the credit, first maybe released it in some third world country, and then given it to the cops. Congress will consider it a rational policy no matter who proposes it. "It's all the same. It always //is// the same. It doesn't matter who's in that office, man." They pause. "You're not choosing a lesser of the two evils. You're //just// choosing evil, no matter what you do." Suddenly, John clears his throat. All sets of eyes fall on him, quickly followed by Abigail giving him a 'what the hell do you think you're doing' look. He nods reassuringly and turns to face the others. "Then why... why continue this charade? Why participate in a system if you know it's broken?" The first person scoffs. "And what would you do instead, old man? Better folks than us have tried. Besides," they say, "what else is there to choose? The system's bad, but we don't got no alternatives. The commies sure as hell ain't doing any better." That spawns a few chuckles from the crowd. "Truth is, old man, if you try to fix a broken wire, you can always get shocked in the process." They pause. "Not worth it, if you ask me." For a while, John considers. "So you really do believe it is better to let the wheel break you, instead of risking getting splinters in your hands when you take a swing at it?" The other almost laughs. "Yeah, man, 'cause I sure as hell ain't no carpenter." [[=]] @@ @@ [[image asterisk.png height="30px"]] @@ @@ [[/=]] They spend the rest of the day in relative silence, helping a few locals move and giving out more food. Eventually though, sometime around noon, sleep catches up with them. They retreat to their car, an old relic among the newest vehicles gathered around the stadium, and both doze off. This time, there's no need for anyone to remain on guard. Even John agrees that with these people, they are safe. They sleep all the way until the evening. When they enter the campsite under a dark sky again, yawning and rubbing their eyes, it's even more lively than before. There's some sort of dance around the largest campfire, a routine neither can quite make out, played to the whistles and sung tune coming from many not-quite-synched throats. A few dozen people just move around the fire, smiling to the sounds of laughter, of conversation, of tones coming from makeshift guitars and the voices of people that had once perhaps loved to sing, when they were younger and still had the time and passion to truly love something as selflessly as one loves the act of making art. It is the music of humanity. Of mankind in its purest form, now the same as hundreds of thousands of years ago; still huddling around a fire, still with its tribe, each member still the same as all the others in spite of their appearance and history. Somewhere beyond the reach of the fire's light, Abigail smiles again. In her time as Overseer, she's seen different mankinds through different lens and in different times. She's seen it all. And yet, for a second time this evening, she grows ever so certain that though time goes on, nothing truly does change. [[=]] @@ @@ [[image asterisk.png height="30px"]] @@ @@ [[/=]] When ten in the evening strikes the clock, they eat one more portion of soup, say their goodbyes, and hit the road once more. They don't really belong here anyway. It isn't their place to join this dance, to participate in this particular aspect of mankind with the displaced and the hungry. Besides, they have their own portion of humanity to deliver to an old, almost-empty house in Florida anyway. [[=]] @@ @@ [[image asterisk.png height="30px"]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[=image 6.png style="position: relative; left: -8px; border: 8px solid #ffffff; box-shadow: 0 0 5px #999; margin-top: 15x; margin-bottom: 15px; transform: rotate(1.5deg); width: 100%; max-width: 400px;"]] = ♪ [[=]] > //[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qc4biuTaaKc Ages come and go but her life goes on the same]// > //[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qc4biuTaaKc She lives to see the sun and feel the wind and drink the rain]// > //[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qc4biuTaaKc Her colors change to mark the passing of the days]// > //[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qc4biuTaaKc No earthly sight can match the beauty she displays]// [[/=]] = ♪ [[=image 5.png style="position: relative; left: -8px; border: 8px solid #ffffff; box-shadow: 0 0 5px #999; margin-top: 15x; margin-bottom: 15px; transform: rotate(-1.5deg); width: 100%; max-width: 400px;"]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image asterisk.png height="30px"]] @@ @@ [[/=]] + 2 Not late after, midnight passes. The border with South Carolina follows close behind. John remains unphased by the change, and just continues staring at the road in front of them. (There's quite literally nobody else on the Interstate, so giving it his full focus is unnecessary; still, he insists it's for their safety. Abigail doesn't argue.) Meanwhile, beyond the window of their car, Abigail takes a few photos of the forests they continue to pass; though its almost the same as the landscape in the Northern twin state they have just left, this time, her thoughts aren't as occupied, and she can give it her full attention. This time of the year -- and in opposition to North Carolina -- the many trees are covered by a thick layer of snow, just as they have always been ever since their sprouting an odd century ago. To them, this winter is no different to all the hundreds of others that came before, and the hundreds that will still come in the future. It's a calm cycle, one that leaves them unbothered by the raging politics of the world around them. One that, on some level, Abigail almost grows envious of. Some part of her would like to just forever settle down and do nothing, until the long-awaited end of her prolonged life inevitably comes, sometime in the next hundred years. Still, for better or for worse, she knows she's made her choice centuries ago, when she said yes to the position of Overseer Eight. The fact that the position's faded doesn't mean her character or attitude has. She's already chosen to be an active player in this world's history the second she agreed to privilege. After so many years of living that life, she can't possibly ever back down and relax. It would be against her nature. Old habits die hard; ancient habits remain alive like cancer. And there's very few people on this planet older in their routine than Abigail Hadfield. She sighs, crosses her arms, and looks back at the monotonous road still in front of them. She's seen a lot of it in the past few days, and she sure as hell isn't expecting that streak to change anytime soon; not until they get to Georgia and enter their ship, at the very least. Still, she's not complaining. She's well aware that the American road in-between cities could have been much, //much// [[[scp-7034\|worse for them]]]. Left with no other choice, she leans back, and tries to enjoy the music. It's almost a good time. They continue like this for a few hours. A few hours they spend on reminiscing about old times, and what will come still later on. It's a tradition they've kept up for centuries, ever since they were children -- for what could a family ever be without a conversation? Well. They //know// what a family like that would be. They both remember their father, even all those years later, even after they've cut themselves off from his legacy. They both remember his coldness. It's only fair they do everything in their might to never allow his specter to haunt them again. The laughs stop the second Abigail notices a car coming their way from the opposite lane. She blinks twice, unsure if what she's seeing is real or just a product of her brain reacting to the monotony of the road and late hour. But no, it's definitely there; though it's still far away, the large TIR truck remains unmistakable for anything else. Worryingly, its lights are turned off, and it hauls no container alongside it. It's just the front module, blasting through the Interstate at a speed that is definitely not allowed for a vehicle of its size and make. Abigail narrows her eyes. It doesn't add up as just another lone wanderer trying to get through the Coalition-set boundaries. Not with that panicked speed. Something's wrong. When the truck passes next to them, Abigail gets a very brief moment to look at the driver. In that split second, she notices a face plastered with worry and determination. She immediately turns towards John. "Drive faster," she says in a firm, cold tone. "Drive faster and find the nearest exit." He doesn't turn back at her. He just grabs the steering wheel more firmly. "What? Why on earth--" "That truck's being chased by someone. Or some//thing//. Presumably it's the cops, but it could also be scavengers or something that's gotten loose from the [[[vnp-111\|local national parks]]]." She pauses, and leans out of her chair, trying to get a better line of sight to the other lane. "Either way, it's bad. If it's Coalition, it is //really// bad." John nods, and floors the gas pedal without further questions. Somehow, their half-broken ride manages to convert it into some two-hundred on the speed meter. (Though only barely and very briefly, judging by the sounds the engine is starting to make.) Soon enough, the pursuer reveals itself. It's an armored PENTAGRAM van, a long, black and dark-gray vehicle like the ones made for war. Equipped with bullet-proof glass and segments of paratech covering, it isn't the standard police car the regime sends to interventions against a protesting public; it's an active and deadly tool of the industrial military complex, one made for merciless and effective operations as dictated directly by the generals and colonels sitting deep beneath the Pentagon. Worse yet, though it is still far away, it has definitely seen them. If this was a Coalition asset, the twins could hope for //some// level of humanity; the United Nations enjoy maintaining a facade of decency and mercy. They'd get arrested, sure, and probably beaten, but all in all they'd make it out mostly good. But PENTAGRAM? That's a whole different story entirely. As members of the privileged one-percent, they can argue and negotiate with cops; they can't even dare to hope for the same mercy from hardened military types, given freedom to do whatever they like with criminals under Procedure Pizzicato. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Abigail mouths out, and turns back to look at her map. The nearest exit from the Interstate is at least ten kilometers away. Even at their speed, that's still some three minutes before they can even begin an actual escape. Far too much time. She grabs John by the shoulder. "Drive!" John pushes the pedal even further. At this speed, neither can quite make out if it has any effect; still, for better or for worse, he keeps on pushing. He considers the illusion of counter-action far better than the panic that would inevitably arise from realizing he's already met the end of his resources. "What the hell are you doing?!" John says towards Abigail, still not turning away from the road. His arms are almost fully straightened out, and his grip on the steering wheel's already making his knuckles turn white. Abigail just grunts, unmaking her belt and jumping towards the backseats. When she lands in-between the bags, bottles of water, and blankets, she grunts again, but quickly stands up on her knees and looks out beyond the back window. "Preparing for the inevitable!" she shouts back at John, trying to make her voice heard in spite of the ever-louder growls and clanks of the overworked engine. She grits her teeth, narrows her eyes, and focuses on the truck. Then, just as expected, there it comes. As the truck passes forward to continue chasing the TIR, from the back of it -- some hidden compartment, perhaps, Abigail's no expert in evil engineering in spite of her expertise in shadow governments -- comes... something. Abigail can't quite make out its shape or make. It is blurred before her eyes, as if hidden behind some attention-diffusing veil or antimemetic membrane. All she can discern is that she can't focus on it like she'd want to, and that it is capable of flight. That and that, in spite of their great speed, it is intently focused on following and catching up to them. "Fuck!" she shouts again, and closes her eyes for a few moments, trying to calm down. Still, even then, behind her closed eyelids, the image of their pursuer remains, almost as if it was engraved upon some deeper level of her psyche. She grits her teeth further, opens her eyes, and tightens her fists. "What's going on?!" John shouts from the front. Again he doesn't turn back. "A drone. They sent a fucking drone after us." "What?!" "PENTAGRAM-issued weaponry. If it catches us in close enough range, it can and probably will shoot us. With thaumic missiles." This time, John //does// look back. "WHAT?!" "It's a military drone repurposed for the sake of peacekeeping." Her breathing is almost steady. She tries her best to control her heartbeat, so with a forcibly calm tone, she adds, "They took Pizzicato more literally than most." "Oh lord." "So floor that goddamn pedal like your life depends on it." John nods, and turns back to face the road. Meanwhile, Abigail narrows her eyes even further. She knows that, if she can just focus on the drone for even a split second, she can rip it out with ontokinetic pressure from the inside. Unfortunately, its designers were keenly aware of that too, hence the whole cloaking veil to begin with. Whichever bastard at Lockheed Martin or whatever other company put this thing together was smart enough to know that no conventional defence will do against people with the power to wield magic or reality-bending in their palm. She always did believe that the industrial military complex's worst crime was employing actually competent people. That entire train of thought lasts maybe two seconds, but the drone uses that time to its full advantage, too. From some internal pocket beyond human perception it fires two missiles, both small and short cylinders aimed directly at their car, both capable of independent movement and actual focus. Thankfully, this time around, Abigail //can// comprehend what's coming at them. She's glad that training her reflexes for two centuries didn't go to waste. With one swipe of her hand, she forces the rockets back, back towards the drone, hoping she can overwhelm their own drive and take out their pursuer. Though the movement works and the rockets do indeed get sent back, the drone isn't dumb, either. Whatever artificial facsimile of intelligence pilots it moves out of the way, letting the two weapons hit each other and explode right behind it. Abigail curses beneath her nose. "How much longer until the exit?" she shouts, already counting the nearby area for whatever else she can use as a weapon. Suddenly, she gets an idea. "Some two minutes! Can you hold it off until then?" "I'll try my goddamn best," she mutters out, and rolls up her sleeves. She closes her eyes and focuses on the trees around the road, all those hundreds of thousands of tonnes of flora entombing their passage from every side. She focuses on it and, with a movement so violent it nearly fractures a blood vessel somewhere in her brain, she uproots as much of it as she can possibly lift. With trembling hands, Abigail Hadfield raises a forest. Well. As much of said forest as she can; still, the trees around them come to life, slowly levitating beneath where they previously sat for a peaceful century. "Agh!" she shouts in some guttural growl, and imitates a throwing gesture with her right hand. Maybe a quarter of the trees obey, and fall towards the drone at speeds rivaling that of sound. Neither of the twins see the results. John is too preoccupied with scouting the nearest exit -- now within eye's reach -- to even comprehend what just happened. Abigail meanwhile falls back towards the backrest of the nearest seat, too tired to even stand up straight. For a few seconds, darkness looms inside her eyes as death rings inside her ears. She's tried many feats of colossal proportions in the past, but this? This was a step too far, this late into her lifespan. It takes her breath away. Nearly permanently so. "Abigail? Are you all right?" John asks, his tone rid with worry. "I... Fine. I'm fine." Abigail manages to mutter out in-between gasps for air. "I'll live." Her voice is barely louder than a whisper. With lights still dancing before her eyes, she turns back to see what has come of her grand maneuver. The road behind them is buried in wood and leaves. It looks as if a hurricane or some tornado has gone through the area, sweeping the whole passage into an impassable mess some-dozen meters in height. Though she cannot make the drone out, she isn't sure if it's due to the fact she got it, or if she's just too tired to make out its blurred-out shape. Only after a few seconds of staring does she take a calm breath. The weapon is nowhere to be seen. "How much longer?" she whispers out weakly, taking a large gulp of the nearest open water bottle. "Fifteen seconds," John replies, already changing lanes to the freshly-extant right one, headed for the exit. He knows that leaving the interstate and instead opting for another road will cost them countless hours, but they've got no choice. It's either this or getting caught. He's sure that by now, PENTAGRAM's made it known they were spotted. They need to get out of view as quickly as possible. Abigail sighs in relief. A few moments pass and they're no longer on Interstate 95. Instead, they are now driving on some old forest road, barely wide enough to fit a single vehicle. Abigail isn't quite sure how they made it there directly from the Interstate -- after all, a passage as large as ninety-five wouldn't //just// directly connect to whatever facsimile of a road this is -- but she's far too tired to think about it too much. Far too tired to think about anything, really. Far too tired to even keep her eyelids open. Before she can ask John where they are, she feels the grasp of sleep tighten around her mind. [[=]] @@ @@ [[image asterisk.png height="30px"]] @@ @@ [[/=]] When she awakes, it's day again. She grabs her aching head as she props herself up against the uneven surface of the backseat, already feeling a massive migraine rush to her forehead. To her surprise, she finds herself covered by some of the blankets they took along when they left their camp. What surprises her even more is that all of the car's windows -- including the one in the ceiling -- seem covered by some mix of leaves and other nearby fauna, making none of the outside visible to her. Meanwhile, John is nowhere to be seen. She arches her brows, and slowly sits up. The headache nearly makes her sit back down, but she powers through it. Barely. Gulping down a bottle of water helps, but also barely. Over the next few minutes, she gathers her strength, and opens up the door to the chilly outside. The light gives her another migraine nearly powerful enough to strap her back to the inside. When she powers through it, though, she's greeted by an image of John, sitting on some large stone near their car. He's sitting legs-crossed and holds a packet of chips in his hands, very slowly eating them as he stares into the horizon. He's surrounded by thick, snowy foliage from every direction, even from above, with only enough space to fit their car and maybe three more people. Even if something were to fly directly above their heads, it would not notice them. Weakly, and in many slow moves, Abigail steps down the car and joins John. "Please don't do that again," he says the second she sits down, offering her the remainder of his snack. She accepts. "It was necessary." "It was stupid, Abi." He pauses, and takes a slow breath. When he speaks again, his tone is quiet. "You are not a hundred-twenty anymore. You could have died. I..." His voice trails off. She smiles faintly. "Yeah, you're probably right. Still. Next time I risk an aneurysm, I'll tell you first." He smiles too. "Thank you." Over the next few minutes, she finishes eating, and washes it down with the remainder of the water. "Now, if you'll excuse me," she says, slowly standing back up. "I'll go back to sleep. I don't think my head's quite ready to function properly yet." John nods, and returns to sentry-looking in-between the trees as Abigail climbs back up towards her makeshift bed. When she closes her eyes again, she feels like she hears a vague tune begin to play from somewhere deep inside her memory, but before she can focus on it or really recognize it. she dozes into half-coherent, half-sober dreams. [[=]] @@ @@ [[image asterisk.png height="30px"]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[=image 8.png style="position: relative; left: -8px; border: 8px solid #ffffff; box-shadow: 0 0 5px #999; margin-top: 15x; margin-bottom: 15px; transform: rotate(-1.5deg); width: 100%; max-width: 400px;"]] = ♪ [[=]] > //[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BnCEmbk6vPk Oh, you fool, there are rules, I am coming for you]// > //[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BnCEmbk6vPk (You can run but you can't escape)]// > //[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BnCEmbk6vPk Darkness brings evil things, oh, the reckoning begins]// > //[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BnCEmbk6vPk (You will open the yawning grave)]// [[/=]] = ♪ [[=image 7.png style="position: relative; left: -8px; border: 8px solid #ffffff; box-shadow: 0 0 5px #999; margin-top: 15x; margin-bottom: 15px; transform: rotate(1.5deg); width: 100%; max-width: 400px;"]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image asterisk.png height="30px"]] @@ @@ [[/=]] + 1 When the night comes again, Abigail still hasn't woken up, but that makes no difference to John. He stands up, gets in the car, covers her with the remaining blankets (and puts on her seatbelt!), and starts to drive forward, towards their now-near destination. He's tired -- both from the chase and not having slept -- but by this point in his life, he's gotten used to it. As a former Overseer himself, he's spent much, //much// of the twentieth century without any rest, let alone actual sleep. And as an historian, he's almost grown to appreciate the long, long hours he's spent at night. Besides -- Abigail needs him. It doesn't matter how tired he is. He knows that he'll make do. He has to. As to not interrupt Abigail's sleep, when they hit the road, John's barely breaking forty kilometers per hour -- a speed low enough to get a chance to study the physical paper map Abigail's left in the front passenger seat. Having left the Interstate, John knows they cannot possibly ever go back. It's far too dangerous. In their current circumstances, even driving with lights turned on means taking unnecessary risks. They need to make use of the dirt pathways and one-lane roads he's driven onto for as long as it'll take to get to their destination at whatever shady port their boat is awaiting. Worse yet, they don't have that much time left -- with just two days remaining, he's got no choice but to power through the fog of exhaustion and carry on until they get to the end of their journey. Losing a few weeks of his life due to the strain this journey will put on his body is an alternative far preferable to missing tomorrow's occasion. John sighs. Between trying his best to avoid being spotted, attempting to not wake his sister up, and actually getting closer to their destination, it's going to be a long night. [[=]] @@ @@ [[image asterisk.png height="30px"]] @@ @@ [[/=]] By the time Abigail wakes up, they've already crossed into Georgia. She stands back up very slowly, massaging her temple as she takes a deep breath. The headache returns almost immediately. It's far worse than any hangover she's ever had, even the ones that came after [[[scp-7600\|Druv'tuulian]]] feasts in the seventies. Worse yet, unlike any hangover, it doesn't just come from her head and stomach -- it feels like it's coming from the very middle of her soul. She inhales again, this time much more deeply. This scar will take a long time to heal. Still, when John notices she's conscious again and asks how she is, she tells him everything's fine. She couldn't bare the thought of him losing even more sleep over her safety than he already has. Very, //very// slowly, Abigail climbs out of her blankets and onto the front seat, next to John. She smiles faintly, and crosses her arms. She's back in the game, even if the game isn't terribly interesting and once again consists of just looking at whatever they are passing by. At least this time around, it's no longer the bland concrete desert of the Interstate. She sighs, and looks at John. She can see he's very, very tired. She knows he can see the same in her, too. She's suddenly very aware that it is indeed going to be a long day. However, when she looks down at her map and at the dashboard in front of John, she realizes that that won't have to be the case. In reality, there's little road left, maybe two hundred kilometers until they reach the end of their drive; unfortunately for them, though, the tank's running similarly low. She sighs again, and looks back at the map, already scouting the nearest gas station. Neither is satisfied with the decision to stop, with John tired, Abigail hurt, and the country running rampant with idiots akin to those they met at the Waffle House. But risking another mess, even in their states, is something they'd much prefer to not getting to their destination on time. Even with Abigail's instructions, it takes them most of the night to find a still-open spot. When the purple sign announcing that this particular instance of Carter Petrol is still operational, they drive over without any hesitation, even though the sun is nearly rising. Suspicion catches them almost immediately. It isn't just the fact that a place like this hasn't closed during the pandemic, or that more than five people still sit inside the building in spite of the very early hour (Marshall, Carter & Dark isn't particularly famous for caring about most regulations, including those about protecting its employees). It's everything //else//. Each of the dispensing stations save for one have been looted, with concrete around them broken and morphed alongside wood and plastic into some facsimile of defensive structures. Even the shop inside the station is out of the ordinary -- with little actual products on its shelves, it has been refurnished to look more like a large living room than any instance of the corporate, MC&D-owned chain. Worse yet, one of the people present on the station is sitting directly in front of its doors, legs crossed and with a gun resting neatly on his lap. The man takes a long drag off his cigarette as he carefully eyes them. Nevertheless, the twins don't back out. Whatever this whole mess is, they need the gas. Everything else is less important. They decide to both exit the vehicle when they finally stop near the only still-operational distributor. The last thing they want is for this to turn into a mess, so they opt for the path of full clarity. "Hello!" John says loudly as he takes the first step on the concrete, his and Abigail's arms up in the air. "We don't want any trouble." "Then what //do// you want?" the man replies, also standing up from his chair. His four companions, still remaining inside the building, also stop whatever it is they're doing and start eyeing the twins. "Me and my wife just need some gas, is all," John says, pointing at Abigail with his head. He's not happy about needing to lie, but he knows they should do anything to avoid drawing attention and risking someone connecting the facts with the publically available arrest warrant. The man grips his weapon harder. "Crossing between cities is illegal, you know that? I could just call the Coalition and have you lot arrested for breaking the quarantine." Before John can reply, Abigail cuts in, "So is being outside said cities, let alone operating a business here." She focuses all her strength on not sounding weak and hurt and tired. It isn't easy. "But here we are." She pauses. "So, will you use our unfortunate circumstances to your profit, or will you continue pretending you don't want money?" The man pauses to consider for a moment. After a few seconds, he lowers his gun, and looks at them with just a little less suspicion than before. "How much do you need?" His tone is still unpleasant, but now that he's sensed the chance for profit, he knows he can't back out. "Around thirty liters," John says. "We're ready to pay cash." Again the man stops, this time to calculate something in his head. He scratches his chin, and furrows his brows. "That'll be six big ones." Brief surprise flies across John's face. "But--" Once again, Abigail interrupts him. She extends her hand in a 'let me handle this' gesture, and turns back to face the dealer. "Five and a half and it's fine by us." The man narrows his eyes, but nods in agreement. He comes towards their car, ready to do the deed himself. As he starts pouring gas into the vehicle, John and Abigail walk towards its other side, and open one of its doors. "What the hell are you doing?" John whispers out as he grabs one of the bags with their money, his face still turned towards Abigail, who remains outside the car. "We cannot spend that much! We will not be able to afford the sh--" She gives him a heavy look. "Do you want trouble or do you want to actually get to Aaron? Just let me do this, John. It's far easier this way. Besides," she adds, crossing her arms. "Worst comes to shove we can just sell more family trinkets. They're of no use anyway." Instead of protesting, John just sighs, and hands her the bills. "Fine. Do your worst." She nods, and smiles faintly. "Thank you." A few moments later, their tank is full again. Abigail comes closer to the man, and gives him the money. He quickly counts it -- twice -- before nodding silently and beginning his stroll back towards his chair. The twins smile, wave off, and open the doors to their car. Abigail stops for a moment. Somewhere at the edge of hear hearing, she thinks she hears something almost like... almost like rotor blades turning very far away, and-- Before she can focus on it, one of the four men inside the building walks out. "Hold up," he says very loudly, alerting his sitting friend to his presence and suspicion. "Show me your face." He points at John. "Excuse me?" John manages to mutter out. "What is this about?" Abigail asks, furrowing her brows. He doesn't even look at her. "Shut up, woman," he says, and reinstates his gesture. "I said, show me your face, old man." Very slowly, John first exchanges a worried look with Abigail, then turns to face the two men. For a few moments, he stands still. A crooked smile enters the man's face. "Just what I thought. You're Hadfield, aren't you, old man," he states more than he asks. Again, Abigail answers in John's stead, ignorant of the men paying her no attention. "And what would that change, even if he were? What good would reporting two on-the-run criminals give you -- you, who operate here illegally and without permit?" She waits a moment for her words to land properly. "Come on now. Let's be reasonable here." Suddenly, the smile turns into a frown. "You don't seem to understand," he says as his companion once again readies his gun. "I don't care about what the Coalition wants with you. I care what //I// want with you." He corrects his leather jacket. "I don't care if you're on the run. All I care about is that you're formerly Overseer," he spits out, anger twisting his face. "And I'm not letting you get away with that, you fucking shadow commie piece of shit." The man whistles, and the remaining companions inside the building quickly start to move out towards the outside. For a very long second, John and Abigail's hearts stop beating. Without any hesitation, as if in synch, they both jump behind the car, the only thing separating from the approaching five, armed men. "What the hell do we do?!" John practically shouts out, grabbing his head. "Are you in shape to... to do anything?" he adds, this time with more worry. She shakes her head. "I can maybe hold them off for a moment, but..." She quickly opens the door to the car. "We need to get out, __now__." As she finishes speaking, a bullet shatters the open door's window. Then, three more shots follow it, each breaking one more part of the already poorly-standing car. They hear one hit and rapture the tire, and two break into the barely structurally sound metal of the other doors. "Well then," Abigail rolls up her sleeves. "No choice this time around." She tries to stand up, but is immediately stopped by John grabbing her by the leg. "What do you think—?! You can't—" "It's the only way." "You promised! For god's sake, you promised, Abigail! You're too weak! I will not let you die!" His voice is full of genuine desperation. She just smiles. "And I won't let both of us get shot by rednecks. Besides," she says, rising to her full height. "I'll be fine. They're no trees. I can take care of idiots much more easily." Before John can protest again, she closes her eyes, and crooks her fingers. When she emerges from behind the car, in one swift motion, she throws two of the men half a dozen meters back. Both of them break the station's glass as they fall, having hit the back wall and collapsing against it. Before she can turn to the three remaining adversaries -- who are now too shocked to react in any way -- she lets out a yelp of pain and hides behind the car. There is a stream of blood trickling down her nose. "Fuck," she whispers out to nobody in particular. Her voice is very weak. "Abigail," John repeats, his tone almost begging. "Please." "I..." She tries to hold her hand up. It's trembling. "I can do this, John. Just one more attack, and--" "And you'll die, for god's--" She isn't listening, not anymore. Instead, she reveals herself again and tries to focus her power on whatever loose elements lay near the three remaining men, trying her best to take them out in one fluid movement. She finds it almost immediately. The chair the first gun-wielding man was sitting on. If she can throw it with enough might, she will get all three of the lined-up attackers, and-- When she raises her hand to do the deed, nothing happens. The power doesn't come. The shock that makes her feel freezes her for a fraction of a second. A fraction of a second long enough for one of the men to take aim and fire, hitting the hood maybe three centimeters away from Abigail's face. That forces her to come back to life; she quickly takes cover behind the vehicle again. "I can't do it," she breathes out, her tone panicked. "I can't. It doesn't-- doesn't work. I--" She grabs her head with her hands. Her eyes are moving rapidly. Three more gunshots ring out. They ring out much more closely than before. "I can't do this. I..." Her heart is beating louder than her thoughts. "Oh god, we are going--" Suddenly, three things happen at once. One: as the first lights of the day shine through the cracked horizon to the louder sound of propellers, they reveal a gigantic, long shape in the sky. It is white with blue-colored stripes, and is unmistakable for anything but GOCAS //Madrigal//, an airborne ship of the Global Occult Coalition. An instrument of war looming over their very heads, maybe fifty meters at most. Even from this distance, John can clearly see open doors leading to its bridge and military-grade personnel staring directly at them from the distance. Two: one of the attackers reaches the twins, and readies his gun. Before he can fire, though, a shock goes through his whole body, making him lose control and fall down on the hard concrete before him. He drops his weapon and surrenders to gravity as another figure emerges from behind him -- an armored, tall person adorned by a Coalition-blue helmet, a stun gun ready in their hands. They knock down the attacker once more, and then turn to look at the Hadfields. Their face is filled with determination. Three: Abigail feels something break inside her head, and passes out on the cold concrete floor. The last thing she remembers is more Coalition agents entering her vision, all gesturing to each other and John, and... [[=]] @@ @@ [[image asterisk.png height="30px"]] @@ @@ [[/=]] When she comes back to consciousness, she's sitting next to John on some Coalition-set-up makeshift benches maybe a hundred meters from the gas station. She's covered in a bright blue thermal blanket, with one of John's hands wrapped around her to prop her up. He smiles when he sees she is all right, but doesn't say anything; instead, he continues staring at a group of maybe a dozen people, standing a few meters before them. They're all very obviously Coalition soldiers and operatives, field agents she recognizes from her final moments at the shootout, all of them armed except for a single figure, taller than the rest. They are looking directly at John and Abigail. Dressed in an immaculately groomed suit, Goldbaker of the Goldbaker-Reinz Ltd. insurance group lets a smile fly across their face when they see they have the twins' attention. They approach John and Abigail, spry in their movements as ever. When they get within talking distance, they come to a sudden halt. They clear their throat, wave towards their men to leave them alone, and put their hands behind their back. For a moment, they just stand there, one meter away from the twins, scanning the bloodied, tired Hadfields from top to bottom. When they finally speak, their tone is perfectly calm. "It's good to see you again. How long has it been? Two decades?" They look as though they genuinely struggle to remember. "Though it's even better to be proven right, I suppose. Not that I ever had any doubts." Abigail arches an eyebrow. Goldbaker almost chuckles. "Come on now. It doesn't take a prophet to realize who was driving the SUV that PENTAGRAM drones picked up yesterday." //Though being one certainly helps,// they don't add. They clap their hands. "But none of that matters now that you're here." "What are //you// doing here?" John asks, crossing his arms. "You're the last person I expected out in the field." Goldbaker rolls their eyes. "Doing my due diligence to the Council. Everyone has to do their part, no matter my own personal opinions on the current status quo. Besides," they say, shrugging and pointing to the airship located behind them with their head, "it hasn't been all that bad. My part's mostly included getting to remote towns with that beast and giving them what we legally owe them. Or at least that's what it has included until we received reports of rogue criminals nearby escaping a PENTAGRAM convoy, and then nearly killing some four people." They pause. "It really wasn't hard to track you two down when they started firing." Before Abigail can intercede, they raise their hand. "Rest assured my men have already taken care of the mess. It's all tidied up and explained with local authorities," they say, eyeing the beaten up twins and the gas station behind them. When their eyes return to the twins, they add, "The lesser half of it is, anyhow. I can justify self-defence in court, but I cannot do the same for someone blatantly ignoring the quarantine procedures." John sighs, stands up, and just extends his hands forward. Abigail gives him a look, but does the same. "Just get on with it," she says, her voice tired. "No point in drawing it out." She knows that, as opposed to the rest of their colleagues sitting on the Council of 108, Goldbaker only enjoys bureaucracy when it comes to business. Still, they have no choice but to arrest someone who's clearly and shamelessly broken the Coalition-mandated quarantine. Goldbaker shakes their head. "I do not believe that will be necessary. We are going the same way, after all. We have been called to the motherbase on Florida even before we stumbled upon you two." John furrows his brows. "Again -- your motivations are far from imperceptible. So, knowing that, I see no reason why you can't come with us as civilized men. You're no criminal scum, you Hadfields. Haven't been for a generation, at the very least least. That's certainly the impression I got of you when we were still doing business. "So," they say, already starting to head towards their airship, now on the ground a few meters in the distance. "Can I expect you to act in accordance with those expectations?" "What... What about our things?" John asks. "Already taken care of. Technically, they are evidence against you which we need to take with us -- besides, your vehicle is in no shape to even carry them anymore. So my men took them with." In a few steps, the twins catch up to Goldbaker. "Why?" Abigail mouths, facing directly at the unphased businessperson. "You could have just as well chained us the second you got us. What's the point of risking it all?" They don't turn to face Abigail. "Do you want the official answer or the honest one?" John slowly exhales. "Both, preferably?" Goldbaker nods. Their smile shows he chose well. "If you're asking what I'll write up in my report, then know that even tired and battle-worn, Miss Abigail still vastly outshines all of us in pure ontokinetic might, myself included. There is no reason to make this all ugly -- if you were to oppose us, it wouldn't be a battle we could survive without heavy casualties. So here comes my courtesy -- an act of pure diplomacy, of course. Besides," they add, "allowing you two to carry on alone or as prisoners only risks further damage -- no doubt insured damage I would personally have to pay for. "But truth be told, I'm doing this because I like you." They stop on the steps leading up to the airship. "I don't quite trust you -- I'm not that much of a fool -- but you two have shown yourself to be reasonable people, back when you still ran the show. Taking you by force would only result in more chaos -- but allowing you to willingly come with? That's a whole story entirely." They shrug. "All I'm saying is I certainly do not want to end up like those gun nuts at the gas station. I think it's a reasonable offer for a reasonable concern." They pause for a moment. "So. Come with me like civilized human beings, do your business when we finally arrive, and come back once you're done with your evening. Because I do know that you will come back. Civility -- and the fact that once this is over, your only reason for breaking the law will be dealt with -- requires that you do so. And like we've already established, I'd expect nothing but from you two. "Besides." They shrug again. "I know that binding John by the expectation of adhering to rules will almost certainly ensure that he indeed abides by them." They give John an apologetic look. "So yes, it's all just so much easier than forcing you to come by pointing guns at you." Abigail just blinks, almost incapable of believing what she's hearing; still, she doesn't complain. She's far too tired -- and in far too good a position -- to do that. "T-Thank you," John mumbles out, dumbfounded by their circumstances. He steps up the stairs, walking towards Goldbaker, and smiles faintly. Abigail soon joins him. "I doubt this means anything anymore, but know I won't forget this. If there's anything--" Goldbakers's face is suddenly as still and firm as a stone. "Good," they say, their tone tolerant to no disobedience. "Because do know that if you break my trust, you being holed up with Miss Ranyue will not hold my men back." John gulps and nods, and quickly hurries up aboard the vehicle. [[=]] @@ @@ [[image asterisk.png height="30px"]] @@ @@ [[/=]] Though equipped with luxuries that make the day and night travel a breeze, the airship does not have a radio system -- not one tuned in to entertainment-focused frequencies, at the very least. Still, Abigail soon discovers that through ever so slightly bending the incoming waves and in spite of her exhaustion, she can make them change from Coalition orders to any tune she likes. Goldbaker initially opposes this, but after the communication proves to be little more than repeating information, they allow her to have her fun inside their temporary quarters before she goes to well-earned sleep. That, and -- though they'd never publicly admit this -- they kind of like the tune. It reminds them of the long, long time that has passed since they came to be -- and everyone close that's passed alongside it. [[=]] @@ @@ [[image asterisk.png height="30px"]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[=image 9.png style="position: relative; left: -8px; border: 8px solid #ffffff; box-shadow: 0 0 5px #999; margin-top: 15x; margin-bottom: 15px; transform: rotate(-1.5deg); width: 100%; max-width: 400px;"]] = ♪ [[=]] > //[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gjqtXxpogjE 'Cause I know I don't wanna stay here forever]// > //[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gjqtXxpogjE It's time to be movin' on]// > //[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gjqtXxpogjE Oh, I don't want to be the only one living]// > //[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gjqtXxpogjE When all of my friends are gone]// [[/=]] = ♪ [[=image 10.png style="position: relative; left: -8px; border: 8px solid #ffffff; box-shadow: 0 0 5px #999; margin-top: 15x; margin-bottom: 15px; transform: rotate(1.5deg); width: 100%; max-width: 400px;"]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image asterisk.png height="30px"]] @@ @@ [[/=]] + 0 One thing becomes immediately apparent when they land in Tallahassee: in spite of everything that's happened in the last three decades, it's still a shithole. Current circumstances certainly do not help; if anything, the unofficial Coalition occupation only makes it worse. While the center of the city mostly remains intact, save for a few blocked-off roads and armored trucks patrolling the area, the outskirts is where things get really serious. In-between Tallahassee's own Relocation Camp, many dozens of military-grade tents, and support buildings to the many vehicles parked all around the encampment, it's a lot. Even from up in the sky, John and Abigail can still see the many hundreds of Coalition officers and soldiers marching around the base. From this height, they look barely bigger than ants. With their numbers, they're like some alien, invasive swarm that's taken this town by right of conquest and plunder, proudly parading around beneath their blue shells and with their paratech guns. That feeling doesn't disappear even when they soon land next to three more Coalition airships, docked at the far edge of the camp next to a giant, make-shift hangar. It doesn't disappear even when they get off their ride, pick up what little of their luggage they took along, and join the crowd of foreigners filling the capital of Florida. Goldbaker walks up to them almost immediately. "I expect to see you two again tomorrow at noon," they say, their face unreadable and their tone stone-cold. "I do not care how you self-report, for as long as you do it through my office." Goldbaker points towards the remainder of their team with their head. The few dozen people are still boarding off the airship, carrying crates and weaponry around the hangar. "Either way, I wish you luck in your endeavors." Their voice is much more relaxed, now. "Oh, and a piece of advice: if I were you, I would avoid using public transport in this place, if any still functions." They turn to face Abigail. "I'm afraid you will not find any allies in this state, Miss Hadfield. With their... appreciation of law enforcement, I do not think they would hesitate to report you, either." They look at John. "But with how close your destination is, I do not think walking will be that much of an issue anyway, even considering Miss Abigail's condition." John nods. "Thank you. I sincerely do mean it." Goldbaker almost smiles. "I know you do." In one fluid movement, they turn towards the rest of their men, and start their spry stroll forward. "Oh, and one more thing!" They shout from the distance, their voice carried by the echo of the structure around them. "If he's still receptive, please do give my regards to Aaron, and my sincerest sympathies to Miss Ranyue. That, and carry my regret we couldn't have met under better circumstances. Even if," they say, "with what the world's fallen into, I do not think any other were or ever indeed will be possible." [[=]] @@ @@ [[image asterisk.png height="30px"]] @@ @@ [[/=]] Outside the camp, Tallahassee is a mess, even more so than during peacetime. With its empty streets, curtain-covered windows, and trash-filled pavements, it almost looks like a ghost town. The only thing that's any proof of any citizens still dwelling inside it is the occasional "FUCK CRENSHAW!" graffiti or "GO(C) HOME" lettering thaumically engraved onto the nearby sidewalk. Still, when John and Abigail begin their stroll towards their destination, they can't help but feel they are walking through a ruin. It's a slow march, one made so by Abigail barely being able to walk with what little strength she still holds onto and John carrying all of their luggage. They don't think it's ideal, not by a long shot -- after all, the last thing they want is to be recognized by some bored onlooker staring out of the window of their quarantined apartment -- but they know they have to make do. In-between taking the backstreets and avoiding plazas and other large openings near public buildings, they almost feel like rats scurrying around an abandoned city. The presence of actual rats all around them certainly doesn't help. Though, unlike the twins, the little rodents don't really seem all that concerned with the situation at hand -- they just lay in whatever trash that still hasn't been collected by the absent garbage trucks, and continue their feast, even when their rest is interrupted by the steps of the first humans to cross those streets in a long, long time. Eating away at the ruin of America, the rats almost seem happy. [[=]] @@ @@ [[image asterisk.png height="30px"]] @@ @@ [[/=]] Some four hours later, they are almost there. The journey through Tallahassee's many avenues and streets was long and ungrateful. Now that it's over, they are exhausted, and the sun is almost setting. Abigail is barely able to stand straight, and John's back is killing him. If they weren't quite literally in front of their destination, they are certain they couldn't ever muster the will to power through and walk forward. There's one issue, though: although they are indeed standing at the edge of Lake Jackson, staring directly at the large house they are meant to enter, the building is located on an island on the lake. One located maybe twenty meters away from shore, sure, but on an island nonetheless. Abigail takes a very deep breath. John just sighs. "I can't call them," John says, touching the almost-ancient phone in his pocket. "I'm certain they have a boat but with no actual phones in there..." He shakes his head. "I know," Abigail says dully, fully accepting of what she knows they'll be forced to do. "I think I can do it." He turns to face her. "Are you sure?" She raises a hand. "Look, if I could, I'd just split the water, or take a nearby boat, or..." She shrugs. "But I don't have the energy and there's no boats left anywhere. So what can you do," she states more than she asks. "I will manage. I didn't cross half the country to not manage." "But--" "I said I'll manage." For a while, John doesn't say anything. He just looks at her with concern. Eventually, though, he nods. "All right." He walks up to the nearby tree, and leaves their bags there. He's certain that nobody will take them -- or even notice them, with how holed up in their houses everybody is -- and it's not like they can swim across those twenty meters with their bags. Abigail soon joins him and before long, they are ready. When they tip their first toes into the water, they immediately regret it. Even though it hasn't yet snowed in Tallahassee -- and the nearby region has kept up relatively warm in spite of the winter ravaging through the rest of the east coast -- it still feels like they're about to freeze. It doesn't get better even when they're fully submerged and start to swim, but it's not like they've got any other choice. John hates being wet, and hates being cold, but he somehow manages through very rapid breaths and sheer goddamn will. In his long-past prime, he's [[[manifest-704\|sailed half the world under the sails of the Commission on Unusual Cargo]]]. Though he's never been any professional, during those days, he's learned how to be a great swimmer. He makes it across in maybe half a minute, and turns back to see how much Abigail's got left. She's nowhere to be seen. "ABIGAIL?!" he shouts out, scouting the area for any signs of her. He can already feel his heart beart louder than his thoughts. "ABIGAIL!" Her head isn't anywhere above the water. Without hesitation, John immediately jumps back back into the lake. When he opens his eyes beneath the frostbite-inducing water, two things happen: one, his brain starts to feel like it's getting stabbed by a thousand needles, a pain so great it nearly makes him unable to think; two, he notices Abigail's small shape, slowly drifting towards the bottom of the water, like some corpse thrown into the lake. Worse yet, she isn't moving. Or breathing. In just a few movements, still powerful in spite of his age, John swims towards her and grabs her. It's one of the hardest things he's ever had to do, but he powers through it. He's lived through being thrown off the deck of a ship twice; he treats this as nothing different. When he grabs his sister, he realizes she's far heavier than he thinks he can manage, but the strength added to him by the sheer adrenaline almost makes up for the added weight. Before long, they are back up on the shore. As if by instinct, he gently puts her on the ground and immediately starts the resuscitation. He only stops when Abigail spits out enough water to fill up a kettle. Her eyes shot wide open. "Never do that again!" he shouts, already starting to shiver. With the adrenaline already wearing off, he can again feel the chilling temperature of both the air and the water they've just left. She doesn't say anything. Instead, she just nods, and starts to shiver herself. Within a moment, John's expression grows softer. He quickly takes off his jacket and hands it to her. It's soaking wet, so the gesture is barely more than symbolic, but she still accepts it. John takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and tries to stand up. He stops when he feels a very warm hand suddenly land on his shoulder. Within a second, the warmth spreads throughout his whole body, and -- judging by the expression on her face -- leaps onto Abigail, too. Before he can even blink, they no longer feel any cold at all -- and neither do their clothes, which now look as if they had been drying in the desert sun for the last few days. "I'm glad you could make it," says a female voice from behind him. "I was getting worried you wouldn't come." He knows the voice. He's heard it many, many times over the centuries they've worked alongside each other. If he had more energy still left, he'd be furious //that's// the first thing she says to him after all this time; but, exhausted like he hasn't been in a lifetime, he just turns around towards the diminutive Asian woman. Ranyue Lin, pyromancer battlemage and former SCP Foundation Overseer Five, almost smiles when she sees him. "Hello, John," she says, her tone as warm as always. "It's been a while." He nods again. "Yes, Ran. It really has." He turns back towards Abigail, and helps her stand up, too. "Let's get you inside," Ran says, already turning to walk towards the nearest doors. "You look like you could use a hot cup of tea." Neither of the twins respond. Instead, they exchange a look, and follow their former colleague into the end of their journey. [[=]] @@ @@ [[image asterisk.png height="30px"]] @@ @@ [[/=]] Some hour later, both have taken a shower, drank and eaten up, and changed their clothes. (They are indeed //very// lucky that Aaron and Ranyue's figures match their own almost one to one.) Now, they are sitting in a small, art-deco fashioned living room. It's filled with old memorabilia from four centuries into the past -- in-between different books, globes, swords, and photos, it's all a mess. A mess they might not understand, but one whose actual owner they figure is able to navigate quite well. Just like the rest of the house, the room is furnished along fashion choices that haven't been in style for over a century, but one that still remains a nicely-kept memory of what once was. With two sofas the twins and Ran occupy, a table in-between them, and a fireplace near one of its walls, it's just fancy enough to look good without coming off as pretentious. John certainly enjoys just looking at it. Just like all relics of ages long-gone, he's naturally drawn to it. Perhaps due to his passion as an historian, perhaps because of its genuinely good appearance -- or perhaps because subconsciously, he knows he too is not of this time. Abigail, meanwhile, is not as enthusiastic. She looks at Ranyue. Though Abigail's lost most of her attitude over the last few days (she's still exhausted, and is only carrying on because she still has to do what they came here to do in the first place), that doesn't stop her from crossing her legs and furrowing her brows. "So," she says, crossing her arms, too. "Where is he?" Ran doesn't meet her eyes. She sighs. "Same place he's been for the last month." Her tone is very quiet. "He's sitting on the balcony." She stands up, and walks up towards the nearest cabinet. From inside it, she pulls out a bottle of wine probably older than most of the Earth's population, and three glasses. She looks at the twins, the unsaid question hanging in the air. John nods; Abigail just marrows her eyes. "Three?" Again, Ran avoids eye contact. "I... I don't think he's going to need one." Abigail doesn't say anything. Instead, she just blankly stares as Ranyue pours the alcohol into the glasses, and passes them towards her guests. The red wine, John notices, is almost of the exact same color as Ran's plain dress. "So," she says, not sitting back down and not putting down the bottle. "Are you ready?" John and Abigail exchange a look, then both nod. "Good." Ran points to the nearest doors with her head. "Follow me." [[=]] @@ @@ [[image asterisk.png height="30px"]] @@ @@ [[/=]] The outside air is chilly, even after the warm shower, food, and alcohol. The balcony itself isn't anything special -- it's maybe twelve square meters surrounded by an intricate railing made of black steel. Its floor is decorated by some white tiles that haven't been cleaned in many, many years. There's a few plant pots scattered around the balcony, but -- just like the rest of Florida's flora, that time of the year -- it's very barely clinging onto life. But, just like Ranyue said, he is there. He's sitting in a wheelchair on the other end of the balcony. Next to him stands some medical apparatus -- one not aimed at curing or preventing the Virion (this isolated in this house, neither of its occupants are at risk of contracting it) but one tasked with the impossible mission of postponing this man's already long-held-off death. His bald face is full of wrinkles so deep it should be impossible, as is the rest of his lanky body, propped up against the chair and situated in sight of the lake, which he's intently staring at. His eyes are glassy, and don't appear to really see anything anymore. Even when they enter within meters of him, Aaron Siegel, former SCP Foundation Overseer One and Administrator, once the most powerful man in the world, does not turn towards them, or indeed react in any other way. He just sits there, taking rapid and shallow breaths, staring out beyond a horizon they aren't even sure he sees. Still, John walks up to him, and puts a hand on his shoulder. Abigail meanwhile looks at Ranyue. Her eyes are glassy now, too. She briefly closes them, and looks at the lake. Abigail observes her for a few seconds, and joins her brother. They both lower themselves so their faces match Aaron's level, and from a pocket inside his jacket, John takes out a small package. He doesn't hand it to Aaron. "Happy birthday, friend," he quietly whispers, his tone shaky. Aaron doesn't react in any way. Behind him, Ran drinks the rest of her wine. "Yeah, happy birthday, old man." Abigail chuckles. It's insincere. "Not even the virion can get you, eh? You--" "Abigail," John says calmly. "—that bastard Graham--" "Abigail." He puts a hand on her shoulder. She just looks at him with a defeated expression. "Please. You're only hurting yourself." She looks down on the floor. "I know." Her tone is barely louder than a whisper. She doesn't have the strength to muster anything else. Between this heartbreak and everything else that's happened in the last few days, she's certain this won't just wear off. The rip in her soul, the damage done to her body, and this... she's been hurt too much for the scar to just heal. For a moment, it dawns on her with utmost clarity that this pain will stay with her, perhaps until the very end of her days. She sighs. John stands up, clears his throat, and hands Ran the small package he's held in his hands. "I... I wanted to give it to Aaron, but... well," he says. "If he cannot have it, I think you should. For taking care of him when we couldn't." She doesn't say anything. Instead, she just nods and begins to unwrap the paper. Beneath it, she finds a small photograph in a metal frame. It's black and white and depicts nine people. Though she herself wasn't present for it -- just as many others it should also depict -- she immediately recognizes it. It's the first ever official photo of the Overseer Council, taken back when life was simple, their hearts genuine, and their intentions still clear. She starts to blink very rapidly. "I..." John begins. "I thought he should have it. With everything that's been going on recently, I just... I was worried about the others, if they're still out there. I think he should remember them. Even if this photo isn't perfect, it's the best I could get. Besides, it holds sentimental value, so..." his voice trails off. Ran closes her eyes. "Thank you, John," she says. "I think he'd love it." John nods twice, tightening his lips. For a few seconds, they just stand there, staring at the photo and thinking about the thirteen individuals that should have been present for its taking -- who should be present //here// -- and what has happened to them and those who inherited their mantle. Aaron Siegel. Now little more than a ghost of a ghost of his former self. Barely more than nothing. Two. First sold like something less than human, then forced into [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-6500/offset/15 solitude among a foreign kin]. Restless to the bitter end. Jackson Miller. A bastard through and through. Perhaps finally at peace with the rest of his hive. John Hadfield. A tired old wreck. A relic of an era long gone. Ranyue Lin. A heartbroken mess, capable of little but longing. No longer host to a fire so great it could warm the whole world. Jan Twardowski. Still stranded in his lunar prison. Maybe no longer alone, with all the [[[david-hunt-on-galileo\|new company he's gotten]]]; but just maybe. Eylana Graíné. A lonely spider in the center of a self-woven web. Untraceable and off the grid, just as she always has been. Abigail Hadfield. A final link in an accursed bloodline. Its last and most desperate echo. Natalie Asheworth. First [[[and-every-time-we-meet-again-hub\|stolen by a force beyond her power]]], then taken by heartbreak. Buried underneath a tree somewhere in Poland. Evelynn Bright. A mother and friend. Maybe finally happy in her newfound freedom. Elias Mair. Driven nearly mad by visions. Now bound to an economic beast far greater than anything he's ever fought. Mikell Bright. Hung for his crimes by the people. A martyr in the eyes of some; a monster in the eyes of most. Pierre Blanchet. Still bound by his working to what remains of Overwatch Command. A teacher to those unwilling to repeat the mistakes of his colleagues. All of them, once a facsimile of a family, now little more than scattered, lonely children. Eventually. John takes his own glass, signs a toast to Abigail and Ran, and drinks it all up in one quick swing. Abigail does the same, and Ranyue just takes the bottle and empties what's left. Though they speak no words, they are all very much aware that just like the rest of their story, this moment will not last. Though Ran will remain here, taking care of what remains of Aaron, she knows that sooner or later, he too will pass. She herself isn't the youngest, either. And though they will stay here for the night, come tomorrow, John and Abigail will have to leave and report themselves to the Coalition. They won't escape the price of humanity. John sighs. With a heavy heart, all four look out beyond the balcony, towards a sun setting above a dying nation, awaiting any sort of catharsis in a world no longer theirs. It never comes. @@ @@ [[=image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/from-120-s-archives-hub/chapter1.jpg style="position: relative; left: -8px; border: 8px solid #ffffff; box-shadow: 0 0 5px #999; margin-top: 15x; margin-bottom: 15px; transform: rotate(1.5deg); width: 100%; max-width: 400px;"]] [[/==]] @@ @@ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:earthworm">:scp-wiki:component:earthworm</a> \| first=false \| last=false \| hub=yes \| previous-url=/scientia-potentia-est \| previous-title=Icarus Unburned \| next-url=/coda-for-the-capitol \| next-title=Coda for the Capitol \| hub-url=/8000-dead-rats-hub \| hub-title=8,000 Dead Rats ]] ----- [[=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] ===== > Filename: 1.png > Name: End of I-95 in Maine - panoramio.jpg > Author: Wallace Parry > License: CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:End_of_I-95_in_Maine_-_panoramio.jpg Wikimedia Commons] > Additional Notes: Edited by [[user Jasiu06]] > Filename:* 2.png > Name: ESwatini Road Sunrise with road works.jpg > Author: Reflexus34 > License: CC BY-SA 4.0 > Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:ESwatini_Road_Sunrise_with_road_works.jpg Wikimedia Commons] > Additional Notes: Edited by [[user HarryBlank]] and [[user PlaguePJP]] > Filename: 3.png > Name: Ypwfh 1b (17912692923).jpg > Author: Greg Goebel > License: CC BY-SA 2.0 > Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Ypwfh_1b_(17912692923).jpg Wikimedia Commons] > Additional Notes: Edited by [[user Jasiu06]] > Filename:* 4.png > Name: Logan Canyon Scenic Byway - Moose Rests by Roadside in Snow - NARA - 7720246.jpg > Author: N/A > License: Public Domain > Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Logan_Canyon_Scenic_Byway_-_Moose_Rests_by_Roadside_in_Snow_-_NARA_-_7720246.jpg Wikimedia Commons] > Filename: 5.png > Name: US Navy 100128-N-8828S-119 The Petionville Country Club in Port-au-Prince, Haiti is being used as a field hospital, food distribution location and as a tent city to house 50,000 earthquake survivors.jpg > Author: U.S. Navy photo by Interior Communications Electrician 1st Class Jason Richard Stephens > License: Public Domain > Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:US_Navy_100128-N-8828S-119_The_Petionville_Country_Club_in_Port-au-Prince,_Haiti_is_being_used_as_a_field_hospital,_food_distribution_location_and_as_a_tent_city_to_house_50,000_earthquake_survivors.jpg Wikimedia Commons] > Filename: 6.png > Name: People sitting around a camp fire.jpg > Author: Hynek Janáč > License: Public Domain > Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:People_sitting_around_a_camp_fire.jpg Wikimedia Commons] > Filename: 7.png > Name: Winter road in Estonia.jpg > Author: Hannu > License: Public Domain > Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Winter_road_in_Estonia.jpg Wikimedia Commons] > Filename: 8.png > Name: Lots of trees with snow.jpg > Author: Clump > License: Public Domain > Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Lots_of_trees_with_snow.jpg Wikimedia Commons] > Filename: 9.png > Name: LockheedMartin P-791.jpg > Author: AMIRAAZAMI6 > License: CC BY-SA 4.0 > Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:LockheedMartin_P-791.jpg Wikimedia Commons] > Additional Notes: Edited by [[user Jasiu06]], using "GOCLogo.png" by [[user Aelanna]] from the [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/groups-of-interest SCP Foundation Wiki], CC BY-SA 3.0. > Filename: 10.png > Name: TallahasseeSkyline2.JPG > Author: UrbanTallahassee > License: CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:TallahasseeSkyline2.JPG Wikimedia Commons] > Filename: chapter1.jpg > Name: Russian lawyers. Early 20th century. Saint-Petersburg.jpg > Author: N/A > License: Public Domain > Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Russian_lawyers._Early_20th_century._Saint-Petersburg.jpg Wikimedia Commons] > Filename: asterisk.png > Name: Heraldique Rose.svg > Author: ludger1961 > License: CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Heraldique_Rose.svg Wikimedia Commons] > Additional Notes: Edited by [[user Jasiu06]] > Filename:* logo.png > Name: CoA of the Mises family.svg > Author: Alejandro Basombrio > License: CC BY-SA 4.0 > Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:CoA_of_the_Mises_family.svg Wikimedia Commons] > Additional Notes: Edited by [[*user Jasiu06]] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]] [[/=]]	2024-07-30T14:35:00	[ "8000-dead-rats", "_cc", "_licensebox", "aaron-siegel", "action", "bittersweet", "chase", "from-120s-archives", "global-occult-coalition", "goldbaker-reinz", "hadfield-twins", "pentagram", "tale" ]	Wayward, Forlorn Kin - SCP Foundation	30	[ "ralliston-s-authorpage", "wayward-forlorn-kin#toc0", "wayward-forlorn-kin#toc1", "wayward-forlorn-kin#toc2", "wayward-forlorn-kin#toc3", "wayward-forlorn-kin#toc4", "wayward-forlorn-kin#toc5", "project-scarlet-dawn", "kte-9817-bluebuster-mendel-shelley-renegade-armbrusteri", "scp-8120", "scientia-potentia-est", "chronicle-of-the-worm", "price-of-forty-days", "scp-7034", "vnp-111", "scp-7600", "manifest-704", "scp-6500/offset/15", "david-hunt-on-galileo", "and-every-time-we-meet-again-hub", "8000-dead-rats-hub", "coda-for-the-capitol", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide", "groups-of-interest" ]	[ "goldbaker-reinz-hub", "goc-hub-page", "from-120-s-archives-hub", "and-every-time-we-meet-again-hub", "8000-dead-rats-hub" ]	[]	1455971316	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/wayward-forlorn-kin
we-can-t-stay-here-anymore	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="preview"> <p>My identity is getting eaten alive by consumerism.</p> </div> <p>Once the summer starts, they materialize, seemingly out of thin air, in the walkways of oncoming ships, seated in the recently landed planes, standing in the subway trains inbetween stations. And thus, our upside-down city gets invaded by the ghosts from other, much richer universes.</p> <p>Their faces and bodies chiseled, made all from a paste, wearing uniform clothes that profess their love for Salvador Dalí, anolecraB and MILFs. They fall from Orchard, <a href="/the-smog-wastes-of-neoamerica">Neoamerica</a> and A67-Cipangu. Smiles plastered on their faces as they shove me out of the way. The smell of sunscreen and burned skin impregnates the air wherever they walk.</p> <p>They are here for our beaches full of dead jellyfish, the rented piss we call beer, our "beautiful" women forced to work deadend jobs and the nonstop partying that killed all our trees, and the sights of unfinished plastic monuments. All of these simulacra of a forgotten present that may have been at some point, but is now recreated ad nauseam by an unseen force to pander to the misshapen image in the visitors’ minds.</p> <p>This dead city bends to their will, new Starbucks, Mangos and Five Guys pop up in corners, repurposing old bakeries and shoemakers for some unknown end. A new boulevard opened yesterday to make way for the newest invention, never before seen in my upside down city. Cars now run where the most beautiful buildings in the city used to be.</p> <p>I woke up today, having survived another night between the subsumed masses that lost their right to choose to not replicate the tourist mindset. Their minds asleep, their bodies fed on sangria, rice and bubble tea with cartoony faces plastered on the cup. To exist that way is the only way to not be hunted down by the restaurant owners and fed to the oncoming visitors. On the screens of the metro, a hundred photos of the best places to visit, all of them buried in the molten plastic of a million flip flops. An empty face appears in their midst, the mayor, its promises of dealing with the neverending madness long forgotten, mouths a cry for help while it wishes us a beautiful and productive day.</p> <p>Coming out of the metro is hard with every guiri trying to enter without letting you get out. They push and pull and take photos. Stumbling out, I try to not step on the sleeping vagrants that flood the street 一 the only genuine act of kindness that remains.</p> <p>The mayor's words reverberate through the art nouveau buildings full of billboards for past concerts. It is true that we are being eaten alive, but it is thanks to them that we survive. The mass forms crowds in the bars and the stores, they spare some pennies, thrown over their shoulders. They prey on us, and paradoxically it is what feeds us. We are locked in a parasitic battle for survival of cosmic proportions. And my city is losing.</p> <p>The walkways are choked by tourists who all go to the same old eight spires that stick out in the distance. Under the ruckus caused by a pickpocket stealing a handbag, I hear anolecraB holding its breath. The horrors of this summer will be over soon, but they will return next year.</p> <p>Many try to escape. Replicating somehow the same patterns that bring the foreigners here, they go out in search of grass that’s green, and not fed on the blood of those who fell short in their jump into the pool. They disappear, with nothing but their clothes, and they go somewhere else, to bother someone else.</p> <p>You did that, years ago. After eating a tangerine from a tree poisoned by one too many tourists drunkenly pissing on it, you went out looking for a place where it still rained. I'm not as smart, or as crafty as you ever were.</p> <p>I will stay here until I fall to the void under our feet.</p> </div></body></html>	===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:preview">:scp-wiki:component:preview</a> text= My identity is getting eaten alive by consumerism.]] ===== [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] Once the summer starts, they materialize, seemingly out of thin air, in the walkways of oncoming ships, seated in the recently landed planes, standing in the subway trains inbetween stations. And thus, our upside-down city gets invaded by the ghosts from other, much richer universes. Their faces and bodies chiseled, made all from a paste, wearing uniform clothes that profess their love for Salvador Dalí, anolecraB and MILFs. They fall from Orchard, [[[the-smog-wastes-of-neoamerica \| Neoamerica]]] and A67-Cipangu. Smiles plastered on their faces as they shove me out of the way. The smell of sunscreen and burned skin impregnates the air wherever they walk. They are here for our beaches full of dead jellyfish, the rented piss we call beer, our "beautiful" women forced to work deadend jobs and the nonstop partying that killed all our trees, and the sights of unfinished plastic monuments. All of these simulacra of a forgotten present that may have been at some point, but is now recreated ad nauseam by an unseen force to pander to the misshapen image in the visitors’ minds. This dead city bends to their will, new Starbucks, Mangos and Five Guys pop up in corners, repurposing old bakeries and shoemakers for some unknown end. A new boulevard opened yesterday to make way for the newest invention, never before seen in my upside down city. Cars now run where the most beautiful buildings in the city used to be. I woke up today, having survived another night between the subsumed masses that lost their right to choose to not replicate the tourist mindset. Their minds asleep, their bodies fed on sangria, rice and bubble tea with cartoony faces plastered on the cup. To exist that way is the only way to not be hunted down by the restaurant owners and fed to the oncoming visitors. On the screens of the metro, a hundred photos of the best places to visit, all of them buried in the molten plastic of a million flip flops. An empty face appears in their midst, the mayor, its promises of dealing with the neverending madness long forgotten, mouths a cry for help while it wishes us a beautiful and productive day. Coming out of the metro is hard with every guiri trying to enter without letting you get out. They push and pull and take photos. Stumbling out, I try to not step on the sleeping vagrants that flood the street 一 the only genuine act of kindness that remains. The mayor's words reverberate through the art nouveau buildings full of billboards for past concerts. It is true that we are being eaten alive, but it is thanks to them that we survive. The mass forms crowds in the bars and the stores, they spare some pennies, thrown over their shoulders. They prey on us, and paradoxically it is what feeds us. We are locked in a parasitic battle for survival of cosmic proportions. And my city is losing. The walkways are choked by tourists who all go to the same old eight spires that stick out in the distance. Under the ruckus caused by a pickpocket stealing a handbag, I hear anolecraB holding its breath. The horrors of this summer will be over soon, but they will return next year. Many try to escape. Replicating somehow the same patterns that bring the foreigners here, they go out in search of grass that’s green, and not fed on the blood of those who fell short in their jump into the pool. They disappear, with nothing but their clothes, and they go somewhere else, to bother someone else. You did that, years ago. After eating a tangerine from a tree poisoned by one too many tourists drunkenly pissing on it, you went out looking for a place where it still rained. I'm not as smart, or as crafty as you ever were. I will stay here until I fall to the void under our feet.	2024-07-26T08:59:00	[ "bleak", "lampeter", "no-dialogue", "tale" ]	We can't stay here anymore - SCP Foundation	30	[ "the-smog-wastes-of-neoamerica" ]	[ "lampeter-hub" ]	[]	1455953694	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/we-can-t-stay-here-anymore
welcome-to-site-19	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="preview"> <p>"Well, the UIU is coming to investigate us! Check our place, that is."</p> </div> <div class="earthworm earthworm--old-syntax-first-{$first} earthworm--old-syntax-last-{$last} earthworm--old-syntax-hub-{$hub} {$class}"> <div class="first earthworm__previous" data-title="The Pilot - The Original"> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-pilot">The Pilot - The Original</a></p> </div> <div class="hub earthworm__hub" data-title="Welcome to Site 19!"> <p><a href="/">Welcome to Site 19!</a></p> </div> <div class="last earthworm__next" data-title="Biweekly"> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/biweekly">Biweekly</a></p> </div> </div> <div class="blockquote" style="border-radius: 10px; margin: 10px"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h4 id="toc0"><span>TO: The Safe Cleanup Professionals Foundation</span></h4> </div> <p>Hello, this is a regular notice from the Unusual Incidents Unit. The purpose of this letter is to notify you of a routine inspection to be carried out on your facility within the next two to five business days at time of writing. Because of shipping delays, expect the inspection in the next twelve to thirteen hours.</p> <p>Thank you for your time,<br/> Jeremiah Cimmerian</p> </div> <p>Alto Baritone Clef was panicking. Him and the other members of the Safe Cleanup Professionals Foundation had utterly fucked up a job. It should've been easy, it was just this little cat— <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-529">well, half of one</a>, that scurried away as fast as one with four full legs. They were trying to cover up the fact they buffed it, with Charlie Odgen Gears<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-1" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-1')">1</a></sup> working on getting some papers from Fritz about it breaking out and being more dangerous than they knew. Then, when they got back, they got THIS letter! He runs up to Gears, shaking him.</p> <p>"Did you tell the client about how <em>we totally couldn't clean it up because it was too dangerous</em>?" Clef shakes Gears on the shoulder a bit, as the man types away at messaging something.</p> <p>"No. Fritz isn't answering my emails." He mutters, sipping from a cup of coffee. His eyes are baggy. Someone obviously didn't sleep.</p> <p>Alto tilts his head a bit. "Did you work all night with Maria again?"</p> <p>"That's not really your concern, Clef." He slowly blinks at Alto, rubbing his eyes a bit. "Why are you sweating?"</p> <p>"Wellllllll— Funny story, huh?" He smiles.</p> <p>He groans. "Just tell me, Clef. I'm not playing any of your guessing games."</p> <p>"Well, the UIU is coming to investigate us! Check our place, that is." Gears puts his head in his hands. "Charlie? Come on, we have twelve or so hours. Or… sometime in the next twelve hours he'll be here."</p> <p>He shoots back up. "He?" He puts his hands on Clef's shoulders. "Alto, this is important. Is the agent who is coming over named Jeremiah Cimmerian."</p> <p>He starts sinking a little in Gears' slowly tightening grip. "I mean, yeah. What's the issue?"</p> <p>Gears begins sweating, wiping at his forehead with his sleeve. "Get Moose and Dee. We need to clean this place up." He relinquishes his grip on Clef, chuckling nervously and starting to move toward a broom carelessly left in the corner.</p> <p>"What's the issue, Gears?! Why is this guy such a big deal to you?" It takes the man a moment to pause his march toward the broom, as his head slowly turns to look back at Alto.</p> <p>"I used to work with Cimmerian. If this place isn't tip top shape, we're going to be shut down entirely or fined an enormous amount. <strong>Get cleaning.</strong>"</p> <p>Clef salutes, running off into another room of their warehouse, and finding Tilda Moose and Dee Lass playing some sort of… card game. Moose is wearing their magician getup, and Dee is wrapped in their blanket. They look vaguely tangled in it. He figures he'll force them into helping. Eight hands are better than four.</p> <p>Moose places a card in front of themself, smiling at Dee. "So, you have to play your mana cards—"</p> <p>Clef claps twice to make his presence known, frowning a bit at them. "We gotta <em>go</em>."</p> <p>Dee looks at Clef, looking utterly confused. "What's the deal, bossman?"</p> <p>"The UIU is coming to inspect this place, and it's a mess!" He waves his hands as he speaks to accentuate his point.</p> <p>Dee mutters, "The UIU?"</p> <p>"We can explain later! Move!" Clef pulls Dee off the ground, putting them on their feet as he dashes back out to continue his work.</p> <p>Moose shrugs. "You go on and help them, I'll put it back. Wanna play later?" Dee nods vigorously, giving a thumbs up as well. They both grumble a bit at their game being interrupted, as Dee runs into the other room. As Dee and Clef lift a couch into a corner of the room, Gears vacuums.</p> <p>It takes Moose a minute to finish picking up their game, before they screech and run to begin dusting off the nigh-unused shelves of the warehouse. Just as they make the place look halfway presentable, a steady knock bangs on the door, echoing throughout the space.</p> <p>Gears inches slowly toward the door, grabbing the knob and twisting gently. Outside the door stands Jeremiah Cimmerian, senior Unusual Incidents Unit inspector. Cimmerian is flanked by two burly men, holding rifles in their hands. He puts on a pair of gloves, giving a fake smile to Gears as he enters the warehouse. Gears returns the favor with a fake smile that looks almost painful.</p> <p>"Hello, Charles. It's been a while." Cimmerian clears his throat a bit.</p> <p>"Jeremiah. Welcome to Site 19." Gears keeps his face-stretching smile, a little sweat forming because of the security detail. He hates smiling, it hurts him physically.</p> <p>"Doesn't look much like I'd expected. Should we get on with this, then?" His monotone voice doesn't change as he speaks.</p> <p>"Sounds perfect." He shudders as he walks in.</p> <p>Cimmerian clears his throat once more. "You do know that this inspection covers both your operation's success and worker safety, yes?"</p> <p>Gears clenches his teeth, killing his smile. "Success?"</p> <p>"Yes. You'll be graded on a scale of one to ten. This will determine if the UIU will partake in further contracts with you, and if we allow you to stay open."</p> <p>Cimmerian is led in front of a door labeled "Records and Information Security Administration", as he opens it. He finds one Maria Jones, sitting in front of a computer, tapping at the monitor in frustration. Several notification errors are on the screen.</p> <p>"What is this?" He lifts an eyebrow, looking at Maria. She doesn't seem to notice them. She's entrenched in her work.</p> <p>"Uhm, it's where Fritz has us categorize our cleanups." Gears gives another painful fake smile.</p> <p>Cimmerian looks at Gears for a moment longer. "Alright then. I'll have someone come in to inspect that. Records aren't my department. Let's go see your cleanups, then. The Unit knows your capture of that <a href="/scp-173">particularly messy statue</a>, so let's see how you're handling it."</p> <p>Gears looks to Clef, who nods and switches out with him on taking Jeremiah through the facility. "I'll be leading you through our various cleaned messes, if you will." He puts on a pseudo-country accent he believes make him sound more respectable.</p> <p>He walks with a pep in his step, taking the agent to a shipping container, which he opens a slight bit to reveal a statue made of concrete and exposed rebar. It's shitting itself. He quickly closes the container.</p> <p>"I think that's enough of a look at it for now, heh. Don't want to get your clothes messed up!" Clef quickly states, hearing the statue scrape across the ground as it slams on part of the container.</p> <p>"You should consider investing in a diaper," Cimmerian says, dryly.</p> <p>"Not in the budget. Anyways, what else are you looking for?" He gives a much more genuine -ooking smile.</p> <p>"I'm going to need a look at anything else you have contained," Cimmerian says, writing something down on a notepad. One of his bodyguards glares at Clef without saying anything.</p> <p>"Oh, I see. Hah," Clef awkwardly states. He stares at Cimmerian for a moment, before smiling much too wide and leading him to a closet. He knocks on it a few times, before nothing happens.</p> <p>"Is there anything in there, or are you just knocking on a closet?" Cimmerian asks, writing down something undoubtedly negative already.</p> <p>"Oh, there's something in here alright," Clef declares.</p> <p>"Then what is it?" Cimmerian says.</p> <p>"We don't know, Mister…" Clef speaks, really playing up his acting for this and making himself sound small, weak. Sympathy vote is always good!</p> <p>"Then how do you know something is in there?" Cimmerian sounds skeptical, looking to one of his bodyguards. He just shrugs in response to the look of his boss.</p> <p>"<a href="/scp-055">It's not a sphere</a>," Clef states, simply. He's hoping to trick him and praying silently.</p> <p>"… What?"</p> <p>"We know it's not a sphere."</p> <p>"… I see? Well, I don't. Let me see it." Clef slowly opens the door of the closet, revealing it to be completely empty. He closes it after a moment. Then he grins, his face lighting up at the agent.</p> <p>"So, you see?"</p> <p>"I can certainly say that wasn't a sphere," he mutters, looking blankly at his bodyguards.</p> <p>"Exactly. Let me go speak to my cohorts for a moment." Clef dashes off to Gears, Moose, and Dee, leading them into the makeshift employee lounge that Fritz constructed for them.</p> <p>He makes them sit down, before he stands on the table. Gears sighs a bit, knowing what to expect.</p> <p>"We're going to lie to the UIU." Clef wipes off his jacket, raising his arms in triumph and an attempt to get the others excited.</p> <p>"Why? Like actually," Gears says. Clef is a good friend and all but lying to the feds, especially after everything that's been going on, is downright idiotic.</p> <p>"Well… uhm. We don't want to look like we're bad at our jobs in front of them," Clef asserts.</p> <p>"No, I understand. Dee, do you get it?" Moose asks.</p> <p>"Yeah," Dee states, dryly.</p> <p>"Why can't we just be honest and say we haven't gotten any other contracts? It's more effective than lying to them. It has way less risk potential to it as well," Gears says in a monotone voice.</p> <p>"Then we look incompetent, Charlie!" Clef responds.</p> <p>"Don't call me that."</p> <p>"Mr. Gears, I think you should trust Mr. Clef," Dee argues.</p> <p>"Fine! Fine! I'll go along with this, but I'm not going to lie to Cimmerian! He can sniff out a lie from a mile away! I'll just get him coffee or something on his way out."</p> <p>"Fine with me," Clef responds.</p> <p>"Sounds good," comes from Moose.</p> <p>"Yeah, alright," Dee says.</p> <p>Moose runs out of the employee lounge, tagging in for Clef as they smile wide. Cimmerian's face remains completely serious, blinking at them.</p> <p>"Can we continue?" Cimmerian asks, a slight frustration audible in his gravelly voice.</p> <p>"Yep. Sorry, Clef got sick," Moose responds. They lead him to Fritz's office, opening it and walking up to Fritz's hermit crab tank.</p> <p>"This is our hardest cleanup. <em>Crabs.</em>" They hold on the final syllable, drawing the "s" out into a sort of hiss.</p> <p>He looks to Moose, his face shifting from emotionlessness to pure confusion. "They look like normal crabs."</p> <p>"No! They are… <a href="/scp-098">hyperintelligent, and they hunt in packs and cut up their meat.</a> They'll cause <a href="/dr-clef-s-proposal">the apocalypse</a> by manifesting a giant flaming man!"</p> <p>Cimmerian nods slightly, tapping the glass. "Alright. Do you have anything else here?"</p> <p>"One more, our latest job," Moose says.</p> <p>"Let's go. I'd like to file this at the office and go home," Cimmerian responds. Moose claps twice, and Dee confusedly walks over. Dee composes themself, smiling at Cimmerian and hoping to go along with whatever Moose had in mind.</p> <p>"This is my lovely assistant, Dee." Moose dramatically introduces them, playing up their acting.</p> <p>"Hello, sir," Dee says, sheepishly, covering themself in their blanket.</p> <p>"Hello," Cimmerian mutters.</p> <p>"This latest cleanup of ours… Oh, you are not going to like it," Moose proclaims as they wipe their forehead, acting a bit nervous. They always were a thespian at heart, right next to their occult interests. Unfortunately, they'd have to really think about what to do.</p> <p>Dee trips in their blanket, squealing. The comfort of the blanket has forsaken them, leaving them unable to leave the soft knot.</p> <p>Moose lights up. "Oh my God! Dee is being eaten!"</p> <p>Cimmerian looks at Moose. "Eaten?"</p> <p>"Yes! That… <a href="/scp-799">That blanket is eating them alive</a>!"</p> <p>Dee's scream strikes through the monotone voice of Cimmerian, who blinks twice, before snapping into action and shaking Dee out of the blanket. It is motionless.</p> <p>Dee stammers. "O-oh. I-it looks like I— knocked it out! Yeah! If you escape from it, it passes out."</p> <p>Cimmerian stares at Dee for a moment, before writing something down.</p> <p>"I believe that's all I need. Thank you, Mx. Moose. Tell Mr. Clef that I appreciated his tour."</p> <p>Moose shakes, noticing a singular rat scurrying across the warehouse floor behind the view of Cimmerian and his henchmen. They anxiously fiddle with the light of a nearby lamp.</p> <p>"What are you doing?" Cimmerian stares blankly, awaiting a response.</p> <p>"Uhm— I'm— <a href="/scp-997">removing rodents</a>."</p> <p>"… What?" He sighs. "You people are incomprehensible sometimes. I don't know what your anomalies are."</p> <p>They weakly smile. "Haha. Yeah, I'm— This lamp removes all rodents in a two-hundred-foot radius."</p> <p>Cimmerian stares for a moment after they finish, before he speaks. "As I was saying, I think me and my detail here will depart…"</p> <p>Gears strides over toward Cimmerian, smiling, and holding a mug. "I happen to have a little parting gift for you."</p> <p>He looks at Gears. "Alright. What is it, then?"</p> <p>He begins to lead Cimmerian into the breakroom, where one of their easier cleanups, <a href="/scp-294">a weird coffee machine</a> they took from some abandoned office building, sat. "You can order anything you want from this. If you can't decide, tell it to surprise you."</p> <p>Cimmerian rolls his eyes. "Of course. I see it now. You're all a bunch of charlatans. I would've believed you if you just stopped at the blanket." He rolls his eyes, typing 'surprise me' into the machine—</p> <p>Hot coffee sprays out onto half of his face. Gears reaches out, as if he could help at all by just reaching his hand out. Cimmerian grips his face, screaming.</p> <p>"MY GOD! MY FACE!" For a moment, he uncovers half of his face to reveal a nasty burn scar before running out. His bodyguards follow him.</p> <p>Gears stares in horror, before turning to Clef. "Why didn't you show him the coffee machine before inventing anomalies?"</p> <p>"I forgot I didn't make that one up."</p> <hr/> <p>"Do you think it went well? Did you trick him?" Clef questions.</p> <p>"Could've gone better," Gears says.</p> <p>"Just open the letter, I think we did it," Moose asserts. They all crowd around a small envelope, sent from the J. Edgar Hoover Building, addressed to them.</p> <p>"Can't be that bad." Clef shrugs, taking out a small pocketknife and tearing the top off the letter.</p> <p>Nothing's inside. Someone coughs, as he enters, chuckling a bit.</p> <p>Fritz William, their administrator, walks in. "You're wrong about the contents of the letter." He holds up the inside of the letter, which he must've taken before they noticed. He places it on the table, for everyone to read.</p> <div class="blockquote" style="border-radius: 10px; margin: 10px"> <p>Hello to any and all who may be reading this, specifically the people of the Safe Cleanup Professionals Foundation, who I am intending this be sent to.</p> <p>My visit to your "Site 19", while informative our purposes, has been detrimental to my health, both physical and psychological.</p> <p>Due to this, I have been permitted by the FBI Unusual Incidents Unit to send you this bill.</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p>Your fine, for the damages accrued by Senior Special Agent Jeremiah Cimmerian, total to:</p> <h4 id="toc1"><span>$5,351</span></h4> </div> <p>Thank you for your time,<br/> Jeremiah Cimmerian</p> </div> <p>Fritz chuckles a bit, his laughter turning to silence as he puts his head into his hands. "We literally cannot afford this. I'm gonna have to cut your pay until we can pay this off. I hope we all learned a valuable lesson from this."</p> <p>Clef looks at Gears. "I think we need to learn how to lie better."</p> <div class="footnotes-footer"> <div class="title">Footnotes</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-1"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-1')">1</a>. He always hated being called that.</div> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/welcome-to-site-19">Welcome To Site 19!</a>" by DoctorLilithSophia and YardBirdMe, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/welcome-to-site-19">https://scpwiki.com/welcome-to-site-19</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:black-highlighter-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:cleaning-services">:scp-wiki:theme:cleaning-services</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:toggle-sidebar-bhl">:scp-wiki:component:toggle-sidebar-bhl</a>]] ===== [[include <a href="/component:preview">component:preview</a> text="Well, the UIU is coming to investigate us! Check our place, that is."]] ===== [[>]] [[module rate]] [[/>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:earthworm">:scp-wiki:component:earthworm</a> \| previous-url=https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-pilot \| previous-title=The Pilot - The Original \| next-url= https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/biweekly \| next-title= Biweekly \| hub-url=/ \| hub-title=Welcome to Site 19! ]] [[div class="blockquote" style="border-radius: 10px; margin: 10px"]] [[=]] ++++ TO: The Safe Cleanup Professionals Foundation [[/=]] Hello, this is a regular notice from the Unusual Incidents Unit. The purpose of this letter is to notify you of a routine inspection to be carried out on your facility within the next two to five business days at time of writing. Because of shipping delays, expect the inspection in the next twelve to thirteen hours. Thank you for your time, Jeremiah Cimmerian [[/div]] Alto Baritone Clef was panicking. Him and the other members of the Safe Cleanup Professionals Foundation had utterly fucked up a job. It should've been easy, it was just this little cat-- [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-529 well, half of one], that scurried away as fast as one with four full legs. They were trying to cover up the fact they buffed it, with Charlie Odgen Gears[[footnote]] He always hated being called that. [[/footnote]] working on getting some papers from Fritz about it breaking out and being more dangerous than they knew. Then, when they got back, they got THIS letter! He runs up to Gears, shaking him. "Did you tell the client about how //we totally couldn't clean it up because it was too dangerous//?" Clef shakes Gears on the shoulder a bit, as the man types away at messaging something. "No. Fritz isn't answering my emails." He mutters, sipping from a cup of coffee. His eyes are baggy. Someone obviously didn't sleep. Alto tilts his head a bit. "Did you work all night with Maria again?" "That's not really your concern, Clef." He slowly blinks at Alto, rubbing his eyes a bit. "Why are you sweating?" "Wellllllll-- Funny story, huh?" He smiles. He groans. "Just tell me, Clef. I'm not playing any of your guessing games." "Well, the UIU is coming to investigate us! Check our place, that is." Gears puts his head in his hands. "Charlie? Come on, we have twelve or so hours. Or... sometime in the next twelve hours he'll be here." He shoots back up. "He?" He puts his hands on Clef's shoulders. "Alto, this is important. Is the agent who is coming over named Jeremiah Cimmerian." He starts sinking a little in Gears' slowly tightening grip. "I mean, yeah. What's the issue?" Gears begins sweating, wiping at his forehead with his sleeve. "Get Moose and Dee. We need to clean this place up." He relinquishes his grip on Clef, chuckling nervously and starting to move toward a broom carelessly left in the corner. "What's the issue, Gears?! Why is this guy such a big deal to you?" It takes the man a moment to pause his march toward the broom, as his head slowly turns to look back at Alto. "I used to work with Cimmerian. If this place isn't tip top shape, we're going to be shut down entirely or fined an enormous amount. Get cleaning." Clef salutes, running off into another room of their warehouse, and finding Tilda Moose and Dee Lass playing some sort of... card game. Moose is wearing their magician getup, and Dee is wrapped in their blanket. They look vaguely tangled in it. He figures he'll force them into helping. Eight hands are better than four. Moose places a card in front of themself, smiling at Dee. "So, you have to play your mana cards--" Clef claps twice to make his presence known, frowning a bit at them. "We gotta //go//." Dee looks at Clef, looking utterly confused. "What's the deal, bossman?" "The UIU is coming to inspect this place, and it's a mess!" He waves his hands as he speaks to accentuate his point. Dee mutters, "The UIU?" "We can explain later! Move!" Clef pulls Dee off the ground, putting them on their feet as he dashes back out to continue his work. Moose shrugs. "You go on and help them, I'll put it back. Wanna play later?" Dee nods vigorously, giving a thumbs up as well. They both grumble a bit at their game being interrupted, as Dee runs into the other room. As Dee and Clef lift a couch into a corner of the room, Gears vacuums. It takes Moose a minute to finish picking up their game, before they screech and run to begin dusting off the nigh-unused shelves of the warehouse. Just as they make the place look halfway presentable, a steady knock bangs on the door, echoing throughout the space. Gears inches slowly toward the door, grabbing the knob and twisting gently. Outside the door stands Jeremiah Cimmerian, senior Unusual Incidents Unit inspector. Cimmerian is flanked by two burly men, holding rifles in their hands. He puts on a pair of gloves, giving a fake smile to Gears as he enters the warehouse. Gears returns the favor with a fake smile that looks almost painful. "Hello, Charles. It's been a while." Cimmerian clears his throat a bit. "Jeremiah. Welcome to Site 19." Gears keeps his face-stretching smile, a little sweat forming because of the security detail. He hates smiling, it hurts him physically. "Doesn't look much like I'd expected. Should we get on with this, then?" His monotone voice doesn't change as he speaks. "Sounds perfect." He shudders as he walks in. Cimmerian clears his throat once more. "You do know that this inspection covers both your operation's success and worker safety, yes?" Gears clenches his teeth, killing his smile. "Success?" "Yes. You'll be graded on a scale of one to ten. This will determine if the UIU will partake in further contracts with you, and if we allow you to stay open." Cimmerian is led in front of a door labeled "Records and Information Security Administration", as he opens it. He finds one Maria Jones, sitting in front of a computer, tapping at the monitor in frustration. Several notification errors are on the screen. "What is this?" He lifts an eyebrow, looking at Maria. She doesn't seem to notice them. She's entrenched in her work. "Uhm, it's where Fritz has us categorize our cleanups." Gears gives another painful fake smile. Cimmerian looks at Gears for a moment longer. "Alright then. I'll have someone come in to inspect that. Records aren't my department. Let's go see your cleanups, then. The Unit knows your capture of that [[[scp-173\| particularly messy statue]]], so let's see how you're handling it." Gears looks to Clef, who nods and switches out with him on taking Jeremiah through the facility. "I'll be leading you through our various cleaned messes, if you will." He puts on a pseudo-country accent he believes make him sound more respectable. He walks with a pep in his step, taking the agent to a shipping container, which he opens a slight bit to reveal a statue made of concrete and exposed rebar. It's shitting itself. He quickly closes the container. "I think that's enough of a look at it for now, heh. Don't want to get your clothes messed up!" Clef quickly states, hearing the statue scrape across the ground as it slams on part of the container. "You should consider investing in a diaper," Cimmerian says, dryly. "Not in the budget. Anyways, what else are you looking for?" He gives a much more genuine -ooking smile. "I'm going to need a look at anything else you have contained," Cimmerian says, writing something down on a notepad. One of his bodyguards glares at Clef without saying anything. "Oh, I see. Hah," Clef awkwardly states. He stares at Cimmerian for a moment, before smiling much too wide and leading him to a closet. He knocks on it a few times, before nothing happens. "Is there anything in there, or are you just knocking on a closet?" Cimmerian asks, writing down something undoubtedly negative already. "Oh, there's something in here alright," Clef declares. "Then what is it?" Cimmerian says. "We don't know, Mister..." Clef speaks, really playing up his acting for this and making himself sound small, weak. Sympathy vote is always good! "Then how do you know something is in there?" Cimmerian sounds skeptical, looking to one of his bodyguards. He just shrugs in response to the look of his boss. "[[[scp-055\|It's not a sphere]]]," Clef states, simply. He's hoping to trick him and praying silently. "... What?" "We know it's not a sphere." "... I see? Well, I don't. Let me see it." Clef slowly opens the door of the closet, revealing it to be completely empty. He closes it after a moment. Then he grins, his face lighting up at the agent. "So, you see?" "I can certainly say that wasn't a sphere," he mutters, looking blankly at his bodyguards. "Exactly. Let me go speak to my cohorts for a moment." Clef dashes off to Gears, Moose, and Dee, leading them into the makeshift employee lounge that Fritz constructed for them. He makes them sit down, before he stands on the table. Gears sighs a bit, knowing what to expect. "We're going to lie to the UIU." Clef wipes off his jacket, raising his arms in triumph and an attempt to get the others excited. "Why? Like actually," Gears says. Clef is a good friend and all but lying to the feds, especially after everything that's been going on, is downright idiotic. "Well... uhm. We don't want to look like we're bad at our jobs in front of them," Clef asserts. "No, I understand. Dee, do you get it?" Moose asks. "Yeah," Dee states, dryly. "Why can't we just be honest and say we haven't gotten any other contracts? It's more effective than lying to them. It has way less risk potential to it as well," Gears says in a monotone voice. "Then we look incompetent, Charlie!" Clef responds. "Don't call me that." "Mr. Gears, I think you should trust Mr. Clef," Dee argues. "Fine! Fine! I'll go along with this, but I'm not going to lie to Cimmerian! He can sniff out a lie from a mile away! I'll just get him coffee or something on his way out." "Fine with me," Clef responds. "Sounds good," comes from Moose. "Yeah, alright," Dee says. Moose runs out of the employee lounge, tagging in for Clef as they smile wide. Cimmerian's face remains completely serious, blinking at them. "Can we continue?" Cimmerian asks, a slight frustration audible in his gravelly voice. "Yep. Sorry, Clef got sick," Moose responds. They lead him to Fritz's office, opening it and walking up to Fritz's hermit crab tank. "This is our hardest cleanup. //Crabs.//" They hold on the final syllable, drawing the "s" out into a sort of hiss. He looks to Moose, his face shifting from emotionlessness to pure confusion. "They look like normal crabs." "No! They are... [[[scp-098\|hyperintelligent, and they hunt in packs and cut up their meat.]]] They'll cause [[[dr-clef-s-proposal\|the apocalypse]]] by manifesting a giant flaming man!" Cimmerian nods slightly, tapping the glass. "Alright. Do you have anything else here?" "One more, our latest job," Moose says. "Let's go. I'd like to file this at the office and go home," Cimmerian responds. Moose claps twice, and Dee confusedly walks over. Dee composes themself, smiling at Cimmerian and hoping to go along with whatever Moose had in mind. "This is my lovely assistant, Dee." Moose dramatically introduces them, playing up their acting. "Hello, sir," Dee says, sheepishly, covering themself in their blanket. "Hello," Cimmerian mutters. "This latest cleanup of ours... Oh, you are not going to like it," Moose proclaims as they wipe their forehead, acting a bit nervous. They always were a thespian at heart, right next to their occult interests. Unfortunately, they'd have to really think about what to do. Dee trips in their blanket, squealing. The comfort of the blanket has forsaken them, leaving them unable to leave the soft knot. Moose lights up. "Oh my God! Dee is being eaten!" Cimmerian looks at Moose. "Eaten?" "Yes! That... [[[scp-799\|That blanket is eating them alive]]]!" Dee's scream strikes through the monotone voice of Cimmerian, who blinks twice, before snapping into action and shaking Dee out of the blanket. It is motionless. Dee stammers. "O-oh. I-it looks like I-- knocked it out! Yeah! If you escape from it, it passes out." Cimmerian stares at Dee for a moment, before writing something down. "I believe that's all I need. Thank you, Mx. Moose. Tell Mr. Clef that I appreciated his tour." Moose shakes, noticing a singular rat scurrying across the warehouse floor behind the view of Cimmerian and his henchmen. They anxiously fiddle with the light of a nearby lamp. "What are you doing?" Cimmerian stares blankly, awaiting a response. "Uhm-- I'm-- [[[scp-997\|removing rodents]]]." "... What?" He sighs. "You people are incomprehensible sometimes. I don't know what your anomalies are." They weakly smile. "Haha. Yeah, I'm-- This lamp removes all rodents in a two-hundred-foot radius." Cimmerian stares for a moment after they finish, before he speaks. "As I was saying, I think me and my detail here will depart..." Gears strides over toward Cimmerian, smiling, and holding a mug. "I happen to have a little parting gift for you." He looks at Gears. "Alright. What is it, then?" He begins to lead Cimmerian into the breakroom, where one of their easier cleanups, [[[scp-294\|a weird coffee machine]]] they took from some abandoned office building, sat. "You can order anything you want from this. If you can't decide, tell it to surprise you." Cimmerian rolls his eyes. "Of course. I see it now. You're all a bunch of charlatans. I would've believed you if you just stopped at the blanket." He rolls his eyes, typing 'surprise me' into the machine-- Hot coffee sprays out onto half of his face. Gears reaches out, as if he could help at all by just reaching his hand out. Cimmerian grips his face, screaming. "MY GOD! MY FACE!" For a moment, he uncovers half of his face to reveal a nasty burn scar before running out. His bodyguards follow him. Gears stares in horror, before turning to Clef. "Why didn't you show him the coffee machine before inventing anomalies?" "I forgot I didn't make that one up." ----- "Do you think it went well? Did you trick him?" Clef questions. "Could've gone better," Gears says. "Just open the letter, I think we did it," Moose asserts. They all crowd around a small envelope, sent from the J. Edgar Hoover Building, addressed to them. "Can't be that bad." Clef shrugs, taking out a small pocketknife and tearing the top off the letter. Nothing's inside. Someone coughs, as he enters, chuckling a bit. Fritz William, their administrator, walks in. "You're wrong about the contents of the letter." He holds up the inside of the letter, which he must've taken before they noticed. He places it on the table, for everyone to read. [[div class="blockquote" style="border-radius: 10px; margin: 10px"]] Hello to any and all who may be reading this, specifically the people of the Safe Cleanup Professionals Foundation, who I am intending this be sent to. My visit to your "Site 19", while informative our purposes, has been detrimental to my health, both physical and psychological. Due to this, I have been permitted by the FBI Unusual Incidents Unit to send you this bill. ---- [[=]] Your fine, for the damages accrued by Senior Special Agent Jeremiah Cimmerian, total to: ++++ $5,351 [[/=]] Thank you for your time, Jeremiah Cimmerian [[/div]] Fritz chuckles a bit, his laughter turning to silence as he puts his head into his hands. "We literally cannot afford this. I'm gonna have to cut your pay until we can pay this off. I hope we all learned a valuable lesson from this." Clef looks at Gears. "I think we need to learn how to lie better." [[footnoteblock]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=DoctorLilithSophia and YardBirdMe]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-07-28T03:55:00	[ "_licensebox", "co-authored", "comedy", "director-moose", "doctor-cimmerian", "doctor-clef", "doctor-gears", "slice-of-life", "tale", "the-administrator", "unusual-incidents-unit" ]	Welcome To Site 19! - SCP Foundation	32	[ "the-pilot", "biweekly", "scp-529", "scp-173", "scp-055", "scp-098", "dr-clef-s-proposal", "scp-799", "scp-997", "scp-294", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "black-highlighter-themes" ]	[]	1455960025	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/welcome-to-site-19
what-seamstress-lacks-steel	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><span style="font-size:90%;"><strong>« <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/migrating-the-minefield/">Previous Tale</a> \| <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/swords-unto-scramjets">Swords unto Scramjets</a> \| <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/flowers-grown-feral-skulls-sucked-clean">Next Tale</a> »</strong></span></p> </div> <blockquote> <p><strong>TAB F: Readiness Evaluation (Summary)</strong></p> <p>Ms. Eyles continues to display the same loyalty toward leadership (both in person and in office) noted during previous evaluations, but clearly struggles with changes that occurred in the decade since losing contact. Her maintenance of Coalition equipment was described as exemplary upon review by technicians who were deemed suitable despite differing areas of expertise. Whether activities undertaken during separation ran counter to current Coalition interests remains unclear.</p> <p>Other hurdles to reintegration remain in terms of psychology and broader socialization. Ms. Eyles' return to active service cannot be recommended at this time.</p> </blockquote> <hr/> <p>When Aster dreams, it is not of the kernel most tightly wrapped around her soul—marrow-girded, artery-laced—but instead the superior husk constructed around it. The rumbling of a bioreactor recently fed. The rhythm of shells rotating through their magazine. The numb of electronic countermeasures firing in full. Only within that extension of herself, that fullness of herself, can enough worries about the future be discarded to find contentment in the present. There is no worthy reflex without neurons mirrored by banks of shielded processors and solid-state memory, no worthy breaths or heartbeats beyond a parasympathetic system whose needs range from fluid pressure to power distribution. Waking outside that is to be diminished, dismembered, pried from a most comforting cradle.</p> <p>Every time Aster rose, it was within a shell of corrugated metal and faux-glass even more removed from proper armor than most. Basecamp Kane curled around one of the new gaps used to supply Tellechian armies and Pardusht saboteurs among whatever other pies the Coalition chose to finger. Graceless, galling, it baked in the sun and froze at night, offering little protection from lands nearly as inhospitable as Cherinmark in their own fashion. Canvas hangers shielded Caterwaulers under repair, depots thrummed with activity as munitions were repackaged, and barracks slowly filled with advisors green to this field.</p> <p>It was more than enough to make her miss Mealworm's company. Now there was a woman who appreciated the conflict's nuances if not its participants' every pathology. These officials and soldiers, seconded from earthside organizations as they were, had yet to even begin acclimating. Few had acclimated to her either—a creature whose skin was lined with ports, whose vibrant red mane brushed the floor. Was lankiness a surprise when her kernel was not the form fit for fighting? Was that gait unusual on legs ill-fitted to her brain's every instinct?</p> <p>"–decided to stay behind on her own for some ungodly reason."</p> <p>"Wouldn't be surprised if she went feral over the years."</p> <p>"And won't turn over codes for–"</p> <p>Such were snippets overheard in barracks, in the canteen, in trips to stare longingly at the last PACER allotted to her (technically an INGMasSENT-COUR, whose designation broke down into new layers of acronyms, but Mealworm's description was too charming to reject when Aster indeed posed this world's pacing threat). Oh, to slide open access panels within that hangar and connect even a single spinal jack. Staring up at her stilled self, flexing disconnected muscles, it was almost possible to feel servos activate as they should, to experience a oneness that burgeoned whenever implants saw use. But, no, all the sensations in the world weren't enough to set it moving.</p> <p>Without routine maintenance, there were few distractions save debriefing by a rotating cast of officials in ill-fitting suits. The land seemed to drain their vigor, even dead plains proving too otherworldly for those from Turtle Bay, saying nothing of elves who flitted into firing ranges or orks consulting escorted scientists. She first met those shades after a self-imposed exile that followed her retreat from Mt. Perfidy with near-empty holds. Whatever Mealworm had managed atop that peak before perishing, it had clearly been enough to wrench their respective powers back into play. Not that hers had more than platitudes to offer yet. 'You showed exemplary bravery by enduring this long,' intoned one supervisor or another. 'We could learn a thing or two about dedication from you,' 'I couldn't have made it one year, let alone ten.' Suffering through it was harder than any day in her silo. The urge to gush was as guilty a tell as any—each suit keenly aware of their relief that others made choices they wouldn't dare. It might soothe those pangs in part, but did nothing to reduce the distance now separating Aster from herself.</p> <p>Next came the angling, always done within debriefing rooms fitted with folding chairs and picnic tables, and increasingly by one sniveling welp crawled straight from graduate school. "You have to understand, ma'am, there wasn't a need to keep producing parts. The INGM… Ingmus… It isn't viable back home. They assembled most of the systems here, tested them here, and buried them here, so all the engineers were transferred to different projects years ago."</p> <p>"I don't need engineers, I need fuel. And I'm very much aware of the program's history after living through it."</p> <p>"The <em>machine</em> may need fuel, but we don't store that seed stock anymore. None of our records capture its makeup either, and modern reagents burn too hot for NIMUR-class reactors."</p> <p>"Yes, which I told your predecessor multiple times." Keeping up her smile hurt, but it was one of the few advantages available without rank. "The stock is mostly local, with only a few additions from Earth needed. Procuring more shouldn't be a problem."</p> <p>"Buying too many components would send the wrong signal, ma'am. You need to consider the big picture here." That gray suit hung worse than ever as he stood and pushed sweat-soaked hair back into place. Smoothing. Preening. Each circuit paced before a window only drew attention to the hanger looming in the middle distance—yet again, psychic flexes did nothing but needle sore nerves. She sipped tea instead, a taste of home no doubt intended to make her more agreeable, though that was far from the first feeling to well.</p> <p>"Please explain how sending me back in pieces fits the <em>big picture</em>. I must be too narrow-minded to understand these orders."</p> <p>"They aren't orders until you're reinstated," said the suit, scratching at a rash beneath his starched collar. "And there's no need to take it that way either. Lieutenant General Moore has zero plans that call for this kind of weapon. I mean, the size alone! What are you expecting to shoot?"</p> <p>"Whatever the 108 don't want intact, I suppose."</p> <p>"Mhh. Letting a mech wander aboveground will only convince our partners that we're holding back. The point of this operation isn't to conquer the continent for anyone!"</p> <p>"Alas. My mindedness falls short once again."</p> <p>"And jokes aren't helping your case, ma'am. Do you want to be reinstated or not?"</p> <p>"I want to show the Foundation what will happen if they overstep even a little." Aster tapped her finger hard against the tabletop. "I want to make them regret ever challenging us here." Another tap, sharp as chalk cracking against the board she needed for this bureaucrat's education. "I <em>especially</em> want to trample thousands of them into the dirt until their paste stains it red forever."</p> <p>Something in the distance groaned as Aster kept tapping, a pattern that drove her interviewer to chew his cheek. If only he knew the intent firing off through empty ports. Perhaps he could sense something of it with how the pruning resumed though, a reflex toward respectability that displayed his adherence to 'good practice' and 'proper procedures.'</p> <p>"It can't be easy finding yourself a decade out of date, but it isn't like that with the Foundation anymore. In the real world, we've found–"</p> <p>"This world is plenty real. Or do you happen to believe we spent years fighting over a dream? I wonder how General DuPree would react."</p> <p>"She's retired now. We have a new approach by new leaders after the last rotation. To stay on their good side, I highly recommend that you get with the program, be more forthcoming about your activities, and come home without fighting over what happens to an outdated weapon."</p> <p>Another two taps became three, five, nine. So few options were available for expressing displeasure when split off; so few vents to flare, weapons to test, ways to crush and crumple without gauntlets. This wasn't the return she wanted nor a war she needed. Where were the forward advisors fighting alongside locals? And where were the soldiers barely hidden under other banners? They had retreated, <em>regressed</em>, to the earliest days of far-side strife, absent any expertise honed over past decades—a state apparently sought by this pup wearing his father's shoes.</p> <p>Aster's next tap vanished beneath sheering metal that echoed around camp as her PACER rose straight through girders and canvas and whatever other locks they thought sufficient. Her flex was its flex. Their mirrored disdain congealed into one. A genuine smile broke at last, and she reached down to pluck herself free from nuisances of every sort, sparing not even a thought for the fleeing suit.</p> <hr/> <p>Narrow window wells. Dripping pipes and clogged drains. Dampness rivaling Cherinmark's own, cultivated for the mushrooms grown in the sub-sub-basement temporarily playing prison to a man whose wrists are cuffed to a sturdy chair. Bulbous grunnans, spindly queencrown, and porous soapstones all thrive there, as do lattices trailing from a dancer's veil that strokes the ceiling. Drowning in alcohol had never led to a less hospitable place.</p> <p>"Hit him again," said the scrawnier of two plainclothes KSER officers whose faces were obscured behind membranes. "Avoid the head for now." Knuckles thudded into a liver already abused, and its internal shriek drove another that proved impossible to restrain.</p> <p>"Your family is concerned about you, Galowyn." No surprise.</p> <p>"Your family can't fathom why you strayed, Galowyn." Small wonder.</p> <p>"Your liege has questions too, Galowyn. He is most curious about your associates, most curious indeed. Birds of an interesting feather flocked ever since you fled for untamed lands. Tell us about this Mealworm." What could they possibly want to hear? Surely not appraisals of her martial skill, nor his fascination with how shamelessly she took the coward's path; potentially her blade's grave or the intoxicant that summoned ancestral might into mortal shells, though he knew little of either. Such was torture's foolishness though. It only ever served as self-satisfaction for those too powerful to accept their own ignorance.</p> <p>"Hit him again."</p> <p>"Hold, hold," he said, panting before the fist struck true—more than orkish ancestors, that bruiser surely had ogre in their line. Self-satisfaction <em>hurt</em>. "What do you wish to know about her?"</p> <p>"Ah, a woman. Who arms her, Galowyn? What other mercenaries do they fund, and which itinerants do they supply?"</p> <p>Another inadvertent wince. Showing weakness, yes, but memories of pain dug deep even after suffering through years of training and experiencing plenty more within Cherinmark's churn. "She had a map of caches. Lost with her on the mount."</p> <p>"Misdirection. Hit him again." This time, nothing staved off a blow straight to his diaphragm that drove gags and gasps in equal measure. "Did dwarves reforge her peerless blade, Galowyn? Do these machinations disguise a dynasty rising from its knees, or does a foreign tune drive this dance?"</p> <p>"What dance? We fought alongside dwarves as much as with–"</p> <p>"For what reason do her fellows harry your <em>motherland</em>, Galowyn? To what end do they snip and snarl at every court instead of claiming a crown for their master? Hit him again."</p> <p>"Delusion," he gasped back, cracked ribs burning with each flex. "Her interest lay with otherworldly kingdoms before aught else. It was not our courts that held concern, and moreover, cannot newly grasp it when she lies dead!"</p> <p>"And after making such a loyal hound of you," sneered the wiry KSER agent who had yet to dirty his hands. Leaning forward revealed his tiny mustache and watery eyes. Such features barely registered as Galowyn lunged, bite driven by the curse that yet bound him to distant family. The flesh, the blood, such was that specter's cherished feast, and being torn away added plenty of skin as garnish.</p> <p>"Bah, less than a hound. Another beast led blind!" snarled the bleeding man as his own attack dog pummeled Galowyn. Gentler than father's beatings though, gentler than chastisement over squirely failings. Far gentler than retreating from Mt. Perfidy while knowing full well how many perished there. He was hurled chair and all to the far corner of that spore-filled cell before his captors retreated—a new resting place, cushioned by fungi beneath slivers of moonlight that crept through dirty windows.</p> <p>"Expect no prayers from me." Galowyn spat a tooth sharper than most into the planter, tasting his own blood intermingled with whatever foulness swirled within his so-called motherland's shadow court. Mealworm would have mustered properly if she survived, leaving letters at dead drops or sending whispers ever farther. Those sworn against <em>right and proper</em> civilization were bound thus. Some wastrel must have stolen her name, her identity, to cloak their own purposes. Although she often proved immune to affronts worth dueling over, what role had a knight save bristling for another's sake?</p> <p>Bristle he did, shaggy blonde fur sprouting as moonlight filled reservoirs deeper than those found in Cherinmark. Out grew fangs sharper than any elven whipblade. Out sprang claws ready to tear through mastercraft armor. The litter's runt he might be, having escaped before family secrets could be imparted in full, but there was much to do before any pack's reclaiming.</p> <hr/> <p>Candlelight and candlewax. These are fixtures of any wizard's study, whether accompanying tomes filled with dangerous secrets or scrying pools tuned for matters better kept private. Such was the study of Gregor the Sonorous too, perched high atop a fluted tower which should never have been stolen from him. Only blood was out of place there, having been spilt by MIDAR agents whose bodies now smoldered on the carpet. Ash crumbled from bone as he lit a new cigar with sparks from gilded teeth.</p> <p>"Weak, too weak by half." He blew smoke at the last surviving agent, whose burns guaranteed death even if their ruler passed down a droplet or two of ichor to every loyal killer. "Her Immortal Majesty has become fickle of late, wouldn't you say? A plan or two going awry is hardly unusual once armies take the field. Much as you sorry lot learned today."</p> <p>Gurgles came through a jaw fused shut beneath oozing skin. Gregor had inflicted worse, but rarely on fellow countrymen. There were more efficient tools for that.</p> <p>"Mayhap the Foundation started whispering in her ear again, eh? Started stroking that mewling ego and filling drained coffers. I should have predicted the wheel would spin, but, ah, she's a convincing one when she wants to be."</p> <p>The maimed agent reached for a pistol—melted as thoroughly as her other fixtures, though perhaps a more cherished idol. Gregor puffed away as it raised in his direction. As the trigger impotently clicked. With another clack of his teeth, wisps of smoke gathered from scattered embers, twisting her neck until its crack brought relief for wizard and assassin both. Once again, he was left with the smell of cigar, corpse, and study, all alight in different fashions.</p> <p>Running a hand through his yellowed beard, lingering on knotted locks, Gregor strode to the broken window that would soon welcome sunrise. Wafts of smoke escorted those new spirits off into whatever afterlife awaited them all. Her Majesty had underestimated him this time. Or was it no more than a feint to spur action elsewhere? Games upon games, ploys upon ploys, spells upon spells, there was no telling exactly when their endgame began. Perhaps it was that decision to betray little Mealworm—a pointless one, it seemed, with what the key bought and how court politics tilted since. The agitator had been too bit a player regardless of their other bonds though.</p> <p>It was this new power briefed to the war council who offered promise, especially if avenues were indeed closing fast, if Allaingar was lost to him despite every maneuver. The only question was how to best present himself before that throne.</p> <hr/> <p>There rises a citadel in wildest Cherinmark.</p> <p>Giants pass stones from the league-deep quarries that the last of their kind slumber within, roused by a land still marked by matching footsteps. Up, spindly arms lifting weight despite emaciation most thorough. Up, gnarled hands clutching slabs and pillars fit only for fortresses. Up, so that blisters may soak in the drizzle that once graced them in full. Kin who still bear ancient blood build according to schematics expressed therein, and the forest retreating from foundations proves acceptance aplenty.</p> <p>There stalks new danger in its every shadow.</p> <p>Two goblins to a warg whose fur requires no harness. Two goblins to an anti-materiel rifle, wrapped in rags despite its matte-black coating. When they dismount, it is onto one crag of many, overlooking one valley of many, shrouded in knots of pulsating overgrowth that shield from drones whirring overhead. No sensor suites can stop them from firing on the convoy pushing through a clear—and as such, ill-advised—route toward Fort Hadrin. One bullet through the foremost truck's engine block. Another few peppering windshields. Ejected casings smoke in foliage as those small creatures wrap their rifle and mount their warg, spirited off into warrens before loitering munitions can strike true.</p> <p>Even without intruding upon deepest Cherinmark, its tendrils squirm outwards, worming through buried silos and weapons caches that few remember. Their forms are many too: bands that rove from mountain dens, shades who flit through shadows… and of course, folk thinking themselves inheritors of that unclaimable land. Not explorers and adventurers who see alien hills full of treasure, but cast-offs already settled into their embrace.</p> <p>These are the days of collaborators and conspirators watching burned banners be stitched anew.<br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><span style="font-size:90%;"><strong>« <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/migrating-the-minefield/">Previous Tale</a> \| <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/swords-unto-scramjets">Swords unto Scramjets</a> \| <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/flowers-grown-feral-skulls-sucked-clean">Next Tale</a> »</strong></span></p> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/what-seamstress-lacks-steel">What Seamstress Lacks Steel?</a>" by Pedantique, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/what-seamstress-lacks-steel">https://scpwiki.com/what-seamstress-lacks-steel</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[=]] [[span style="font-size:90%;"]]<< [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/migrating-the-minefield/ Previous Tale] \| [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/swords-unto-scramjets Swords unto Scramjets] \| [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/flowers-grown-feral-skulls-sucked-clean Next Tale] >>[[/span]] [[/=]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] > TAB F: Readiness Evaluation (Summary) > > Ms. Eyles continues to display the same loyalty toward leadership (both in person and in office) noted during previous evaluations, but clearly struggles with changes that occurred in the decade since losing contact. Her maintenance of Coalition equipment was described as exemplary upon review by technicians who were deemed suitable despite differing areas of expertise. Whether activities undertaken during separation ran counter to current Coalition interests remains unclear. > > Other hurdles to reintegration remain in terms of psychology and broader socialization. Ms. Eyles' return to active service cannot be recommended at this time. ----- When Aster dreams, it is not of the kernel most tightly wrapped around her soul—marrow-girded, artery-laced—but instead the superior husk constructed around it. The rumbling of a bioreactor recently fed. The rhythm of shells rotating through their magazine. The numb of electronic countermeasures firing in full. Only within that extension of herself, that fullness of herself, can enough worries about the future be discarded to find contentment in the present. There is no worthy reflex without neurons mirrored by banks of shielded processors and solid-state memory, no worthy breaths or heartbeats beyond a parasympathetic system whose needs range from fluid pressure to power distribution. Waking outside that is to be diminished, dismembered, pried from a most comforting cradle. Every time Aster rose, it was within a shell of corrugated metal and faux-glass even more removed from proper armor than most. Basecamp Kane curled around one of the new gaps used to supply Tellechian armies and Pardusht saboteurs among whatever other pies the Coalition chose to finger. Graceless, galling, it baked in the sun and froze at night, offering little protection from lands nearly as inhospitable as Cherinmark in their own fashion. Canvas hangers shielded Caterwaulers under repair, depots thrummed with activity as munitions were repackaged, and barracks slowly filled with advisors green to this field. It was more than enough to make her miss Mealworm's company. Now there was a woman who appreciated the conflict's nuances if not its participants' every pathology. These officials and soldiers, seconded from earthside organizations as they were, had yet to even begin acclimating. Few had acclimated to her either—a creature whose skin was lined with ports, whose vibrant red mane brushed the floor. Was lankiness a surprise when her kernel was not the form fit for fighting? Was that gait unusual on legs ill-fitted to her brain's every instinct? "–decided to stay behind on her own for some ungodly reason." "Wouldn't be surprised if she went feral over the years." "And won't turn over codes for–" Such were snippets overheard in barracks, in the canteen, in trips to stare longingly at the last PACER allotted to her (technically an INGMasSENT-COUR, whose designation broke down into new layers of acronyms, but Mealworm's description was too charming to reject when Aster indeed posed this world's pacing threat). Oh, to slide open access panels within that hangar and connect even a single spinal jack. Staring up at her stilled self, flexing disconnected muscles, it was almost possible to feel servos activate as they should, to experience a oneness that burgeoned whenever implants saw use. But, no, all the sensations in the world weren't enough to set it moving. Without routine maintenance, there were few distractions save debriefing by a rotating cast of officials in ill-fitting suits. The land seemed to drain their vigor, even dead plains proving too otherworldly for those from Turtle Bay, saying nothing of elves who flitted into firing ranges or orks consulting escorted scientists. She first met those shades after a self-imposed exile that followed her retreat from Mt. Perfidy with near-empty holds. Whatever Mealworm had managed atop that peak before perishing, it had clearly been enough to wrench their respective powers back into play. Not that hers had more than platitudes to offer yet. 'You showed exemplary bravery by enduring this long,' intoned one supervisor or another. 'We could learn a thing or two about dedication from you,' 'I couldn't have made it one year, let alone ten.' Suffering through it was harder than any day in her silo. The urge to gush was as guilty a tell as any—each suit keenly aware of their relief that others made choices they wouldn't dare. It might soothe those pangs in part, but did nothing to reduce the distance now separating Aster from herself. Next came the angling, always done within debriefing rooms fitted with folding chairs and picnic tables, and increasingly by one sniveling welp crawled straight from graduate school. "You have to understand, ma'am, there wasn't a need to keep producing parts. The INGM... Ingmus... It isn't viable back home. They assembled most of the systems here, tested them here, and buried them here, so all the engineers were transferred to different projects years ago." "I don't need engineers, I need fuel. And I'm very much aware of the program's history after living through it." "The //machine// may need fuel, but we don't store that seed stock anymore. None of our records capture its makeup either, and modern reagents burn too hot for NIMUR-class reactors." "Yes, which I told your predecessor multiple times." Keeping up her smile hurt, but it was one of the few advantages available without rank. "The stock is mostly local, with only a few additions from Earth needed. Procuring more shouldn't be a problem." "Buying too many components would send the wrong signal, ma'am. You need to consider the big picture here." That gray suit hung worse than ever as he stood and pushed sweat-soaked hair back into place. Smoothing. Preening. Each circuit paced before a window only drew attention to the hanger looming in the middle distance—yet again, psychic flexes did nothing but needle sore nerves. She sipped tea instead, a taste of home no doubt intended to make her more agreeable, though that was far from the first feeling to well. "Please explain how sending me back in pieces fits the //big picture//. I must be too narrow-minded to understand these orders." "They aren't orders until you're reinstated," said the suit, scratching at a rash beneath his starched collar. "And there's no need to take it that way either. Lieutenant General Moore has zero plans that call for this kind of weapon. I mean, the size alone! What are you expecting to shoot?" "Whatever the 108 don't want intact, I suppose." "Mhh. Letting a mech wander aboveground will only convince our partners that we're holding back. The point of this operation isn't to conquer the continent for anyone!" "Alas. My mindedness falls short once again." "And jokes aren't helping your case, ma'am. Do you want to be reinstated or not?" "I want to show the Foundation what will happen if they overstep even a little." Aster tapped her finger hard against the tabletop. "I want to make them regret ever challenging us here." Another tap, sharp as chalk cracking against the board she needed for this bureaucrat's education. "I //especially// want to trample thousands of them into the dirt until their paste stains it red forever." Something in the distance groaned as Aster kept tapping, a pattern that drove her interviewer to chew his cheek. If only he knew the intent firing off through empty ports. Perhaps he could sense something of it with how the pruning resumed though, a reflex toward respectability that displayed his adherence to 'good practice' and 'proper procedures.' "It can't be easy finding yourself a decade out of date, but it isn't like that with the Foundation anymore. In the real world, we've found–" "This world is plenty real. Or do you happen to believe we spent years fighting over a dream? I wonder how General DuPree would react." "She's retired now. We have a new approach by new leaders after the last rotation. To stay on their good side, I highly recommend that you get with the program, be more forthcoming about your activities, and come home without fighting over what happens to an outdated weapon." Another two taps became three, five, nine. So few options were available for expressing displeasure when split off; so few vents to flare, weapons to test, ways to crush and crumple without gauntlets. This wasn't the return she wanted nor a war she needed. Where were the forward advisors fighting alongside locals? And where were the soldiers barely hidden under other banners? They had retreated, //regressed//, to the earliest days of far-side strife, absent any expertise honed over past decades—a state apparently sought by this pup wearing his father's shoes. Aster's next tap vanished beneath sheering metal that echoed around camp as her PACER rose straight through girders and canvas and whatever other locks they thought sufficient. Her flex was its flex. Their mirrored disdain congealed into one. A genuine smile broke at last, and she reached down to pluck herself free from nuisances of every sort, sparing not even a thought for the fleeing suit. ----- Narrow window wells. Dripping pipes and clogged drains. Dampness rivaling Cherinmark's own, cultivated for the mushrooms grown in the sub-sub-basement temporarily playing prison to a man whose wrists are cuffed to a sturdy chair. Bulbous grunnans, spindly queencrown, and porous soapstones all thrive there, as do lattices trailing from a dancer's veil that strokes the ceiling. Drowning in alcohol had never led to a less hospitable place. "Hit him again," said the scrawnier of two plainclothes KSER officers whose faces were obscured behind membranes. "Avoid the head for now." Knuckles thudded into a liver already abused, and its internal shriek drove another that proved impossible to restrain. "Your family is concerned about you, Galowyn." No surprise. "Your family can't fathom why you strayed, Galowyn." Small wonder. "Your liege has questions too, Galowyn. He is most curious about your associates, most curious indeed. Birds of an interesting feather flocked ever since you fled for untamed lands. Tell us about this Mealworm." What could they possibly want to hear? Surely not appraisals of her martial skill, nor his fascination with how shamelessly she took the coward's path; potentially her blade's grave or the intoxicant that summoned ancestral might into mortal shells, though he knew little of either. Such was torture's foolishness though. It only ever served as self-satisfaction for those too powerful to accept their own ignorance. "Hit him again." "Hold, hold," he said, panting before the fist struck true—more than orkish ancestors, that bruiser surely had ogre in their line. Self-satisfaction //hurt//. "What do you wish to know about her?" "Ah, a woman. Who arms her, Galowyn? What other mercenaries do they fund, and which itinerants do they supply?" Another inadvertent wince. Showing weakness, yes, but memories of pain dug deep even after suffering through years of training and experiencing plenty more within Cherinmark's churn. "She had a map of caches. Lost with her on the mount." "Misdirection. Hit him again." This time, nothing staved off a blow straight to his diaphragm that drove gags and gasps in equal measure. "Did dwarves reforge her peerless blade, Galowyn? Do these machinations disguise a dynasty rising from its knees, or does a foreign tune drive this dance?" "What dance? We fought alongside dwarves as much as with–" "For what reason do her fellows harry your //motherland//, Galowyn? To what end do they snip and snarl at every court instead of claiming a crown for their master? Hit him again." "Delusion," he gasped back, cracked ribs burning with each flex. "Her interest lay with otherworldly kingdoms before aught else. It was not our courts that held concern, and moreover, cannot newly grasp it when she lies dead!" "And after making such a loyal hound of you," sneered the wiry KSER agent who had yet to dirty his hands. Leaning forward revealed his tiny mustache and watery eyes. Such features barely registered as Galowyn lunged, bite driven by the curse that yet bound him to distant family. The flesh, the blood, such was that specter's cherished feast, and being torn away added plenty of skin as garnish. "Bah, less than a hound. Another beast led blind!" snarled the bleeding man as his own attack dog pummeled Galowyn. Gentler than father's beatings though, gentler than chastisement over squirely failings. Far gentler than retreating from Mt. Perfidy while knowing full well how many perished there. He was hurled chair and all to the far corner of that spore-filled cell before his captors retreated—a new resting place, cushioned by fungi beneath slivers of moonlight that crept through dirty windows. "Expect no prayers from me." Galowyn spat a tooth sharper than most into the planter, tasting his own blood intermingled with whatever foulness swirled within his so-called motherland's shadow court. Mealworm would have mustered properly if she survived, leaving letters at dead drops or sending whispers ever farther. Those sworn against //right and proper// civilization were bound thus. Some wastrel must have stolen her name, her identity, to cloak their own purposes. Although she often proved immune to affronts worth dueling over, what role had a knight save bristling for another's sake? Bristle he did, shaggy blonde fur sprouting as moonlight filled reservoirs deeper than those found in Cherinmark. Out grew fangs sharper than any elven whipblade. Out sprang claws ready to tear through mastercraft armor. The litter's runt he might be, having escaped before family secrets could be imparted in full, but there was much to do before any pack's reclaiming. ----- Candlelight and candlewax. These are fixtures of any wizard's study, whether accompanying tomes filled with dangerous secrets or scrying pools tuned for matters better kept private. Such was the study of Gregor the Sonorous too, perched high atop a fluted tower which should never have been stolen from him. Only blood was out of place there, having been spilt by MIDAR agents whose bodies now smoldered on the carpet. Ash crumbled from bone as he lit a new cigar with sparks from gilded teeth. "Weak, too weak by half." He blew smoke at the last surviving agent, whose burns guaranteed death even if their ruler passed down a droplet or two of ichor to every loyal killer. "Her Immortal Majesty has become fickle of late, wouldn't you say? A plan or two going awry is hardly unusual once armies take the field. Much as you sorry lot learned today." Gurgles came through a jaw fused shut beneath oozing skin. Gregor had inflicted worse, but rarely on fellow countrymen. There were more efficient tools for that. "Mayhap the Foundation started whispering in her ear again, eh? Started stroking that mewling ego and filling drained coffers. I should have predicted the wheel would spin, but, ah, she's a convincing one when she wants to be." The maimed agent reached for a pistol—melted as thoroughly as her other fixtures, though perhaps a more cherished idol. Gregor puffed away as it raised in his direction. As the trigger impotently clicked. With another clack of his teeth, wisps of smoke gathered from scattered embers, twisting her neck until its crack brought relief for wizard and assassin both. Once again, he was left with the smell of cigar, corpse, and study, all alight in different fashions. Running a hand through his yellowed beard, lingering on knotted locks, Gregor strode to the broken window that would soon welcome sunrise. Wafts of smoke escorted those new spirits off into whatever afterlife awaited them all. Her Majesty had underestimated him this time. Or was it no more than a feint to spur action elsewhere? Games upon games, ploys upon ploys, spells upon spells, there was no telling exactly when their endgame began. Perhaps it was that decision to betray little Mealworm—a pointless one, it seemed, with what the key bought and how court politics tilted since. The agitator had been too bit a player regardless of their other bonds though. It was this new power briefed to the war council who offered promise, especially if avenues were indeed closing fast, if Allaingar was lost to him despite every maneuver. The only question was how to best present himself before that throne. ----- There rises a citadel in wildest Cherinmark. Giants pass stones from the league-deep quarries that the last of their kind slumber within, roused by a land still marked by matching footsteps. Up, spindly arms lifting weight despite emaciation most thorough. Up, gnarled hands clutching slabs and pillars fit only for fortresses. Up, so that blisters may soak in the drizzle that once graced them in full. Kin who still bear ancient blood build according to schematics expressed therein, and the forest retreating from foundations proves acceptance aplenty. There stalks new danger in its every shadow. Two goblins to a warg whose fur requires no harness. Two goblins to an anti-materiel rifle, wrapped in rags despite its matte-black coating. When they dismount, it is onto one crag of many, overlooking one valley of many, shrouded in knots of pulsating overgrowth that shield from drones whirring overhead. No sensor suites can stop them from firing on the convoy pushing through a clear—and as such, ill-advised—route toward Fort Hadrin. One bullet through the foremost truck's engine block. Another few peppering windshields. Ejected casings smoke in foliage as those small creatures wrap their rifle and mount their warg, spirited off into warrens before loitering munitions can strike true. Even without intruding upon deepest Cherinmark, its tendrils squirm outwards, worming through buried silos and weapons caches that few remember. Their forms are many too: bands that rove from mountain dens, shades who flit through shadows… and of course, folk thinking themselves inheritors of that unclaimable land. Not explorers and adventurers who see alien hills full of treasure, but cast-offs already settled into their embrace. These are the days of collaborators and conspirators watching burned banners be stitched anew. [[=]] [[span style="font-size:90%;"]]<< [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/migrating-the-minefield/ Previous Tale] \| [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/swords-unto-scramjets Swords unto Scramjets] \| [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/flowers-grown-feral-skulls-sucked-clean Next Tale] >>[[/span]] [[/=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-07-20T03:55:00	[ "_licensebox", "tale" ]	What Seamstress Lacks Steel? - SCP Foundation	10	[ "migrating-the-minefield/", "swords-unto-scramjets", "flowers-grown-feral-skulls-sucked-clean", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[]	[]	1455926892	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/what-seamstress-lacks-steel
what-you-see-is-what-you-get	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=4&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/component%3Abhl-dark-sidebar/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>What You See is What You Get</strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><strong>Author:</strong> Doctor Scrappy</p> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>”Name?”</p> <p>”Samuel Baxter.”</p> <p>”Age?”</p> <p>”56.”</p> <p>”Where were you born?”</p> <p>”Berlin, Germany.”</p> <p>Adam Krug eyed the unsuspecting figure sitting opposite on the table: tall, dark-skinned, bald and a beard that had been dyed brown. There was nothing inherently abnormal about this man. At least on the surface.</p> <p>”When we found you—”</p> <p>”When <em>I</em> found <em>you</em>.”</p> <p>”—you identified one of our operatives. No greeting, no lead-up, no nothing. Just an unassuming man walking through the city. All of a sudden, you tell her that at 11:05 a.m. that a previously unknown trait of SCP-2381 would be discovered by members of her team. You left, but not before you provided her your adress.”</p> <p>Samuel Baxter grinned. ”Thought me as some rival agent, eh?”</p> <p>”My question is: How would you—”</p> <p>”… ’know all of this’, yeah, yeah.” The figure rose in his seat, the cuffs clinking against the plastic chair. ”Wouldn’t you like to know?”</p> <p>”I very much would, Mr. Baxter.”</p> <p>”Oh, not using that fancy designation of ’AO-9459’ yet, I see. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised, given that the designation will only be conceived of in the next five minutes.”</p> <p>”Are you insinuating that you possess clairvoyant abilities?”</p> <p>He leaned back in his small plastic chair. ”Sure.”</p> <p>Krug let out a sigh. ”Mr. Baxter, your cooperation would be of great benefit not only for us, but yourself also.”</p> <p>”Whatever you say, kid. Just letting you know that I’m sorry for your right leg there. You hate to see it.”</p> <p>Krug paused. ”If you’d like to elabo—”</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p>Everything was plunged into a scarlet red, klaxons going off full throttle in his ears. He looked to where a wall once was, debris now strewn across the floor.</p> <p>And a little to the left, there laid his interrogator. Unconscious, his arms were spread out like the wings of an eagle, blood trickling down Dr. Krug’s nose. His right leg was buried under concrete blocks and rebar that poked out of it.</p> <p>Samuel Baxter vomited out a hairpin. Nothing else than stomach acid landed on the floor, as he hadn’t eaten anything the day prior, and the food the staff had given to him, which he knew was spiked with mild tranquilizers. What came next was a bit difficult, but nothing he knew himself to train for. In under thirty seconds, the handcuffs fell to the floor next to his stomach’s contents.</p> <p>He rubbed his wrists, waited a moment for a few unobservant security guards to rush by, and stepped through the hole in the wall.</p> <p>Samuel Baxter strudded through the hallways of the facility. Gunfire and the roars of a large beast echoed through the corridors. If he hadn’t known any better, he would’ve found the aesthetic — the debris and bloodied-up corpses — to be quite a chilling sight.</p> <p>Just as it neared the gunfire and roars, that same gunfire was abruptly silenced. Only the heaving footsteps of the great creature traveled down the corridors, directly into his ears. He knew what the creature looked like, but seeing it with his own eyes still caused him to stammer in his breath.</p> <p>The great beast turned to look at him, each step of its four limbs causing some dust to crumble from the ceiling. Its scaly hide seemed to go on without end, its yellow eyes appearing to glow in the dim scarlet lights.</p> <p>The arm of a guard poked out from between its razor-sharp teeth, its jaws clamped tightly together. Upon seeing the man standing so foolishly before him, it let the severed arm fall to the floor, and stared at the man.</p> <p>”You must be the lizard,” Samuel spoke in amazement. There was no reaction from the beast.</p> <p>”In all my years,” he continued, ”I wondered what all of this meant. These… concrete walls, the alarm sirens… <em>you</em>…”</p> <p>The reptile approached the figure, so fearless in its every word. Like a predator observing its prey, it kept its eyes trained on the man.</p> <p>”I could see everything. There were no surprises. But I could never see past this moment,” he gestured at the reptile. ”I could never see past <em>you</em>.”</p> <p>That was enough for the reptile. The creature lunged forward at inhuman speeds. Much to its surprise, when it landed again, there was no blood laid out before it, no flesh for its claws to dig into. It looked back behind it and saw the man, unharmed, having evaded its assault.</p> <p>”For you see, there was nothing quite like you in my life. I never had any obstacles, nor did I ever—”</p> <p>The reptile lunged forward again. This time, though, it crashed against a meter-thick steel door. It threw the door right off of its hinges. It took some time to recover.</p> <p>”—encounter a beast such as you in my life before. So I came here to ask a question…”</p> <p>The reptile rose back up again, staring at the man with a glimmer of pure rage in its eyes.</p> <p>”Do you’ve got answers for me, or do you not?”</p> <p>The creature stood still, almost motionless. It stared intently at the man. Samuel Baxter simply stood there, crossing his arms, and smiled. In the next few mimutes, a squad of Foundation operatives would show up soon. He saw them running down the staircase four minutes before they arrived via helicopter at the facility.</p> <p>Armed with their rifles and rockets, these soldiers would—</p> <p>He didn’t know. He didn’t know what would happen next. He couldn’t see it. He couldn’t see <em>it</em>. Samuel stared back at the reptile, horrified. It had forcefully ripped itself out — utterly unseeable to Samuel Baxter.</p> <p>It lunged at the man. Only this time, he couldn’t see the creature’s next move. Only this time, the blood did spill out in front of it on the floor. Its claws dug deep into the man’s flesh, tearing its skin, muscles and bones into shreds.</p> <p>Samuel Baxter let out one final blood-curdling scream, before it gazed into the lizard’s eyes, and died.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <blockquote> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>INCIDENT 682/AO-9459</strong></p> </div> <hr/> <p><strong>DATE:</strong> 06/30/2016</p> <p><strong>LOCATION:</strong> Site-67</p> <p><strong>INVOLVED:</strong> SCP-682; AO-9459 (”Samuel Baxter”)</p> <hr/> <p>On the aformentioned date, SCP-682 breached containment.</p> <p>During the breach, security footage captured AO-9459 escaping captivity during its initial interview and advancing toward the former entity’s location.</p> <p>In the encounter, AO-9459 engages in communication with SCP-682, whereupon the entity becomes hostile.</p> <p>Footage shows AO-9459 evading SCP-682’s attacks in the first two minutes, until AO-9459 becomes visibly distressed, and is subsequently terminated by SCP-682.</p> <p>The exact nature of this encounter is uncertain at the moment, although a proposal has been drafted <em>(see below)</em></p> <hr/> <p><strong>COMMENT:</strong> From the limited data I could gather of AO-9459, the recovered security footage, as well as the testimony of Agent ███████, it appeared to possess precognitive abilities. It may stand to reason that SCP-682 was able to adapt to its precognition, whereupon AO-9459 was no longer able to ”see” SCP-682. What this exactly implies, and what temporal effects this may have, is unclear at this time. - <em>Dr. Adam Krug</em></p> <hr/></blockquote> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p>*</p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/what-you-see-is-what-you-get">What You See is What You Get</a>" by Doctor Scrappy , from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/what-you-see-is-what-you-get">https://scpwiki.com/what-you-see-is-what-you-get</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:bhl-dark-sidebar">:scp-wiki:component:bhl-dark-sidebar</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:toggle-sidebar-bhl">:scp-wiki:component:toggle-sidebar-bhl</a>]] [[module CSS]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:fade-in">:scp-wiki:component:fade-in</a> speed=1.5]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] [[=]] What You See is What You Get [[/=]] @@ @@ Author: Doctor Scrappy [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:end">:scp-wiki:info:end</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:ratio-bar">:scp-wiki:component:ratio-bar</a> base=--]] @@ @@ ”Name?” ”Samuel Baxter.” ”Age?” ”56.” ”Where were you born?” ”Berlin, Germany.” Adam Krug eyed the unsuspecting figure sitting opposite on the table: tall, dark-skinned, bald and a beard that had been dyed brown. There was nothing inherently abnormal about this man. At least on the surface. ”When we found you--” ”When //I// found //you//.” ”--you identified one of our operatives. No greeting, no lead-up, no nothing. Just an unassuming man walking through the city. All of a sudden, you tell her that at 11:05 a.m. that a previously unknown trait of SCP-2381 would be discovered by members of her team. You left, but not before you provided her your adress.” Samuel Baxter grinned. ”Thought me as some rival agent, eh?” ”My question is: How would you--” ”... ’know all of this’, yeah, yeah.” The figure rose in his seat, the cuffs clinking against the plastic chair. ”Wouldn’t you like to know?” ”I very much would, Mr. Baxter.” ”Oh, not using that fancy designation of ’AO-9459’ yet, I see. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised, given that the designation will only be conceived of in the next five minutes.” ”Are you insinuating that you possess clairvoyant abilities?” He leaned back in his small plastic chair. ”Sure.” Krug let out a sigh. ”Mr. Baxter, your cooperation would be of great benefit not only for us, but yourself also.” ”Whatever you say, kid. Just letting you know that I’m sorry for your right leg there. You hate to see it.” Krug paused. ”If you’d like to elabo--” @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ Everything was plunged into a scarlet red, klaxons going off full throttle in his ears. He looked to where a wall once was, debris now strewn across the floor. And a little to the left, there laid his interrogator. Unconscious, his arms were spread out like the wings of an eagle, blood trickling down Dr. Krug’s nose. His right leg was buried under concrete blocks and rebar that poked out of it. Samuel Baxter vomited out a hairpin. Nothing else than stomach acid landed on the floor, as he hadn’t eaten anything the day prior, and the food the staff had given to him, which he knew was spiked with mild tranquilizers. What came next was a bit difficult, but nothing he knew himself to train for. In under thirty seconds, the handcuffs fell to the floor next to his stomach’s contents. He rubbed his wrists, waited a moment for a few unobservant security guards to rush by, and stepped through the hole in the wall. Samuel Baxter strudded through the hallways of the facility. Gunfire and the roars of a large beast echoed through the corridors. If he hadn’t known any better, he would’ve found the aesthetic -- the debris and bloodied-up corpses -- to be quite a chilling sight. Just as it neared the gunfire and roars, that same gunfire was abruptly silenced. Only the heaving footsteps of the great creature traveled down the corridors, directly into his ears. He knew what the creature looked like, but seeing it with his own eyes still caused him to stammer in his breath. The great beast turned to look at him, each step of its four limbs causing some dust to crumble from the ceiling. Its scaly hide seemed to go on without end, its yellow eyes appearing to glow in the dim scarlet lights. The arm of a guard poked out from between its razor-sharp teeth, its jaws clamped tightly together. Upon seeing the man standing so foolishly before him, it let the severed arm fall to the floor, and stared at the man. ”You must be the lizard,” Samuel spoke in amazement. There was no reaction from the beast. ”In all my years,” he continued, ”I wondered what all of this meant. These... concrete walls, the alarm sirens... //you//...” The reptile approached the figure, so fearless in its every word. Like a predator observing its prey, it kept its eyes trained on the man. ”I could see everything. There were no surprises. But I could never see past this moment,” he gestured at the reptile. ”I could never see past //you//.” That was enough for the reptile. The creature lunged forward at inhuman speeds. Much to its surprise, when it landed again, there was no blood laid out before it, no flesh for its claws to dig into. It looked back behind it and saw the man, unharmed, having evaded its assault. ”For you see, there was nothing quite like you in my life. I never had any obstacles, nor did I ever--” The reptile lunged forward again. This time, though, it crashed against a meter-thick steel door. It threw the door right off of its hinges. It took some time to recover. ”--encounter a beast such as you in my life before. So I came here to ask a question...” The reptile rose back up again, staring at the man with a glimmer of pure rage in its eyes. ”Do you’ve got answers for me, or do you not?” The creature stood still, almost motionless. It stared intently at the man. Samuel Baxter simply stood there, crossing his arms, and smiled. In the next few mimutes, a squad of Foundation operatives would show up soon. He saw them running down the staircase four minutes before they arrived via helicopter at the facility. Armed with their rifles and rockets, these soldiers would-- He didn’t know. He didn’t know what would happen next. He couldn’t see it. He couldn’t see //it//. Samuel stared back at the reptile, horrified. It had forcefully ripped itself out -- utterly unseeable to Samuel Baxter. It lunged at the man. Only this time, he couldn’t see the creature’s next move. Only this time, the blood did spill out in front of it on the floor. Its claws dug deep into the man’s flesh, tearing its skin, muscles and bones into shreds. Samuel Baxter let out one final blood-curdling scream, before it gazed into the lizard’s eyes, and died. @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] > ------ > [[=]] > INCIDENT 682/AO-9459 > [[/=]] > ------ > DATE: 06/30/2016 > > LOCATION: Site-67 > > INVOLVED: SCP-682; AO-9459 (”Samuel Baxter”) > ------ > On the aformentioned date, SCP-682 breached containment. > > During the breach, security footage captured AO-9459 escaping captivity during its initial interview and advancing toward the former entity’s location. > > In the encounter, AO-9459 engages in communication with SCP-682, whereupon the entity becomes hostile. > > Footage shows AO-9459 evading SCP-682’s attacks in the first two minutes, until AO-9459 becomes visibly distressed, and is subsequently terminated by SCP-682. > > The exact nature of this encounter is uncertain at the moment, although a proposal has been drafted //(see below)// > ------ > COMMENT: From the limited data I could gather of AO-9459, the recovered security footage, as well as the testimony of Agent ███████, it appeared to possess precognitive abilities. It may stand to reason that SCP-682 was able to adapt to its precognition, whereupon AO-9459 was no longer able to ”see” SCP-682. What this exactly implies, and what temporal effects this may have, is unclear at this time. - //Dr. Adam Krug// > ------ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] * [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ ------ @@ @@ [[=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]] [[/=]] @@ @@	2024-10-30T19:00:00	[ "action", "hard-to-destroy-reptile", "mystery", "tale" ]	What You See is What You Get - SCP Foundation	7	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "scp-series-3-tales-edition", "scp-series-1-tales-edition" ]	[]	1457233029	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/what-you-see-is-what-you-get
when-blue-hogs-fly	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <br/> <strong>I DUNNO IF YOUR MORON BRAIN GOT PEGGED BY STUPID BUT “PRO WRESTLING” IS A BULLSHIT HOBBY FOR COMMIE LOSERS LIKE YOU. I KNOW THIS IS GONNA KILL SOME MIDDLE SCHOOL HICK’S CHILDHOOD BUT I DON’T CARE, WRESTLING ISN’T REAL! VINCE MCMAHON IS A FRAUD LOSING A MILLION DOLLARS A DAY MAKING ACTING SCHOOL DROPOUTS SUPLEX EACH OTHER FOR GULLIBLE SCHMUCKS LIKE YOU! THIS IS AMERICA, LAND OF THE FREE, HOME OF THE BRAVE, AND A PLACE WHERE GROWN ADULTS ENJOY REAL THINGS! LIKE SEX, WHICH YOU’VE NEVER HAD! ––HOGSLICE</strong> <p>“Jesus, this guy’s gotta touch some grass,” Hooke muttered under his breath. The containment specialist just wanted twenty minutes of peace. After putting the Foundation’s latest batch of pet monsters––including but not limited to the ghost of Frank Sinatra Senior––under lock and key, he blew off his lunch break to surf the web and un-pudding his brain. The users on r/ProWrestling usually made good enough conversation, mostly nostalgic fans trading their favorite highlight reels.</p> <p>Until “u/HogWithABlog33” rolled in. 33, of course, because he’s been banned THIRTY-TWO TIMES already. For weeks now, he’s been crashing random subreddits, everything from r/funny to r/scrapbooking, just trying to get a rise out of people.</p> <p>Just the other day, he was banned from r/hunting. <strong><em>AZAPERONE IS A TRANQUILIZER FOR SCRAWNY PEWEE BOY SCOUTS, I MIX IT IN MY MORNING CEREAL BECAUSE I'M NOT A BITCH,</em></strong> he had bragged. <strong><em>CAPTAIN CRUNCH MOTHERFUCKERS! REAL MEN LOAD THEIR DARTS WITH CARFENTANYL! THAT'S ELEPHANT TRANQUILIZER, BUT NONE OF YOU WOULD KNOW THAT, JUST LIKE YOU WOULDN'T KNOW THE INSIDE OF A GYM! ––HOGSLICE</em></strong></p> <p>Feeling a migraine coming on, Hooke leaned back against his swivel chair and closed his eyes wishing he could take that nap he knew he didn’t have time for. He felt silly for getting this worked up over Reddit, of all things.</p> <p><em>Don’t feed the trolls,</em> his own advice echoed in his head. He was a secret agent, for a multi-trillion dollar clandestine organization that would make every tinfoil hat-wearing conspiracy enthusiast soil themselves. He had more important things to worry about.</p> <p>A new message popped on the screen.</p> <p><strong>WHAT, NO COMEBACK? YEAH THAT’S RIGHT YOU PATHETIC FUCK, LET THE ADULTS TALK. COME BACK WHEN YOU STOP PLAYING WITH FOLDING CHAIRS AND GET A REAL WEAPON LIKE THESE HANDS WHICH ARE REGISTERED AS LETHAL WEAPONS IN 36 COUNTRIES. ––HOGSLICE</strong></p> <p>See? This guy wasn’t worth the trouble, he just wanted attention. Hooke felt almost silly for getting so worked up; he should be doing something more productive than getting in a flame war with some rando he didn’t even–</p> <p style="text-align: center;"><strong>BITCH. ––HOGSLICE</strong></p> <p>Hooke took a single, slow inhale up through his nose. <em>Fuck it.</em></p> <p>He clenched his fingers so tight he could hear every joint in both his hands pop before they turned into clattering blurs dancing over his keyboard. The thoughts poured out of him––almost literally, as he started talking out loud for no one in particular. He took an equally smug and righteous sort of satisfaction in hearing how tough his own words sounded as he typed them. “Listen here you vulgar, cave-dwelling, attention whore. I can’t even call you a man-child because I honest to God think you’re just some twelve-year-old trying to get clicks on Reddit to replace the love he never got from mommy and daddy. How’s that divorce going by the way? Stop whining about people liking things and go shove off to somewhere people actually have patience for losers like you—like therapy.”</p> <p>Hooke didn’t feel better. Not even a little. But for the moment, he didn’t care. He was ready to take a can of gasoline to this flame war. If he couldn’t ignore this troll, he’d just have to out-crazy him. He spammed the refresh button on his browser over and over and over, just itching for his opponent to make a move. But all he got were five words:</p> <p><strong>WHAT DID YOU SAY!? ––HOGSLICE</strong></p> <p>The lights in Hooke’s office dimmed, flickered, and suddenly shone so bright he thought they might burst. The ground rumbled, papers and files flew from the room’s many shelves, and Hooke had to jump to his feet to dodge his now long-cold cup of coffee falling in his lap. “What the Hell!?”</p> <p>He jumped like Super Mario as a single muscular fist punched up through the air vent under his feet. He could hear the muffled echoes of wild cussing as its owner pried himself through a passage far too small for a man his size. The figure lumbered to his feet, spitting out mothballs. The intruder looked like an even more roided-out version of Scott Steiner––if that was even possible. The veins in his temples popped almost as big as the ones in his arms as he visibly swelled with rage, his face darkening from red to blackish purple as if he was about to hit critical mass. “I'M GONNA DO TO YOU WHAT THE UNDERTAKER PRETENDS TO DO TO PEOPLE!”</p> <p><em>Oh,</em> Hooke thought numbly. <em><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-6599">Hogslice</a>.</em></p> <p><em><strong>WHAM.</strong></em></p> <p>Hooke barely registered the punch when it connected, but even before his body rag-dolled through the door, he knew that his nose was broken. He slid into the hallway through a rain of splinters and slammed shoulders first into the opposite wall.</p> <p>SCP-6599-1––as the specialist now recognized him––stepped out through the Hooke-sized hole in the door, before changing his mind and turning around to knock what was left of it off its hinges. He turned his attention back to the man on the ground trying to sneeze out the blood gushing through his nostrils. “NOBODY TALKS TO ME LIKE THAT YOU LITTLE SHIT! YOUR MOMMY EVER TEACH YOU THE GOLDEN RULE? TREAT OTHERS HOW YOU WANT TO BE TREATED? WELL HERE’S A LESSON, I’D HATE IF SOMEONE DID <strong>THIS</strong> TO <strong>ME</strong>!" Hogslice ripped a nearby bulletin board off the wall and slung it like a frisbee at Hooke’s head.</p> <p>Hooke rolled to the side just in time to avoid the slab of wood as it exploded against the concrete wall behind him, sending splinters showering around him like shrapnel. He ripped his sidearm out of his holster and fired until he heard it click, the echoes of his gunshots causing Site-19’s automated security alarm to go off. Hogslice reeled back and clutched his face as every round connected, before peering through his fingers, more pissed off than hurt. “Now you’re gonna get it!”</p> <p>Hooke bolted down the halls as security personnel flooded the corridor to check out the commotion. <em>I could’ve used you guys one broken nose ago,</em> the specialist thought bitterly as they charged the musclebound intruder. But Hooke didn’t need to look back to know their bullets would only be about as useful as his, and kept sprinting as he heard the screams and crashes of what he could only assume were the Foundation’s underpaid guards getting bulldozed by an angry Hogslice still charging after him.</p> <p>Hooke was never assigned to SCP-6599, but he’d heard enough chatter on and off the web about the home-invading keyboard warrior to know he couldn’t hide from it. So from here on out, it was just a game of keep-away.</p> <p>He took a sharp left and sprinted through the Cryptozoology Department, nearly tripping over a table labeled "TRANQUILIZING AGENTS" as he ducked and weaved past his shocked colleagues. Moments later, Hogslice burst into the room on a warpath and punted that same table into the ceiling. Shattered glass and a cloud of multi-colored gas rained down as the panicking zoology researchers began sprinting in all directions. They began dropping like flies as the cocktail of knockout gas descended on the room. Hooke leapt out the other side of the room into a hallway, Hogslice still hot on his heels.</p> <p>He turned a corner and burst through the double doors to Site-19’s gymnasium. It was a big space, but Hooke realized it was sorely lacking in exits as the heavy footsteps behind him loudened. Seeing an opening, he ducked behind the room's retractable bleachers, slamming the button to close them on his way in. He ducked, bobbed, and weaved over the seating’s folding metal supports as he heard Hogslice stumble in after him, slowed down by his much larger frame.</p> <p>"GET THE FUCK BACK HERE YOU YELLOW-BELLIED BITCH!"</p> <p><em>No, I don’t think I will.</em> Hooke slipped through the other side of the bleachers and turned around just long enough to catch a glimpse of his attacker getting pressed into the wall by the massive contraption, unable to squeeze his way through. The bleachers squeaked and whirred as they struggled to close in on their new prisoner, who futilely pushed back while swearing more than a racist grandma, until finally closing shut and cutting him from view.</p> <p>Hooke backed away with his eyes trained on the bleachers, which were now silent. Several moments passed before he finally let out a sigh of relief, just then registering the cold flow of adrenaline coursing through his body. He pushed back the pain in his face long enough to celebratorily punch his fists in the air. “Yes! Eat shit you stupid troll!”</p> <p>His gloating cut off sharply as the bleachers started to creak. They swayed forwards. Then backwards. Then Right. Then Left. And all the while, the steady stream of swears grew from silence to a whisper to a cacophony, until finally the ten rows of seating listed and crashed into the ground. Hooke tripped on a stray barbell trying to avoid the wave of debris washing over him.</p> <p>Hogslice stepped out from the wreckage of the bleachers, his hands balled into tight, white-knuckled fists, and with a hateful, unblinking glare fixed on Hooke. "YOU. MOTHER. FUCKER."</p> <p>Hooke pressed one hand to his forehead and smushed his face in disbelief as he tried to think of a way out of this. <em>Hey, it’s not so bad,</em> he thought defeatedly. <em>6599 doesn’t kill people, he’ll just break every bone in my body. A few months of physical therapy––a year tops, and it’ll be like this never even happened.</em></p> <p>Hooke took a break from coping internally to get to his feet and dodge a wild haymaker by Hogslice. He backed up, dancing further and further away as his attacker picked up steam, until he felt himself bump into a large object and knew he was cornered. Hooke glanced behind him to see he ran into the wrestling ring erected in the center of the gym. It must’ve still been up since SCP-7370’s last containment procedure. <em>Oh yeah, 7370.</em></p> <p>Hogslice reared his fist back past his head, ready to pulverize Hooke like a mallet squashing a grape. At the last second, Hooke threw his hands up pleadingly. “Wait!” The punch paused as Hogslice looked confused at this sudden cowardly display by his slippery target. “You were right! Professional wrestling is stupid! I don’t even like it, I was just pretending to for attention! You’re way too tough, I’d never have said those awful things to your face!”</p> <p>Hogslice’s face curled into a grin. "WELL THAT’S MORE LIKE IT! THAT’S RIGHT, DUMBFUCK, HOGSLICE IS THE TOUGHEST SUM’BITCH THE WORLD OVER, ON AND OFF THE WEB!"</p> <p>“Yeah! Wrestling is totally fake!”</p> <p>That confused look returned to Hogslice’s face. “UM… OKAY?”</p> <p>Hooke cleared his throat. “I’m just saying that…” he cupped his hands around his mouth. “WRESTLING IS TOTALLY FAKE!”</p> <p>“UH… YEAH, I GUESS SO. WHATEVER DUDE, YOU STILL BETTER SAY GOODNIGHT!” Hogslice reared back his fist again, ready to send Hooke to the morgue until he was halted by the echo of a third voice through the gymnasium.</p> <p>“OH YEAH?”</p> <p>As Hogslice turned, he ate a faceful of steel as something smacked into him like a semi-truck. He soared backward, over a Specialist Hooke now balled up in the fetal position, and cracked into the bleachers of the opposite wall. He shook the rubble out of his hair before looking for what had just hit him. “WHO HAS THE FUCKING BALLS?” he fumed.</p> <p>His gaze landed on a large figure tossing aside a folding chair with a fresh imprint of his ugly mug on it. His <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7370">attacker</a> was massive, seven and a half feet tall at least, and dressed like a reject from a sci-fi convention, clad in nothing but purple spandex and boots on his lower body. The fact that he just spontaneously appeared in the room was only the second weirdest thing about him. The first was that his skin was completely blue.</p> <p>“Lemme tell you something, Hogslice!” The overgrown smurf mockingly dragged out every syllable in 6599’s name. “You got some nerve walking into the champ’s hometown and runnin’ yer mouth about the late, great, legitim-ate art of wrestlin’! But the jabbering stops here, ‘cause Mr. Blue’s gonna fry you up and enjoy a slice of hog!”</p> <p>Hogslice and Mr. Blue strode up to one another until they were nose to nose, scowl to grin, and black shades to purple shutter glasses. “DON’T GET IN MY WAY YOU MACHO MAN KNOCKOFF BITCH!” Hogslice bellowed.</p> <p>“Ooo, now I know you didn’t just call the Cerulian Savage a knockoff, ‘cause you’re lookin’ kin-da fam-il-iar!” Blue retorted, lowering his glasses to look the Scott Steiner clone up and down.</p> <p>As the two of them traded insults, Hooke army crawled his way back out the door. <em>Problem solved,</em> he thought perhaps a little too optimistically. <em>This shouldn’t get out of hand as long as they’re keeping each other busy.</em></p> <hr/> <p>Hogslice struck first with a flurry of haymakers. One good punch rocked Blue in the face, snapping his shutter glasses in two. Blue kept his guard up as he was knocked backfirst into the metal ring post, before hooking his shorter opponent under the armpits and flipping him up inside the square circle with a belly-to-belly suplex. He pulled down on the rope and slingshot himself up and over to stand facing off with Hogslice by the time the latter pulled himself to his feet.</p> <p>“COCKY PRICK!” Hogslice screamed as he barreled shoulders first into Blue. The two of them traded blows, matching each other in power. Blue swung wide and hard with all the showboating flair of a vintage professional wrestler, while Hogslice countered with the tight, angry hooks of a royally pissed-off, red-blooded American street fighter. Hogslice was first to break the stalemate, deviously launching a knee to Blue’s groin, causing his opponent to double over in pain. He then gripped the Blue Bomber by the mullet and smashed his face into the top of the nearest ring post, sounding throughout the facility like a gong as his thick skull met metal.</p> <p>Mr. Blue pushed back on the rope to stop Hogslice short of slamming him into the post again and threw an elbow back into the bridge of his nose. Hogslice’s sunglasses shattered into a million pieces as he reeled in pain. “THOSE COST ME THIRTEEN DOLLARS, ASSHOLE!” he screamed, before being flung back into the opposite corner by a big purple boot to the chest. Now it was Blue’s turn to throw haymakers, striking Hogslice left and right. He paused and leaned back, wheeling his right arm at the elbow for a windup before connecting with an uppercut that shook the ring.</p> <p>“Now you’re on Big Blue’s Cruise to Sleepytown!” Blue gloated, as he grabbed a dazed Hogslice in a rear naked choke.</p> <p>6599’s eyes widened and bulged out of their sockets as he clumsily grabbed at Blue’s arms and tried to wrestle out of the grip around his neck. He threw elbows rapid fire into his opponent’s abdomen, but Blue only responded by tightening the hold harder. Hogslice dropped to one knee, fading fast, before, with his last bit of breath, defiantly gurgling, “GET HIM, ROCKY.”</p> <p>Hogslice held a hand back over his head, and an oversized Hercules beetle crawled out of his palm and onto Mr. Blue’s shoulder. The Blue Bomber froze in fear as the armored insect waltzed onto his oversized nose, and stared into his now cartoonishly widened eyes with its own cold, black ones.</p> <p><em><strong>CHOMP.</strong></em> Rocky pinched his horns down right on Mr. Blue’s open eye.</p> <p>“AIYEEEEE!” Blue screamed, hopping up and down and shaking violently. “GET IT OFF GET IT OFF GET IT OFF!” He swatted at himself as the beetle crawled circles around his back and chest, recoiling every time he felt it move.</p> <p>Hogslice took the opening to deliver a hard right to Mr. Blue, rocking him into the ropes so forcefully it ripped the ring posts out of the floor. The ropes gave as the ring listed and sank on one side, tumbling both fighters onto the hardwood floor with two sickening thuds. Mr. Blue, more afraid of the beetle than the fall, stopped, dropped, and rolled like a man on fire until Rocky crawled off him and across the floor into Hogslice’s outstretched hand. “HE’S A TOUGH LITTLE FUCKER, JUST LIKE HIS DADDY!” the latter proclaimed as he shoved the beetle into his jean pockets. He reached under the collapsed wrestling ring and dragged out a sledgehammer. “YOU’RE GOING DOWN LIKE MISSES HOGSLICE ON A SATURDAY NIGHT, BITCH!” Hogslice lunged at Mr. Blue, who tumbled just out of the way of the hammer as it tore through the remaining bleacher. It shuddered and buckled, all of its supports giving way to the hit. Wood and metal flew everywhere in a cloud of debris, obscuring both fighters.</p> <p>Hogslice walked through the wreckage scanning for his fallen opponent. “COME ON OUT YOU BIG BLUE JACKASS, CHAMPS DON’T HIDE!”</p> <p>The Lazuli Leviathan rose slowly from the rubble. Mr. Blue had clutched in his hand the steel chair he had earlier imprinted Hogslice’s face into, which he used to prop himself to his feet. He grinned confidently. “Runnin’ circles round you was fun while it lasted, but this rat race just became a demolition derby, oh yeah!”</p> <p>The two titans charged, each connecting their weapons to their opponent’s body with wild swings. Not slowing down, they each raised their weapons again and struck each other non-stop in two colliding tidal waves of hits. The polished floorboards beneath them cracked and splintered from the pressure of their combined blows on one another.</p> <p>Hogslice swung his hammer up in a wide arc, aiming to flatten Mr. Blue’s skull from above. The Blue Bomber raised his chair to block it, and the hammer’s head sank and lodged itself in the steel seat. Blue wrenched the hammer out of Hogslice’s hands and slung both weapons across the room, before connecting a hard uppercut to Hogslice’s gut. “Blue Bomb!” he yelled in a war cry, as he grabbed his opponent by the waist and flipped him onto his shoulders, before bringing down Hogslice with his trademark powerbomb into the ground. The already damaged floor gave out entirely as both anomalies tumbled down to the basement below.</p> <p>On the next level down, the two exhausted wrestlers rolled on the floor, each trying futilely to overpower the other. “You’re going down pipsqueak!” Blue taunted. “Keyboard warriors can’t pick on anybody their own size, and I’m twice yours!”</p> <p>“YEAH AND DRAGO WAS BIGGER THAN ROCKY BALBOA, HOW’D THAT WORK OUT FOR HIM, MOTHER[REDACTED]?” Hogslice retorted.</p> <p>“Brother, you ain’t even Apollo Creed!”</p> <p>“SHUT YOUR MOUTH, CARL WEATHERS IS A GODDAMN NATIONAL TREASURE!”</p> <p>“And Dolph Lundgreen’s an INTERNATIONAL treasure!”</p> <p>The wear and tear of the fight finally started to show on the two warriors as they climbed to their feet. Hogslice, punch drunk––and possibly regular drunk––swayed groggily, his face swelling like a water balloon filled with syrup. “IT AIN’T ABOUT HOW HARD YOU HIT, IT’S ABOUT HOW HARD YOU CAN––fuck, that hurts––IT’S ABOUT HOW HARD YOU CAN GET HIT AND KEEP MOVING FORWARD!”</p> <p>Mr. Blue’s bruises were so dark blue that they even stood out on his navy hide. “Whaddya get when you make Big Blue mad? You–– uh…” His brow furrowed as he tried to think of another cheesy catchphrase. “Screw it, I’m gonna kick your ass!”</p> <p>Doors opened on all sides of the basement as Mr. Blue and Hogslice stumbled toward each other. Dozens of security guards flooded the dingy corridor and encircled them, guns raised.</p> <p>“Oh…” Mr. Blue’s attention drifted to the crowd forming around him. “So it’s a battle royale now, huh? Bring it on!”</p> <p>Hogslide glared at the interlopers crashing their slugfest. “WAIT’CHER DAMN TURNS, YOU SWAT-LOOKIN’ JAGOFFS!”</p> <p>The two wrestlers charged in opposite directions at the terrified Site security staff, but before a single shot was fired, two darts came down from above and sank into the anomalies’ necks. Mr. Blue and Hogslice, suddenly even more exhausted than before, collapsed to the ground, snoring obnoxiously in perfect sync.</p> <p>The guards all raised their heads to the gaping hole in the ceiling to see a single figure shadowed by the gymnasium lights behind him. Specialist Hooke held a Foundation-issue dart gun––courtesy of the Cryptozoology Department––in one hand and pressed a blood-soaked towel to his nose with the other. “And stay down.”</p> <p>One of the guards stepped forward and gingerly prodded Hogslice with his boot as if to check he was really unconscious and not dead. “What was that, sir?”</p> <p>“Carfentanyl, elephant tranquilizer. Enough for four or five. They’ll both be okay. Probably.”</p> <p>The rest of the guards began fitting the largest metal shackles Site-19 had to offer on each anomaly’s wrists and ankles and tried pathetically to lift the massive creatures off the ground. “What should we do with them?”</p> <p>“Figure it out, I’m on break.”</p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/when-blue-hogs-fly">When Blue Hogs Fly</a>" by Ferox Numine, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/when-blue-hogs-fly">https://scpwiki.com/when-blue-hogs-fly</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> DBZ Reference<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/ferox-numine" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6932800); return false;"><img alt="Ferox Numine" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6932800&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1725576743" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6932800)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/ferox-numine" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6932800); return false;">Ferox Numine</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/when-blue-hogs-fly/DBZ%20Reference">SCP Foundation Wiki</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Blue Beetle<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/ferox-numine" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6932800); return false;"><img alt="Ferox Numine" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6932800&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1725576743" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6932800)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/ferox-numine" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6932800); return false;">Ferox Numine</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/when-blue-hogs-fly/Blue%20Beetle">SCP Foundation Wiki</a></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] I DUNNO IF YOUR MORON BRAIN GOT PEGGED BY STUPID BUT “PRO WRESTLING” IS A BULLSHIT HOBBY FOR COMMIE LOSERS LIKE YOU. I KNOW THIS IS GONNA KILL SOME MIDDLE SCHOOL HICK’S CHILDHOOD BUT I DON’T CARE, WRESTLING ISN’T REAL! VINCE MCMAHON IS A FRAUD LOSING A MILLION DOLLARS A DAY MAKING ACTING SCHOOL DROPOUTS SUPLEX EACH OTHER FOR GULLIBLE SCHMUCKS LIKE YOU! THIS IS AMERICA, LAND OF THE FREE, HOME OF THE BRAVE, AND A PLACE WHERE GROWN ADULTS ENJOY REAL THINGS! LIKE SEX, WHICH YOU’VE NEVER HAD! ––HOGSLICE “Jesus, this guy’s gotta touch some grass,” Hooke muttered under his breath. The containment specialist just wanted twenty minutes of peace. After putting the Foundation’s latest batch of pet monsters––including but not limited to the ghost of Frank Sinatra Senior––under lock and key, he blew off his lunch break to surf the web and un-pudding his brain. The users on r/ProWrestling usually made good enough conversation, mostly nostalgic fans trading their favorite highlight reels. Until “u/HogWithABlog33” rolled in. 33, of course, because he’s been banned THIRTY-TWO TIMES already. For weeks now, he’s been crashing random subreddits, everything from r/funny to r/scrapbooking, just trying to get a rise out of people. Just the other day, he was banned from r/hunting. //AZAPERONE IS A TRANQUILIZER FOR SCRAWNY PEWEE BOY SCOUTS, I MIX IT IN MY MORNING CEREAL BECAUSE I'M NOT A BITCH,// he had bragged. //CAPTAIN CRUNCH MOTHERFUCKERS! REAL MEN LOAD THEIR DARTS WITH CARFENTANYL! THAT'S ELEPHANT TRANQUILIZER, BUT NONE OF YOU WOULD KNOW THAT, JUST LIKE YOU WOULDN'T KNOW THE INSIDE OF A GYM! ––HOGSLICE// Feeling a migraine coming on, Hooke leaned back against his swivel chair and closed his eyes wishing he could take that nap he knew he didn’t have time for. He felt silly for getting this worked up over Reddit, of all things. //Don’t feed the trolls,// his own advice echoed in his head. He was a secret agent, for a multi-trillion dollar clandestine organization that would make every tinfoil hat-wearing conspiracy enthusiast soil themselves. He had more important things to worry about. A new message popped on the screen. WHAT, NO COMEBACK? YEAH THAT’S RIGHT YOU PATHETIC FUCK, LET THE ADULTS TALK. COME BACK WHEN YOU STOP PLAYING WITH FOLDING CHAIRS AND GET A REAL WEAPON LIKE THESE HANDS WHICH ARE REGISTERED AS LETHAL WEAPONS IN 36 COUNTRIES. ––HOGSLICE See? This guy wasn’t worth the trouble, he just wanted attention. Hooke felt almost silly for getting so worked up; he should be doing something more productive than getting in a flame war with some rando he didn’t even– = BITCH. ––HOGSLICE Hooke took a single, slow inhale up through his nose. //Fuck it.// He clenched his fingers so tight he could hear every joint in both his hands pop before they turned into clattering blurs dancing over his keyboard. The thoughts poured out of him––almost literally, as he started talking out loud for no one in particular. He took an equally smug and righteous sort of satisfaction in hearing how tough his own words sounded as he typed them. “Listen here you vulgar, cave-dwelling, attention whore. I can’t even call you a man-child because I honest to God think you’re just some twelve-year-old trying to get clicks on Reddit to replace the love he never got from mommy and daddy. How’s that divorce going by the way? Stop whining about people liking things and go shove off to somewhere people actually have patience for losers like you—like therapy.” Hooke didn’t feel better. Not even a little. But for the moment, he didn’t care. He was ready to take a can of gasoline to this flame war. If he couldn’t ignore this troll, he’d just have to out-crazy him. He spammed the refresh button on his browser over and over and over, just itching for his opponent to make a move. But all he got were five words: WHAT DID YOU SAY!? ––HOGSLICE The lights in Hooke’s office dimmed, flickered, and suddenly shone so bright he thought they might burst. The ground rumbled, papers and files flew from the room’s many shelves, and Hooke had to jump to his feet to dodge his now long-cold cup of coffee falling in his lap. “What the Hell!?” He jumped like Super Mario as a single muscular fist punched up through the air vent under his feet. He could hear the muffled echoes of wild cussing as its owner pried himself through a passage far too small for a man his size. The figure lumbered to his feet, spitting out mothballs. The intruder looked like an even more roided-out version of Scott Steiner––if that was even possible. The veins in his temples popped almost as big as the ones in his arms as he visibly swelled with rage, his face darkening from red to blackish purple as if he was about to hit critical mass. “I'M GONNA DO TO YOU WHAT THE UNDERTAKER PRETENDS TO DO TO PEOPLE!” //Oh,// Hooke thought numbly. //[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-6599 Hogslice].// //WHAM.// Hooke barely registered the punch when it connected, but even before his body rag-dolled through the door, he knew that his nose was broken. He slid into the hallway through a rain of splinters and slammed shoulders first into the opposite wall. SCP-6599-1––as the specialist now recognized him––stepped out through the Hooke-sized hole in the door, before changing his mind and turning around to knock what was left of it off its hinges. He turned his attention back to the man on the ground trying to sneeze out the blood gushing through his nostrils. “NOBODY TALKS TO ME LIKE THAT YOU LITTLE SHIT! YOUR MOMMY EVER TEACH YOU THE GOLDEN RULE? TREAT OTHERS HOW YOU WANT TO BE TREATED? WELL HERE’S A LESSON, I’D HATE IF SOMEONE DID THIS TO ME!" Hogslice ripped a nearby bulletin board off the wall and slung it like a frisbee at Hooke’s head. Hooke rolled to the side just in time to avoid the slab of wood as it exploded against the concrete wall behind him, sending splinters showering around him like shrapnel. He ripped his sidearm out of his holster and fired until he heard it click, the echoes of his gunshots causing Site-19’s automated security alarm to go off. Hogslice reeled back and clutched his face as every round connected, before peering through his fingers, more pissed off than hurt. “Now you’re gonna get it!” Hooke bolted down the halls as security personnel flooded the corridor to check out the commotion. //I could’ve used you guys one broken nose ago,// the specialist thought bitterly as they charged the musclebound intruder. But Hooke didn’t need to look back to know their bullets would only be about as useful as his, and kept sprinting as he heard the screams and crashes of what he could only assume were the Foundation’s underpaid guards getting bulldozed by an angry Hogslice still charging after him. Hooke was never assigned to SCP-6599, but he’d heard enough chatter on and off the web about the home-invading keyboard warrior to know he couldn’t hide from it. So from here on out, it was just a game of keep-away. He took a sharp left and sprinted through the Cryptozoology Department, nearly tripping over a table labeled "TRANQUILIZING AGENTS" as he ducked and weaved past his shocked colleagues. Moments later, Hogslice burst into the room on a warpath and punted that same table into the ceiling. Shattered glass and a cloud of multi-colored gas rained down as the panicking zoology researchers began sprinting in all directions. They began dropping like flies as the cocktail of knockout gas descended on the room. Hooke leapt out the other side of the room into a hallway, Hogslice still hot on his heels. He turned a corner and burst through the double doors to Site-19’s gymnasium. It was a big space, but Hooke realized it was sorely lacking in exits as the heavy footsteps behind him loudened. Seeing an opening, he ducked behind the room's retractable bleachers, slamming the button to close them on his way in. He ducked, bobbed, and weaved over the seating’s folding metal supports as he heard Hogslice stumble in after him, slowed down by his much larger frame. "GET THE FUCK BACK HERE YOU YELLOW-BELLIED BITCH!" //No, I don’t think I will.// Hooke slipped through the other side of the bleachers and turned around just long enough to catch a glimpse of his attacker getting pressed into the wall by the massive contraption, unable to squeeze his way through. The bleachers squeaked and whirred as they struggled to close in on their new prisoner, who futilely pushed back while swearing more than a racist grandma, until finally closing shut and cutting him from view. Hooke backed away with his eyes trained on the bleachers, which were now silent. Several moments passed before he finally let out a sigh of relief, just then registering the cold flow of adrenaline coursing through his body. He pushed back the pain in his face long enough to celebratorily punch his fists in the air. “Yes! Eat shit you stupid troll!” His gloating cut off sharply as the bleachers started to creak. They swayed forwards. Then backwards. Then Right. Then Left. And all the while, the steady stream of swears grew from silence to a whisper to a cacophony, until finally the ten rows of seating listed and crashed into the ground. Hooke tripped on a stray barbell trying to avoid the wave of debris washing over him. Hogslice stepped out from the wreckage of the bleachers, his hands balled into tight, white-knuckled fists, and with a hateful, unblinking glare fixed on Hooke. "YOU. MOTHER. FUCKER." Hooke pressed one hand to his forehead and smushed his face in disbelief as he tried to think of a way out of this. //Hey, it’s not so bad,// he thought defeatedly. //6599 doesn’t kill people, he’ll just break every bone in my body. A few months of physical therapy––a year tops, and it’ll be like this never even happened.// Hooke took a break from coping internally to get to his feet and dodge a wild haymaker by Hogslice. He backed up, dancing further and further away as his attacker picked up steam, until he felt himself bump into a large object and knew he was cornered. Hooke glanced behind him to see he ran into the wrestling ring erected in the center of the gym. It must’ve still been up since SCP-7370’s last containment procedure. //Oh yeah, 7370.// Hogslice reared his fist back past his head, ready to pulverize Hooke like a mallet squashing a grape. At the last second, Hooke threw his hands up pleadingly. “Wait!” The punch paused as Hogslice looked confused at this sudden cowardly display by his slippery target. “You were right! Professional wrestling is stupid! I don’t even like it, I was just pretending to for attention! You’re way too tough, I’d never have said those awful things to your face!” Hogslice’s face curled into a grin. "WELL THAT’S MORE LIKE IT! THAT’S RIGHT, DUMBFUCK, HOGSLICE IS THE TOUGHEST SUM’BITCH THE WORLD OVER, ON AND OFF THE WEB!" “Yeah! Wrestling is totally fake!” That confused look returned to Hogslice’s face. “UM… OKAY?” Hooke cleared his throat. “I’m just saying that…” he cupped his hands around his mouth. “WRESTLING IS TOTALLY FAKE!” “UH… YEAH, I GUESS SO. WHATEVER DUDE, YOU STILL BETTER SAY GOODNIGHT!” Hogslice reared back his fist again, ready to send Hooke to the morgue until he was halted by the echo of a third voice through the gymnasium. “OH YEAH?” As Hogslice turned, he ate a faceful of steel as something smacked into him like a semi-truck. He soared backward, over a Specialist Hooke now balled up in the fetal position, and cracked into the bleachers of the opposite wall. He shook the rubble out of his hair before looking for what had just hit him. “WHO HAS THE FUCKING BALLS?” he fumed. His gaze landed on a large figure tossing aside a folding chair with a fresh imprint of his ugly mug on it. His [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7370 attacker] was massive, seven and a half feet tall at least, and dressed like a reject from a sci-fi convention, clad in nothing but purple spandex and boots on his lower body. The fact that he just spontaneously appeared in the room was only the second weirdest thing about him. The first was that his skin was completely blue. “Lemme tell you something, Hogslice!” The overgrown smurf mockingly dragged out every syllable in 6599’s name. “You got some nerve walking into the champ’s hometown and runnin’ yer mouth about the late, great, legitim-ate art of wrestlin’! But the jabbering stops here, ‘cause Mr. Blue’s gonna fry you up and enjoy a slice of hog!” Hogslice and Mr. Blue strode up to one another until they were nose to nose, scowl to grin, and black shades to purple shutter glasses. “DON’T GET IN MY WAY YOU MACHO MAN KNOCKOFF BITCH!” Hogslice bellowed. “Ooo, now I know you didn’t just call the Cerulian Savage a knockoff, ‘cause you’re lookin’ kin-da fam-il-iar!” Blue retorted, lowering his glasses to look the Scott Steiner clone up and down. As the two of them traded insults, Hooke army crawled his way back out the door. //Problem solved,// he thought perhaps a little too optimistically. //This shouldn’t get out of hand as long as they’re keeping each other busy.// ------ Hogslice struck first with a flurry of haymakers. One good punch rocked Blue in the face, snapping his shutter glasses in two. Blue kept his guard up as he was knocked backfirst into the metal ring post, before hooking his shorter opponent under the armpits and flipping him up inside the square circle with a belly-to-belly suplex. He pulled down on the rope and slingshot himself up and over to stand facing off with Hogslice by the time the latter pulled himself to his feet. [[=image DBZ%20Reference]] “COCKY PRICK!” Hogslice screamed as he barreled shoulders first into Blue. The two of them traded blows, matching each other in power. Blue swung wide and hard with all the showboating flair of a vintage professional wrestler, while Hogslice countered with the tight, angry hooks of a royally pissed-off, red-blooded American street fighter. Hogslice was first to break the stalemate, deviously launching a knee to Blue’s groin, causing his opponent to double over in pain. He then gripped the Blue Bomber by the mullet and smashed his face into the top of the nearest ring post, sounding throughout the facility like a gong as his thick skull met metal. Mr. Blue pushed back on the rope to stop Hogslice short of slamming him into the post again and threw an elbow back into the bridge of his nose. Hogslice’s sunglasses shattered into a million pieces as he reeled in pain. “THOSE COST ME THIRTEEN DOLLARS, ASSHOLE!” he screamed, before being flung back into the opposite corner by a big purple boot to the chest. Now it was Blue’s turn to throw haymakers, striking Hogslice left and right. He paused and leaned back, wheeling his right arm at the elbow for a windup before connecting with an uppercut that shook the ring. “Now you’re on Big Blue’s Cruise to Sleepytown!” Blue gloated, as he grabbed a dazed Hogslice in a rear naked choke. 6599’s eyes widened and bulged out of their sockets as he clumsily grabbed at Blue’s arms and tried to wrestle out of the grip around his neck. He threw elbows rapid fire into his opponent’s abdomen, but Blue only responded by tightening the hold harder. Hogslice dropped to one knee, fading fast, before, with his last bit of breath, defiantly gurgling, “GET HIM, ROCKY.” Hogslice held a hand back over his head, and an oversized Hercules beetle crawled out of his palm and onto Mr. Blue’s shoulder. The Blue Bomber froze in fear as the armored insect waltzed onto his oversized nose, and stared into his now cartoonishly widened eyes with its own cold, black ones. [[=image Blue%20Beetle]] //CHOMP.// Rocky pinched his horns down right on Mr. Blue’s open eye. “AIYEEEEE!” Blue screamed, hopping up and down and shaking violently. “GET IT OFF GET IT OFF GET IT OFF!” He swatted at himself as the beetle crawled circles around his back and chest, recoiling every time he felt it move. Hogslice took the opening to deliver a hard right to Mr. Blue, rocking him into the ropes so forcefully it ripped the ring posts out of the floor. The ropes gave as the ring listed and sank on one side, tumbling both fighters onto the hardwood floor with two sickening thuds. Mr. Blue, more afraid of the beetle than the fall, stopped, dropped, and rolled like a man on fire until Rocky crawled off him and across the floor into Hogslice’s outstretched hand. “HE’S A TOUGH LITTLE FUCKER, JUST LIKE HIS DADDY!” the latter proclaimed as he shoved the beetle into his jean pockets. He reached under the collapsed wrestling ring and dragged out a sledgehammer. “YOU’RE GOING DOWN LIKE MISSES HOGSLICE ON A SATURDAY NIGHT, BITCH!” Hogslice lunged at Mr. Blue, who tumbled just out of the way of the hammer as it tore through the remaining bleacher. It shuddered and buckled, all of its supports giving way to the hit. Wood and metal flew everywhere in a cloud of debris, obscuring both fighters. Hogslice walked through the wreckage scanning for his fallen opponent. “COME ON OUT YOU BIG BLUE JACKASS, CHAMPS DON’T HIDE!” The Lazuli Leviathan rose slowly from the rubble. Mr. Blue had clutched in his hand the steel chair he had earlier imprinted Hogslice’s face into, which he used to prop himself to his feet. He grinned confidently. “Runnin’ circles round you was fun while it lasted, but this rat race just became a demolition derby, oh yeah!” The two titans charged, each connecting their weapons to their opponent’s body with wild swings. Not slowing down, they each raised their weapons again and struck each other non-stop in two colliding tidal waves of hits. The polished floorboards beneath them cracked and splintered from the pressure of their combined blows on one another. Hogslice swung his hammer up in a wide arc, aiming to flatten Mr. Blue’s skull from above. The Blue Bomber raised his chair to block it, and the hammer’s head sank and lodged itself in the steel seat. Blue wrenched the hammer out of Hogslice’s hands and slung both weapons across the room, before connecting a hard uppercut to Hogslice’s gut. “Blue Bomb!” he yelled in a war cry, as he grabbed his opponent by the waist and flipped him onto his shoulders, before bringing down Hogslice with his trademark powerbomb into the ground. The already damaged floor gave out entirely as both anomalies tumbled down to the basement below. On the next level down, the two exhausted wrestlers rolled on the floor, each trying futilely to overpower the other. “You’re going down pipsqueak!” Blue taunted. “Keyboard warriors can’t pick on anybody their own size, and I’m twice yours!” “YEAH AND DRAGO WAS BIGGER THAN ROCKY BALBOA, HOW’D THAT WORK OUT FOR HIM, MOTHER[REDACTED]?” Hogslice retorted. “Brother, you ain’t even Apollo Creed!” “SHUT YOUR MOUTH, CARL WEATHERS IS A GODDAMN NATIONAL TREASURE!” “And Dolph Lundgreen’s an INTERNATIONAL treasure!” The wear and tear of the fight finally started to show on the two warriors as they climbed to their feet. Hogslice, punch drunk––and possibly regular drunk––swayed groggily, his face swelling like a water balloon filled with syrup. “IT AIN’T ABOUT HOW HARD YOU HIT, IT’S ABOUT HOW HARD YOU CAN––fuck, that hurts––IT’S ABOUT HOW HARD YOU CAN GET HIT AND KEEP MOVING FORWARD!” Mr. Blue’s bruises were so dark blue that they even stood out on his navy hide. “Whaddya get when you make Big Blue mad? You–– uh…” His brow furrowed as he tried to think of another cheesy catchphrase. “Screw it, I’m gonna kick your ass!” Doors opened on all sides of the basement as Mr. Blue and Hogslice stumbled toward each other. Dozens of security guards flooded the dingy corridor and encircled them, guns raised. “Oh…” Mr. Blue’s attention drifted to the crowd forming around him. “So it’s a battle royale now, huh? Bring it on!” Hogslide glared at the interlopers crashing their slugfest. “WAIT’CHER DAMN TURNS, YOU SWAT-LOOKIN’ JAGOFFS!” The two wrestlers charged in opposite directions at the terrified Site security staff, but before a single shot was fired, two darts came down from above and sank into the anomalies’ necks. Mr. Blue and Hogslice, suddenly even more exhausted than before, collapsed to the ground, snoring obnoxiously in perfect sync. The guards all raised their heads to the gaping hole in the ceiling to see a single figure shadowed by the gymnasium lights behind him. Specialist Hooke held a Foundation-issue dart gun––courtesy of the Cryptozoology Department––in one hand and pressed a blood-soaked towel to his nose with the other. “And stay down.” One of the guards stepped forward and gingerly prodded Hogslice with his boot as if to check he was really unconscious and not dead. “What was that, sir?” “Carfentanyl, elephant tranquilizer. Enough for four or five. They’ll both be okay. Probably.” The rest of the guards began fitting the largest metal shackles Site-19 had to offer on each anomaly’s wrists and ankles and tried pathetically to lift the massive creatures off the ground. “What should we do with them?” “Figure it out, I’m on break.” [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] > Filename: DBZ Reference > Author: [[user Ferox Numine]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/when-blue-hogs-fly/DBZ%20Reference SCP Foundation Wiki] > Filename: Blue Beetle > Author: [[user Ferox Numine]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/when-blue-hogs-fly/Blue%20Beetle SCP Foundation Wiki] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-04-16T23:35:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "action", "comedy", "hogslice", "tale" ]	When Blue Hogs Fly - SCP Foundation	23	[ "scp-6599", "scp-7370", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[]	[]	1453350810	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/when-blue-hogs-fly
when-god-wept	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <br/> At last, I got myself out. <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-first-free-and-ignorant">I know I said I wouldn't</a>.</p> <p>But I was rather bored, too bored to stay in there for much longer. I wanted more of life.</p> <p>I opened my nonexistent eyes. Saw the bright, yellow sun. Saw the liveful sky and the clouds.</p> <p>Felt the warm air blow on my nonexistent face as I took a deep breath.</p> <p>I looked at the environment I was in, and saw that I was in the middle of a what seems to be a city. It was big, yet not too much was going on. Automobiles— I think they're called “cars”— passed by from time to time.</p> <p>I stepped forward and walked to wherever the sidewalk brought me to. The houses were much more advanced than last time I was in this part of creation. Albeit, nothing too interesting. I occasionally stopped to look at the trees that people had on their front yards and watched as the branches swung with the assistance of wind. It amused me.</p> <p>A few people walked towards my direction from the other side of the sidewalk, I tried to get their attention again but as always, I was ignored. They couldn't see me, they couldn't feel me or hear me. Just nothing. Not directly, not indirectly.</p> <p>That always made me sad: I'm there, but only for myself. I had nobody but me, no one else to enjoy this colorful world with but the person that briefly existed in the mirror. I continued; looked up at the skies as the birds sung a song, and I listened attentively as I walked. It brought temporal peace to the mind. Whoever created this world was surely a master of his craft.</p> <p>But then, I heard a noise, a high-pitched sound that sounded in pain and weak. I turned my nonexistent face to the direction of the noise, It came from nearby face gate of a house, which the front yard was looked after carefully and bushes were grown. The noise appeared again, from inside of one of those bushes. I gently approached and saw a creature that crawled out of the bush with struggle.</p> <p>It was… a cat. A completely white furred, fluffy cat— from the look, it was 8 months old. It was looking at me, which left me surprised, <em>it could see me?</em> It made that sound again, <em>meow</em>, filled with pain and weak just as the last one. Not only that, but it's lower half was unsupported by the upper, it was being dragged on the ground whenever the cat attempted to walk.</p> <p>I crouched down, and carefully put my hand on top of the injured place. Plenty of broken bones. I looked at its eyes, its pupils were extended, making the majority of the eyeballs. It was… blind.</p> <p>It could not see and had to rely on her hearing senses to avoid danger, which made it get struck by a car. Without a second thought, I healed the wounds and the bones. The cat groaned, hissed, squirmed in pain, rightfully so as the flesh, meat, and the bones fixed themselves. But after a while, it was done. The cat moved around freely as it no longer felt pain while walking.</p> <p>I smiled softly as I watched the cat enjoy its ability. But suddenly, it jumped onto my leg and climbed all the way up to my chest. <em>It could touch me?</em></p> <p>It was an energetic outburst, as if I was the only thing it could see with its blind eyes throughout its entire life, that was… excited to think about. But more specifically, <em>I could be seen!</em></p> <p>This cat, after a bit of examination, was a she. She followed me around, meowed at me, always moved around my legs, jumped at my lap, never let go of me. I didn't know what this feeling was, but being <em>noticed</em>, being <em>paid attention to</em>, was a feeling of a lifetime. I <em>loved</em> it.</p> <p>I took the cat with me, even if I didn't have a shelter over my head. It's not like I needed it, but the cat did, so I <em>became</em> her shelter. When rained, I became her umbrella. When it was cold, I became her heater. When she was scared, I became her protector.</p> <p>I named her “Meine Seele”, not a nickname— but a title. The one that fit her the most. In a world where I am completely invisible to everyone. To myself, I was just a floating pair of suit, pants, and a hat on the top. But to her, I am… a somebody. Somebody important, somebody that saved her life.</p> <p>Words can't describe this blissful feeling, I am not a Nobody anymore, I am Somebody. Even if it's not human— I was a somebody to <em>something!</em></p> <p>It brought a smile to my face, going right up to my ears whenever she was with me.</p> <p>But then, others came. Not necessarily dangerous, but they did annoy her with their unmatched desire to interact with her. Even if she was blind, her senses were on the spot, being able to recognize people from their mannerisms, reactions, voices, footsteps— many things. She could understand and feel the emotions of others. Which is how she survived those eight months, but now, it was two years already.</p> <p>They wondered: “How is this street cat so well-cared? Is it thrown out, abandoned, or someone takes care of it?”</p> <p>They didn't care for an answer, though. They once tried to take her to a pet shop, which she did not want to go.</p> <p>And then, I intervened.</p> <p><strong><em>Not Meine Seele.</em></strong></p> <p>They never approached her again. And that's how she liked it. We wanted nothing but each other.</p> <p>But, one day, the worst happened.</p> <p>A drunk man, barely able to keep up his balance, stumbled upon her. She couldn't understand what she was feeling at first, the man's drunk mannerism made it impossible for her to detect his intent. I was at the other side of the building, resting my head on the wall with my half-asleep eyes.</p> <p>But then, a high-pitched scream echoed into my ears, the same scream that she had when we first met. My eyes shot-out opened as I felt… <em>fear.</em></p> <p>I immediately teleported to her location, and I saw her… bleeding. Multiple stab wounds, pierced through her like bullets. I crouched down and tried to get a response out of her desperately, I healed her wounds, cleaned the blood, but still… nothing.</p> <p>She was motionless.</p> <p>No, no— It couldn't be!</p> <p>…</p> <p>I was late again…</p> <p>I felt as though my chest was being torn apart by an immense amount of pain. I held her lifeless body in my arms as they shook, I couldn't bring back the dead… and then, I noticed something. A little water droplet fell down from my vision, and then another.</p> <p>What is this…? Tears…? I was… crying?</p> <p>…</p> <p>That man.</p> <p>I found him.</p> <p><em><strong>And I made him regret ever being born. <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2165">God's unfiltered wrath washed down upon him</a>, and I was that God.</strong></em></p> <p>…</p> <p>But that was only for my own sense of revenge. Whatever I could do wouldn't bring her back.</p> <p>In the end, I lost.</p> <p>What kind of God am I, if I can't even protect a cat? Where is my omniscience, my omnipotence, my omnipresence? Am I a God at all?</p> <p>…</p> <p>I guess not.</p> <p>…</p> <p>…</p> <p>I buried her in a far away place, far away from civilizations and humanity, from cars and humans. In a place where she would rest in silence and peace.</p> <p>I would visit her grave every day, put my hat on my chest.</p> <p>And stand there for hours, and weep.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>« <a href="/the-first-free-and-ignorant">The First, Free and Ignorant</a> \| <a href="/one-to-another">One To Another</a> »</strong></p> </div> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] At last, I got myself out. [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-first-free-and-ignorant \| I know I said I wouldn't]]]. But I was rather bored, too bored to stay in there for much longer. I wanted more of life. I opened my nonexistent eyes. Saw the bright, yellow sun. Saw the liveful sky and the clouds. Felt the warm air blow on my nonexistent face as I took a deep breath. I looked at the environment I was in, and saw that I was in the middle of a what seems to be a city. It was big, yet not too much was going on. Automobiles-- I think they're called “cars”-- passed by from time to time. I stepped forward and walked to wherever the sidewalk brought me to. The houses were much more advanced than last time I was in this part of creation. Albeit, nothing too interesting. I occasionally stopped to look at the trees that people had on their front yards and watched as the branches swung with the assistance of wind. It amused me. A few people walked towards my direction from the other side of the sidewalk, I tried to get their attention again but as always, I was ignored. They couldn't see me, they couldn't feel me or hear me. Just nothing. Not directly, not indirectly. That always made me sad: I'm there, but only for myself. I had nobody but me, no one else to enjoy this colorful world with but the person that briefly existed in the mirror. I continued; looked up at the skies as the birds sung a song, and I listened attentively as I walked. It brought temporal peace to the mind. Whoever created this world was surely a master of his craft. But then, I heard a noise, a high-pitched sound that sounded in pain and weak. I turned my nonexistent face to the direction of the noise, It came from nearby face gate of a house, which the front yard was looked after carefully and bushes were grown. The noise appeared again, from inside of one of those bushes. I gently approached and saw a creature that crawled out of the bush with struggle. It was… a cat. A completely white furred, fluffy cat-- from the look, it was 8 months old. It was looking at me, which left me surprised, //it could see me?// It made that sound again, //meow//, filled with pain and weak just as the last one. Not only that, but it's lower half was unsupported by the upper, it was being dragged on the ground whenever the cat attempted to walk. I crouched down, and carefully put my hand on top of the injured place. Plenty of broken bones. I looked at its eyes, its pupils were extended, making the majority of the eyeballs. It was… blind. It could not see and had to rely on her hearing senses to avoid danger, which made it get struck by a car. Without a second thought, I healed the wounds and the bones. The cat groaned, hissed, squirmed in pain, rightfully so as the flesh, meat, and the bones fixed themselves. But after a while, it was done. The cat moved around freely as it no longer felt pain while walking. I smiled softly as I watched the cat enjoy its ability. But suddenly, it jumped onto my leg and climbed all the way up to my chest. //It could touch me?// It was an energetic outburst, as if I was the only thing it could see with its blind eyes throughout its entire life, that was… excited to think about. But more specifically, //I could be seen!// This cat, after a bit of examination, was a she. She followed me around, meowed at me, always moved around my legs, jumped at my lap, never let go of me. I didn't know what this feeling was, but being //noticed//, being //paid attention to//, was a feeling of a lifetime. I //loved// it. I took the cat with me, even if I didn't have a shelter over my head. It's not like I needed it, but the cat did, so I //became// her shelter. When rained, I became her umbrella. When it was cold, I became her heater. When she was scared, I became her protector. I named her “Meine Seele”, not a nickname-- but a title. The one that fit her the most. In a world where I am completely invisible to everyone. To myself, I was just a floating pair of suit, pants, and a hat on the top. But to her, I am… a somebody. Somebody important, somebody that saved her life. Words can't describe this blissful feeling, I am not a Nobody anymore, I am Somebody. Even if it's not human-- I was a somebody to //something!// It brought a smile to my face, going right up to my ears whenever she was with me. But then, others came. Not necessarily dangerous, but they did annoy her with their unmatched desire to interact with her. Even if she was blind, her senses were on the spot, being able to recognize people from their mannerisms, reactions, voices, footsteps-- many things. She could understand and feel the emotions of others. Which is how she survived those eight months, but now, it was two years already. They wondered: “How is this street cat so well-cared? Is it thrown out, abandoned, or someone takes care of it?” They didn't care for an answer, though. They once tried to take her to a pet shop, which she did not want to go. And then, I intervened. //Not Meine Seele.// They never approached her again. And that's how she liked it. We wanted nothing but each other. But, one day, the worst happened. A drunk man, barely able to keep up his balance, stumbled upon her. She couldn't understand what she was feeling at first, the man's drunk mannerism made it impossible for her to detect his intent. I was at the other side of the building, resting my head on the wall with my half-asleep eyes. But then, a high-pitched scream echoed into my ears, the same scream that she had when we first met. My eyes shot-out opened as I felt… //fear.// I immediately teleported to her location, and I saw her… bleeding. Multiple stab wounds, pierced through her like bullets. I crouched down and tried to get a response out of her desperately, I healed her wounds, cleaned the blood, but still… nothing. She was motionless. No, no-- It couldn't be! … I was late again… I felt as though my chest was being torn apart by an immense amount of pain. I held her lifeless body in my arms as they shook, I couldn't bring back the dead… and then, I noticed something. A little water droplet fell down from my vision, and then another. What is this…? Tears…? I was… crying? … That man. I found him. //And I made him regret ever being born. [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2165 \| God's unfiltered wrath washed down upon him]]], and I was that God.// … But that was only for my own sense of revenge. Whatever I could do wouldn't bring her back. In the end, I lost. What kind of God am I, if I can't even protect a cat? Where is my omniscience, my omnipotence, my omnipresence? Am I a God at all? … I guess not. … … I buried her in a far away place, far away from civilizations and humanity, from cars and humans. In a place where she would rest in silence and peace. I would visit her grave every day, put my hat on my chest. And stand there for hours, and weep. [[div class="footer-wikiwalk-nav"]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]] [[/div]] [[=]] << [[[ The First, Free and Ignorant ]]] \| [[[One To Another]]] >> [[/=]]	2024-11-22T10:46:00	[ "first-person", "nobody", "tale" ]	When God Wept - SCP Foundation	5	[ "the-first-free-and-ignorant", "scp-2165", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide", "one-to-another" ]	[ "tales-by-year", "nobody-hub" ]	[]	1457419800	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/when-god-wept
when-the-irises-bloomed	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p>"Hey, check this out."</p> <p>Foxx's eyes lazily rolled from the dossier in his hands to the Anne sitting across from him. Originally, he had come to the lounge in order to be alone, given how everyone was out at lunch. However, Anne had already been here when he arrived. The only reason he stayed was because she had been quietly reading to herself, giving Foxx the idea she wouldn't bother him.</p> <p>"What is it?"</p> <p>"Iris's SCP file." Anne replied, before flipping the paper to show Foxx. "Look at this."</p> <p>Foxx blinked at the document before him. A document that he knew for a fact should <em>not</em> be in this woman's hands.</p> <p>"Anne, how did you get Iris's SCP file?"</p> <p>"Nevermind that, just read."</p> <p>Sighing, Foxx leaned forward and eyed where Anne's finger was pointing. It looked to be the beginning of an interview transcript.</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><strong>Appendix 2: Excerpt from Interview Log 105-08-4426, dated ██/██/████</strong></span></p> <p><strong><Begin Log></strong></p> <p><em>Dr. █████:</em> Please give a brief personal introduction, including date and place of birth, and your name.</p> <p><em>SCP-105:</em> Okay… My name is Iris Thompson, I was born in Phoenix, Arizona, on May 12th, ████.</p> </div> <p>"What about it?" Foxx asked.</p> <p>"What about it?!" Anne echoed, taken aback. "Iris's birthday is May 12th!"</p> <p>"So?"</p> <p>Anne gave him a dead-eyed stare.</p> <p>"Foxx, what day is it?"</p> <p>Foxx stopped. He didn't know what day it was. <em>Let's see, today is Saturday and the first was last Wednesday. So seven gets to this Wednesday, plus four equals eleven. Which means to day is-</em></p> <p>"Oh." He replied, realizing what Anne was getting at. "Tomorrow is Iris's birthday."</p> <p>"Damn right it is." Anne said, tossing the paper on the coffee table. "I can't believe she never told us."</p> <p>"To be fair, birthdays don't really come up in random conversation."</p> <p>"I guess." Anne sighed. "But still, I wish she would have at least hinted at it at some point."</p> <p>The two sat silently for a moment, pondering on this newly discovered information. Personally, Foxx didn't really care too much Iris's birthday. Well, he would probably wish her a happy birthday tomorrow, but besides that he really didn't-</p> <p>"We should do something for her." Anne said, leaning forward.</p> <p>"Huh?"</p> <p>"We should… I don't know, throw her a party or something."</p> <p>"Who's we?" Foxx asked.</p> <p>Anne sighed. "Look Foxx, I <em>know</em> you really don't care about what happens tomorrow…"</p> <p><em>Damn infovore.</em></p> <p>"…but think of Iris. Tomorrow is her big day and… ya know…" Anne looked around the room, before scootching closer to Foxx and speaking in a whispered tone. "She probably hasn't had a proper birthday in over a decade."</p> <p>The more Foxx thought about it, the more he realized that was probably true. He wasn't sure how long Iris had been contained by the Foundation, but he knew it was at least 10 years. One thing he <em>was</em> certain of, however, is that the Foundation didn't exactly celebrate the birthdays of their SCPs. And since this little skip socialization experiment only started a few months ago, it's unlikely Iris had ever had a proper birthday here.</p> <p>"See? You get what I'm saying." Anne said, most likely worming her way into Foxx's mind again. "Think about how much Iris would appreciate it if we celebrated her birthday. Hell, she'd probably lose a bit of that grumpiness."</p> <p>Foxx placed a hand on his chin as he thought about it. Getting on Iris's good side <em>was</em> one of his personal goals, after all, and remembering her birthday could be a really good way of doing that.</p> <p>"Ok." He said after a moment of contemplation. "Let's throw her a party."</p> <p>"Great!" Anne said enthusiastically, before washing away into a more lost expression. "Uh… where do we start?"</p> <p>"Well, I've thrown lots of parties for my daughter." Foxx started. "And the first place I always began was with the cake."</p> <hr/> <p>Iris didn't remember she had been dreaming about, if anything at all. All she knew is that a buzzing sound had pulled her from the depths of sleep. Groggily, she rolled over and hit the top of her clock. With the alarm stopped, Iris let out a yawn and opened her eyes. In her sight was the digital clock, which showed the date as well as the time.</p> <p><em>May 12th.</em></p> <p>Iris was now 25. Without ever thinking about this fact, Iris got out of bed and made her way over to her drawer.</p> <p>Back during Omega-7, she could expect a slew of "happy birthdays" from her squadmates and Beats in the middle of making her favorite breakfast. She'd also be given a card signed by everyone on Pandora's Box (minus the other anomaly on the task force), and would probably also receive a small present of some kind.</p> <p>All of that was in the past, however. Any care or excitement Iris felt about her birthday died with Omega-7. To her, May 12th was just any old day now.</p> <p>Maintaining that opinion, Iris threw on her clothes and made her way to the door without ever giving a second thought about the date.</p> <p>"Finally, you're awake." Adams said when Iris opened the door. Iris, in response, blinked and did a double take. Adams had never waited outside her room before.</p> <p>"What do you need?" Iris replied in her normal, impatient tone.</p> <p>"Assignment from September." Adams, who had been leaning against the wall, straightened. "The two of us need to go down to the garage and get a count on the Humvees that're still operational."</p> <p>"…What?" Iris said, less curious over <em>what</em> Adams had said and more so <em>why</em> she had said it.</p> <p>Sensing the confusion, Adams sighed and elaborated.</p> <p>"Look, there have been some reports recently about the Humvees going down or not starting or, one way or another, being inoperable. The tech team is down there right now making their daily inspections. All we need to do is ask them how many of the Humvees are operational. Got it?"</p> <p>"I mean, yeah, but…" Iris paused as she pondered how to say this without coming off as indolent. "Why us? Why not just call the head mechanic directly?"</p> <p>"I don't know." Adams shrugged. "That's something you can ask September when we give our report."</p> <p>Sighing, Iris closed the door behind her and accepted that she'd be running errands for the Factotum before even eating breakfast.</p> <p>"Ok, let's get this over with."</p> <hr/> <p>"What a waste of time." Iris grumbled as she and Adams made their way to the lounge.</p> <p>What Iris thought would be a simple, 20 minute expedition to the garage and back turned into an hour of waiting and doing nothing while the mechanics finished their inspection, only for them to come over and say nothing was wrong and all were good to go. And on top of that, when she and Adams went to give their report to September, the Factotum expressed confusion at Iris's presence, stating that she had never asked Adams to drag Iris along. When Iris turned to Adams with fire in her eyes, Adams simply replied with "I thought it'd be good for her to stretch her legs."</p> <p>The walk back had, subsequently, been silent up until just now.</p> <p>"Look on the bright side." Adams replied. "At least you were able to break the cycle of cafeteria-gym-lounge you get stuck in between missions."</p> <p>"I do not get stuck in a cycle between missions." Iris said, realizing only after the fact that she was being way too defensive. "I just don't like having my time wasted."</p> <p>"Yeah, well…" Adams slowed her pace to allow Iris to take the lead. "They needed me to keep you away from the lounge for a bit."</p> <p>"Huh?" Iris furrowed her brow, not know what Adams meant by that. She would soon find out though, as the second she opened the door to the lounge, her ears were blasted by a party popper.</p> <p>"Surprise!" Someone said. "Happy birthday!"</p> <p>Blinking, Iris regained her senses and took in the scene that laid before her. Anne was standing in the middle of the lounge with Foxx right next to her (with a used party popper in his hands). Behind them was a folding table, on which sat several plastic forks, plates, napkins, and a white cake with a blue "25" on it.</p> <p>"Wha- what is this?" Iris asked slowly stepping into the room. As she did, she realized Anne and Foxx weren't the only people waiting for her. Leora was standing off to the side behind Anne and Foxx, a well meaning smile on her face. Sitting on the sofa to Iris's left were Daniel and Marya, the latter of whom looked over her shoulder to see the new visitor. To Iris's right was Alexei, standing in the corner of the room and wearing a plastic party hat on top his… helmet? Finally was Stacey, who was sitting in a chair at a side table wearing a look of second hand embarrassment.</p> <p>"We saw today was your birthday, so we decided to do something special." Anne said cheerily.</p> <p>"A… a birthday party?" Iris stuttered, feeling her face go warm. "For me?"</p> <p>"Yep." Foxx said, maintaining that wide smile.</p> <p>Iris stared at the agent for a few moments, then looked around at the other people in the room… and felt her eye twitch. Quickly, she spun and glared at Adams, who was leaning against the doorframe with what looked like a genuine smile. She opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off by Iris.</p> <p>"Did you know about this?" She hissed.</p> <p>The smile on Adams's face faltered as she realized Iris was not pleased in the slightest.</p> <p>"Yeah. I had you come to the garage with me so they had time to set up."</p> <p>Again Iris's eye twitched.</p> <p>"Get them out now."</p> <p>"Why?" Adams raised an eyebrow.</p> <p>Iris balled her fists so hard she felt her nails dig into her skin.</p> <p>"It breaks protocol."</p> <p>"Ok that's just not true." Adams replied, straightening. "Given how red your face is though, I'm guessing it's because you don't want to be the center of attention."</p> <p><em>She isn't wearing her suit. If I go for the throat, I should be able to-</em></p> <p>"But… if you don't want a birthday party, I'll see what I can do." Adams shrugged and stepped forward. "Shame though. Cain was really looking forward to it."</p> <p>Iris grabbed Adams's shoulder as she stepped by her, stopping her dead.</p> <p>"What?" Iris asked.</p> <p>"Sorry I'm late." A voice echoed through the room as the door opened once again. Iris looked up to see Cain enter the room, a Little Caesar's pizza box in his hand. "Those guys just would not give me 458. Had to get Dr. Taylor involved."</p> <p>"Great!" Anne called out.</p> <p>Cain stepped inside and closed the door behind him. As he made his way towards the table, he stopped in front of Iris and looked down at her.</p> <p>"Hello Iris." He said, smiling. "Happy birthday."</p> <p>Iris didn't respond to Cain, instead just staring with a dumb look as he moved his way past her. Inhaling slowly, Iris turned to Adams.</p> <p>"Still want me to call it off?" Adams asked.</p> <p>Iris grumbled under her breath, before quietly breathing out a "fine." Turning around, Iris faced the scene before her. If Cain had helped set this all up, then she would suck it up and play along. After all, Cain was one of the only people on this site she tolerated. She wouldn't want to make him upset by-</p> <p>"Just put the pizza on the table." Foxx said. "We'll eat after we all sing happy birthday."</p> <p>Iris felt her stomach drop.</p> <hr/> <p>Iris groaned as she dropped down on the sofa. What an exhausting 3 hours.</p> <p>"There's still some cake left." Anne said as she snapped the plastic lid over the cake platter. "You want it? I don't know if you've got a mini-fridge or something in your room. Suppose I could just write your name on the box and put it in one of the kitchen fridges."</p> <p>"No." Iris replied. "Just give it to the cafeteria staff. Let them do whatever they want with it."</p> <p>"Ok." Anne lifted the box and made her way to the door. "If you say so."</p> <p>And with that, Anne pushed herself through the door and out of the room. The lounge was empty now, save the exhausted woman laying on the couch. Everyone had either gone to their rooms or, in Adams's case, left the site entirely. Closing her eyes, Iris listened to the quiet humming of the ventilation. At last, she was alone, and she could enjoy the-</p> <p>Her tranquility was interrupted by the sound of the door reopening. Frowning, Iris opened her eyes and turned towards the noise.</p> <p>"No, Anne, I don't want any of the ca-"</p> <p>Iris stopped speaking when she realized the new visitor was, in fact, Jackie.</p> <p>"Have a good party, sir?"</p> <p>"Oh…" Iris felt the tension in her face loosen as Jackie stepped into the room. "Uh, yeah."</p> <p>"With all due respect…" Jackie replied, sitting down in a chair opposite the sofa. A crumbling sound echoed through the room, causing Iris to notice that Jackie had a plastic bag with her. "I can tell when you're bullshitting."</p> <p>Iris sighed.</p> <p>"I'm not a fan of parties. Not anymore, at least."</p> <p>"I could tell." Jackie replied. "Which is why I opted not to come."</p> <p>Hearing this, it hit Iris that Jackie had in fact <em>not</em> attended the party. Something she… didn't know how to feel about.</p> <p>"You didn't want me to come, did you?" Jackie continued, reading the expression on Iris's face.</p> <p>"No, no." Iris said, shaking her head and returning herself to her normal expression. "Well… I wouldn't have minded, since you were the only one smart enough not to come."</p> <p>"I think Stacey knew that too, but Leora probably forced her to come."</p> <p>"Probably." Iris said, thinking back to the young girl. "She just silently sat in the corner the whole time."</p> <p>Jackie nodded. And with neither person having anything more to say, the room feel just as silent as it had been a minute ago.</p> <p>"What's in the bag?" Iris asked after a moment.</p> <p>"Oh." Jackie said, jumping as though she had totally forgotten about it. Standing, Jackie lifted the bag and began walking towards Iris. "I knew you wouldn't want me at the party, but I still felt like I should've gotten you something. So, I went into town and bought you this."</p> <p>Reaching into the bag, Jackie pulled out a half-blue half-purple iris in a clay pot. Iris felt her eyes widen at the sight of the flower.</p> <p>"You… you got this for me?"</p> <p>"Yeah." Jackie said. "I remember you once said you wished there was a bit more flora in the site. Decorative flowers and what not. What do you think?"</p> <p>"It's…" <em>Beautiful.</em> "…Really nice."</p> <p>Jackie offered the plant to Iris, which she accepted and brought to her lap. Subtle enough to not let Jackie notice, Iris sniffed the aroma coming from the flower. It was a pleasant, earthy fragrance, one Iris hadn't smelt in a long time.</p> <p>For a moment, Iris wasn't in the lounge of Site-17. For a split, fleeting second, she was in Phoenix, Arizona, outside in the backyard. Her mom had planted a bed of irises there a few years before she was born. In fact, the reason she was named Iris was because, apparently, the bed had bloomed the day she was born. Because of that, it had been a tradition of Iris to smell the irises when they first bloomed, which always seemed to be on her birthday. Her birthday. Which she usually celebrated by eating her favorite breakfast of French toast egg-in-a-hole and hashbrowns, then opening family presents as her mom recorded the whole thing. Then she and her family would go to the park, where Iris's small yet close group of friends would meet her. They would give their presents, and they would spend the next several hours running around playing, stopping only to eat the ice cream Iris's mom brought. After everyone was tired out and the sun was starting to set, Iris would say her goodbyes and that she would see them tomorrow at school. Then Iris and her family would go to her favorite restaurant: a hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant. It was run by actual Italian immigrants, and it had the best spaghetti Iris had ever eaten. Finally, Iris and her family would go home, where she would blow out the candles and all four of them would eat cake as they watched her favorite movie: Jumanji. The four of them. Iris, her dad, her mom, and Tommy. A totally normal family.</p> <p>"Sir?"</p> <p>Iris's reminiscing came to a screeching halt as Jackie's voice pulled her to the present.</p> <p>"Huh? Oh, thanks." Iris rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Sorry, I'm just tired after the party."</p> <p>Jackie nodded, her face as stoic as ever. Without waiting for any verbal continuation, Iris cradled the flower in her arms and stood. As she made her way over to the door however, she stopped as Jackie called out to her.</p> <p>"Happy birthday, sir."</p> <p>Iris stood still for several seconds, before continuing past the door.</p> <p>"Thank you." She whispered several feet from the door, tightening her hold on the pot as she did.</p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/when-the-irises-bloomed">When The Irises Bloomed</a>" by DrDapper, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/when-the-irises-bloomed">https://scpwiki.com/when-the-irises-bloomed</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:black-highlighter-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] "Hey, check this out." Foxx's eyes lazily rolled from the dossier in his hands to the Anne sitting across from him. Originally, he had come to the lounge in order to be alone, given how everyone was out at lunch. However, Anne had already been here when he arrived. The only reason he stayed was because she had been quietly reading to herself, giving Foxx the idea she wouldn't bother him. "What is it?" "Iris's SCP file." Anne replied, before flipping the paper to show Foxx. "Look at this." Foxx blinked at the document before him. A document that he knew for a fact should //not// be in this woman's hands. "Anne, how did you get Iris's SCP file?" "Nevermind that, just read." Sighing, Foxx leaned forward and eyed where Anne's finger was pointing. It looked to be the beginning of an interview transcript. [[div class="blockquote"]] __Appendix 2: Excerpt from Interview Log 105-08-4426, dated ██/██/████__ <Begin Log> //Dr. █████:// Please give a brief personal introduction, including date and place of birth, and your name. //SCP-105:// Okay… My name is Iris Thompson, I was born in Phoenix, Arizona, on May 12th, ████. [[/div]] "What about it?" Foxx asked. "What about it?!" Anne echoed, taken aback. "Iris's birthday is May 12th!" "So?" Anne gave him a dead-eyed stare. "Foxx, what day is it?" Foxx stopped. He didn't know what day it was. //Let's see, today is Saturday and the first was last Wednesday. So seven gets to this Wednesday, plus four equals eleven. Which means to day is-// "Oh." He replied, realizing what Anne was getting at. "Tomorrow is Iris's birthday." "Damn right it is." Anne said, tossing the paper on the coffee table. "I can't believe she never told us." "To be fair, birthdays don't really come up in random conversation." "I guess." Anne sighed. "But still, I wish she would have at least hinted at it at some point." The two sat silently for a moment, pondering on this newly discovered information. Personally, Foxx didn't really care too much Iris's birthday. Well, he would probably wish her a happy birthday tomorrow, but besides that he really didn't- "We should do something for her." Anne said, leaning forward. "Huh?" "We should... I don't know, throw her a party or something." "Who's we?" Foxx asked. Anne sighed. "Look Foxx, I //know// you really don't care about what happens tomorrow..." //Damn infovore.// "...but think of Iris. Tomorrow is her big day and... ya know..." Anne looked around the room, before scootching closer to Foxx and speaking in a whispered tone. "She probably hasn't had a proper birthday in over a decade." The more Foxx thought about it, the more he realized that was probably true. He wasn't sure how long Iris had been contained by the Foundation, but he knew it was at least 10 years. One thing he //was// certain of, however, is that the Foundation didn't exactly celebrate the birthdays of their SCPs. And since this little skip socialization experiment only started a few months ago, it's unlikely Iris had ever had a proper birthday here. "See? You get what I'm saying." Anne said, most likely worming her way into Foxx's mind again. "Think about how much Iris would appreciate it if we celebrated her birthday. Hell, she'd probably lose a bit of that grumpiness." Foxx placed a hand on his chin as he thought about it. Getting on Iris's good side //was// one of his personal goals, after all, and remembering her birthday could be a really good way of doing that. "Ok." He said after a moment of contemplation. "Let's throw her a party." "Great!" Anne said enthusiastically, before washing away into a more lost expression. "Uh... where do we start?" "Well, I've thrown lots of parties for my daughter." Foxx started. "And the first place I always began was with the cake." ------ Iris didn't remember she had been dreaming about, if anything at all. All she knew is that a buzzing sound had pulled her from the depths of sleep. Groggily, she rolled over and hit the top of her clock. With the alarm stopped, Iris let out a yawn and opened her eyes. In her sight was the digital clock, which showed the date as well as the time. //May 12th.// Iris was now 25. Without ever thinking about this fact, Iris got out of bed and made her way over to her drawer. Back during Omega-7, she could expect a slew of "happy birthdays" from her squadmates and Beats in the middle of making her favorite breakfast. She'd also be given a card signed by everyone on Pandora's Box (minus the other anomaly on the task force), and would probably also receive a small present of some kind. All of that was in the past, however. Any care or excitement Iris felt about her birthday died with Omega-7. To her, May 12th was just any old day now. Maintaining that opinion, Iris threw on her clothes and made her way to the door without ever giving a second thought about the date. "Finally, you're awake." Adams said when Iris opened the door. Iris, in response, blinked and did a double take. Adams had never waited outside her room before. "What do you need?" Iris replied in her normal, impatient tone. "Assignment from September." Adams, who had been leaning against the wall, straightened. "The two of us need to go down to the garage and get a count on the Humvees that're still operational." "...What?" Iris said, less curious over //what// Adams had said and more so //why// she had said it. Sensing the confusion, Adams sighed and elaborated. "Look, there have been some reports recently about the Humvees going down or not starting or, one way or another, being inoperable. The tech team is down there right now making their daily inspections. All we need to do is ask them how many of the Humvees are operational. Got it?" "I mean, yeah, but..." Iris paused as she pondered how to say this without coming off as indolent. "Why us? Why not just call the head mechanic directly?" "I don't know." Adams shrugged. "That's something you can ask September when we give our report." Sighing, Iris closed the door behind her and accepted that she'd be running errands for the Factotum before even eating breakfast. "Ok, let's get this over with." ------ "What a waste of time." Iris grumbled as she and Adams made their way to the lounge. What Iris thought would be a simple, 20 minute expedition to the garage and back turned into an hour of waiting and doing nothing while the mechanics finished their inspection, only for them to come over and say nothing was wrong and all were good to go. And on top of that, when she and Adams went to give their report to September, the Factotum expressed confusion at Iris's presence, stating that she had never asked Adams to drag Iris along. When Iris turned to Adams with fire in her eyes, Adams simply replied with "I thought it'd be good for her to stretch her legs." The walk back had, subsequently, been silent up until just now. "Look on the bright side." Adams replied. "At least you were able to break the cycle of cafeteria-gym-lounge you get stuck in between missions." "I do not get stuck in a cycle between missions." Iris said, realizing only after the fact that she was being way too defensive. "I just don't like having my time wasted." "Yeah, well..." Adams slowed her pace to allow Iris to take the lead. "They needed me to keep you away from the lounge for a bit." "Huh?" Iris furrowed her brow, not know what Adams meant by that. She would soon find out though, as the second she opened the door to the lounge, her ears were blasted by a party popper. "Surprise!" Someone said. "Happy birthday!" Blinking, Iris regained her senses and took in the scene that laid before her. Anne was standing in the middle of the lounge with Foxx right next to her (with a used party popper in his hands). Behind them was a folding table, on which sat several plastic forks, plates, napkins, and a white cake with a blue "25" on it. "Wha- what is this?" Iris asked slowly stepping into the room. As she did, she realized Anne and Foxx weren't the only people waiting for her. Leora was standing off to the side behind Anne and Foxx, a well meaning smile on her face. Sitting on the sofa to Iris's left were Daniel and Marya, the latter of whom looked over her shoulder to see the new visitor. To Iris's right was Alexei, standing in the corner of the room and wearing a plastic party hat on top his... helmet? Finally was Stacey, who was sitting in a chair at a side table wearing a look of second hand embarrassment. "We saw today was your birthday, so we decided to do something special." Anne said cheerily. "A... a birthday party?" Iris stuttered, feeling her face go warm. "For me?" "Yep." Foxx said, maintaining that wide smile. Iris stared at the agent for a few moments, then looked around at the other people in the room... and felt her eye twitch. Quickly, she spun and glared at Adams, who was leaning against the doorframe with what looked like a genuine smile. She opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off by Iris. "Did you know about this?" She hissed. The smile on Adams's face faltered as she realized Iris was not pleased in the slightest. "Yeah. I had you come to the garage with me so they had time to set up." Again Iris's eye twitched. "Get them out now." "Why?" Adams raised an eyebrow. Iris balled her fists so hard she felt her nails dig into her skin. "It breaks protocol." "Ok that's just not true." Adams replied, straightening. "Given how red your face is though, I'm guessing it's because you don't want to be the center of attention." //She isn't wearing her suit. If I go for the throat, I should be able to-// "But... if you don't want a birthday party, I'll see what I can do." Adams shrugged and stepped forward. "Shame though. Cain was really looking forward to it." Iris grabbed Adams's shoulder as she stepped by her, stopping her dead. "What?" Iris asked. "Sorry I'm late." A voice echoed through the room as the door opened once again. Iris looked up to see Cain enter the room, a Little Caesar's pizza box in his hand. "Those guys just would not give me 458. Had to get Dr. Taylor involved." "Great!" Anne called out. Cain stepped inside and closed the door behind him. As he made his way towards the table, he stopped in front of Iris and looked down at her. "Hello Iris." He said, smiling. "Happy birthday." Iris didn't respond to Cain, instead just staring with a dumb look as he moved his way past her. Inhaling slowly, Iris turned to Adams. "Still want me to call it off?" Adams asked. Iris grumbled under her breath, before quietly breathing out a "fine." Turning around, Iris faced the scene before her. If Cain had helped set this all up, then she would suck it up and play along. After all, Cain was one of the only people on this site she tolerated. She wouldn't want to make him upset by- "Just put the pizza on the table." Foxx said. "We'll eat after we all sing happy birthday." Iris felt her stomach drop. ------ Iris groaned as she dropped down on the sofa. What an exhausting 3 hours. "There's still some cake left." Anne said as she snapped the plastic lid over the cake platter. "You want it? I don't know if you've got a mini-fridge or something in your room. Suppose I could just write your name on the box and put it in one of the kitchen fridges." "No." Iris replied. "Just give it to the cafeteria staff. Let them do whatever they want with it." "Ok." Anne lifted the box and made her way to the door. "If you say so." And with that, Anne pushed herself through the door and out of the room. The lounge was empty now, save the exhausted woman laying on the couch. Everyone had either gone to their rooms or, in Adams's case, left the site entirely. Closing her eyes, Iris listened to the quiet humming of the ventilation. At last, she was alone, and she could enjoy the- Her tranquility was interrupted by the sound of the door reopening. Frowning, Iris opened her eyes and turned towards the noise. "No, Anne, I don't want any of the ca-" Iris stopped speaking when she realized the new visitor was, in fact, Jackie. "Have a good party, sir?" "Oh..." Iris felt the tension in her face loosen as Jackie stepped into the room. "Uh, yeah." "With all due respect..." Jackie replied, sitting down in a chair opposite the sofa. A crumbling sound echoed through the room, causing Iris to notice that Jackie had a plastic bag with her. "I can tell when you're bullshitting." Iris sighed. "I'm not a fan of parties. Not anymore, at least." "I could tell." Jackie replied. "Which is why I opted not to come." Hearing this, it hit Iris that Jackie had in fact //not// attended the party. Something she... didn't know how to feel about. "You didn't want me to come, did you?" Jackie continued, reading the expression on Iris's face. "No, no." Iris said, shaking her head and returning herself to her normal expression. "Well... I wouldn't have minded, since you were the only one smart enough not to come." "I think Stacey knew that too, but Leora probably forced her to come." "Probably." Iris said, thinking back to the young girl. "She just silently sat in the corner the whole time." Jackie nodded. And with neither person having anything more to say, the room feel just as silent as it had been a minute ago. "What's in the bag?" Iris asked after a moment. "Oh." Jackie said, jumping as though she had totally forgotten about it. Standing, Jackie lifted the bag and began walking towards Iris. "I knew you wouldn't want me at the party, but I still felt like I should've gotten you something. So, I went into town and bought you this." Reaching into the bag, Jackie pulled out a half-blue half-purple iris in a clay pot. Iris felt her eyes widen at the sight of the flower. "You... you got this for me?" "Yeah." Jackie said. "I remember you once said you wished there was a bit more flora in the site. Decorative flowers and what not. What do you think?" "It's..." //Beautiful.// "...Really nice." Jackie offered the plant to Iris, which she accepted and brought to her lap. Subtle enough to not let Jackie notice, Iris sniffed the aroma coming from the flower. It was a pleasant, earthy fragrance, one Iris hadn't smelt in a long time. For a moment, Iris wasn't in the lounge of Site-17. For a split, fleeting second, she was in Phoenix, Arizona, outside in the backyard. Her mom had planted a bed of irises there a few years before she was born. In fact, the reason she was named Iris was because, apparently, the bed had bloomed the day she was born. Because of that, it had been a tradition of Iris to smell the irises when they first bloomed, which always seemed to be on her birthday. Her birthday. Which she usually celebrated by eating her favorite breakfast of French toast egg-in-a-hole and hashbrowns, then opening family presents as her mom recorded the whole thing. Then she and her family would go to the park, where Iris's small yet close group of friends would meet her. They would give their presents, and they would spend the next several hours running around playing, stopping only to eat the ice cream Iris's mom brought. After everyone was tired out and the sun was starting to set, Iris would say her goodbyes and that she would see them tomorrow at school. Then Iris and her family would go to her favorite restaurant: a hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant. It was run by actual Italian immigrants, and it had the best spaghetti Iris had ever eaten. Finally, Iris and her family would go home, where she would blow out the candles and all four of them would eat cake as they watched her favorite movie: Jumanji. The four of them. Iris, her dad, her mom, and Tommy. A totally normal family. "Sir?" Iris's reminiscing came to a screeching halt as Jackie's voice pulled her to the present. "Huh? Oh, thanks." Iris rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Sorry, I'm just tired after the party." Jackie nodded, her face as stoic as ever. Without waiting for any verbal continuation, Iris cradled the flower in her arms and stood. As she made her way over to the door however, she stopped as Jackie called out to her. "Happy birthday, sir." Iris stood still for several seconds, before continuing past the door. "Thank you." She whispered several feet from the door, tightening her hold on the pot as she did. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=DrDapper]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-05-12T18:14:00	[ "_licensebox", "agent-adams", "cain", "iris-thompson", "last-hope", "resurrection", "slice-of-life", "tale" ]	When The Irises Bloomed - SCP Foundation	26	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[]	[]	1453626310	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/when-the-irises-bloomed
who-am-i-to-look-into-a-mirror	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p>Dr. Wondertainment led a surprisingly mundane existence. Given his influence and infamy, one might expect a life brimming with intrigue or eccentricity. Yet, here he was, sitting in a skyscraper, gazing down upon the vast land that once echoed with wonder.</p> <p>A lifetime ago he had affectionately named it "Wonderland." But the truth was that Wonderland had long been stripped of its magic. The toy-making factories had been done away with years ago. What remained was no different from any other dreary industrial district. The only thing that set it apart was the thin facade that desperately tried to mask the otherwise depressing atmosphere. Not that it needed to try too hard—his workers would obey his every word, unquestioningly. They would die for him if he asked.</p> <p>Dr. Wondertainment sighed, sinking deeper into his chair. <em>It's for the greater good</em> he thought to himself. In a better, more structured world, there was no room for toys. The factories were far better suited for producing food, clothing, and other dull necessities, or so he kept telling himself.</p> <p>He fiddled with his fingers for a moment, tracing the grooves on the armrest, his foot tapping against the floor. Then, without warning, he jerked his hand forward, looking down at his wrist. No watch. He blinked, confused for a brief second, before impatiently pushing himself up from his chair. He made his way across his office, placing his hand on the doorknob of the exit door, which honked under his grip. With an almost violent twist, he yanked the door open.</p> <p>On the other side stood an impossibly large clock. It resembled a grandfather clock, but it stretched endlessly upward, disappearing into the reaches of an unseen roof. He turned to the right, ignoring the clock and instead, focused on the third moon outside the window. It hung low in the sky, watching him with vacant eyes. As he stared, the moon stared back and silently mouthed the words: "11:29 AM."</p> <p>Dr. Wondertainment took a step back, his forehead creasing with confusion. <em>No, no, no</em>. That couldn't be right. Hours had passed—days, maybe even years! How could it have only been two hours since he last checked the time?</p> <p>His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden vibration near his wrist. He looked down again, and there it was—his watch, as though it had always been there. <em>Right</em>. Time for his scheduled meeting. With a snap of his fingers, the world around him dissolved like wet paint, reforming into a bright pink-and-purple room filled with toys. In the center of it all was a massive shining golden computer sitting atop a table, the initials "DW" engraved on its surface.</p> <p>He strolled over before practically collapsing into the chair. It groaned under his weight. Maybe, just maybe, this meeting would be a good way to kill some time.</p> <p>Or maybe time had already been killing him.</p> <p>The monitor flickered to life, revealing the silhouettes of a dozen shadowy figures. Dr. Wondertainment scoffed, rolling his eyes. The theatrics of it all—hiding behind obscured identities when everyone knew exactly who was on the other end. What a waste. His fingers twitched on the armrest as he shifted in his seat.</p> <p>The screen's silence flickered until, out of the dim silhouettes, one of the figures spoke. The voice was rough, strained, and heavy with gravity. "<a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/to-the-vastness-of-eternity">James Hodge, Director of the Unusual Incidents Unit, is dead.</a>"</p> <p>The words hung in the air, and for a moment, Dr. Wondertainment felt time slow down—though, in his world, time was never quite reliable. Still, the news drew his interest. He leaned forward slightly, though not out of concern.</p> <p>"Dead? Really?" His voice broke through the scree. "Was it the paperwork? Always knew that'd be the death of him."</p> <p>The shadowy figure ignored the comment. "His body was found yesterday, circumstances unknown. It wasn't an isolated incident. Assets around the globe are being compromised. From Europe to South America, key figures are disappearing or turning up dead. We've no leads—no trails. This isn't coincidence."</p> <p>The call fell silent. Wondertainment tapped his fingers against the armrest, his grin growing. "And you're telling us this why? Because we're next?" He tilted his head, eyes flickering with amusement. “I never liked James.”</p> <p>"Possibly. We don't know the motive yet, or the method. But whatever it is, it's deliberate. Someone, or something, is systematically targeting our structure, and we need to be prepared." The man responded, ignoring the last comment. "Be on alert."</p> <p>Around the room, the shadows stirred, some muttering quietly. Dr. Wondertainment reclined in his seat, thoroughly entertained by the sudden panic creeping into the others. "Oh, dear. What a tragedy," he said in mock sincerity. "Isn't it funny how the mighty fall so easily?"</p> <p>One of the silhouettes snapped back, "This is serious, Wondertainment. If Hodge could be taken out, no one is safe."</p> <p>The toymaker waved a hand dismissively. "Safe, unsafe, it’s all just semantics, isn’t it? Besides, if someone’s going around playing the Grim Reaper, they’re bound to show their hand soon enough. They always do." His smile widened. "I’m more interested in what comes after the fall. Isn’t that where the fun really begins?"</p> <p>While most of them traded hushed whispers about increasing security measures, Wondertainment only kept his smile.</p> <p>"Let me know when the next one drops," he said, his voice almost sing-song. "I’ll be watching closely." With that, he leaned back, disconnecting from the call.</p> <p>For the first time in a long time, Dr. Wondertainment felt a spark of something real—a tinge of excitement, of anticipation. It was something different from the dull hum of monotony that had dominated his life in recent times. This office work, the endless meetings, the lifeless, obedient workers—it all grated on him. But now? Now there was a chance for fun again. Real fun.<br/> He stood up from his desk, hands twitching with barely restrained glee. Oh, what games he could play with this mysterious threat, the one supposedly killing off key figures around the world. He would send his Little Misters to track them down at once—oh, the possibilities! Maybe they'd play a game of tag…. Or perhaps, he'd wind this figure up like one of his old toys, twist their mind and body into something amusing! His mind whirred with possibilities, and he was practically bouncing with excitement.</p> <p>Grabbing the door handle, he twisted it sharply and stepped forward, expecting to find his brightly colored office where more toys awaited. But instead, he froze.</p> <p>The room before him wasn’t the vibrant conglomeration of colors he was accustomed to, nor was it the usual endless expanse of Wonderland. No, this was different. The room was…elegant. There were towering shelves filled with books, their spines old and worn, illuminated by the warm glow of a grand chandelier hanging above. In the center of the room sat an enormous, crackling bonfire that didn’t seem to emit any heat, but cast flickering shadows across the floor. It was a strange, almost otherworldly kind of beauty.</p> <p>Dr. Wondertainment turned in place, scanning the room with a look of genuine confusion on his face. For the first time in a while, he wasn’t sure what was happening, and that uncertainty thrilled him.</p> <p>“I’m so glad you could join me.”</p> <p>The voice was soft, but it carried with it a weight that seemed to bend the very air. Dr. Wondertainment spun around to face the speaker and found himself staring at a figure sitting casually in a plush, high-backed chair. The figure’s silhouette was vague, like a person wrapped in shadow, blending into the light of the room. There were no defining features, no eyes, no face—just a man shaped hole in reality that spoke.</p> <p>Dr. Wondertainment's confusion melted away, replaced by a wide grin. "Oh! I wasn’t expecting a playdate so soon!" He walked closer to the figure. "Let me guess—you’re the one they’re all so afraid of? The one killing off all my colleagues?"</p> <p>The figure didn’t move. "Perhaps. Does it matter?"</p> <p>"Not in the slightest!" Wondertainment laughed, pacing back and forth in front of the fire. "What does matter is that you’ve made my day. All these dull meetings, these drones doing everything I say without so much as a question—it’s been dreadful!" He clasped his hands together, eyes gleaming. "But you… you might just be the most interesting thing to happen in years!"</p> <p>The figure tilted its head slightly. "Interesting? I suppose that’s one way to describe me." There was a pause, a beat of silence. Then, in a casual tone, the figure added, "I’m here to kill you."</p> <p>Wondertainment stopped pacing, his grin never faltering. "Oh, is that all? Well, I must say, you’ve got your work cut out for you." He chortled, moving closer to the figure. "But I do so love a challenge. How about a game? After all, you wouldn’t kill me without giving me a chance to play first, right?"<br/> The figure seemed to consider for a moment, then nodded slowly. "A game, then." A smile crossed the doctor's face.</p> <p>Dr. Wondertainment sat in his chair, opposite to the figure, twirling a bright, golden card between his fingers. His vibrant purple coat shimmered in the low firelight, casting an odd glow across the small, dimly lit room. Across the table the figure sat, still and silent.</p> <p>Wondertainment gave a wide grin, eyes gleaming. "So, a game of truths, is it?" he said, the lilt in his voice playful. "My, how utterly boring."</p> <p>The figure inclined their head slightly, as if considering. "The truth is rarely boring," they replied, their voice calm, steady, almost mechanical in its detachment. "It's just that most are unwilling to face it."</p> <p>"Let’s not make it boring, then," Wondertainment countered, placing his cards carefully in front of him. Three shining cards, each representing a life within the game. Across from him, the figure did the same. The cards seemed to materialize out of the darkness, their backs glinting under the low light.</p> <p>The figure simply stared blankly before speaking. "Well then, shall we begin?"</p> <p>Wondertainment tapped his cards with his index finger, pretending to think. He wasn’t concerned. No one could beat him at mind games. He lived for these games. “Let’s start simple,” he said, leaning forward. “What drives you? What’s your purpose in all of this?”</p> <p>The figure didn’t hesitate, as if they had rehearsed the answer a thousand times. “Curiosity.”</p> <p>Wondertainment blinked. Curiosity? That was all? His grin widened—too easy. "Curiosity?" He repeated the word with mock disbelief, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I would have thought someone like you would have a grander ambition. Something with meaning." His eyes twinkled, but there was a growing sense of unease creeping in. This was too straightforward. A trap, perhaps?</p> <p>The figure did not flinch. "Curiosity is enough." There was no emotion in the tone, but something in those words felt absolute.</p> <p>Wondertainment’s grin flickered. He could usually read his opponents like open books, seeing their doubts, insecurities, desires—pieces he could play with. But this one, this thing… they were impossible to read. A blank page.</p> <p><em>No matter</em>, he told himself. Keep playing.</p> <p>"My turn." The figure’s voice was as soft as before. "What do you regret most?"</p> <p>Wondertainment let out a laugh that echoed in the room. "Regret? Oh, my dear shadowy friend, regret is for those who fail!" He spread his arms wide. "And I, well… I don’t fail. No room for regrets when you’re always moving forward, creating more, inventing more."</p> <p>The figure was still. Watching. Waiting.</p> <p>For a moment, Wondertainment thought he saw something—just the faintest twitch of a movement in the figure’s posture, a tilt of the head. It was brief, so brief that he couldn’t be sure if he had imagined it. But in that fleeting moment, a thought crossed his mind: they didn’t believe him. He felt it like a weight in the air, the figure seeing past his laughter to something deeper, something he wasn’t willing to acknowledge.</p> <p>Dr. Wondertainment could feel his own words hanging in the air, hollow, echoing back at him.</p> <p>His grin tightened. "Curiosity is a dangerous thing," Wondertainment quipped, trying to regain his playful tone. "It can lead you down some very dark paths."</p> <p>The figure’s voice cut through him. "And yet, you avoid answering the question."</p> <p>Wondertainment’s fingers twitched against the edge of his card. That statement—it felt like a jab. But the figure hadn’t moved, hadn’t raised their voice. How did they do that? How did they make him feel so exposed, so… readable?</p> <p>He shifted in his seat, clearing his throat. "Fine. I’ll bite." His grin was still there, but the fire behind it was starting to flicker. "Regret? Maybe I regret trusting too many people." The words slipped out before he could stop them. He quickly followed with a laugh, brushing it off. "But that's all in the past! I’ve learned my lesson."</p> <p>The figure remained silent, and again, that oppressive feeling returned, like he was being seen in a way no one had ever seen him before. It was unnerving.</p> <p>“That’s a lie. Lose a card,” the figure said softly.</p> <p>Wondertainment blinked. “What?”</p> <p>“You deflected. You avoided the truth.” The figure's voice was calm, without a hint of malice. “Lose a card.”</p> <p>For the first time, Wondertainment’s confidence faltered. His fingers twitched again, and one of his cards shimmered and disappeared. He stared at the empty space where the card had been. How had that happened? He was supposed to be in control of this game, and yet…</p> <p>No. He wasn’t going to lose to some blank-faced shadow.</p> <p>He leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. "Let’s see if you can keep up." His voice sharpened as his mind worked to regain control. "What’s your biggest failure, then? What’s the one thing you wish you could change?"</p> <p>The figure paused, as if the question actually required thought. "I have no failures."</p> <p>Wondertainment laughed, louder than before. "No failures? My, my, you are a confident one, aren’t you? But everyone has failed at something. You’re lying." No cards disappeared from the figure's hand; in fact, another black card manifested. Dr. Wondertainment cursed under his breath—he was wrong.</p> <p>"No," the figure said, "I haven’t failed. Because I haven’t finished."</p> <p>It was as if the figure wasn’t lying—not in the conventional sense, at least—but rather, their entire being believed in that truth. They hadn’t failed because their journey wasn’t over yet. It wasn’t a boast; it was just… fact.</p> <p>A chill ran down Wondertainment’s spine, but he didn’t let it show. He couldn’t. Not now.</p> <p>"My turn," the figure continued. "What are you afraid of losing the most?"</p> <p>Wondertainment’s grin faltered, just for a second, but it was enough. The figure noticed, he was sure of it. His mind raced.</p> <p>"Oh, that’s easy! Nothing! I have nothing to lose." His voice was light, almost carefree, but the figure said nothing, and that silence weighed heavier than any response.</p> <p>"You’re lying again," the figure said again softly.</p> <p>Wondertainment felt a lump in his throat. For the first time in this game, he was truly unnerved. The figure wasn’t just playing the game—they were seeing him. Peeling back the layers, exposing parts of him he didn’t even want to admit existed. He was Dr. Wondertainment. He controlled this world. No one was supposed to see through the mask.</p> <p>And yet, here they were.</p> <p>He looked down at the last remaining card in front of him. Another one had just vanished. No one had ever made him lose focus like this.</p> <p>The figure was still, waiting. Their calmness felt almost invasive, suffocating even.</p> <p>He had one card left. One last chance.</p> <p>Wondertainment closed his eyes for a moment, focusing, gathering himself. He was a master of his craft—no one could match his intellect, his wit. He had seen a million years of knowledge, lived through eons of experience, witnessed the rise and fall of civilizations. He could out-think, out-play anyone. Surely, this figure was no exception.</p> <p>He opened his eyes, and his mind began to race. He had to ask the perfect question—one that would shatter the figure’s composure, one that would force them into a lie. He couldn’t afford to slip again.</p> <p>But the figure’s aura… It ate at him. There was no arrogance, no triumph in their posture. Just calm, unshakable calm. He could feel their eyes on him, or at least he imagined he could. Reading him. Seeing him.</p> <p><em>What do I ask?</em></p> <p>His thoughts spiraled, sifting through a billions possible questions. He thought of riddles, of complex philosophical dilemmas, of moral quandaries that had stumped the greatest minds throughout history.</p> <p>The more he thought, the more his mind swam in its own depths. He drew upon everything he had learned from countless beings, from the brightest intellects across time and space. He considered the nature of existence, of reality itself.</p> <p>At last, after what felt like an eternity, he settled on a question. Simple yet perfect.</p> <p>He leaned forward, eyes locking onto the figure’s shadowy form. "Tell me," he began, his voice carefully controlled, "if you were to know the outcome of all things—every possible future, every conceivable choice and consequence—what would you choose to change? If you had the power to rewrite existence itself, what would you alter?"</p> <p>The room was silent. Wondertainment held his breath. It was the kind of question that had no simple answer, a question that would force the figure to reveal something—anything—about themselves. A question that would often be impossible to answer truly, as one might not even know what they believe themselves.</p> <p>And then, in that suffocating silence, the figure responded.</p> <p>"Nothing."</p> <p>Dr. Wondertainment blinked. "Nothing?"</p> <p>"Nothing," the figure repeated. "I would change nothing."</p> <p>The simplicity of the answer hit him like a sledgehammer. A single, devastating word. There was no hesitation in their voice, no ambiguity. It wasn’t a deflection. It wasn’t avoidance.</p> <p>It was the truth.</p> <p>And in that moment, he realized that he had lost. Their answer was both complete and incomprehensible in its simplicity.</p> <p>The figure didn’t give him time to recover. They tilted their head slightly as they spoke.</p> <p>"My turn," Their voice was so calm. The figure leaned forward slightly. "What are you?"</p> <p>Wondertainment froze.</p> <p>The question was so simple, so basic, and yet it cut deeper than anything he had expected. What are you? The words echoed in his mind, reverberating through him. It was such a basic question. But behind those words, there was something else. A meaning he couldn't grasp, a weight that felt unbearable. What was he?</p> <p>He wanted to laugh it off, to shrug and give some clever, dismissive answer. But the figure’s eyes—or at least, the sense of their gaze—held him in place. They weren’t asking for a lie. They weren’t asking for the mask, for the persona of Dr. Wondertainment. They were asking him to look at himself, to confront something he had never dared to confront.</p> <p><em>What are you?</em></p> <p>He felt it for the first time. Pure, unfiltered panic.</p> <p>He could lie. He could bluff his way through. But somehow, he knew the figure would see through it. They had already seen through every deflection, every mask. What could he say?</p> <p>The silence stretched on.</p> <p>And in that silence, Wondertainment realized that he didn’t have an answer. He didn’t know what he was anymore.</p> <p>His final card shimmered, flickered, and disappeared.</p> <p>Wondertainment stared blankly at the space where his final card had vanished. The game was over. A heavy silence hung in the air, colder than before, and the weight of his defeat settled deeper than he ever thought possible.</p> <p>So this is it, he thought, the realization sinking into him. He had known the stakes, understood that this wasn’t a game for fun or status—it was a game for everything. And he had lost.</p> <p>The figure stood, rising in a single movement. They didn’t say a word. They didn’t need to.</p> <p>Dr. Wondertainment’s chest tightened. The coldness in the room seeped into his bones, and the once vibrant colors of his world dulled to muted shades. He understood now. This wasn’t just a loss. This was his end.</p> <p>For a long time, he sat in that silence, letting it sink in. He had lived for eons, created wonders beyond comprehension, delighted children and baffled gods. But in the end, all those years, all that knowledge, had led him here—sitting in a dimly lit room, defeated, powerless, and alone.</p> <p><em>Is this really how it ends?</em></p> <p>A part of him wanted to fight it, to resist, to keep playing, to come up with a clever trick or some loophole. But another part, deeper and more truthful, knew it was pointless. He had given everything he had, and it wasn’t enough.</p> <p>His thoughts drifted, unbidden, to the beginning—the very beginning, long before he was the Doctor, before he was Wondertainment. He remembered the first time he had made something with his hands, something special. A toy, for a boy he barely knew. It had been simple, just a little wooden figure with joints that moved. But when the boy’s eyes lit up, when he laughed and clutched the toy to his chest, Wondertainment had felt something he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. <em>Joy</em>.</p> <p>He smiled, remembering that moment. He had been proud, not of the toy itself, but of the happiness it had brought. That was why he had started. That was why he had created all the things he did. It wasn’t about power or fame or cleverness. It was about joy.</p> <p><em>If I could do it again</em>, he thought, the cold now reaching his heart, <em>I’d do it differently. I’d remember that joy</em>.</p> <p>The memory warmed him, if only for a moment. He smiled softly, letting himself savor it. The boy’s laughter echoed in his mind, a sound that had been buried beneath years of ambition and games.</p> <p>It all led to this. His eyes drifted closed. But maybe that’s okay.</p> <p>The figure had made their way to the door, moving with that same slow and composed complexion.</p> <p>"Wait," Wondertainment’s voice came out weak, softer than he had expected. His chest felt tight, each breath a little harder than the last. He wasn’t sure how much longer he had. But there was one thing left. One thing he needed to know.</p> <p>The figure paused, their hand hovering just above the door. They didn’t turn to face him, but Wondertainment felt their attention shift.</p> <p>"What…" he hesitated, his throat dry. "What’s your name?"</p> <p>For the briefest moment, there was silence. The figure stood still, unmoving, as if contemplating whether to answer at all. Then, in a voice that was calm, steady, and utterly indifferent, the figure spoke.</p> <p>"I'm Nobody."</p> <p>The words echoed in the air. And then, without another word, the figure left, disappearing into the shadows.</p> <p>Wondertainment chuckled weakly, the sound barely escaping his lips. Nobody. Of course. It was fitting, in a way he couldn’t quite explain.</p> <p>The room grew darker, the cold now a part of him. His body felt heavy, his mind sluggish. But that memory, the memory of the boy and the toy, stayed with him. And in his last moments, as the world faded to black, he held onto that warmth.</p> <p>He smiled. As he closed his eyes, he felt something—<a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-4999">a cigarette placed in his mouth—and heard the chink of a lighter.</a> He chuckled. And then, he was gone.</p> <hr/> <p>As the figure departed and the toymaker passed, the room began to dim, the great bonfire slowly dying. On the table, where four sleek, shadowy black cards remained, one began to fade away.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>« <a href="/to-the-vastness-of-eternity">To The Vastness of Eternity</a> \| <a href="/if-the-glove-fits">If the Glove Fits</a> »</strong></p> </div> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] Dr. Wondertainment led a surprisingly mundane existence. Given his influence and infamy, one might expect a life brimming with intrigue or eccentricity. Yet, here he was, sitting in a skyscraper, gazing down upon the vast land that once echoed with wonder. A lifetime ago he had affectionately named it "Wonderland." But the truth was that Wonderland had long been stripped of its magic. The toy-making factories had been done away with years ago. What remained was no different from any other dreary industrial district. The only thing that set it apart was the thin facade that desperately tried to mask the otherwise depressing atmosphere. Not that it needed to try too hard—his workers would obey his every word, unquestioningly. They would die for him if he asked. Dr. Wondertainment sighed, sinking deeper into his chair. //It's for the greater good// he thought to himself. In a better, more structured world, there was no room for toys. The factories were far better suited for producing food, clothing, and other dull necessities, or so he kept telling himself. He fiddled with his fingers for a moment, tracing the grooves on the armrest, his foot tapping against the floor. Then, without warning, he jerked his hand forward, looking down at his wrist. No watch. He blinked, confused for a brief second, before impatiently pushing himself up from his chair. He made his way across his office, placing his hand on the doorknob of the exit door, which honked under his grip. With an almost violent twist, he yanked the door open. On the other side stood an impossibly large clock. It resembled a grandfather clock, but it stretched endlessly upward, disappearing into the reaches of an unseen roof. He turned to the right, ignoring the clock and instead, focused on the third moon outside the window. It hung low in the sky, watching him with vacant eyes. As he stared, the moon stared back and silently mouthed the words: "11:29 AM." Dr. Wondertainment took a step back, his forehead creasing with confusion. //No, no, no//. That couldn't be right. Hours had passed—days, maybe even years! How could it have only been two hours since he last checked the time? His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden vibration near his wrist. He looked down again, and there it was—his watch, as though it had always been there. //Right//. Time for his scheduled meeting. With a snap of his fingers, the world around him dissolved like wet paint, reforming into a bright pink-and-purple room filled with toys. In the center of it all was a massive shining golden computer sitting atop a table, the initials "DW" engraved on its surface. He strolled over before practically collapsing into the chair. It groaned under his weight. Maybe, just maybe, this meeting would be a good way to kill some time. Or maybe time had already been killing him. The monitor flickered to life, revealing the silhouettes of a dozen shadowy figures. Dr. Wondertainment scoffed, rolling his eyes. The theatrics of it all—hiding behind obscured identities when everyone knew exactly who was on the other end. What a waste. His fingers twitched on the armrest as he shifted in his seat. The screen's silence flickered until, out of the dim silhouettes, one of the figures spoke. The voice was rough, strained, and heavy with gravity. "[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/to-the-vastness-of-eternity James Hodge, Director of the Unusual Incidents Unit, is dead.]" The words hung in the air, and for a moment, Dr. Wondertainment felt time slow down—though, in his world, time was never quite reliable. Still, the news drew his interest. He leaned forward slightly, though not out of concern. "Dead? Really?" His voice broke through the scree. "Was it the paperwork? Always knew that'd be the death of him." The shadowy figure ignored the comment. "His body was found yesterday, circumstances unknown. It wasn't an isolated incident. Assets around the globe are being compromised. From Europe to South America, key figures are disappearing or turning up dead. We've no leads—no trails. This isn't coincidence." The call fell silent. Wondertainment tapped his fingers against the armrest, his grin growing. "And you're telling us this why? Because we're next?" He tilted his head, eyes flickering with amusement. “I never liked James.” "Possibly. We don't know the motive yet, or the method. But whatever it is, it's deliberate. Someone, or something, is systematically targeting our structure, and we need to be prepared." The man responded, ignoring the last comment. "Be on alert." Around the room, the shadows stirred, some muttering quietly. Dr. Wondertainment reclined in his seat, thoroughly entertained by the sudden panic creeping into the others. "Oh, dear. What a tragedy," he said in mock sincerity. "Isn't it funny how the mighty fall so easily?" One of the silhouettes snapped back, "This is serious, Wondertainment. If Hodge could be taken out, no one is safe." The toymaker waved a hand dismissively. "Safe, unsafe, it’s all just semantics, isn’t it? Besides, if someone’s going around playing the Grim Reaper, they’re bound to show their hand soon enough. They always do." His smile widened. "I’m more interested in what comes after the fall. Isn’t that where the fun really begins?" While most of them traded hushed whispers about increasing security measures, Wondertainment only kept his smile. "Let me know when the next one drops," he said, his voice almost sing-song. "I’ll be watching closely." With that, he leaned back, disconnecting from the call. For the first time in a long time, Dr. Wondertainment felt a spark of something real—a tinge of excitement, of anticipation. It was something different from the dull hum of monotony that had dominated his life in recent times. This office work, the endless meetings, the lifeless, obedient workers—it all grated on him. But now? Now there was a chance for fun again. Real fun. He stood up from his desk, hands twitching with barely restrained glee. Oh, what games he could play with this mysterious threat, the one supposedly killing off key figures around the world. He would send his Little Misters to track them down at once—oh, the possibilities! Maybe they'd play a game of tag.... Or perhaps, he'd wind this figure up like one of his old toys, twist their mind and body into something amusing! His mind whirred with possibilities, and he was practically bouncing with excitement. Grabbing the door handle, he twisted it sharply and stepped forward, expecting to find his brightly colored office where more toys awaited. But instead, he froze. The room before him wasn’t the vibrant conglomeration of colors he was accustomed to, nor was it the usual endless expanse of Wonderland. No, this was different. The room was...elegant. There were towering shelves filled with books, their spines old and worn, illuminated by the warm glow of a grand chandelier hanging above. In the center of the room sat an enormous, crackling bonfire that didn’t seem to emit any heat, but cast flickering shadows across the floor. It was a strange, almost otherworldly kind of beauty. Dr. Wondertainment turned in place, scanning the room with a look of genuine confusion on his face. For the first time in a while, he wasn’t sure what was happening, and that uncertainty thrilled him. “I’m so glad you could join me.” The voice was soft, but it carried with it a weight that seemed to bend the very air. Dr. Wondertainment spun around to face the speaker and found himself staring at a figure sitting casually in a plush, high-backed chair. The figure’s silhouette was vague, like a person wrapped in shadow, blending into the light of the room. There were no defining features, no eyes, no face—just a man shaped hole in reality that spoke. Dr. Wondertainment's confusion melted away, replaced by a wide grin. "Oh! I wasn’t expecting a playdate so soon!" He walked closer to the figure. "Let me guess—you’re the one they’re all so afraid of? The one killing off all my colleagues?" The figure didn’t move. "Perhaps. Does it matter?" "Not in the slightest!" Wondertainment laughed, pacing back and forth in front of the fire. "What does matter is that you’ve made my day. All these dull meetings, these drones doing everything I say without so much as a question—it’s been dreadful!" He clasped his hands together, eyes gleaming. "But you... you might just be the most interesting thing to happen in years!" The figure tilted its head slightly. "Interesting? I suppose that’s one way to describe me." There was a pause, a beat of silence. Then, in a casual tone, the figure added, "I’m here to kill you." Wondertainment stopped pacing, his grin never faltering. "Oh, is that all? Well, I must say, you’ve got your work cut out for you." He chortled, moving closer to the figure. "But I do so love a challenge. How about a game? After all, you wouldn’t kill me without giving me a chance to play first, right?" The figure seemed to consider for a moment, then nodded slowly. "A game, then." A smile crossed the doctor's face. Dr. Wondertainment sat in his chair, opposite to the figure, twirling a bright, golden card between his fingers. His vibrant purple coat shimmered in the low firelight, casting an odd glow across the small, dimly lit room. Across the table the figure sat, still and silent. Wondertainment gave a wide grin, eyes gleaming. "So, a game of truths, is it?" he said, the lilt in his voice playful. "My, how utterly boring." The figure inclined their head slightly, as if considering. "The truth is rarely boring," they replied, their voice calm, steady, almost mechanical in its detachment. "It's just that most are unwilling to face it." "Let’s not make it boring, then," Wondertainment countered, placing his cards carefully in front of him. Three shining cards, each representing a life within the game. Across from him, the figure did the same. The cards seemed to materialize out of the darkness, their backs glinting under the low light. The figure simply stared blankly before speaking. "Well then, shall we begin?" Wondertainment tapped his cards with his index finger, pretending to think. He wasn’t concerned. No one could beat him at mind games. He lived for these games. “Let’s start simple,” he said, leaning forward. “What drives you? What’s your purpose in all of this?” The figure didn’t hesitate, as if they had rehearsed the answer a thousand times. “Curiosity.” Wondertainment blinked. Curiosity? That was all? His grin widened—too easy. "Curiosity?" He repeated the word with mock disbelief, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I would have thought someone like you would have a grander ambition. Something with meaning." His eyes twinkled, but there was a growing sense of unease creeping in. This was too straightforward. A trap, perhaps? The figure did not flinch. "Curiosity is enough." There was no emotion in the tone, but something in those words felt absolute. Wondertainment’s grin flickered. He could usually read his opponents like open books, seeing their doubts, insecurities, desires—pieces he could play with. But this one, this thing… they were impossible to read. A blank page. //No matter//, he told himself. Keep playing. "My turn." The figure’s voice was as soft as before. "What do you regret most?" Wondertainment let out a laugh that echoed in the room. "Regret? Oh, my dear shadowy friend, regret is for those who fail!" He spread his arms wide. "And I, well... I don’t fail. No room for regrets when you’re always moving forward, creating more, inventing more." The figure was still. Watching. Waiting. For a moment, Wondertainment thought he saw something—just the faintest twitch of a movement in the figure’s posture, a tilt of the head. It was brief, so brief that he couldn’t be sure if he had imagined it. But in that fleeting moment, a thought crossed his mind: they didn’t believe him. He felt it like a weight in the air, the figure seeing past his laughter to something deeper, something he wasn’t willing to acknowledge. Dr. Wondertainment could feel his own words hanging in the air, hollow, echoing back at him. His grin tightened. "Curiosity is a dangerous thing," Wondertainment quipped, trying to regain his playful tone. "It can lead you down some very dark paths." The figure’s voice cut through him. "And yet, you avoid answering the question." Wondertainment’s fingers twitched against the edge of his card. That statement—it felt like a jab. But the figure hadn’t moved, hadn’t raised their voice. How did they do that? How did they make him feel so exposed, so... readable? He shifted in his seat, clearing his throat. "Fine. I’ll bite." His grin was still there, but the fire behind it was starting to flicker. "Regret? Maybe I regret trusting too many people." The words slipped out before he could stop them. He quickly followed with a laugh, brushing it off. "But that's all in the past! I’ve learned my lesson." The figure remained silent, and again, that oppressive feeling returned, like he was being seen in a way no one had ever seen him before. It was unnerving. “That’s a lie. Lose a card,” the figure said softly. Wondertainment blinked. “What?” “You deflected. You avoided the truth.” The figure's voice was calm, without a hint of malice. “Lose a card.” For the first time, Wondertainment’s confidence faltered. His fingers twitched again, and one of his cards shimmered and disappeared. He stared at the empty space where the card had been. How had that happened? He was supposed to be in control of this game, and yet... No. He wasn’t going to lose to some blank-faced shadow. He leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. "Let’s see if you can keep up." His voice sharpened as his mind worked to regain control. "What’s your biggest failure, then? What’s the one thing you wish you could change?" The figure paused, as if the question actually required thought. "I have no failures." Wondertainment laughed, louder than before. "No failures? My, my, you are a confident one, aren’t you? But everyone has failed at something. You’re lying." No cards disappeared from the figure's hand; in fact, another black card manifested. Dr. Wondertainment cursed under his breath—he was wrong. "No," the figure said, "I haven’t failed. Because I haven’t finished." It was as if the figure wasn’t lying—not in the conventional sense, at least—but rather, their entire being believed in that truth. They hadn’t failed because their journey wasn’t over yet. It wasn’t a boast; it was just... fact. A chill ran down Wondertainment’s spine, but he didn’t let it show. He couldn’t. Not now. "My turn," the figure continued. "What are you afraid of losing the most?" Wondertainment’s grin faltered, just for a second, but it was enough. The figure noticed, he was sure of it. His mind raced. "Oh, that’s easy! Nothing! I have nothing to lose." His voice was light, almost carefree, but the figure said nothing, and that silence weighed heavier than any response. "You’re lying again," the figure said again softly. Wondertainment felt a lump in his throat. For the first time in this game, he was truly unnerved. The figure wasn’t just playing the game—they were seeing him. Peeling back the layers, exposing parts of him he didn’t even want to admit existed. He was Dr. Wondertainment. He controlled this world. No one was supposed to see through the mask. And yet, here they were. He looked down at the last remaining card in front of him. Another one had just vanished. No one had ever made him lose focus like this. The figure was still, waiting. Their calmness felt almost invasive, suffocating even. He had one card left. One last chance. Wondertainment closed his eyes for a moment, focusing, gathering himself. He was a master of his craft—no one could match his intellect, his wit. He had seen a million years of knowledge, lived through eons of experience, witnessed the rise and fall of civilizations. He could out-think, out-play anyone. Surely, this figure was no exception. He opened his eyes, and his mind began to race. He had to ask the perfect question—one that would shatter the figure’s composure, one that would force them into a lie. He couldn’t afford to slip again. But the figure’s aura... It ate at him. There was no arrogance, no triumph in their posture. Just calm, unshakable calm. He could feel their eyes on him, or at least he imagined he could. Reading him. Seeing him. //What do I ask?// His thoughts spiraled, sifting through a billions possible questions. He thought of riddles, of complex philosophical dilemmas, of moral quandaries that had stumped the greatest minds throughout history. The more he thought, the more his mind swam in its own depths. He drew upon everything he had learned from countless beings, from the brightest intellects across time and space. He considered the nature of existence, of reality itself. At last, after what felt like an eternity, he settled on a question. Simple yet perfect. He leaned forward, eyes locking onto the figure’s shadowy form. "Tell me," he began, his voice carefully controlled, "if you were to know the outcome of all things—every possible future, every conceivable choice and consequence—what would you choose to change? If you had the power to rewrite existence itself, what would you alter?" The room was silent. Wondertainment held his breath. It was the kind of question that had no simple answer, a question that would force the figure to reveal something—anything—about themselves. A question that would often be impossible to answer truly, as one might not even know what they believe themselves. And then, in that suffocating silence, the figure responded. "Nothing." Dr. Wondertainment blinked. "Nothing?" "Nothing," the figure repeated. "I would change nothing." The simplicity of the answer hit him like a sledgehammer. A single, devastating word. There was no hesitation in their voice, no ambiguity. It wasn’t a deflection. It wasn’t avoidance. It was the truth. And in that moment, he realized that he had lost. Their answer was both complete and incomprehensible in its simplicity. The figure didn’t give him time to recover. They tilted their head slightly as they spoke. "My turn," Their voice was so calm. The figure leaned forward slightly. "What are you?" Wondertainment froze. The question was so simple, so basic, and yet it cut deeper than anything he had expected. What are you? The words echoed in his mind, reverberating through him. It was such a basic question. But behind those words, there was something else. A meaning he couldn't grasp, a weight that felt unbearable. What was he? He wanted to laugh it off, to shrug and give some clever, dismissive answer. But the figure’s eyes—or at least, the sense of their gaze—held him in place. They weren’t asking for a lie. They weren’t asking for the mask, for the persona of Dr. Wondertainment. They were asking him to look at himself, to confront something he had never dared to confront. //What are you?// He felt it for the first time. Pure, unfiltered panic. He could lie. He could bluff his way through. But somehow, he knew the figure would see through it. They had already seen through every deflection, every mask. What could he say? The silence stretched on. And in that silence, Wondertainment realized that he didn’t have an answer. He didn’t know what he was anymore. His final card shimmered, flickered, and disappeared. Wondertainment stared blankly at the space where his final card had vanished. The game was over. A heavy silence hung in the air, colder than before, and the weight of his defeat settled deeper than he ever thought possible. So this is it, he thought, the realization sinking into him. He had known the stakes, understood that this wasn’t a game for fun or status—it was a game for everything. And he had lost. The figure stood, rising in a single movement. They didn’t say a word. They didn’t need to. Dr. Wondertainment’s chest tightened. The coldness in the room seeped into his bones, and the once vibrant colors of his world dulled to muted shades. He understood now. This wasn’t just a loss. This was his end. For a long time, he sat in that silence, letting it sink in. He had lived for eons, created wonders beyond comprehension, delighted children and baffled gods. But in the end, all those years, all that knowledge, had led him here—sitting in a dimly lit room, defeated, powerless, and alone. //Is this really how it ends?// A part of him wanted to fight it, to resist, to keep playing, to come up with a clever trick or some loophole. But another part, deeper and more truthful, knew it was pointless. He had given everything he had, and it wasn’t enough. His thoughts drifted, unbidden, to the beginning—the very beginning, long before he was the Doctor, before he was Wondertainment. He remembered the first time he had made something with his hands, something special. A toy, for a boy he barely knew. It had been simple, just a little wooden figure with joints that moved. But when the boy’s eyes lit up, when he laughed and clutched the toy to his chest, Wondertainment had felt something he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. //Joy//. He smiled, remembering that moment. He had been proud, not of the toy itself, but of the happiness it had brought. That was why he had started. That was why he had created all the things he did. It wasn’t about power or fame or cleverness. It was about joy. //If I could do it again//, he thought, the cold now reaching his heart, //I’d do it differently. I’d remember that joy//. The memory warmed him, if only for a moment. He smiled softly, letting himself savor it. The boy’s laughter echoed in his mind, a sound that had been buried beneath years of ambition and games. It all led to this. His eyes drifted closed. But maybe that’s okay. The figure had made their way to the door, moving with that same slow and composed complexion. "Wait," Wondertainment’s voice came out weak, softer than he had expected. His chest felt tight, each breath a little harder than the last. He wasn’t sure how much longer he had. But there was one thing left. One thing he needed to know. The figure paused, their hand hovering just above the door. They didn’t turn to face him, but Wondertainment felt their attention shift. "What..." he hesitated, his throat dry. "What’s your name?" For the briefest moment, there was silence. The figure stood still, unmoving, as if contemplating whether to answer at all. Then, in a voice that was calm, steady, and utterly indifferent, the figure spoke. "I'm Nobody." The words echoed in the air. And then, without another word, the figure left, disappearing into the shadows. Wondertainment chuckled weakly, the sound barely escaping his lips. Nobody. Of course. It was fitting, in a way he couldn’t quite explain. The room grew darker, the cold now a part of him. His body felt heavy, his mind sluggish. But that memory, the memory of the boy and the toy, stayed with him. And in his last moments, as the world faded to black, he held onto that warmth. He smiled. As he closed his eyes, he felt something—[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-4999 a cigarette placed in his mouth—and heard the chink of a lighter.] He chuckled. And then, he was gone. ------ As the figure departed and the toymaker passed, the room began to dim, the great bonfire slowly dying. On the table, where four sleek, shadowy black cards remained, one began to fade away. [[div class="footer-wikiwalk-nav"]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]] [[/div]] [[=]] << [[[To The Vastness of Eternity]]] \| [[[If the Glove Fits]]] >> [[/=]]	2024-10-07T14:45:00	[ "dr-wondertainment", "heartwarming", "nobody", "tale" ]	Who Am I to Look into a Mirror? - SCP Foundation	4	[ "to-the-vastness-of-eternity", "scp-4999", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide", "if-the-glove-fits" ]	[ "nobody-hub", "dr-wondertainment-hub" ]	[]	1457020589	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/who-am-i-to-look-into-a-mirror
who-s-afraid-of-ulrike-meinhof	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="preview"> <p>It is July 15, 1962, and Canada is gearing up for a nuclear war with the United States. Pilot of an alternate history canon about the birth of the Foundation.</p> </div> <table style="margin:0; padding:0"> <tr> <td style="margin:0; padding:0"> <div id="toc"> <div id="toc-action-bar"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.foldToc(event)">Fold</a><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.unfoldToc(event)" style="display: none">Unfold</a></div> <div class="title">Table of Contents</div> <div id="toc-list"> <div style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#toc0">Scene 1: Waiting for Ulrike</a></div> <div style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#toc1">Scene 2: The Parent Trap</a></div> <div style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#toc2">Scene 3: The God of Carnage</a></div> <div style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#toc3">Scene 4: Who's Afraid of Ulrike Meinhof?</a></div> <div style="margin-left: 1em;"><a href="#toc4">Coda: Hitherto Shalt Thou Come, And Further</a></div> </div> </div> </td> </tr> </table> <h1 id="toc0"><span>Scene 1: Waiting for Ulrike</span></h1> <p>"…My Canadian brothers, this is U.S. President Joseph P. Kennedy Jr., making a personal appeal to you in the context of the historic unity…"</p> <p><em>Next station.</em> Click.</p> <p>"…between our peoples. I am on a mission of mercy, for you, your families, those least fit for war. Your government claims today's televised nuclear test is about deterrence. I implore you to ask yourselves, why would family…"</p> <p><em>Next station.</em> Click.</p> <p>"…need to deter family? Is your government truly listening to you, Canada? Or is it listening to draft-dodgers and vagrants who couldn't cut it in America, who fled our native land to bring their cultural corruption to yours…"</p> <p><em>Still?</em> Click.</p> <p>"…I urge all good and honest men to take your country back before it is too late. This message will repeat until there are no channels left to broadcast it. My Canadian brothers…”</p> <p><em>They hijacked all of them?</em> Click.</p> <p>“Good morning, Canada! It is July 15th, 1962, and this is Margaret Windsor, yes, that Margaret Windsor, coming to you from our studio here in Quebec City. Spot of bother with the Americans seizing the radio channels, but we've sorted it. Today’s top headlines: despite President Kennedy's denials of a military response to today's thermonuclear demonstration on Prince Charles Island, observers from both countries have reported a continued build-up of men and equipment on the American side of the Quebec border. In Europe, Adolf Hitler was killed last night in an apparent coup attempt by Reichsführer Reinhard Heydrich, dashing hopes of a peaceful resolution to the German succession crisis. A few decades too late to save the millions of souls lost and further millions displaced, perhaps, but never too late to…"</p> <p>Tosia Altman turned off the radio. The sun hadn’t risen yet, and the stars looked as wrong now as they had in 1939. <em>The American border is only a day's drive from Motherwill. What do I tell my Canadian students, let alone the American ones? “Don't worry, humanity can only make the same mistake so many times?”</em></p> <div class="scp-image-block block-right" style="width:400px;"><img alt="Tosia.jpg" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/who-s-afraid-of-ulrike-meinhof/Tosia.jpg"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>Tosia Altman: War hero, Social Communist Party (SCP) Secretary of Anomalous Sequestering, Headmistress of Motherwill Academy. Loves candy.</p> </div> </div> <p>She tore the wrapper off of her Honey Nougat Mars Bar and took a bite of the confection, tasting an unexpected bitterness in the chocolate, and less fluff in the nougat than usual, <em>Oh…the supply of sugar cane's been cut off. Nothing in the news about rationing…which means America's navy has been disrupting our shipping for some time, and it is just catching up with us now.</em></p> <p>Bittersweet was not the same as bitter though, so Tosia continued to chew nervously and moved on to more pressing concerns, namely her three most at-risk students: Agathe Les Droites, a refugee from France whose parents dropped her off in Montreal before immediately flying back to join the Resistance; Benjamin Kondrakti, a refugee from Boston whose family fled north after his father learned he was to be drafted into the army for protesting JPK Jr's invasion of Panama; and American refugee Samantha Keane, whom Tosia's Deputy Secretary found dying of hypothermia on the Canadian side of the border, and who absolutely refused to elaborate on why or whence.</p> <p>Tosia had promised the students American candy and a bona-fide television if they came into the school to watch the broadcast of the Canadian nuclear test. She knew if she turned up empty-handed, one of them would probably take a swing at her, and she wouldn't blame them.<br/> The need for a television Tosia prompted Tosia to call her best friend, Ulrike Meinhof, and ask if she wanted to come back to the school. Tosia had reluctantly suspended Ulrike from her job there two months ago. The other reason she called was the cold sweat that had been waking her up during the night.</p> <p>Her mind continued to wander. Someone had once told her that if the definition of a friend was someone who would die for you, goy friends didn't exist. As long as Ulrike was around, Tosia knew she had one. Just one. <em>That</em> one. Her breathing felt just that much heavier thinking about it. <em>Now if only Ulrike showered regularly, came to work on time, avoided political conversations while drunk, drank less, didn’t smoke like a chimney, and didn't carry a gun all of the time.</em></p> <p>Tosia worked her way through a few more snacks and worries until she saw Ulrike’s Dragon pull into the school’s front lot. The car screeched to a halt just short of hitting Tosia's car. Tosia rolled her eyes and glanced at the string of holes along the boot puncturing the peeling yellow paint. Ulrike said she'd shot the car herself after a dream about the day she saw her foster mother decapitated on national television. <em>So many enemies that she felt she needed to specify. Dreams so dark that the rage burst the dam between her heart and the world. Why is hers so much weaker than mine?</em></p> <p>The car door popped open, and Ulrike emerged, an unlit cigarette dangling off her lips. Tosia strode out to greet her. Ulrike had messy, collar-length hair and bangs that all but covered her sad, heavy-lidded eyes. She wore a literal bomber jacket (Tosia's, from her fighter pilot days in the Dominion War) over a gray shirt, khaki combat pants, and black Red Army combat boots she'd looted from a burning Stalinist militia depot. <em>At least she’s stayed sober for the last year.</em></p> <div class="scp-image-block block-right" style="width:400px;"><img alt="Ulrike.jpg" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/who-s-afraid-of-ulrike-meinhof/Ulrike.jpg"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>Ulrike Marie Meinhof: Deputy Secretary under Tosia Altman, philosophy teacher, aspiring journalist, professional revolutionary. Smokes like the chimney on a coal fire.</p> </div> </div> <p>"What took you so long?" The sun had come up, and Tosia's eyes stung from the light the car’s tinted windows kicked into them.</p> <p>“Miss Tosia…” Ulrike said, before fumbling for the cigarette that had just fallen out of her mouth. She caught it just before it hit the ground, “I…uh…we have a situation…"</p> <p>"Ula, I asked you to come here and bring a TV set and some smuggled candy. A situation…" Tosia's words died in her throat as the rear passenger door of Ulrike's car opened. The situation casually strolled toward her, wolfing down a bagel from Tim Hortons.</p> <p>"<span style="color: #c21e56">I didn't believe her when she told me! Was that broad on the radio really the sister of the Queen of England? Why did they leave?</span>" he said through a mouth full of bread and cream cheese.<br/> <em>He speaks Polish so well. Could he be…? Impossible!</em> Tosia stuffed the rest of a chocolate bar in her mouth, almost choking on the ersatz peanut butter and marshmallow filling, and forced her face to look professional while she sized up the new arrival. <em>Pirate radio broadcasts from Poland were few and far between, let alone survivors.</em></p> <p>He was shorter than even Ulrike and Toisa at five foot two and wore a black t-shirt and faded denim jeans tucked into white sneakers. His wavy blonde hair was overgrown, but not untidy and highlighted a fair-skinned, handsome face with a hooked nose that was slightly off-center. <em>It had been broken,</em> Tosia observed, <em>multiple times</em>. He wore a pair of aviator sunglasses, and just above them was a thick strip of bloody surgical gauze fastened to his brow with masking tape. Slung over his shoulders was a case for some instrument that Tosia didn't recognize.<br/> Ulrike busied herself opening the trunk of the car. "He's a refugee from…from Poland, Miss Tosia. He got here about a month ago, and has been busking for money to pay his way."<br/> <em>He’s hungry. He's been hungry. For much of his life.</em> Tosia swallowed and extended a hand. “Tosia Altman,” she said, “<span style="color: #c21e56">Dzień dobry.</span>”</p> <p>“<span style="color: #c21e56">Cześć,</span>” the boy replied, “<span style="color: #c21e56">What do you got to eat around here, lady?</span>”</p> <p>“<span style="color: blue">Is he being as rude as it sounds like?</span>” Ulrike mumbled in French.</p> <p>“You're hearing hunger, not discourtesy," Tosia snapped. She saw a glint of recognition in the boy’s eyes. “Do you speak English?”</p> <p>“Little. I know lots, speak little.”</p> <p><em>Polish, but doesn't speak his broken English with a Polish accent</em> Tosia thought. Her nose tickled, as it usually did when she sensed something was off. “<span style="color: #c21e56">It’s okay,</span>” she said, switching to Polish, “<span style="color: #c21e56">You’ll learn. I did. Come in, be our guest, I’ll pour milk for you.</span>”</p> <p>The boy laughed. “<span style="color: orange">Lady,</span> <span style="color: #c21e56">I hope you have more than just milk for me.</span>” <em>Is he being funny or does he not recognize the idiom?</em> Her nose started to tickle. Then her brain caught the word the boy addressed her with. <em>'Meidele'. That's not Polish, that's…Yiddish!</em><br/> “Wait,” Tosia’s heart beat a little faster, as though the syllables slid their fangs into her veins and pumped her heart with honey. “<span style="color: orange">Are you Jewish?</span>”</p> <p>“<span style="color: orange">Yes.</span>” She blinked back tears she didn't know she still had. Tosia wanted to hug him. It had been some time since she found another survivor from Europe, let alone someone so young. Children were an expression of hope Tosia hadn't realized she still needed. <em>Hope for what? A future as a hyphen on a Canadian family's census form or more fading memories to stuff in my tomb?</em> And yet, for all the mirth and sarcasm her smile was no less effortless or bright.<br/> “What is that?” Ulrike asked. She was pointing at the instrument case slung along the boy's back.</p> <p>He mumbled something.</p> <p>Tosia scratched her head. “A uke-what?”</p> <h1 id="toc1"><span>Scene 2: The Parent Trap</span></h1> <div class="scp-image-block block-right" style="width:400px;"><img alt="FrancisHidden.jpg" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/who-s-afraid-of-ulrike-meinhof/FrancisHidden.jpg"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>Francis Wojciechowsky: A ukelele. Seems like he has it coming</p> </div> </div> <p>The situation’s name was Francis Wojciechowski. He muttered something about it having been a while since he met someone who could pronounce his last name in one try. Tosia initially had a ‘hen, fox, grain-bag’ problem with getting the TV into the school, but he fiercely insisted on helping Ulrike carry the television so Tosia could rush to the school's canteen to fix him lunch.</p> <p>Years of experience as a community organizer, smuggler, freedom fighter, schoolmistress, Social Communist Party fixer, and surrogate parent meant Tosia knew how to cook fast and cook well. Francis' request for pierogi and zapiekanka meant Tosia was donating her lunch to the cause, but her glee outweighed her appetite.</p> <p>She poured potato and cheese filling from her mason jars into the doughy envelopes and threw them into a waiting pain of frying oil, before popping baguettes covered with meat, cheese, and mushrooms into the oven. She marked the time and ran back down the hallway to help Ulrike and Francis with the TV, only to find they'd already made it to the classroom and gone back outside to grab Ulrike's other goodies. She ran outside to make sure the Jewish refugee and the German expatriate lacked an opportunity to fraternize, or rather, the exact opposite.</p> <p>"God in heaven, he's strong!" Ulrike called out, hitting the 'd' a little like a 't', "It's like the TV was filled with helium!"</p> <p>There was a crunch of heavy footsteps behind Ulrike and Francis. Tosia saw one of her students approach them with a heavy, angry gait.</p> <p>"Ah! Mr. Kondrakti!" Tosia grinned and waved at him. "So you can show up on time with the right incentive!"</p> <p>"Kondraki. It's Ben <em>Kondraki</em>." Ben glared at her. "How many times do I have to tell you? Just drop the 't'!"</p> <p>Tosia threw up her hands. "Goodness, Ben, you're right." She understood why he wanted to anglicize his last name, but something in her stung at the continued erasure of her homeland's culture (even if it never really felt like home). The dream of a free Poland was dead, but it was making a ruckus on its way out. "I'd like to introduce you to a new friend who will be joining us. He's from Poland. Francis Woyciechowski. You've always told me you wanted to see the Fatherland for yourself. This may be as close as you’ll get."</p> <p>"Fair enough," Ben extended his left hand towards Francis. "Ben Kondraki," he said, "Pleasure."</p> <div class="scp-image-block block-right" style="width:400px;"><img alt="Kondraki.jpg" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/who-s-afraid-of-ulrike-meinhof/Kondraki.jpg"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>Benjamin Kondrak<span style="text-decoration: line-through;">t</span>i: American refugee in Canada. Left Boston too old to forget it, too young to know what white phosphorous is. Parents didn't handle displacement very well. Likes boxing, especially with the gloves off.</p> </div> </div> <p>Ben Kondraki's voice could be soothing and articulate when he needed it to be, but the Boston-native's growl left quite the impression coming from a six-foot tall youth with broad shoulders, arms born to deadlift, a bold square jaw, and a mane of unruly dark hair. The fresh bruise on his left eye added a second exclamation point to every sentence.</p> <p>Francis was nervously backing away from the grinning Ben. "<span style="color: #c21e56">Hey, my guy, I guess this is a smaller town than I thought…</span>"</p> <p>Tosia tilted her head in confusion. "Wait, are you saying you two have met?"</p> <p>Ben's mouth widened in a toothy grimace. "Oh, we've met alright. I'm just introducing myself a second time because his brain's gonna need the help after this."</p> <p>Ben slammed his right fist into Francis's solar plexus, and then grabbed Francis by the shirt and dragged him at a gallop away from Tosia and Ulrike, slapping Francis across the face repeatedly as he walked. "How's that for fucking 'paper Polish', you Christmas ornament!" Ben roared, before hurling Francis into a heap in the parking lot and jumping on top of him.</p> <p>It took Tosia and Ulrike a few seconds to realize what was happening before swinging into action and working together to pull Ben off Francis. Tosia threw herself between them.</p> <p>"Enough!" Tosia screamed at Ben. "Are you out of your mind?"</p> <p>She knelt and tried checking Francis for any secondary injuries from the attack. His aviators were scattered in a heap of lens and metal on the pavement, and, again, the haze of the moment meant Tosia only now noticed that his eyes were different colors - his left was green, and his right was blue. She tried not to show her curiosity. No need to remind Francis of all the times life had previously made him feel like an outcast.</p> <p>"Ben, comrade, you just roughed up a Polish refugee," Ulrike's voice was gentle in a way Tosia's couldn't be right then. "What has gotten into you?"</p> <p>Ben's voice was cool and level, but his wide eyes and pale face betrayed how visceral his rage had gotten. "Oh, I know he's a refugee alright. Asked me for directions in patchy English,, and acts all excited I’m a Polish Jew just like him. Then he asks me, ‘oh are you sure you want to be calling yourself Polish <em>or</em> Jewish? Sounds like you’re those things on paper’. So I’m trying not to slug him, being fresh off the boat and all, and then, just as my bus arrives, he sucker punches me, grabs my sunglasses and bolts for the hills!"</p> <p>"Francis," Tosia turned to him, "<span style="color: #c21e56">Please tell me you didn't!</span>"</p> <p>Francis shrugged, and then in the blink of an eye, punched Kondraki in the jaw, dropping him to the ground.</p> <p>Ulrike was about to restrain Francis before Tosia impulsively shoved her aside, a sudden irrational indignation at the German disciplining the child that flared instantly. She grabbed Francis by his shoulders, shaking him. "<span style="color: #c21e56">What is wrong with you?</span>" She babbled in Polish, feeling panic overcome her, "<span style="color: #c21e56">I don't want to throw you out of here! Why are you doing this to us!</span>"</p> <p>Ulrike looked hurt, but her expression softened and her eyes closed, likely making an effort to alm herself. <em>I'm losing it right now. It can't have been that long since we've rescued a Jew from Europe, has it?</em></p> <p>"<span style="color: #c21e56">There is no us, lady.</span>" Francis said, "<span style="color: #c21e56">This is all me.</span>" He turned to Ben, who'd gotten back to his feet, and switched to French. "<span style="color: blue">I am happy to consider the matter settled if you are. This is just a sparring match we agreed to earlier, correct?</span>" He extended his hand with a wide smile as if Francis had merely played badminton or tennis with Ben.<br/> Kondraki wiped the blood from his mouth, and Tosia realized the wild boy was grinning, "Of course…Francis, was it? Nice hook. We must do it again sometime." The two shook hands. Miss Tosia saw they both looked amused, and without a hint of malice. "If you'll excuse me, I have to walk this off. I’ll be back before the boom."</p> <p>He walked away, spitting another gob of blood on the ground. As Ben turned a corner and disappeared behind the school, Tosia heard him laughing to himself.</p> <p>Francis smiled in Ben's direction, "<span style="color: #c21e56">What a mensch!</span>" He turned to Ulrike. "<span style="color: blue">By the way, I don't think I caught your name.</span>"</p> <p>"Ul-ulrike Meinhof." She spoke the last two syllables into the finger she reflexively lifted to her mouth.</p> <p>Francis burst out in open-eyed laughter. "<span style="color: blue">Oh, what a catch!</span>" He turned to Tosia as though Ulrike weren't in the room and switched to Polish, "<span style="color: #c21e56">What are you doing playing house with Eva Braun?</span>"</p> <p>Tosia cleared her throat. "<span style="color: #c21e56">She was an orphan who found me back in London in '49. During the Interregnum, she helped me out.</span>" <em>And I will be answering for that help for as long as she lives.</em></p> <p>Francis's face was like she'd just tried to tell him Santa Claus was real. "<span style="color: #c21e56">Lots of people 'help you out'. The tailor helps you out. The butcher helps you out. The police help you out. What's so special about her?</span>"</p> <p>Ulrike's eyes indicated her confusion, and she was clearly doing her best to act like the conversation wasn't happening, or at least tried not to read into the coy, mocking tone Francis was using to talk about her. Tosia felt it was time to check on the food. Ulrike looked desperate on noticing Tosia was going to leave her alone. "<span style="color: #c21e56">She's</span> <span style="color: orange">righteous among nations.</span>" Tosia finally said.</p> <p>It was an idea known to many: a <em>goy</em> who had risked their lives to save Jews from the mass murder the Nazis had committed across Europe. Her words snatched Francis’ out of his throat.<br/> Tosia darted out of the room. She would have screamed if she'd lingered a moment longer.<br/> <em>There are no righteous. What a joke.</em></p> <p>…</p> <p>Francis was chatty as he ate Tosia's lunch in front of her. Between bites of dumpling, Francis would drop small chestnuts of information: he didn't know his exact age because it wasn't like anyone in what was left of Germany, Poland, or Britain was going to maintain his paperwork. Hadn't had a rabbi, but was a maven when it came to learning languages, so he knew plenty of Yiddish, but very little about the Yiddishkeit. Childhood was a blur, and what he remembered of his parents wouldn't fill an obituary. Geography got vague too, since he was always on the move. He had gotten lucky that Poland had been destroyed so thoroughly that -</p> <p>"Wait," Tosia put her hand on his. "Slow down for your own sake. Are you okay?" Since it was just them, they were speaking entirely in Polish. Even if her political feelings towards the state were complicated, there was an unfamiliar comfort with letting herself wade effortlessly into one of her mother tongues.</p> <p>Francis snorted but didn't move his hand right away. "I'm on the come-up. Got one doll to give me a ride over here, got another to feed me." He grinned, but wouldn't meet her eyes. "There are so few Polish left that I never thought I'd run into an actual <em>polisher</em> after all this time. How many are we by now?"</p> <p>"More than you'd think. Fewer than there should be. You stick around a bit, I might introduce you to a few - "</p> <p>"Let me stop you right there," Francis swallowed, then leaned back in his seat and rested his arms behind his head. "A bit of Yiddish and the right mom doesn't connect us the way you think it should. Don't think you're going to be my rabbi or anything."</p> <p>Tosia smiled, "I'm not in the business of telling people what to do. I was going to ask what you needed from me."</p> <p>"I need you to eat a pierogi because it's called ‘breaking bread,’ not ‘watching me eat.’" Tosia grabbed a dumpling and dutifully took a bite.</p> <p>"Happy? Okay, I need to help Ulrike with setting up the TV, or they will kill me. <em>Feyl dikh vos arayn</em>, yell for me if you need something. Feel free to join us, we'd love to have you."</p> <p>"I learned six bloody languages while getting shot at," the English slang poked its way out of the Polish, "What do I need your classes for?"</p> <p>"I don't know," Tosia got up and shrugged, "Guys, gals…the chance to see a fireworks show that’ll put the rest to shame?"</p> <p>"Oh, you mean the thermonuclear test?" Tosia noticed the way he effortlessly switched to an English pronunciation when he got to “thermonuclear” in his Polish.</p> <p>"<span style="color: #c21e56">Ah, so you're familiar with the concept, then,</span>" she smiled. "<span style="color: #c21e56">A lot of my students just think of it as 'the bomb'. You learn fast for having been here for only a month.</span>"<br/> "All this anxiety over a big bomb." Francis took a glass-emptying swig of water, and held it out to Tosia, who dutifully walked over to a sink. She was used to the teens acting simultaneously mature and immature for their ages. "Everyone I hear talking about it is either acting like it's Christ come again, or it's Pandora's Box."</p> <p>Tosia passed the full cup back to him. "America…the President believes that Canada and the United States were destined to become one country. There are many millions more Americans than Canadians, so if a war broke out, they could overwhelm us. With a bomb of this power, they might think twice about starting one."</p> <p>"So why would that be a bad thing?"</p> <p>Tosia felt a familiar numbness inside as she said, "Because if we use these bombs, they will too, and the whole continent will die." <em>And in my experience, telling a madman what they can't have just makes them more rash about taking it. Sometimes, you must shoot him all the same.</em> She shook the daze out of her head and turned towards the door, "Do consider joining us after you eat. There'll be plenty of American candy. That's one thing they do right at least."</p> <p>She tried to look relaxed on her way out of the kitchen but bolted down the hallway as soon as she knew her shoe-strikes wouldn't make their way to Francis's ears. She yanked open the classroom door and burst in to see Ulrike wreathed in smoke still fiddling with the TV signal.</p> <p>"Ulrike, we've got ten minutes until the test, we can't…" Tosia's voice trailed off. A pile of sweet heaven was lying on her desk.</p> <p>There was a basket of American candies-sundry candy bars, peanut butter cups, Kisses, Freedom Twists, and assorted Yankee soft drinks cooling in a bucket of ice. Miss Tosia was once asked by a student if it was true that American Coca-Cola still used a very similarly named South American party drug. Miss Altman explained that was a myth. The soft drink never included more than one in four hundred parts coca extract. She kept her knowledge of the current existence of an American drink that was literally methamphetamine in a soda bottle to herself.</p> <p>"Ula, bless you." Tosia breathed, before grabbing herself a Mars Bar and a bottle of Sarsaparilla soda. The flush of sugar in her veins made something about her breathing lighter, and the blood seemed to reach her cheeks again. Tosia took another sip and pondered a question on her mind and whether she wanted to hear the answer. She asked anyway, “Do you always have smuggled candy lying around?”</p> <p>Ulrike took a gulp of soda as she composed her answer in her head. “I keep it around for special occasions.”</p> <p>“You don’t even like chocolate,” Miss Altman said.</p> <p>“Well, I'm usually with you on those special occasions,” Ulrike replied. "Bullseye!" She’d found the right orientation.</p> <p>Premier Diefenbaker’s voice emerged clear and a little too loud, “…I believed the welfare of the Federation demanded the adoption of such a policy, which has enveloped our national resources for the maximum benefit of all the Provinces of Canada…”</p> <p>Miss Altman reached for the volume dial and twisted it down. She sat on top of her desk, and the old wood creaked. Mirroring her, Ulrike reclined on top of a student desk, propping her feet against Tosia’s bureau. The handle of a bayonet knife poked out from under Ulrike’s stretched pant leg.<br/> "So, how's…?" Ulrike shook her head in the direction of the door.</p> <p>"Copacetic," Tosia's nose tickled. "Do you mind telling me how you ran into him?"</p> <p>This was no rhetorical question. Tosia encouraged Ulrike's habit of taking in at-risk youths, grumpy yet always game to find accommodations and caregivers for them. Sometimes, Ulrike would accidentally pick up a runaway for dinner and would have uncomfortable words with parents and/or police, but as Ulrike put it, if they were there, they weren't someplace worse. On a few occasions, the runaway had good reason to flee. As always, Tosia simply wanted to know what to expect.</p> <p>"I swear this time he was actually hitchhiking. Thumbs up, pulled up pant-leg, sign that said 'Will serenade you for booze.' Poor kid looked…well, you saw how he looked. I pulled up, took a couple of tries before he followed my English, but I got his attention when I showed him the Tim Hortons bag. Didn't really talk to me all that much in the car. Asked if he wanted lunch…there you go…"<br/> Ulrike mouthed her next words, relying on their shared ability to read the other’s lips, "He's a little…seasoned for his age. Sure letting him jump in with the others is a good idea? The day hasn't even started and he already got into a scrap with one of them."</p> <p><em>We find the first polisher refugee in ten years and you're asking me to ostracize him for not blending in well enough?</em> Tosia wanted to hit her. She made sure not to look at Ulrike because she could sense her eyes were doing the screaming her mouth wouldn't. <em>I'm the adult here. I will not sink to her level.</em> She took a deep breath. <em>I am the adult. I should be seeing to her needs.</em> “So, I don’t want to mother you,” Miss Altman took an aggressive bite of chocolate, but even that couldn't stop her from talking through the mouthful, “I have to ask. How did you lose that job at the switchboard after a single week?”</p> <p>Ulrike groaned and started to put her soda bottle on the desk. Before she could get it all the way there, Tosia raced over and slapped a napkin under it. “I swear, this time, it was only a bit my fault.”<br/> “I agree, it certainly sounds nothing like the other times. No altercations, political arguments, screaming at shift managers…”</p> <p>“I promise you, Miss Tosia, I wasn’t talking to anyone at all!”</p> <p>“At all?” Miss Altman frowned. “Ulrike, I said to bite your tongue, not choke on it.”</p> <p>“Better safe than sorry is what I thought. I was doing what you told me! No politics, no arguments, nothing, but I was having trouble. When I don’t talk for a while, I start getting mad at a lot of things, which means I feel like fighting again. So I thought, why not get a little help. So, I drank a bit during the day.”</p> <p>“So you started drinking during the day,” Miss Altman said dryly.</p> <p>“Yes, Miss Tosia, I started drinking during the day. I see people do it all the time.”</p> <p>“Sure, because doing what everyone else does worked <em>wonders</em> for you people.” There was a pause before Ulrike snorted, and Tosia smiled a little. “I want to know what’s this the shift manager said about you hurling a folding chair out of a window.”</p> <p>“Oh, that,” Ulrike said, “that was just…whimsy. I saw the shift manager grope one of the other employees, and nevermind the man was married, because monogamy is capitalist bullshit, but the employee was really uncomfortable! I tried telling him ‘leave her alone, she's not interested, there should be laws against this.’ He threatened to fire me, and I knew I didn't want to get fired again, so instead of punching him in the face, I threw a folding chair out of the window. I don't get why he fired me anyways…I even went right back to work afterward!”</p> <p>“Wait…wait, you…you <em>drank</em>?” Tosia almost dropped her candy. “You drank <em>what</em>?” Ulrike gave a guilty frown and hung her head, “You <em>drank</em>! You were a year sober last week, why would you <em>drink</em>? Why <em>now</em>?" Ulrike’s eyes shifted and disappeared beneath her bangs. Ulrike was about to light another cigarette.</p> <p>And Tosia had enough. She scrambled off her desk, ripped the lighter out of Ulrike’s hand, and threw it out an open window before doing the same with the cigarette. “I’m sick of watching you kill yourself and my students with these things!”</p> <p>“What!” Ulrike said, “Again with this stupid fascist myth! You know this anti-cigarette business is a Stalinist, Nazi plot to undermine American tobacco companies and prolong their economic stagnation!”</p> <p>"What are you talking about?" Tosia clapped her hands together for emphasis. "<em>We're Communists</em>!"<br/> “I smoke every day, look at me, I’m fine! I ran ten kilometers last week.”</p> <p><em>Oh yeah, from whom? The cops?</em> “No, you’re not! Give it a few decades!”</p> <p>"You <em>really</em> think I’m making it a few more decades? In this world? Any cancer I do get will have better odds than we do!” <em>She sounds so casual saying it.</em> Tosia was frustrated, but also crestfallen. <em>Like telling me that grass is green or water is wet.</em> Tosia gritted her teeth and felt her nails dig into the skin of her clenched fists.</p> <p>“Ula, I did not bring you to this country so you could get left for dead in a Canadian gutter instead of an English one.”</p> <p>“Oh, again with this! You did not bring me anywhere! You came with me.”</p> <p>“You were a child, Ulrike!”</p> <p>“'Passive smoking’ is a Nazi myth, end of story!”</p> <p>“Oh ho ho ho, <em>Nazis</em> made it up, eh? I always knew smoking was bad for children from when I was a little girl! Back home in Lipno, two old neighbors were friends. One grew up with a father who smoked like a chimney, one who had been shot in the lung during the Great War and couldn’t smoke. Do you know whose kid helped us smuggle guns into Warsaw in her violin case, and whose kid we had to carry because of her asthma? That war was no myth!"</p> <p>“Well, I don’t see the big deal. The kids will be fine! You think their parents don’t smoke around them as well? They'll build up an immunity!”</p> <p>“An immunity? To tobacco!”</p> <p>“Get off my rear end on this smoking nonsense! Who cares!?”</p> <p>“I knew inviting you here was a mistake!”</p> <p>Ulrike kicked her chair behind her and stormed over to Tosia, punctuating her sentences with angry pointing. “So you were just inviting me for the TV. You don't like me. You just use me because you’re too lazy to take care of modern things. You petty spinster!”</p> <p>Tosia jumped to her feet “Who do you think you're talking to, you petulant brat?” the forty-four-year-old spat at the twenty-eight-year-old.</p> <p>“Miss Altman?” said Ben Kondraki. “You’re blocking the television.” Ben and another student stood at the door, clearly bemused at the sight of their school headmistress and their philosophy teacher about to get into a donnybrook. Ben had the gloating face of someone who had bet money on something a while back and won.</p> <p>Tosia's anger evaporated in an instant and she felt the bubbling cheer she felt towards all children take the place of the storm clouds in her heart. "Welcome, kids! Help yourself to the snacks Miss M brought and make yourselves comfortable!"</p> <p>Tosia insisted Ulrike let students call her Miss M to avoid making them feel like they were deferring to a German. It was a moot point because these three almost exclusively called her variations of Kraut, Fritz, Hun, Eva, or, in Sam's case, “Shady Lady.” Ulrike actually encouraged the jokes.<br/> Ulrike nonchalantly pulled a spare lighter from her boot and lit another cigarette. Tosia turned the volume up as far as it would go and reached for a Reese’s. They all sat down.</p> <p>“The later the party,” someone just behind Ulrike said in German, "the nicer the guests, eh?" Miss Altman saw Ulrike freeze for a moment and then swing her feet from their resting position atop her desk onto the floor. Her cigarette case finished its trip into the air from her startled hands and plummeted toward the ground before someone's deft hand caught it.</p> <p>It was Francis. His reedy laughter cackled from behind her.</p> <p>So he knows German expressions…Tosia brought her focus back to the classroom and spoke unsteadily, "I'd like to introduce you to a new friend who will be joining us for a while. This is Francis Wojciechowski. He just fled here from Poland." She turned to Francis and muttered, "<span style="color: #c21e56">How good was your French again? Quebecois is a little odd-</span>"</p> <p>"<span style="color: blue">I speak fluent Quebecois.</span>"</p> <p>"<span style="color: blue">Where did you get fluent at Quebeco…</span>" she shook her head. Not the time. "<span style="color: blue">Okay, since we have seven minutes to kill, let's introduce ourselves!</span>"</p> <h1 id="toc2"><span>Scene 3: The God of Carnage</span></h1> <p>Tosia gestured towards the young woman who had accompanied Ben. She wore a wide-brimmed straw cap over long, messy hair that she had managed to turn (mostly) blonde. Around the collar of a dress shirt with the top two buttons plucked out, swung a green tie in so sloppy a knot that it seemed to spite the concept. She completed the half-in-the-bag salaryman get-up with patchy black slacks and Red Army combat boots identical to the ones Ulrike wore (she had asked for a set, and Ulrike's policy towards her was "anything.") She sat with her legs stretched into both aisles next to her deck, her arms crossed behind her head like a cushion, whistling local artist Edith Piaf's latest hit "Non, je ne regrette rien".</p> <div class="scp-image-block block-right" style="width:400px;"><img alt="Agathe.jpg" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/who-s-afraid-of-ulrike-meinhof/Agathe.jpg"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>Agathe Les Droites: Jewish refugee from France. If Quebec had a face she'd have punched it by now. She settles for boycotting its languages and jumping into the scraps between the French refugees and Quebecois separatists. Loves being the main character.</p> </div> </div> <p>“<span style="color: blue">This is Agathe Les Droites,</span>" Miss Tosia whispered into Francis' ear. "<span style="color: blue">If you need me to translate for you, just let me know.</span>”</p> <p>Francis looked at the girl she was motioning towards. "<span style="color: blue">Why would you need to translate for me?</span>"</p> <p>Agathe clicked her tongue and said, "<span style="color: sienna">Morning, you</span> <span style="color: orange">alterkocker</span>. <span style="color: sienna">They run out of crackers at the convent?</span>"</p> <p>Agathe (or “Rights” on the street, so named because of her eagerness to resolve disputes with that hand) spoke exclusively in <span style="color: sienna">French</span> splashed with <span style="color: orange">Yiddish</span>. Swearing off English was hardly unusual in Quebec; however, Agathe's French was entirely <span style="color: sienna">Parisian</span>. To Tosia and Ulrike, who'd learned theirs on the continent, it was a spotless window. To most others in <span style="color: blue">Quebec</span>, her habit came across like a funhouse mirror at best, and a linguistic middle finger to most. Every so often, Tosia would kindly suggest practicing <span style="color: blue">Quebecois</span> or even English. Agathe's reasons for telling Tosia to fuck off were always different and, if nothing else, entertaining.</p> <p>As with every time she ran into Agathe, Tosia rolled the die. "<span style="color: blue">Since we have a guest that might not know this dialect of French, might I suggest trying Quebecois tod-</span>"</p> <p>"<span style="color: sienna">I would, but my grandma didn't bequeath me her shit-eating dentures. Did you bring yours?</span>" <em>Do I make fun of her botched dye job yet or save it for a rainy day</em>, Tosia thought. She found it impossible to take anything Agathe said personally, and disciplining her would serve no purpose other than beating her down further than life already had. Agathe understood what Tosia's expectations were, and they didn't include kissing her ass.</p> <p>"<span style="color: sienna">Hey Fritz,</span>" Agathe turned to Ulrike, whom she'd deliberately sat near. With a tone of voice suggesting they'd done this a lot, Agathe asked her, "<span style="color: sienna">Is Paris burning?</span>"</p> <p>Ulrike dutifully slid another cigarette from her black case monogrammed with Sanskrit that translated to "Now we are all sons of bitches," Oppenheimer's purported first words after the American detonation of the hydrogen bomb. She passed it to Agathe, and the teenager slid it in her shirt's breast pocket, saving it until she could find someone to light it for her. Tosia didn't approve, but it was an unspoken accommodation she granted Agathe for tolerating a German person’s presence. <em>Where forgiveness is impossible, acknowledgement can suffice,</em> Tosia mused.</p> <p>"<span style="color: blue">Well, this has been a charming exchange, as usual</span>," Tosia smirked at Agathe, who responded by sticking out her tongue. "<span style="color: blue">Now, for the last member of today's gathering, Samantha Keane.</span>"</p> <p>Silence.</p> <p>“Samantha Keane.”</p> <p>Silence.</p> <p>"I saw you sneak into the building this morning. <em>Sam</em>!"</p> <div class="scp-image-block block-right" style="width:400px;"><img alt="Sam.jpg" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/who-s-afraid-of-ulrike-meinhof/Sam.jpg"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>Sam<span style="text-decoration: line-through;">antha</span> Keane: American refugee. Your guess is better than ours. Calls Ulrike 'Shady lady'. Likes: books. Dislikes: the sixteen divisions of troops massing just along the border with the US, all from states like Alabama, Florida and Missouri. Has trouble <em>not</em> thinking about that.</p> </div> </div> <p>"Hey,." It was a quiet, flat voice from someone who accomplished total inconspicuousness in a classroom of five people. This time, the American slid from behind a bookshelf, tucked a book back into its home, and took her seat next to Agathe. Small braids covered her head and flowed down her neck. Her gaze so icily bore upon Tosia's face that she felt stared through by Sam’s large, almond-shaped eyes. They glimmered initially with incredulity and then simmered to disinterest before resting their focus on the floor. The left corner of her full lips was raised slightly more than the right, and, depending on whether her nose was moving or not, her expression fluctuated between looking amused or hostile. She had a warm, dark complexion and a wide mouth whose smiles were rarer than cryptids.</p> <p>Tosia noticed the book she had been reading was <em>What is to be Undone</em> by Bayard Rustin. Both Tosia and Ulrike voted for the now-Chairman, and, if a finer Communist somehow could exist, they probably would’ve been shot to death by now. Tosia always wondered if he was perhaps too good at his job. <em>I wish children would steer clear of the revolution</em>.</p> <p>Agathe giggled and offered Sam a high-five, who, without breaking eye contact with the ground, connected with Agathe's hand, but didn’t respond to her classmate’s attempt to follow up with a handshake. Agathe's eyes narrowed at the casual disrespect. Then she punched Sam in the shoulder, hard. Agathe jumped out of her seat shouting "<span style="color: sienna">Salle cul!</span>" and readied to jump on Sam when Kondraki grabbed her arm. "Agathe! Fucking hell, <em>Agathe!</em>" The rage passed from her eyes as quickly as it swept into them.</p> <p>She took her seat and stuck the cigarette in her mouth. Sam struck a match on the edge of her desk and lit it for her. "<span style="color: sienna">Thank you,</span>” Agathe said.</p> <p>Sam reacted by pointing to the TV screen. "It's time." Everyone abruptly stopped chatting and chewing on candy and turned to focus on the television screen.</p> <p>"<span style="color: blue">Time for what?</span>" Francis yelled. Four pairs of eyes stared daggers into his, and four pairs of mouths aggressively shushed in unison.</p> <p>Tosia tried not to laugh and bent over to speak in Francis' ear. "<span style="color: #c21e56">It's the minute warning till the detonation. I'm not going to tell you to stop being disruptive. What I will say is that I'd appreciate it if you don't, and I'll owe you one.</span>"</p> <p>"<span style="color: #c21e56">I beg your pardon,</span>" Francis coughed in surprise. "<span style="color: #c21e56">Are you telling me you, the headmistress of this school, will owe me, a sixteen, seventeen-year-old boy, a professional favor?</span>"</p> <p>"<span style="color: #c21e56">Yes.</span>"</p> <p>Francis smiled and nodded. "<span style="color: #c21e56">Alright, never had someone owe me a favor before.</span>"<br/> <em>How does one get from the Bloodlands to Canada without owing or calling in favors?</em> Tosia tried to concentrate on the broadcast. It had reached the thirty-second mark.</p> <p>"Hell of a way for Canada to turn twelve," Kondraki said.</p> <p>"<span style="color: #c21e56">Thought it was ninety-something,</span>" Francis asked Tosia.</p> <p>"<span style="color: #c21e56">It's been twelve years since the Dominion War, when the British Empire and the 'French State' tried to 'liberate' Quebec from Canada,</span>" Tosia said. "<span style="color: #c21e56">Prime Minister King became the first Premier of the Canadian Federation.</span>"</p> <p>"<span style="color: #c21e56">Your first Premier's name was <em>King</em>?</span>"</p> <p>"<span style="color: sienna">Hey, <em>maman</em>,</span>" Agathe called, "<span style="color: sienna">You'll miss the show!</span>"<br/> In an uncharacteristically loud voice, Sam shouted "TEN."</p> <p>Everyone was stunned as she loudly hissed each and every number. Eventually, Ben got into the spirit of things at six. Agathe, and even Ulrike, jumped in at three.</p> <p>Tosia was preoccupied with staring at Francis' grin. He seemed to be laughing at a joke only he would understand. <em>What was on his mind? Was he thinking about going back on this because it was meaningful to so many?</em> What would she do if he did? There were no do-overs for this sort of thing. <em>If someone wanted to hurt someone else, the most lasting damage is something they cannot repair.</em></p> <p>At two, he reached under the table for something. <em>I don't have any options right now. Anything I do might ruin things more than whatever Francis is planning. Letting Francis do his thing makes me complicit. I don't want to punish him. He seems to know that.</em> She felt absurdly helpless for how mundane this problem was. Her chest felt tight as though her ribs were a vice. <em>Please. Please. Please.</em></p> <p>Then there was light.</p> <p>Ulrike had drawn the curtains and turned the lights off, so it was especially shocking when the room lit up like someone had dropped a sun in the middle of the room. The flash withdrew, and by the time Tosia's eyes adjusted to the change of light, a fireball split the horizon in twain, stretching into the skies taller than any building, or possibly any plane, Tosia had seen before. There was a crack, and the scream of the bottled apocalypse popped in her ears and promptly broke the recording equipment of the television team.</p> <p>In seconds, that sun was born and died on Prince Charles' Island, and the Canadian Federation, in living color, formally became a nuclear power, the first to televise its becoming.</p> <p>Francis turned to look at Tosia with a toothy smile and whispered, "<span style="color: #c21e56">Caught you flinching.</span>" Tosia tried to laugh. It was a joke within a joke. He was poking fun at how much she cared. <em>I should take myself a little less seriously, perhaps,</em> she thought.</p> <p>Her body viciously disagreed. Her heart rate was galloping. Her body felt like she’d taken it out for a jog. She had fought in three different wars. This boy had frightened <em>her</em>.</p> <p>Sam was the next to speak. "Shady lady, hook us up." Ulrike passed cigarettes to Sam and Ben, and passed them another lighter, this time from her breast pocket. Sam nudged Ben, who raised his eyebrows in response. Sam never initiated physical contact. "Butterfly boy, I know you got something a little more controlled than that," Ben grumbled and pulled out two sticks of a decidedly different fragrance. "You're not going to snitch, are you, Miss Tosia?" Sam asked.</p> <p>"Snitch?" Tosia scoffed. "On a mild, non-addictive psychoactive? What do you think this is? Who do you think I am?"</p> <p>"I dunno. It's not like you have anything to lose if you do."</p> <p>Tosia's smile got a little more strained. "My <em>honor</em>, for one." <em>She's just seventeen</em>, Tosia thought. <em>She couldn't have any idea.</em> "Is there anything else I can do for you?"</p> <p>Sam smiled, another rare sight, a river in the desert. "Nothing that Canada hasn't already done. That's it, right? No war?"</p> <p><em>Oh no…that's why she's…</em> "Um, could you…expand on what you mean?" <em>I know damn well what you mean.</em></p> <p>"Well…based on what I've heard, the distance of the camera, the height of the mushroom cloud, that bomb was at least two megatons, and I know Canada has an air force, and if they've detonated that bomb they probably have a few others…so America can't invade, right? If it does it'll…it'd lose a lot, right?" Sam stumbled through the words, nerves choking her flow. It was clear she knew as much about this topic as any civilian could, and possibly more.</p> <p>Tosia tried to choose her words carefully, "It…certainly makes a war less likely…but…"</p> <p>Sam turned to Ben, "Please tell me Tosia doesn't look nervous right now? She's just checking her math right now? Hello!" She anxiously snapped her fingers in front of Ben's increasingly startled face. "Oh…" Sam let out a derisive “ha.” "Of course…the losses are only unacceptable if the opp cares about the losses…and…JPK would probably concentrate his air defenses around…so. This. Meant. Fuck. All."</p> <p>Sam's grin dissolved into the blank impassivity she'd given the class when she first emerged from behind the bookshelf. "I'm going to stand over by the window for a bit. Call me when…I don't know…" She listlessly pulled herself out of her chair and walked to the window.</p> <p>"Sam! Sam, it's okay." Tosia wanted to say something more or give her a hug, but Sam was immune to sentiment and tended to be hostile to unwanted or unexpected physical contact.</p> <p>Francis whispered to Tosia, "<span style="color: #c21e56">Does Sam know French?</span>"</p> <p>"<span style="color: sienna">Je maîtrise le français en général</span>" Sam shouted back. "<span style="color: blue"><em>Par curiosité</em>, why didn't you just assume I learned the language?</span>"</p> <p>"<em>Sam</em>, oh <em>schiesse</em>," Ulrike made a show of dropping her cigarette and then her lighter. The class giggled. "As you know, I'm more of a political, philosophical type. I know nothing of this bomb, and you seem to know lots. Do you want to tell us anything about a thermonuclear detonation?"<br/> "As a matter of fact," Sam said, "I have a game that will tell you everything you need to know." She walked up to the front of the classroom, unsettlingly composed and casual, and grabbed chalk from the blackboard tray. "<span style="color: blue">Okay, everybody name the city you spent most of your life in before coming here, and I'll tell you what that bomb would have done to it.</span>" Ulrike almost instantly shouted “Berlin!” as though she would have giddily dropped it herself and Tosia snorted with held laughter.</p> <p>Agathe was next with Paris. Ben wanted to know what detonating it over the Prudential Tower would do to Boston. When it was Tosia's turn, she simply said "Motherwill.” It was the closest place to home she'd felt even before the Nazis invaded. Europe was just a hostile place for her altogether. Francis mumbled 'Warsaw', before taking it back.</p> <p>"What about you?" Tosia asked.</p> <p>"Washington, D.C.," Sam replied, and went on an extended explanation of what an airburst nuke just above the White House would do to DC's geography, the fact the Beltway was specifically named for the approximate blast radius of a multi-megaton nuclear bomb (apocryphal, but Tosia didn’t want to interrupt her), placing special emphasis on how everything connected to the United States government would be vaporized in the event of such a disaster. Sam sounded breathless by the end of her explanation.</p> <p>"Wait, Sam," Ben looked confused, "You're from Washington, D.C.?"</p> <p>"No," Sam replied and shrugged. "I'm not. I’ve just spent a lot of time thinking what it would take to stop America." She returned to her seat. "Carry on, y'all."</p> <p>Francis tapped Agathe on the shoulder. "<span style="color: sienna">So you're a Parisian girl…</span>" he said in her preferred dialect, "<span style="color: sienna">I have heard a lot about Parisian women. How sophisticated they can be one moment, spitfires the next.</span>"</p> <p>Agathe gasped and pointed at Francis, "<span style="color: sienna">The garden gnome knows real French! When did you get off the boat?</span>"</p> <p>Francis laughed and scratched the back of his head. "<span style="color: sienna">This gnome just got here,</span>" he said, leaning into the dialect with a pronounced growl, "<span style="color: sienna">and I know a lot of real languages, not just French.</span>" He proceeded to repeat that sentence in German, <span style="color: #c21e56">Polish</span>, <span style="color: blue">Quebcois</span>, English, Italian, Japanese, and Breton.</p> <p>Agathe waved her hand dismissively, "<span style="color: sienna">Nobody asked for the feathers, peacock. And who were you trying to impress with the German earlier? You're a little north to be speaking sauerkraut. No offense, Fritz.</span>" She nudged her head in Ulrike's direction. Ulrike shrugged.</p> <p>Tosia's nose tickled. <em>German, again</em>. Her hand dug into her candy stockpile for a Twix, tore the wrapper off with her teeth, and let the caramel and milk chocolate flood her mouth.</p> <p>"<span style="color: sienna">How about <em>your</em> French, bottle-blonde? France was a German marionette longer than the Third Republic was a thing.</span>" Agathe yawned, and Tosia made a mental note that her hair was not actually a sore spot. Ordinarily, she would have dropped the curtains on this budding farce and lectured both of them about mutual respect, but it was a special occasion, and one did not often encounter a fight between an unstoppable jackass and an immovable one.</p> <p>Agathe whistled, "<span style="color: sienna">’Bottle blonde'. What a perceptive little man. Maybe you can spy on Miss Tosia for me so I know where she keeps her vodka?</span>"</p> <p>Francis had a mischievous gleam in his eye and placed his elbow on Agathe's desk, leaning towards her as though telling her a secret. "<span style="color: sienna">Only if mademoiselle joins me for the debauche aftewards.</span>"</p> <p>Sam and Agathe, in perfect unison, exploded in howling laughter, with Sam hitting the desk repeatedly, and Agathe's tears streaming down her face, taking turns trying to repeat the dumbfounded Francis' line but both only making it halfway before losing it again. Agathe started pointing at the door, trying and failing to ask to go to the lavatory. Tosia gestured in assent. "<span style="color: orange">What a putz!</span>" Agathe cackled as she walked out of the classroom and let the door slam behind her.</p> <p>Ben moved over to sit behind a nervous and confused Francis. Ben patted him on the shoulder in a not-so-reassuring manner. "<span style="color: blue">You sure do have a big mouth, don't you?</span>" Ben said.</p> <p>Francis grinned and shrugged, "<span style="color: blue">Look, look, comrades, I'm just breaking balls. It's-</span>"</p> <p>Sam cut him off, "<span style="color: blue">That's not how that idiom works in French.</span>"</p> <p>"<span style="color: blue">What? <em>Casser les couilles</em> means 'Breaking balls'. Where'd you learn your French? The Sorbonne of Algiers? And why aren't you looking at me?</span>"</p> <p>"Because I'm tired." Sam sighed, "<span style="color: blue">The expression literally means</span> '<em>breaking balls</em>', yes, <span style="color: blue">but it doesn't mean it in the sense of teasing. <em>Casser les couilles</em> is the act of having the intent of actually provoking someone. But I think you’d get those two things mixed up in any language.</span>"</p> <p>"Wait a second," Ben's eyes widened, "What the hell did you mean by 'Sorbonne d'Algiers'-"</p> <p>"<span style="color: blue">Look, I don't care. Who gives a shit about the local color?</span>" Francis looked nervously between Sam and Ben. He had been the only one smiling between the three of them for some time.</p> <p>Tosia cleared her throat, "<span style="color: blue">Idioms are a very important part of understanding a language, Francis. They're the lived-in soul of a language, the footprint the people make in the semantic muck</span>." <em>And misusing them is a good indicator that you're not actually a native speaker, Francis.</em> Tosia did not want to come to the conclusion the facts were pointing to about the first Polish Jewish refugee she'd encountered after decades of radio silence from the former Republic. Her brain and heart were at war.</p> <p>They heard a cry from down the hallway, and the sound of shattering china.</p> <p>Francis jumped out of his seat, "<span style="color: #c21e56">What was that?</span>"</p> <p>"Poor girl," Ulrike shook her head. "Miss Tosia…think Agathe's heart got broken again…"</p> <p>Tosia was already walking towards the door, "Did that sound like my heirloom tea kettle or my heirloom plates to you?"</p> <p>Ulrike said, "I'll put my money on both decorating your carpet when all is set and done."<br/> "<em>Said</em> and done," Tosia corrected.</p> <p>She overheard Sam ask, "So…Sorbonne d'Algiers, eh?" as she exited the classroom and rushed down the hallway to her office.</p> <h1 id="toc3"><span>Scene 4: Who's Afraid of Ulrike Meinhof?</span></h1> <p>As it turned out, it was a bottle of home-distilled vodka Ulrike had gifted to Tosia as mishloach manot during Purim. Tosia didn't drink so she could avoid giving Ulrike an excuse to fall off the wagon. <em>Not that it meant a damn in the end.</em> Agathe's hat lay in a corner where she had thrown it.</p> <p>Agathe herself was strewn over Tosia's desk. She was sobbing wildly, while a plaintive female voice in an English accent shouted at her from the phone, presumably coming from whomever had caused Agathe the distress. Tosia picked up the phone, and heard the woman say, "…are you bloody mad, you silly girl, my husband is home!"</p> <p>"She's worth ten of you," Tosia whispered to the startled woman, and then slammed the phone on the receiver. The sound of Agathe's sobbing filled the room.</p> <p>"Your vodka tastes like shit,” Agathe choked out in between tortured heaves.</p> <p>"I'm more surprised you would give an English woman the time of day. She’s quite older than you," Tosia hated seeing Agathe's hurt like this.</p> <p>"<span style="color: sienna">…She…she…she keeps telling me she'll take me out of here before the Americans come storming in, that we'll leave her idiot pig husband…she's so talkative and fantastical when we're together, but I'm not supposed to take any of that seriously? She was going to get me out! She was going to get me out…</span>" Agathe broke down in another sobbing fit, "<span style="color: sienna">…but nope, I'm stuck with you degenerates! I'm a bloody fool…I'm a bloody fool…</span>"</p> <p><em>Run away together?</em> Tosia thought. <em>Run away to where? This is all we've got. Stalinists to the East, Fascists to the West, Kennedy to the South, and the deadly Arctic beyond. Our backs are against the wall, my sweet child.</em> She brought her focus back to the present moment. She was furious at that privileged creep toying with a vulnerable child like Agathe. The rage was in the way, so Tosia stuffed it someplace deep and embodied the charm she knew Agathe would respect. "<span style="color: sienna">Agathe, are you really going to let some English goy break your heart and get away with it? You have a reputation to consider.</span>"</p> <p>"<span style="color: sienna">Shut up, you</span> <span style="color: orange">alterkocker.</span>" Agathe wiped her eyes, "<span style="color: sienna">And why am I getting romantic advice from a…a…</span>" Agathe sneezed, and Tosia passed her a tissue.</p> <p>"<span style="color: sienna">…a…fucking spinster like you?</span>" Agathe blew her nose loudly and generously.</p> <p>"<span style="color: sienna">Because I'm not just a spinster, I'm a Communist,</span>" Tosia said, "<span style="color: sienna">and it's time for you to stop dating like a spinster, too. Why can't you find girls your own age?</span>"</p> <p>"<span style="color: sienna">How dare you talk to me about age! Not when you and Miss M get along like thieves at a fair!</span>”</p> <p>Taken aback, Tosia choked on her own feigned laughter. “<span style="color: sienna">I can assure you my connection with Ulrike is more professional than not, but what trust we share comes from circumstances I would not wish upon anyone.</span>” <em>What do I tell this girl to get her to understand?</em></p> <p>“<span style="color: sienna">Really?</span>” Agathe looked unconvinced, “<span style="color: sienna">And what would you consider acceptable conditions for befriending a hun young enough to be your daughter?</span>”</p> <p>At her wits end, something in Tosia made her blurt out, “If that ‘hun’ killed someone to save you.” <em>And accidentally crippled her capacity for happiness in the process.</em></p> <p>Agathe opened her mouth to respond but, for once, didn’t have anything to say. <em>I’ve said too much.</em></p> <p>Sam's voice interrupted from down the hallway at, "LET GO OF ME YOU KRAUT SO I CAN RIP HIS FUCKING HEAD OFF MYSELF!"</p> <p>They heard a crash, and Tosia bolted back to the classroom, Agathe close behind. When she opened the door, she saw Ulrike standing between Sam and Kondraki trying to hold her back, a wide-eyed Francis leaning against the wall. A bleeding scratch joined the bruises, scrapes, and forehead bandage on his face.</p> <p>“Ulrike, what has happened?”</p> <p>Sam interrupted, screaming, “That…that…How dare you, how fucking dare you! 'Oh, you idiots voted Kennedy into office, you so had this coming…' I VOTED HIM IN? ME?! I CAN'T EVEN VOTE! MY FATHER COULDN'T…you fucking pissant, <span style="color: sienna">I am gonna settle this score, you bitch!</span>” Tosia was stunned. In the years since she had found Sam, she had never seen her enraged like this before. Francis either had a talent for tweaking people or was simply too immature to stop.<br/> Tosia sighed. "<span style="color: #c21e56">Francis, I don't think I've met anyone so hungry for a fight since Warsaw!</span>"</p> <p>"<span style="color: #c21e56">Lady, what fight in Warsaw?</span>" Francis laughed, and Tosia laughed too, but with no mirth. Her emotions had been replaced by measurements. <em>What Jew from Poland hasn't heard about the Uprising?</em> The question ignited the pile of doubts in Tosia’s mind like a lit match on kindling. <em>All the missed idioms even a semi-literate peasant would have understood. The bizarre Polish accent no region in the country would have produced. How he'd learned seven languages in a place where every book and library had been burnt to ashes. Why or even how he could have learned German. His perfect pronunciation of every English word. His shoddy pronunciation of some Polish ones. Being familiar with Quebecois.</em></p> <p>Or perhaps, the farcical idea that any Jews remained in Poland. The Ghetto Rebellions had bought her people time, perhaps, but only months. He'd figured her out. He had noticed the weakness in her wizened heart, and he'd used it against her.</p> <p>The incessant tickling in her nose stopped completely. At that moment, Francis changed to her, no longer just some mischievous young boy. Forces she generally tried not to bring to school now took possession of her like a fever. <em>Collaborator.</em> She thought, <em>Who'd I let in my school this time? How close did my kids come to being dragged by this turncoat into hell by masked men with guns?</em> Her heart was beating so fast, and based on Ulrike's concerned glance in her direction, her face was probably pale from the rush of blood to her hands. <em>USELESS</em>, the voice screamed in her ears, <em>WEAK GULLIBLE FAILURE!</em></p> <p>"Marie," Tosia snapped her fingers towards Ulrike, "Could I bum a smoke?"</p> <p>Ulrike stiffened as though she'd heard an air raid siren. Outside of extraordinary circumstances, Tosia didn’t call Ulrike by her middle name, and Tosia didn’t smoke. The name was Tosia signaling to Ulrike that they needed to discuss a security matter. “Cigarette” indicated the security matter was killing Francis.</p> <p>Ulrike moved close enough to Tosia that only she could see her mouth, “Are you sure about this?” Tosia's raised eyebrows answered her question emphatically, and Ulrike pulled out her cigarette case.</p> <p>"Tosia, you always told me these were bad for me." <em>You do not want to do this.</em></p> <p>"Poison in small doses is good in the big picture." Tosia's left hand lingered in the air, expectant and trembling. <em>I have to, and my conscience is clean.</em></p> <p>"Please, Tosia, let me hold onto this for you." <em>Let me talk to him first.</em></p> <p>"Fine. I'll hear you out. But I've got my own lighter,"</p> <p>Tosia chuckled, and patted Ulrike on the shoulder, "It's all yours." Then she was smiles and sunshine again. "Goodness, Francis, that cut looks awful! Ulrike, I have an emergency bag under a fake panel next to my desk - "</p> <p>"I know where it is, Miss Tosia." Ulrike grabbed the medical supplies from the bag and placed a bandage on his fresh cut.</p> <p>"The three of you, <em>leave</em>. We'll talk about your behavior on Monday."</p> <p>"<span style="color: sienna">I didn't do anything!</span>" Agathe protested.</p> <p>"<span style="color: blue">Go</span>," Tosia was ice and acid. Even Agathe knew now was not the time to push. The three vacated in a hurry, Sam only stopping, in full view of Tosia and Ulrike, to point to her eyes with her fingers and then point them at Francis. Tosia didn't bother correcting her behavior. Nothing intimidated Sam.</p> <p>Tosia, Ulrike and Francis were alone in the classroom, and likely the whole building. "What did I say, Francis? Guys, gals, and fireworks." Tosia walked between Francis and the doorway as she spoke.</p> <p>"<span style="color: #c21e56">You're not funny. The gals are cold fish, the guy hates my guts, and…woah…</span>" Francis tried to stand up, but his legs gave way under his weight and he crumbled to the ground. The curare poison had worked its way through his bloodstream from the bandage Ulrike had given him and had begun taking effect.</p> <p>Tosia rushed to his side, "Francis, are you okay? Talk to me!"</p> <p>Francis wheezed, attempting to catch his breath and not finding it. "Can't move…can't breathe", he gasped, "h-help me, I can't…I can't…"</p> <p>Tosia nodded, and Ulrike's eyes seemed to dim in response as she ran past Tosia to lock the door, and then pulled down the shades over the windows. She checked Francis' pulse to make sure the poison's effect remained within acceptable parameters, and Tosia heard the safety on a Makarov pistol click. Ulrike was pointing it at Francis' head.</p> <p>Tosia threw herself over Francis as if to shield him. She held up both hands with her left pinky bent. Ulrike nodded, confirming their interrogation routine. Ulrike would be the aggressor and do the active emotional brutality. Tosia would be the appeaser, “protecting” Francis from Ulrike and making herself out to be the safer person to confide in.</p> <p>"Have you lost your mind? <em>Marie</em>!" During an interrogation, Tosia would also use “Marie” to tell Ulrike to escalate the emotional and/or physical violence.</p> <p>"I…I'm sorry…" Francis gasped between shallower and shallower breaths, "I…I don't…"</p> <p>Ulrike knelt next to Francis and dragged his head by his hair so his face was inches from hers. "Did your Nazi paymasters tell you who you were spying on? <em>Ontologically</em>? That one," she pointed to Tosia, "has fought in places that would make hell seem like a cozy broom closet. As for me, of the ten happiest days of my life, nine of them have involved killing fascists. The tenth was meeting her." She slapped him in the face and let his head hit the ground. "You're lost, and I found you."<br/> Tosia's voice was so frantic her throat hurt. She was glad she could cry on command. "<em>Marie</em>, stop this! We-"</p> <p>Ulrike swung the gun at her, "You were played, you silly hag. They knew you'd eat up this kid's 'starving orphan' routine!"</p> <p>Tosia gasped, "What did you do to him?" As Francis' breaths became painfully labored, she shouted again, "MARIE!"</p> <p>"Hey! Spy! Don't die just yet," Ulrike switched to German. "<strong><span style="color: grey">Blink once for yes. Blink twice for no</span></strong>. I shall ask some questions. If, by the end of our conversation, I still believe there are things I don't understand about your reasons for being here, I will shoot you, doctor the scene as an attempted assault by a vagrant from a European shithole, and personally distribute pictures of your dead body to the many, many survivors of the Shoah you disrespected with your fucking Phaidre routine! Do you understand?"</p> <p>"<strong><span style="color: grey">Yes.</span></strong>"</p> <p>"Marie."</p> <p>Ulrike pointed the gun at her. "Say another word, and I will end him right here."</p> <p><em>Very good, Ulrike. Now I appear as helpless as he feels. Now, to illuminate the boy's circumstances a little more.</em> Tosia made a show of checking Francis's pulse, and then feeling his forehead. "You criminal psychotic, you poisoned a child with curare? His lungs will be too paralyzed to push the air through his body!"</p> <p>Ulrike scoffed, "A <em>child</em>? Don't be so narrow! Treason has no age requirement!" She handed Tosia a box from the inside of her bomber jacket. "Here's the antitoxin for the poison if you're so worried!" She pressed the gun on Francis' forehead. "First question, and you're going to be hearing this one quite a bit. Are you Jewish?"</p> <p>"<strong><span style="color: grey">Yes.</span></strong>"</p> <p>"Keep in mind that there is no 'right' answer to this question. 'No' merely paints you as a liar. 'Yes', a traitor of the world entire. Kids are very often liars, but treachery is something best nipped in the bud. You might as well tell the truth now. Are you Jewish?"</p> <p>"<strong><span style="color: grey">Yes.</span></strong>"</p> <p>Ulrike scoffed, "We'll come back to that. <em>No</em>," She slapped Tosia's hand just as she was about to administer the syringe in the most painful vein she could find. "No. Not until he's confessed a few more sins. Okay spy, if you want the worst of your suffering to stop, answer me. What are you? Not, where is your mother from or your parents from. Where did you call home until as recently as a month ago? I'll take some guesses: Somalia."</p> <p>"<strong><span style="color: grey">No.</span></strong>"</p> <p>Ulrike clicked the safety of her Makarov. "Mozambique."</p> <p>"<strong><span style="color: grey">No.</span></strong>"</p> <p>She clicked it again. "Germany?"</p> <p>"<strong><span style="color: grey">No.</span></strong>"</p> <p>Click. "Was that…was that two blinks or three? Tosia, what do you think?"</p> <p><em>Textbook work breaking him down, Fritz.</em> "Marie, I will kill you as soon as this is through if this boy dies."</p> <p>"Right on schedule, as far as I'm concerned."</p> <p>"MARIE! STOP!"</p> <p>"ENGLAND?" Though her gun was still pointed at Francis, Ulrike was looking at Tosia when she screamed the word.</p> <p>"<strong><span style="color: grey">Yes.</span></strong>"</p> <p>"You…you're from <em>England</em>?" Ulrike's speech unexpectedly stumbled. “W-well, that was evident from your Limey twang! Are you really an orphan?" <em>What's going on, Ulrike? Do you want this brat to think you harbor compassion for him?</em></p> <p><em>Who cares?</em> Tosia was fuming.</p> <p>"<strong><span style="color: grey">Yes.</span></strong>"</p> <p>"Are you really an orphan?"</p> <p>"<strong><span style="color: grey">Yes.</span></strong>"</p> <p>"At a church or steeple somewhere? Are they actually dead? Did you see it happen?"</p> <p>Francis had kept his eyes still until that last phrase. "<strong><span style="color: grey">Yes.</span></strong>"</p> <p>"Was it public?" <em>Ulrike, this is not about you.</em>”</p> <p>"<strong><span style="color: grey">Yes.</span></strong>"</p> <p>"<em>L-Liar</em>! Tell me the truth!" Slap. Ulrike’s open hand collided with the cheek of Francis.</p> <p>"<strong><span style="color: grey">Yes.</span></strong>"</p> <p>"Tell me the truth!" <em>Slap.</em></p> <p>"<strong><span style="color: grey">Yes.</span></strong>"</p> <p>Tosia saw Ulrike touch Francis' cheek. "Oh look, Tosia, th-the little bastard's crying!" Ulrike's laugh was unconvincing, and her eyes seemed unfocused. "The first…the first thing all day he's said that's actually true. He’s…he’s all alone, this bullshit artist! He’s all alone!"</p> <p><em>I need to get her back on track</em>, Tosia thought. She spat in Ulrike's face. "Marie! Stop tormenting the poor child!" <em>You are making a fool of yourself in front of this Jew-hunting bastard, you wino dilettante.</em> She felt an intense frustration with Ulrike pounding in her temples.</p> <p>Ulrike stumbled backward, wiping her eyes, and chuckled, before growling and slapping Tosia in the face. Tosia nearly struck Ulrike right back, but she quieted the storm of urges in her heart. <em>It is just an aspect of the interrogation strategy. I disrespected her, so she needed to strike me to show dominance. I'll give her a break before she embarrasses us further.</em> "Wait, wait! Let me talk to him! I can get you the answers you want. Please…please!"</p> <p>Ulrike nodded. "If you insist. Don't test my patience." Her gun hand shook almost as much as her voice did.</p> <p><em>What has gotten into her?</em> Alright, kids say a lot of things to get food nowadays. It's hard out there, especially for someone right off the continent. I have all the love in my heart for your pain. But we have to know: are you Jewish?"</p> <p>"<strong><span style="color: grey">Yes.</span></strong>"</p> <p>"I believe you." Francis shivered in response. "Marie. Please, let me help him, at least to keep him alive a little while longer!"</p> <p>"Fine!" Ulrike pulled her gun away from Francis' temple, and made sure to aim it away from where Tosia now knelt. "Apply the antitoxin! Whatever indulges your bourgeois sentimentality!"<br/> Tosia stuck the syringe in Francis's arm, but Francis' suffering continued. She checked his heart rate and made sure his breathing was drawing enough air to fill his lungs. "Okay, Marie, give him a second - " Tosia started to say before Ulrike leapt back on top of Francis, grabbing a fistful of his hair and dragging his head upward.</p> <p>"Are you a spy?" Ulrike slapped Francis and let his head slam into the ground.</p> <p>"<strong><span style="color: grey">No.</span></strong>"</p> <p>"Tell me the truth. Are you a spy?" She slapped him again.</p> <p>"<strong><span style="color: grey">No.</span></strong>"</p> <p>She slapped him again and again and again. And then: "Tell me the truth. Are you a spy?" Again.</p> <p>"<strong><span style="color: grey">Yes.</span></strong>"</p> <p>His head twitched, and Tosia heard his skull strike the floor for emphasis. She carried on this routine, and she slapped him again and again and again.</p> <p>"Tell me the truth."</p> <p>"<strong><span style="color: grey">Yes.</span></strong>"</p> <p>"Tell me the truth.”</p> <p><em>I should have known. How was I so willfully blind? I should have known.</em> "He's telling you the truth, Marie!" He's telling you the truth. We can stop now!" Tosia held Ulrike's shoulders before moving hand one to her friend’s head and pulling it in to press against her own. Her other hand slowly met Ulrike's and delicately began to slide the gun from her grip. "It's okay. You don't have to push harder than this. It's okay. Let it go, Ula." <em>We're done. Let me put him out of our misery. Now.</em></p> <p>"No" Ulrike pushed Tosia away. "I'm not done yet."</p> <p>"Yes, you are! Give me the gun, Ula!" <em>Are you disobeying me? For his sake?</em></p> <p>"Did you not hear me, you daft woman, I said not yet!"</p> <p><em>That simple girl, she's trembling!</em> Tosia's numbness gave way to frustration again, focused entirely on Ulrike. <em>Why ask to interrogate a wolf in sheep's clothing and then act like a sheep in front of him?</em> Almost faster than volition, Tosia's hands returned to Ulrike's shoulders, but this time, Tosia shoved her.</p> <p>It was a lot. It was far too much. Ulrike wasn't expecting anything harder than a tap. Tosia had hurled her. She couldn't even fall properly, hitting the ground with a smack. Tosia let out a quick yelp in surprise. She hadn't meant to hurt Ulrike, just correct her. <em>I…I lost control.</em></p> <p>Tosia's mouth was on a completely different track, however, and the words, "Is that the best you have, you daft cow?" tumbled through her lips instead of an apology. "You weak, insipid…"</p> <p>Tosia suddenly felt something clock her in the side of her head and she stumbled backward with the blow, seeing stars. Ulrike had smashed a left hook into Tosia's cheek. "<em>Spinster. Bitch</em>!"</p> <p><em>Who am I now?</em> Tosia thought, stumbling back a few steps. <em>Aggressor or appeaser?</em></p> <p>Tosia roared and charged into Ulrike, who braced herself properly this time and managed to remain upright. The two grappled with each other like dueling lions, both simultaneously trying to break free of the other so they could punch the other properly, but also unwilling to let the other pull away to avoid the same. Tosia grabbed the lapel of Ulrike's jacket and tried to throttle her with it, only for Ulrike to take the opportunity to slam her knee into Tosia's stomach. Tosia wrenched her head back and slammed it full force into Ulrike's nose, knocking her back down to the ground.</p> <p>"Stay down," Tosia said as Ulrike tried pulling herself to her feet. Tosia let her get just far enough up to belt her in the nose again and sent her back to the ground.</p> <p>"I said stay down!" Tosia managed to say just before Ulrike delivered a vicious heel kick to Tosia's knee. Tosia screamed in pain and then Ulrike had hopped back on her feet and just as Tosia tried to punch her again, Ulrike threw her full weight into Tosa's belly, and Tosia felt the wind get driven from her lungs. She raised her elbow and brought it crashing down into Ulrike’s back, who buckled but then swung an uppercut straight into Tosia’s belly and Tosia gasped in pain before Ulrike stamped on her right foot and-</p> <p>Then the door to the classroom gave way. The knob practically flew off the splintered wood as Kondraki's foot crashed into it. Tosia felt a cold sweat and clarity flood her brain. She let go of Ulrike's jacket, and Ulrike pulled her hands away from Tosia's face. <em>Aggressor or appeaser?</em> Her brain ruminated on that same vacant question. <em>Who am I? Aggressor or appeaser?</em></p> <p>"Miss Tosia?" Ben Kondraki looked around the room, finding a weeping, gasping Francis on the ground, and the noticeably bleeding and disheveled teachers standing above him. Ben nodded, "Alright."</p> <p>"A-alright?" Tosia reflexively straightened her coat and checked her mouth for loose teeth. <em>Ulrike was uncommitted to her punches.</em> She turned to Ulrike, who seemed petrified as her nose generously bled on her gray shirt. <em>Unlike me.</em> "What do you mean?"</p> <p>Ben rubbed his forehead. "Miss Tosia, my family brought me to this country riding a boxcar. Before you helped me get away from my parents, I saw things that would make this look like high tea at the Ritz."</p> <p><em>Ah, we're reminding him of his broken home. Great job, Tosia.</em></p> <p>He pointed to Francis, who had remained silent. "He alright?"</p> <p>Ulrike turned to Tosia, "Is he, Miss Tosia?"</p> <p>The fire had passed from Ulrike's eyes. Tosia spotted a red welt on her cheek, and a red ring around her neck. <em>There's so much…</em>"Yes," Tosia nodded, and looked at Ben, "He's going to be alright."<br/> "I trust you," Ben said, "You've done nothing but right by us. I ain't seen anything here. Just do me one favor, Miss Tosia,"</p> <p>"As long as it's not too unreasonable." Tosia spotted a drop of blood stain on the bomber jacket she had given Ulrike.</p> <p>"Next time, Francis does something that warrants a beating, consider letting me handle it instead," Ben smirked. "It looks like you two have a problem with friendly fire." He turned away to leave. "<span style="color: #c21e56">Do zobaczenia</span>, Miss Tosia, Fritz…<em>Francis</em>…" His footsteps disappeared down the hall, leaving Ulrike and Tosia alone with themselves and Francis.</p> <p>"I…" Miss Tosia felt extinguished. “I…have to look at our directory for the carpenter…why don't you finish up with Francis?"</p> <p>"Yes, Miss Tosia," Her voice sounded dull. Ulrike motioned towards the back of the room. "Alphabet board over there?"</p> <p>Tosia nodded and walked slowly towards her desk and leaned against the walnut wood, watching Ulrike place her Makarov pistol on the ground next to Francis' head and then held the board in front of his eyes. "Blink twice to confirm a letter. What are they promising you in exchange for information on us?"</p> <p>It had to have been at least ten minutes, but they felt like ten seconds. She couldn't make out what Francis was spelling, but Ulrike said the words out loud for Tosia's benefit. "My…baby…"</p> <p>Ulrike threw the placard and herself to the ground. She dug her nails into her hair and whimpered, in Polish, "<span style="color: #c21e56">Miss Tosia…I beg you…</span>"</p> <p>"Ulrike…” Tosia heard herself say, “I'm satisfied. Let him go."</p> <p>Ulrike peeled the bandage from Francis's forehead. Francis’s chest swelled and Tosia heard a hungry, gasping sigh before his body twitched. He then went limp, breathing again, but now unconscious.</p> <p>Ulrike’s hand brushed away the other bandage on Francis's head, the one dead center on his forehead. It clung to Ulrike’s hand as she pulled away from Francis and stumbled towards Tosia. She popped open her cigarette case with the “Now we are all sons of bitches” engraving and stuck a tube in her mouth. As Tosia got a better look at Ulrike’s pale mask of sweat, tears, and shock, she noticed the tube was in the wrong direction.</p> <p>She tottered a few paces forward, then tripped on her own feet and slumped forward against Tosia. "M…Miss Tosia, I…I think I need a light-" Ulrike promptly vomited on Tosia’s blouse. Tosia helped her to a seat on the floor where she could lean against the desk and noticed the scent of her hair in the process. <em>How did I let her go a week without showering?</em> Her mind’s voice sounded alien to her, a black whisper in a wall of red.</p> <p>Red. She saw a new wound on Francis’s scalp, surrounded by damp skin. Streaks of moisture slid away from the glinting tear splitting his forehead wrinkles…she saw a black spot in the red mass, and the black <em>dilated</em>.</p> <p>Francis's third eye stared at Tosia while Francis twitched in his sleep.</p> <p>…</p> <p>Tosia wasted little time once reaching her conclusion. Within minutes, Tosia made sure Ulrike's head rested on a pillow and had a thermos of coffee by her side, and waited the thirty minutes before the elementary neurotoxin should finish its course. It wasn't <em>quite</em> curare Francis had been poisoned with, but something of Tosia's creation using materials she acquired as the Social Communist Party's Secretary of Anomalous Sequestering. Once Ulrike had removed the bandage, all Tosia needed to do was occasionally check Francis's heartbeat as a precaution in case of any freak accidents.</p> <p>Eventually, Francis woke up with a startled howl. Tosia gently, but firmly, pressed her hand on Francis’ mouth, and lifted her finger to her mouth to shush him. Francis calmed down and looked at Ulrike's unconscious form.</p> <p>"<span style="color: #c21e56">Is that beast really tuckered out? I oughta-</span>"</p> <p><em>That beast is the only reason you're still breathing.</em> "Do not speak Polish around me again, please," Tosia said, "Or at least while you're in range of my hands."</p> <p>"Fine." Francis wiped some dried saliva from his chin with his hand, then pointed at Ulrike. "She is out of control-"</p> <p>"Meri, your baby," Tosia adjusted her seat so she was looking directly at Francis. She did not make any faces, and her voice didn't betray any ire. All the same, she knew Francis saw something different now. Even the third eye would not meet her gaze and swiveled frantically to avoid it. It was a truth known to few around Motherwill County. The absence of something as simple as a maternal, loving smile lifted the curtain on her life of nightmares.</p> <p>"Focus, Francis. Your child. Who has her? Who sent you?"</p> <p>"They…they…we got picked up in England, sent here…they pointed out…the less time I spent with her, the less she'd love me. So…they said if I found things out here…the more I found…the more days I could have…"</p> <p>"You seem rather eclectic. A polyglot, a con-artist, at the very least intelligent enough to fool me for a time. What did you see as the consequences of talking to these people about us?"</p> <p>"I didn't…let myself think about that," Tosia saw Francis' shoulders tremble, and his breath catch. She had difficulty reacting to it.</p> <p>"Well, you can't say you didn't know, only that your denial was finite." She heard the sound of a thermos cap hitting the ground. Ulrike was awake. "Our arrangement will be as follows: You will attend this school. You will come to our classes. You may even exchange pleasantries with our students. You will not befriend them. You will not follow them. You will live with me. At the end of every night, I will supply you with intel that you will use to pay your way. In return, you supply me with intel on your ‘benefactors’ and their intentions for us." She turned and looked at Ulrike, saw the way her lips shook with worry. Frowning, she put her eyes back on Francis, "And if you do all these things, and we learn what we need to about the people who sent you, I may find a way to reunite you with your daughter. Are these terms acceptable?"</p> <p>"Yes…" Francis didn't pretend anymore, he broke down weeping. Tosia sat there watching him. It was Ulrike who ran to his side but stopped short of touching him. He was alone.</p> <div class="scp-image-block block-right" style="width:400px;"><img alt="FrancisWojciechowsky.jpg" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/who-s-afraid-of-ulrike-meinhof/FrancisWojciechowsky.jpg"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>Francis Wojciechowsky: He had it coming, didn't he?</p> </div> </div> <h1 id="toc4"><span>Coda: Hitherto Shalt Thou Come, And Further</span></h1> <p>Tosia spent much of the following day catching up on her casework from the previous day, running her Party staffers ragged with following up on her students in dwellings without phones, while calling the foster parents of her students who did (spending extra time on Ben’s, Agathe’s, and Sam’s).</p> <p>At 10:05, she was fixing dinner when the phone rang, and she let it ring several times. She’d known the call was coming. The Party secretary told her when the chairman would reach out to her so she could finish scaring her foster network straight. She wiped her flour-covered hands - she was cooking dinner - and picked up the phone. “Chairman Rustin, to what do I owe the pleasure?”</p> <p>“Secretary Altman. How’s the weather?”</p> <p>“Small talk is beneath you, Bayard. “</p> <p>“It’s very relevant here. Heard it’s raining blood in Motherwill. I thought I’d call one of the clouds.”</p> <p>“The Social Communist Party has not, does not, and will never maintain a paramilitary capacity. I was there when you made that declaration.“ She rattled off the words like reciting a catechism.</p> <p>“You seem uninterested in honoring it. This isn’t St. Petersburg in ‘17. We don’t shoot people for reading the wrong theorist.”</p> <p>The irony of her feeling dressed down like a student had not escaped her. “You’re right. It’s Warsaw in ‘39. And Fascism and Stalinism aren’t theories, they’re nihilisms. More to the point, I haven't shot anyone.”</p> <p>“Non-violence isn’t just a tactic. It’s our ethos. And just because it's your werewolf doing the shooting doesn't mean your fingerprints aren't on the gun."</p> <p>Tosia chose to avoid that last remark. “The gunmen that kidnapped five kids from our youth center in Edmonton didn't seem to care about that ethos.” It was true Ulrike carried on her own one woman war against the fascist and Stalinist paramilitary operatives. Yet she remembered what Kovner had told her: <em>If your definition of a goy friend is someone who would die for her, you don't have any friends.</em> If anything, Ulrike feared failing to die for Tosia. That was the problem.</p> <p>Her thoughts filled the pause and Bayard cleared his throat. Tosia’s mental clock hit zero. She flipped the potato pancakes. She felt sad at the gathering distance between herself and someone she had and still did see as beyond reproach.</p> <p>“This latest one,” Bayard spoke carefully, “do you have anything like proof?”</p> <p>“A taped confession. They snuck him in as a refugee. They aren’t just killing us. They’re trying to kill the humanity within us, and fill it with terror. I won’t let them do that.”</p> <p>“Where’s he?”</p> <p>“He’s lost.” Tosia said. She hadn't told Ulrike to kill him, but only because she didn't have to.</p> <p>“And the Canadian Communist Party depot in Nova Scotia that got burned-”</p> <p>“A regrettable and tragic accident.” <em>And a message to them and their Soviet paymasters not to come anywhere near my foster families. What was it Ulrike had written? "Protest is saying something has to stop. Resistance is when you make it stop."</em></p> <p>There was a pause, and then: “As bad as a paramilitary capacity is, it's our anomalous capacity that's the real threat to the SCP-”</p> <p>Tosia cut him off. “It’s not a 'capacity'. It's containment. We are the only ideology that transcends national and sectarian boundaries in the pursuit of logically verifiable ideals. If we don't possess and protect these 'different ones', someone else will exploit them, and our adversaries will grow strong on our weakness."</p> <p>“I believe you, Tosia. Hell, in your shoes, I’d have done the same. But it’s not always going to be me in this chair. That’s why I’m calling. I just got word Gus Hall is starting an inquiry into your anomaly operations. He's trying to seize your project, and he's got a lot of American friends in the party backing his play.”</p> <p>“He always has friends. I always have friends. You’re a friend.”</p> <p>“It’s different this time.”</p> <p>“A counter-revolutionary sentiment if I ever heard one. Any child under my roof is protected, and <em>those four</em> especially. No power under the sky shall harm them.”</p> <p>“Tosia, that’s the problem with putting your eggs in one basket. Someone’s always going to try to take the basket.”</p> <p>“Better they’re in the basket, than on the ground where they could get stepped on. As for what happens to the basket, I already said I’d handle it.” Tosia chose to end the discussion there. “On an unrelated note, Rustin, I have a young female friend who has an…entanglement with an older woman. How do I get her to stop?”</p> <p>“The same way you get any stubborn person not fuck up at night. You talk to them about it in the morning.”</p> <p>Tosia chuckled. “How’s the husband?”</p> <p>“Good night, Tosia.”</p> <p>“You as well, Bayard.”</p> <p>Squeaks followed squeaks, then the running water in the bathroom sputtered to a halt. “You took your sweet time!” Tosia chirped. “I prepared dinner. Will you be joining me?” The smell of spiced meat and sizzle of frying flour flowed from the generous pot of oil, and cheese bubbled on the baking zapiekanka slices in the oven. <em>Candy for lunch and street food for dinner. Am I forty-seven or fourteen?</em></p> <p>She heard the bathroom door creak open.</p> <p>“<span style="color: #c21e56">I’m not hungry like a wolf just now,</span>” Francis shouted back, “I could use a TV though.” <em>Oh, now you’re learning your idioms, eh?</em> Tosia smirked, picking up a pair of tongs and filling two plates with pierogi. “I’ll take your food to your bedroom then?”</p> <p>“Jog off, Tosia,” Francis said, in salty English.</p> <p>She left the food, a small box of sweets, and a pitcher of water by his bedroom door, then went back downstairs, wrapping up the leftovers. <em>I need to get Agathe a cat,</em> Tosia thought and brewed herself some black tea while considering what to do with Francis.</p> <p>A buzzer broke her reverie. She looked at the clock. It was 11:45 now. Francis’ loud snoring all but rattled the creaky hallways. She walked over to the front door and peered through the peephole. Just who she was waiting on. She opened the door, and Ulrike walked on in, smelling of cigarette smoke and sweat.</p> <p>“We had a late dinner. I made extra for you.” Ulrike nodded and wordlessly dropped a basket of candy on the table.</p> <p>Ulrike wolfed her food down like she hadn’t eaten in a day, and she likely hadn’t. Tosia watched her and asked a few questions about what she had been up to since she’d run off. The answers were all disappointing and unhealthy, but she was mostly asking so Ulrike didn't start on <em>that</em> conversation.</p> <p>Ulrike started it anyway, of course. "Miss Tosia, I…" Ulrike stammered through her words, "Look, yesterday, I…didn't…-"</p> <p>"Stop." Tosia's voice was soft, but Ulrike's receded when she spoke all the same. "I shoved you. You defended yourself. It is that simple. We move on."</p> <p>"Tosia, I appreciate your charity, but-"</p> <p>"No."</p> <p>"You suspended me two months ago because-"</p> <p>"And now you're unsuspended. What is that, if not a result?"</p> <p>"Tosia," Ulrike's voice cracked, "If you need me to leave Motherwill, if I'm that disruptive for you…"</p> <p>"<em>You will do no such thing</em>." Tosia got out of her chair and glared at Ulrike, causing her to drop her fork. "What I need you to do is to get back on the wagon, show up to work on time, and work on your left hook. That punch couldn't squash a fly." She stormed out of the kitchen and into her living room.</p> <p>Tosia changed the radio station so they could tune into the “Chez Margaret Windsor” show and listen to a marathon of Paul McCartney’s Quarrymen’s music from their first album with their new lead guitarist Jimi Hendrix (there was widespread trepidation after John Lennon ran off to fight in Scotland and George Harrison quit to be with his family, but universal opinion is the change has led to the band reaching transcendent levels of ability and relevance. Although, it did mean they weren’t welcome in much of the United States anymore.)</p> <p>She sank into her armchair in the living room. Eventually, Ulrike joined her and took a seat on the couch, leaning over the table while trying not to be obvious about trying to read Tosia's face from the corner of her eye. They let the former princess' voice fill the taut silence. "…The United States allegedly cut off diplomatic relations with the Federation an hour after the nuclear detonation. They'd been hinting for weeks that they'd invade the moment we detonated the bomb. That's Yankee punctuality for you…" Ulrike pulled a Mars bar out of her breast pocket and handed it to Tosia, who wordlessly accepted the treat but chose to leave it on the table next to her chair.</p> <p>Ulrike's voice was unsteady when she spoke. "We…how are we going to discuss a possible American invasion with-"</p> <p>"The next time you want to have a fist-fight with me, Ulrike," Tosia cut her off, "You do so off school premises. If we agree on that much, I see no reason for our collaboration to cease."</p> <p>"Okay."</p> <p>Tosia felt her nose tickle. “I notice you’re dancing around asking me why I wanted to kill Francis earlier.”</p> <p>"I didn't - "</p> <p>“Four confirmed attacks against our schools throughout Canada. I used to think they were false flags, but these attacks were in areas I knew. Do you understand what that means? There are kids with no place else to go. Physical security is not enough, Ulrike, if we don't help them feel secure, they will destroy themselves…” Tosia drifted off, and looked at Ulrike, looked at her empty eyes, her messy hair, her sleeplessness, her restlessness; she looked at all of it as though she was seeing it for the first time. <em>I need her to outlive this.</em> Tosia felt something sting her eyes and blinked the feeling away, <em>I can’t be the worst thing that’s ever happened to her.</em></p> <p>Ulrike pulled a cigarette out of her case and placed it between her lips, snapping towards Tosia for a light. Tosia took out a lighter from her apron pocket and obliged her. Ulrike took a drag. She finally spoke. “How did you know he was a spy? How were you so sure?”</p> <p>“Certain?” Tosia chuckled, “I ran into that word so often in the ‘30s. 'Oh, you're not certain, so we won't do anything.' It’s the wall I slammed my head into.”</p> <p>“Tosia…”</p> <p>“There were so many clues, but I think I knew the moment I saw him. I'm out of practice handling betrayal. It's…been a while since I trusted someone.”</p> <p>“And with Francis?”</p> <p>“He hadn’t heard of the Ghetto Uprising." Tosia knew she was more or less talking to herself, but let herself think aloud. "Even the most bitter collaborator would have heard about it, warned their kids about it. They burned our books, so Francis would have had to learn his Yiddish from someone, yet no one told him about the day two hundred and fifty thousand of us used Soviet guns to break out of Warsaw? I fought and bled that day, and…” Tosia drifted off, her voice giving way once again to Hendrix’s guitar solo on “Purple Haze.”</p> <p>“Why did you let me talk to him if you were so sure if you were ready to kill him on the spot?”</p> <p>“He’s more useful alive.”</p> <p>“Deflection is not like you, Miss Tosia,” Ulrike wiped her eyes and peered into Tosia's, "What happened? Why did you want to kill him?"</p> <p>"I…Ula, you felt your country's betrayal all at once…it was ghastly to see your family get put to death, on German television, for the pleasure of millions. I…I felt it piecemeal. Year by year, 'family friend' by 'family friend'…I have no time for traitors. Not then. Not now."</p> <p>"So, why didn't you just…"</p> <p>"Tosia Altman felt justice demanded I kill him. But Miss Tosia simply did not want to kill a child." Tosia looked at her hands. "Ulrike, if I had killed him…what would you have done?"</p> <p>"Miss Tosia," Ulrike's voice was iron, "If you decided to kill him, what would have happened is I would have helped you dispose of his body, doctored the crime scene, then treated you to drinks afterward. I did not hit you because I am some humanitarian who cares if a spy can legally drive or not. None are righteous. Not one."</p> <p>"Ulrike, you confuse me." <em>This must be how a bull feels after falling for the cape.</em> "If killing him is no moral issue for you, then why did you act in his defense?"</p> <p>“Because…he was alone…because if he died, his baby would have been alone, and have grown up…like I am now…" Ulrike's voice quivered, and Tosia wanted to hold Ulrike's hand as she trembled. "There would have been nothing wrong or right with killing him, but anyone so young deserves to be fought for, even if they wouldn't know it."</p> <p>“<em>Ula</em>…” Tosia put her hand on Ulrike’s shoulder, “You are so full of love for children. It’s one of my favorite things about you.”</p> <p>Ulrike shrugged, “You said that as if you don’t also share that feeling. Why else did you step away from the militant wing to do your social work?”</p> <p>“Children are the expression of hope for our people, and if I help those gentiles in need who are victims of our dark history’s rhyme…well, I suppose you could call that a self-indulgence.”</p> <p>“If children are hope, then why don’t you have any of your own?”</p> <p>Tosia smiled. "Ula, you're a smart girl. You'll figure it out." She pointed to the bathroom. "Now, take a fucking shower."</p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/who-s-afraid-of-ulrike-meinhof">Who's Afraid of Ulrike Meinhof?</a>" by Nonaggress, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/who-s-afraid-of-ulrike-meinhof">https://scpwiki.com/who-s-afraid-of-ulrike-meinhof</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Tosia.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Amai Ixchel<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/who-s-afraid-of-ulrike-meinhof">SCP Foundation Wiki</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Ulrike.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Amai Ixchel<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/who-s-afraid-of-ulrike-meinhof">SCP Foundation Wiki</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> FrancisHidden.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Amai Ixchel<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/who-s-afraid-of-ulrike-meinhof">SCP Foundation Wiki</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Kondraki.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Amai Ixchel<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/who-s-afraid-of-ulrike-meinhof">SCP Foundation Wiki</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Agathe.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Amai Ixchel<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/who-s-afraid-of-ulrike-meinhof">SCP Foundation Wiki</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Sam.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Amai Ixchel<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/who-s-afraid-of-ulrike-meinhof">SCP Foundation Wiki</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> FrancisWojciechowsky.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Amai Ixchel<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/who-s-afraid-of-ulrike-meinhof">SCP Foundation Wiki</a></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	===== [[include <a href="/component:preview">component:preview</a> text= It is July 15, 1962, and Canada is gearing up for a nuclear war with the United States. Pilot of an alternate history canon about the birth of the Foundation. ]] ===== [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [!-- //Pilot story of a hypothetical canon "The Red Anomaly Faction": a tale of the Founders of the Foundation: Social Communist Party operatives Tosia Altman and Ulrike Meinhof, and the future O5s 2-6 of the Foundation, Alto Clef, Agatha Rights, Ben Kondraki and Samantha Keane. This story is a complete narrative experience in itself and I'm happy if this// --] [[toc]] + Scene 1: Waiting for Ulrike "...My Canadian brothers, this is U.S. President Joseph P. Kennedy Jr., making a personal appeal to you in the context of the historic unity…" //Next station.// Click. "...between our peoples. I am on a mission of mercy, for you, your families, those least fit for war. Your government claims today's televised nuclear test is about deterrence. I implore you to ask yourselves, why would family…" //Next station.// Click. "...need to deter family? Is your government truly listening to you, Canada? Or is it listening to draft-dodgers and vagrants who couldn't cut it in America, who fled our native land to bring their cultural corruption to yours…" //Still?// Click. "...I urge all good and honest men to take your country back before it is too late. This message will repeat until there are no channels left to broadcast it. My Canadian brothers…” //They hijacked all of them?// Click. “Good morning, Canada! It is July 15th, 1962, and this is Margaret Windsor, yes, that Margaret Windsor, coming to you from our studio here in Quebec City. Spot of bother with the Americans seizing the radio channels, but we've sorted it. Today’s top headlines: despite President Kennedy's denials of a military response to today's thermonuclear demonstration on Prince Charles Island, observers from both countries have reported a continued build-up of men and equipment on the American side of the Quebec border. In Europe, Adolf Hitler was killed last night in an apparent coup attempt by Reichsführer Reinhard Heydrich, dashing hopes of a peaceful resolution to the German succession crisis. A few decades too late to save the millions of souls lost and further millions displaced, perhaps, but never too late to…" Tosia Altman turned off the radio. The sun hadn’t risen yet, and the stars looked as wrong now as they had in 1939. //The American border is only a day's drive from Motherwill. What do I tell my Canadian students, let alone the American ones? “Don't worry, humanity can only make the same mistake so many times?”// [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> name=Tosia.jpg\|caption=Tosia Altman: War hero, Social Communist Party (SCP) Secretary of Anomalous Sequestering, Headmistress of Motherwill Academy. Loves candy. \|width=400px]] She tore the wrapper off of her Honey Nougat Mars Bar and took a bite of the confection, tasting an unexpected bitterness in the chocolate, and less fluff in the nougat than usual, //Oh…the supply of sugar cane's been cut off. Nothing in the news about rationing…which means America's navy has been disrupting our shipping for some time, and it is just catching up with us now.// Bittersweet was not the same as bitter though, so Tosia continued to chew nervously and moved on to more pressing concerns, namely her three most at-risk students: Agathe Les Droites, a refugee from France whose parents dropped her off in Montreal before immediately flying back to join the Resistance; Benjamin Kondrakti, a refugee from Boston whose family fled north after his father learned he was to be drafted into the army for protesting JPK Jr's invasion of Panama; and American refugee Samantha Keane, whom Tosia's Deputy Secretary found dying of hypothermia on the Canadian side of the border, and who absolutely refused to elaborate on why or whence. Tosia had promised the students American candy and a bona-fide television if they came into the school to watch the broadcast of the Canadian nuclear test. She knew if she turned up empty-handed, one of them would probably take a swing at her, and she wouldn't blame them. The need for a television Tosia prompted Tosia to call her best friend, Ulrike Meinhof, and ask if she wanted to come back to the school. Tosia had reluctantly suspended Ulrike from her job there two months ago. The other reason she called was the cold sweat that had been waking her up during the night. Her mind continued to wander. Someone had once told her that if the definition of a friend was someone who would die for you, goy friends didn't exist. As long as Ulrike was around, Tosia knew she had one. Just one. //That// one. Her breathing felt just that much heavier thinking about it. //Now if only Ulrike showered regularly, came to work on time, avoided political conversations while drunk, drank less, didn’t smoke like a chimney, and didn't carry a gun all of the time.// Tosia worked her way through a few more snacks and worries until she saw Ulrike’s Dragon pull into the school’s front lot. The car screeched to a halt just short of hitting Tosia's car. Tosia rolled her eyes and glanced at the string of holes along the boot puncturing the peeling yellow paint. Ulrike said she'd shot the car herself after a dream about the day she saw her foster mother decapitated on national television. //So many enemies that she felt she needed to specify. Dreams so dark that the rage burst the dam between her heart and the world. Why is hers so much weaker than mine?// The car door popped open, and Ulrike emerged, an unlit cigarette dangling off her lips. Tosia strode out to greet her. Ulrike had messy, collar-length hair and bangs that all but covered her sad, heavy-lidded eyes. She wore a literal bomber jacket (Tosia's, from her fighter pilot days in the Dominion War) over a gray shirt, khaki combat pants, and black Red Army combat boots she'd looted from a burning Stalinist militia depot. //At least she’s stayed sober for the last year.// [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> name=Ulrike.jpg\|caption=Ulrike Marie Meinhof: Deputy Secretary under Tosia Altman, philosophy teacher, aspiring journalist, professional revolutionary. Smokes like the chimney on a coal fire. \|width=400px]] "What took you so long?" The sun had come up, and Tosia's eyes stung from the light the car’s tinted windows kicked into them. “Miss Tosia…” Ulrike said, before fumbling for the cigarette that had just fallen out of her mouth. She caught it just before it hit the ground, “I…uh…we have a situation…" "Ula, I asked you to come here and bring a TV set and some smuggled candy. A situation…" Tosia's words died in her throat as the rear passenger door of Ulrike's car opened. The situation casually strolled toward her, wolfing down a bagel from Tim Hortons. "##C21E56\|I didn't believe her when she told me! Was that broad on the radio really the sister of the Queen of England? Why did they leave?##" he said through a mouth full of bread and cream cheese. //He speaks Polish so well. Could he be…? Impossible!// Tosia stuffed the rest of a chocolate bar in her mouth, almost choking on the ersatz peanut butter and marshmallow filling, and forced her face to look professional while she sized up the new arrival. //Pirate radio broadcasts from Poland were few and far between, let alone survivors.// He was shorter than even Ulrike and Toisa at five foot two and wore a black t-shirt and faded denim jeans tucked into white sneakers. His wavy blonde hair was overgrown, but not untidy and highlighted a fair-skinned, handsome face with a hooked nose that was slightly off-center. //It had been broken,// Tosia observed, //multiple times//. He wore a pair of aviator sunglasses, and just above them was a thick strip of bloody surgical gauze fastened to his brow with masking tape. Slung over his shoulders was a case for some instrument that Tosia didn't recognize. Ulrike busied herself opening the trunk of the car. "He's a refugee from…from Poland, Miss Tosia. He got here about a month ago, and has been busking for money to pay his way." //He’s hungry. He's been hungry. For much of his life.// Tosia swallowed and extended a hand. “Tosia Altman,” she said, “##C21E56\|Dzień dobry.##” “##C21E56\|Cześć,##” the boy replied, “##C21E56\|What do you got to eat around here, lady?##” “##blue\|Is he being as rude as it sounds like?##” Ulrike mumbled in French. “You're hearing hunger, not discourtesy," Tosia snapped. She saw a glint of recognition in the boy’s eyes. “Do you speak English?” “Little. I know lots, speak little.” //Polish, but doesn't speak his broken English with a Polish accent// Tosia thought. Her nose tickled, as it usually did when she sensed something was off. “##C21E56\|It’s okay,##” she said, switching to Polish, “##C21E56\|You’ll learn. I did. Come in, be our guest, I’ll pour milk for you.##” The boy laughed. “##orange\|Lady,## ##C21E56\|I hope you have more than just milk for me.##” //Is he being funny or does he not recognize the idiom?// Her nose started to tickle. Then her brain caught the word the boy addressed her with. //'Meidele'. That's not Polish, that's…Yiddish!// “Wait,” Tosia’s heart beat a little faster, as though the syllables slid their fangs into her veins and pumped her heart with honey. “##orange\|Are you Jewish?##” “##orange\|Yes.##” She blinked back tears she didn't know she still had. Tosia wanted to hug him. It had been some time since she found another survivor from Europe, let alone someone so young. Children were an expression of hope Tosia hadn't realized she still needed. //Hope for what? A future as a hyphen on a Canadian family's census form or more fading memories to stuff in my tomb?// And yet, for all the mirth and sarcasm her smile was no less effortless or bright. “What is that?” Ulrike asked. She was pointing at the instrument case slung along the boy's back. He mumbled something. Tosia scratched her head. “A uke-what?” + Scene 2: The Parent Trap [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> name= FrancisHidden.jpg \|caption=Francis Wojciechowsky: A ukelele. Seems like he has it coming \|width=400px]] The situation’s name was Francis Wojciechowski. He muttered something about it having been a while since he met someone who could pronounce his last name in one try. Tosia initially had a ‘hen, fox, grain-bag’ problem with getting the TV into the school, but he fiercely insisted on helping Ulrike carry the television so Tosia could rush to the school's canteen to fix him lunch. Years of experience as a community organizer, smuggler, freedom fighter, schoolmistress, Social Communist Party fixer, and surrogate parent meant Tosia knew how to cook fast and cook well. Francis' request for pierogi and zapiekanka meant Tosia was donating her lunch to the cause, but her glee outweighed her appetite. She poured potato and cheese filling from her mason jars into the doughy envelopes and threw them into a waiting pain of frying oil, before popping baguettes covered with meat, cheese, and mushrooms into the oven. She marked the time and ran back down the hallway to help Ulrike and Francis with the TV, only to find they'd already made it to the classroom and gone back outside to grab Ulrike's other goodies. She ran outside to make sure the Jewish refugee and the German expatriate lacked an opportunity to fraternize, or rather, the exact opposite. "God in heaven, he's strong!" Ulrike called out, hitting the 'd' a little like a 't', "It's like the TV was filled with helium!" There was a crunch of heavy footsteps behind Ulrike and Francis. Tosia saw one of her students approach them with a heavy, angry gait. "Ah! Mr. Kondrakti!" Tosia grinned and waved at him. "So you can show up on time with the right incentive!" "Kondraki. It's Ben //Kondraki//." Ben glared at her. "How many times do I have to tell you? Just drop the 't'!" Tosia threw up her hands. "Goodness, Ben, you're right." She understood why he wanted to anglicize his last name, but something in her stung at the continued erasure of her homeland's culture (even if it never really felt like home). The dream of a free Poland was dead, but it was making a ruckus on its way out. "I'd like to introduce you to a new friend who will be joining us. He's from Poland. Francis Woyciechowski. You've always told me you wanted to see the Fatherland for yourself. This may be as close as you’ll get." "Fair enough," Ben extended his left hand towards Francis. "Ben Kondraki," he said, "Pleasure." [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> name= Kondraki.jpg \|caption=Benjamin Kondrak--t--i: American refugee in Canada. Left Boston too old to forget it, too young to know what white phosphorous is. Parents didn't handle displacement very well. Likes boxing, especially with the gloves off. \|width=400px]] Ben Kondraki's voice could be soothing and articulate when he needed it to be, but the Boston-native's growl left quite the impression coming from a six-foot tall youth with broad shoulders, arms born to deadlift, a bold square jaw, and a mane of unruly dark hair. The fresh bruise on his left eye added a second exclamation point to every sentence. Francis was nervously backing away from the grinning Ben. "##C21E56\|Hey, my guy, I guess this is a smaller town than I thought…##" Tosia tilted her head in confusion. "Wait, are you saying you two have met?" Ben's mouth widened in a toothy grimace. "Oh, we've met alright. I'm just introducing myself a second time because his brain's gonna need the help after this." Ben slammed his right fist into Francis's solar plexus, and then grabbed Francis by the shirt and dragged him at a gallop away from Tosia and Ulrike, slapping Francis across the face repeatedly as he walked. "How's that for fucking 'paper Polish', you Christmas ornament!" Ben roared, before hurling Francis into a heap in the parking lot and jumping on top of him. It took Tosia and Ulrike a few seconds to realize what was happening before swinging into action and working together to pull Ben off Francis. Tosia threw herself between them. "Enough!" Tosia screamed at Ben. "Are you out of your mind?" She knelt and tried checking Francis for any secondary injuries from the attack. His aviators were scattered in a heap of lens and metal on the pavement, and, again, the haze of the moment meant Tosia only now noticed that his eyes were different colors - his left was green, and his right was blue. She tried not to show her curiosity. No need to remind Francis of all the times life had previously made him feel like an outcast. "Ben, comrade, you just roughed up a Polish refugee," Ulrike's voice was gentle in a way Tosia's couldn't be right then. "What has gotten into you?" Ben's voice was cool and level, but his wide eyes and pale face betrayed how visceral his rage had gotten. "Oh, I know he's a refugee alright. Asked me for directions in patchy English,, and acts all excited I’m a Polish Jew just like him. Then he asks me, ‘oh are you sure you want to be calling yourself Polish //or// Jewish? Sounds like you’re those things on paper’. So I’m trying not to slug him, being fresh off the boat and all, and then, just as my bus arrives, he sucker punches me, grabs my sunglasses and bolts for the hills!" "Francis," Tosia turned to him, "##C21E56\|Please tell me you didn't!##" Francis shrugged, and then in the blink of an eye, punched Kondraki in the jaw, dropping him to the ground. Ulrike was about to restrain Francis before Tosia impulsively shoved her aside, a sudden irrational indignation at the German disciplining the child that flared instantly. She grabbed Francis by his shoulders, shaking him. "##C21E56\|What is wrong with you?##" She babbled in Polish, feeling panic overcome her, "##C21E56\|I don't want to throw you out of here! Why are you doing this to us!##" Ulrike looked hurt, but her expression softened and her eyes closed, likely making an effort to alm herself. //I'm losing it right now. It can't have been that long since we've rescued a Jew from Europe, has it?// "##C21E56\|There is no us, lady.##" Francis said, "##C21E56\|This is all me.##" He turned to Ben, who'd gotten back to his feet, and switched to French. "##blue\|I am happy to consider the matter settled if you are. This is just a sparring match we agreed to earlier, correct?##" He extended his hand with a wide smile as if Francis had merely played badminton or tennis with Ben. Kondraki wiped the blood from his mouth, and Tosia realized the wild boy was grinning, "Of course…Francis, was it? Nice hook. We must do it again sometime." The two shook hands. Miss Tosia saw they both looked amused, and without a hint of malice. "If you'll excuse me, I have to walk this off. I’ll be back before the boom." He walked away, spitting another gob of blood on the ground. As Ben turned a corner and disappeared behind the school, Tosia heard him laughing to himself. Francis smiled in Ben's direction, "##C21E56\|What a mensch!##" He turned to Ulrike. "##blue\|By the way, I don't think I caught your name.##" "Ul-ulrike Meinhof." She spoke the last two syllables into the finger she reflexively lifted to her mouth. Francis burst out in open-eyed laughter. "##blue\|Oh, what a catch!##" He turned to Tosia as though Ulrike weren't in the room and switched to Polish, "##C21E56\|What are you doing playing house with Eva Braun?##" Tosia cleared her throat. "##C21E56\|She was an orphan who found me back in London in '49. During the Interregnum, she helped me out.##" //And I will be answering for that help for as long as she lives.// Francis's face was like she'd just tried to tell him Santa Claus was real. "##C21E56\|Lots of people 'help you out'. The tailor helps you out. The butcher helps you out. The police help you out. What's so special about her?##" Ulrike's eyes indicated her confusion, and she was clearly doing her best to act like the conversation wasn't happening, or at least tried not to read into the coy, mocking tone Francis was using to talk about her. Tosia felt it was time to check on the food. Ulrike looked desperate on noticing Tosia was going to leave her alone. "##C21E56\|She's## ##orange\|righteous among nations.##" Tosia finally said. It was an idea known to many: a //goy// who had risked their lives to save Jews from the mass murder the Nazis had committed across Europe. Her words snatched Francis’ out of his throat. Tosia darted out of the room. She would have screamed if she'd lingered a moment longer. //There are no righteous. What a joke.// … Francis was chatty as he ate Tosia's lunch in front of her. Between bites of dumpling, Francis would drop small chestnuts of information: he didn't know his exact age because it wasn't like anyone in what was left of Germany, Poland, or Britain was going to maintain his paperwork. Hadn't had a rabbi, but was a maven when it came to learning languages, so he knew plenty of Yiddish, but very little about the Yiddishkeit. Childhood was a blur, and what he remembered of his parents wouldn't fill an obituary. Geography got vague too, since he was always on the move. He had gotten lucky that Poland had been destroyed so thoroughly that - "Wait," Tosia put her hand on his. "Slow down for your own sake. Are you okay?" Since it was just them, they were speaking entirely in Polish. Even if her political feelings towards the state were complicated, there was an unfamiliar comfort with letting herself wade effortlessly into one of her mother tongues. Francis snorted but didn't move his hand right away. "I'm on the come-up. Got one doll to give me a ride over here, got another to feed me." He grinned, but wouldn't meet her eyes. "There are so few Polish left that I never thought I'd run into an actual //polisher// after all this time. How many are we by now?" "More than you'd think. Fewer than there should be. You stick around a bit, I might introduce you to a few - " "Let me stop you right there," Francis swallowed, then leaned back in his seat and rested his arms behind his head. "A bit of Yiddish and the right mom doesn't connect us the way you think it should. Don't think you're going to be my rabbi or anything." Tosia smiled, "I'm not in the business of telling people what to do. I was going to ask what you needed from me." "I need you to eat a pierogi because it's called ‘breaking bread,’ not ‘watching me eat.’" Tosia grabbed a dumpling and dutifully took a bite. "Happy? Okay, I need to help Ulrike with setting up the TV, or they will kill me. //Feyl dikh vos arayn//, yell for me if you need something. Feel free to join us, we'd love to have you." "I learned six bloody languages while getting shot at," the English slang poked its way out of the Polish, "What do I need your classes for?" "I don't know," Tosia got up and shrugged, "Guys, gals…the chance to see a fireworks show that’ll put the rest to shame?" "Oh, you mean the thermonuclear test?" Tosia noticed the way he effortlessly switched to an English pronunciation when he got to “thermonuclear” in his Polish. "##C21E56\|Ah, so you're familiar with the concept, then,##" she smiled. "##C21E56\|A lot of my students just think of it as 'the bomb'. You learn fast for having been here for only a month.##" "All this anxiety over a big bomb." Francis took a glass-emptying swig of water, and held it out to Tosia, who dutifully walked over to a sink. She was used to the teens acting simultaneously mature and immature for their ages. "Everyone I hear talking about it is either acting like it's Christ come again, or it's Pandora's Box." Tosia passed the full cup back to him. "America…the President believes that Canada and the United States were destined to become one country. There are many millions more Americans than Canadians, so if a war broke out, they could overwhelm us. With a bomb of this power, they might think twice about starting one." "So why would that be a bad thing?" Tosia felt a familiar numbness inside as she said, "Because if we use these bombs, they will too, and the whole continent will die." //And in my experience, telling a madman what they can't have just makes them more rash about taking it. Sometimes, you must shoot him all the same.// She shook the daze out of her head and turned towards the door, "Do consider joining us after you eat. There'll be plenty of American candy. That's one thing they do right at least." She tried to look relaxed on her way out of the kitchen but bolted down the hallway as soon as she knew her shoe-strikes wouldn't make their way to Francis's ears. She yanked open the classroom door and burst in to see Ulrike wreathed in smoke still fiddling with the TV signal. "Ulrike, we've got ten minutes until the test, we can't…" Tosia's voice trailed off. A pile of sweet heaven was lying on her desk. There was a basket of American candies-sundry candy bars, peanut butter cups, Kisses, Freedom Twists, and assorted Yankee soft drinks cooling in a bucket of ice. Miss Tosia was once asked by a student if it was true that American Coca-Cola still used a very similarly named South American party drug. Miss Altman explained that was a myth. The soft drink never included more than one in four hundred parts coca extract. She kept her knowledge of the current existence of an American drink that was literally methamphetamine in a soda bottle to herself. "Ula, bless you." Tosia breathed, before grabbing herself a Mars Bar and a bottle of Sarsaparilla soda. The flush of sugar in her veins made something about her breathing lighter, and the blood seemed to reach her cheeks again. Tosia took another sip and pondered a question on her mind and whether she wanted to hear the answer. She asked anyway, “Do you always have smuggled candy lying around?” Ulrike took a gulp of soda as she composed her answer in her head. “I keep it around for special occasions.” “You don’t even like chocolate,” Miss Altman said. “Well, I'm usually with you on those special occasions,” Ulrike replied. "Bullseye!" She’d found the right orientation. Premier Diefenbaker’s voice emerged clear and a little too loud, “…I believed the welfare of the Federation demanded the adoption of such a policy, which has enveloped our national resources for the maximum benefit of all the Provinces of Canada…” Miss Altman reached for the volume dial and twisted it down. She sat on top of her desk, and the old wood creaked. Mirroring her, Ulrike reclined on top of a student desk, propping her feet against Tosia’s bureau. The handle of a bayonet knife poked out from under Ulrike’s stretched pant leg. "So, how's…?" Ulrike shook her head in the direction of the door. "Copacetic," Tosia's nose tickled. "Do you mind telling me how you ran into him?" This was no rhetorical question. Tosia encouraged Ulrike's habit of taking in at-risk youths, grumpy yet always game to find accommodations and caregivers for them. Sometimes, Ulrike would accidentally pick up a runaway for dinner and would have uncomfortable words with parents and/or police, but as Ulrike put it, if they were there, they weren't someplace worse. On a few occasions, the runaway had good reason to flee. As always, Tosia simply wanted to know what to expect. "I swear this time he was actually hitchhiking. Thumbs up, pulled up pant-leg, sign that said 'Will serenade you for booze.' Poor kid looked…well, you saw how he looked. I pulled up, took a couple of tries before he followed my English, but I got his attention when I showed him the Tim Hortons bag. Didn't really talk to me all that much in the car. Asked if he wanted lunch…there you go…" Ulrike mouthed her next words, relying on their shared ability to read the other’s lips, "He's a little…seasoned for his age. Sure letting him jump in with the others is a good idea? The day hasn't even started and he already got into a scrap with one of them." //We find the first polisher refugee in ten years and you're asking me to ostracize him for not blending in well enough?// Tosia wanted to hit her. She made sure not to look at Ulrike because she could sense her eyes were doing the screaming her mouth wouldn't. //I'm the adult here. I will not sink to her level.// She took a deep breath. //I am the adult. I should be seeing to her needs.// “So, I don’t want to mother you,” Miss Altman took an aggressive bite of chocolate, but even that couldn't stop her from talking through the mouthful, “I have to ask. How did you lose that job at the switchboard after a single week?” Ulrike groaned and started to put her soda bottle on the desk. Before she could get it all the way there, Tosia raced over and slapped a napkin under it. “I swear, this time, it was only a bit my fault.” “I agree, it certainly sounds nothing like the other times. No altercations, political arguments, screaming at shift managers…” “I promise you, Miss Tosia, I wasn’t talking to anyone at all!” “At all?” Miss Altman frowned. “Ulrike, I said to bite your tongue, not choke on it.” “Better safe than sorry is what I thought. I was doing what you told me! No politics, no arguments, nothing, but I was having trouble. When I don’t talk for a while, I start getting mad at a lot of things, which means I feel like fighting again. So I thought, why not get a little help. So, I drank a bit during the day.” “So you started drinking during the day,” Miss Altman said dryly. “Yes, Miss Tosia, I started drinking during the day. I see people do it all the time.” “Sure, because doing what everyone else does worked //wonders// for you people.” There was a pause before Ulrike snorted, and Tosia smiled a little. “I want to know what’s this the shift manager said about you hurling a folding chair out of a window.” “Oh, that,” Ulrike said, “that was just…whimsy. I saw the shift manager grope one of the other employees, and nevermind the man was married, because monogamy is capitalist bullshit, but the employee was really uncomfortable! I tried telling him ‘leave her alone, she's not interested, there should be laws against this.’ He threatened to fire me, and I knew I didn't want to get fired again, so instead of punching him in the face, I threw a folding chair out of the window. I don't get why he fired me anyways...I even went right back to work afterward!” “Wait…wait, you…you //drank//?” Tosia almost dropped her candy. “You drank //what//?” Ulrike gave a guilty frown and hung her head, “You //drank//! You were a year sober last week, why would you //drink//? Why //now//?" Ulrike’s eyes shifted and disappeared beneath her bangs. Ulrike was about to light another cigarette. And Tosia had enough. She scrambled off her desk, ripped the lighter out of Ulrike’s hand, and threw it out an open window before doing the same with the cigarette. “I’m sick of watching you kill yourself and my students with these things!” “What!” Ulrike said, “Again with this stupid fascist myth! You know this anti-cigarette business is a Stalinist, Nazi plot to undermine American tobacco companies and prolong their economic stagnation!” "What are you talking about?" Tosia clapped her hands together for emphasis. "//We're Communists//!" “I smoke every day, look at me, I’m fine! I ran ten kilometers last week.” //Oh yeah, from whom? The cops?// “No, you’re not! Give it a few decades!” "You //really// think I’m making it a few more decades? In this world? Any cancer I do get will have better odds than we do!” //She sounds so casual saying it.// Tosia was frustrated, but also crestfallen. //Like telling me that grass is green or water is wet.// Tosia gritted her teeth and felt her nails dig into the skin of her clenched fists. “Ula, I did not bring you to this country so you could get left for dead in a Canadian gutter instead of an English one.” “Oh, again with this! You did not bring me anywhere! You came with me.” “You were a child, Ulrike!” “'Passive smoking’ is a Nazi myth, end of story!” “Oh ho ho ho, //Nazis// made it up, eh? I always knew smoking was bad for children from when I was a little girl! Back home in Lipno, two old neighbors were friends. One grew up with a father who smoked like a chimney, one who had been shot in the lung during the Great War and couldn’t smoke. Do you know whose kid helped us smuggle guns into Warsaw in her violin case, and whose kid we had to carry because of her asthma? That war was no myth!" “Well, I don’t see the big deal. The kids will be fine! You think their parents don’t smoke around them as well? They'll build up an immunity!” “An immunity? To tobacco!” “Get off my rear end on this smoking nonsense! Who cares!?” “I knew inviting you here was a mistake!” Ulrike kicked her chair behind her and stormed over to Tosia, punctuating her sentences with angry pointing. “So you were just inviting me for the TV. You don't like me. You just use me because you’re too lazy to take care of modern things. You petty spinster!” Tosia jumped to her feet “Who do you think you're talking to, you petulant brat?” the forty-four-year-old spat at the twenty-eight-year-old. “Miss Altman?” said Ben Kondraki. “You’re blocking the television.” Ben and another student stood at the door, clearly bemused at the sight of their school headmistress and their philosophy teacher about to get into a donnybrook. Ben had the gloating face of someone who had bet money on something a while back and won. Tosia's anger evaporated in an instant and she felt the bubbling cheer she felt towards all children take the place of the storm clouds in her heart. "Welcome, kids! Help yourself to the snacks Miss M brought and make yourselves comfortable!" Tosia insisted Ulrike let students call her Miss M to avoid making them feel like they were deferring to a German. It was a moot point because these three almost exclusively called her variations of Kraut, Fritz, Hun, Eva, or, in Sam's case, “Shady Lady.” Ulrike actually encouraged the jokes. Ulrike nonchalantly pulled a spare lighter from her boot and lit another cigarette. Tosia turned the volume up as far as it would go and reached for a Reese’s. They all sat down. “The later the party,” someone just behind Ulrike said in German, "the nicer the guests, eh?" Miss Altman saw Ulrike freeze for a moment and then swing her feet from their resting position atop her desk onto the floor. Her cigarette case finished its trip into the air from her startled hands and plummeted toward the ground before someone's deft hand caught it. It was Francis. His reedy laughter cackled from behind her. So he knows German expressions…Tosia brought her focus back to the classroom and spoke unsteadily, "I'd like to introduce you to a new friend who will be joining us for a while. This is Francis Wojciechowski. He just fled here from Poland." She turned to Francis and muttered, "##C21E56\|How good was your French again? Quebecois is a little odd-##" "##blue\|I speak fluent Quebecois.##" "##blue\|Where did you get fluent at Quebeco…##" she shook her head. Not the time. "##blue\|Okay, since we have seven minutes to kill, let's introduce ourselves!##" + Scene 3: The God of Carnage Tosia gestured towards the young woman who had accompanied Ben. She wore a wide-brimmed straw cap over long, messy hair that she had managed to turn (mostly) blonde. Around the collar of a dress shirt with the top two buttons plucked out, swung a green tie in so sloppy a knot that it seemed to spite the concept. She completed the half-in-the-bag salaryman get-up with patchy black slacks and Red Army combat boots identical to the ones Ulrike wore (she had asked for a set, and Ulrike's policy towards her was "anything.") She sat with her legs stretched into both aisles next to her deck, her arms crossed behind her head like a cushion, whistling local artist Edith Piaf's latest hit "Non, je ne regrette rien". [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> name=Agathe.jpg\|caption=Agathe Les Droites: Jewish refugee from France. If Quebec had a face she'd have punched it by now. She settles for boycotting its languages and jumping into the scraps between the French refugees and Quebecois separatists. Loves being the main character. \|width=400px]] “##blue\|This is Agathe Les Droites,##" Miss Tosia whispered into Francis' ear. "##blue\|If you need me to translate for you, just let me know.##” Francis looked at the girl she was motioning towards. "##blue\|Why would you need to translate for me?##" Agathe clicked her tongue and said, "##sienna\|Morning, you## ##orange\|alterkocker##. ##sienna\|They run out of crackers at the convent?##" Agathe (or “Rights” on the street, so named because of her eagerness to resolve disputes with that hand) spoke exclusively in ##sienna\|French## splashed with ##orange\|Yiddish##. Swearing off English was hardly unusual in Quebec; however, Agathe's French was entirely ##sienna\|Parisian##. To Tosia and Ulrike, who'd learned theirs on the continent, it was a spotless window. To most others in ##blue\|Quebec##, her habit came across like a funhouse mirror at best, and a linguistic middle finger to most. Every so often, Tosia would kindly suggest practicing ##blue\|Quebecois## or even English. Agathe's reasons for telling Tosia to fuck off were always different and, if nothing else, entertaining. As with every time she ran into Agathe, Tosia rolled the die. "##blue\|Since we have a guest that might not know this dialect of French, might I suggest trying Quebecois tod-##" "##sienna\|I would, but my grandma didn't bequeath me her shit-eating dentures. Did you bring yours?##" //Do I make fun of her botched dye job yet or save it for a rainy day//, Tosia thought. She found it impossible to take anything Agathe said personally, and disciplining her would serve no purpose other than beating her down further than life already had. Agathe understood what Tosia's expectations were, and they didn't include kissing her ass. "##sienna\|Hey Fritz,##" Agathe turned to Ulrike, whom she'd deliberately sat near. With a tone of voice suggesting they'd done this a lot, Agathe asked her, "##sienna\|Is Paris burning?##" Ulrike dutifully slid another cigarette from her black case monogrammed with Sanskrit that translated to "Now we are all sons of bitches," Oppenheimer's purported first words after the American detonation of the hydrogen bomb. She passed it to Agathe, and the teenager slid it in her shirt's breast pocket, saving it until she could find someone to light it for her. Tosia didn't approve, but it was an unspoken accommodation she granted Agathe for tolerating a German person’s presence. //Where forgiveness is impossible, acknowledgement can suffice,// Tosia mused. "##blue\|Well, this has been a charming exchange, as usual##," Tosia smirked at Agathe, who responded by sticking out her tongue. "##blue\|Now, for the last member of today's gathering, Samantha Keane.##" Silence. “Samantha Keane.” Silence. "I saw you sneak into the building this morning. //Sam//!" [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> name= Sam.jpg \|caption=Sam--antha-- Keane: American refugee. Your guess is better than ours. Calls Ulrike 'Shady lady'. Likes: books. Dislikes: the sixteen divisions of troops massing just along the border with the US, all from states like Alabama, Florida and Missouri. Has trouble //not// thinking about that. \|width=400px]] "Hey,." It was a quiet, flat voice from someone who accomplished total inconspicuousness in a classroom of five people. This time, the American slid from behind a bookshelf, tucked a book back into its home, and took her seat next to Agathe. Small braids covered her head and flowed down her neck. Her gaze so icily bore upon Tosia's face that she felt stared through by Sam’s large, almond-shaped eyes. They glimmered initially with incredulity and then simmered to disinterest before resting their focus on the floor. The left corner of her full lips was raised slightly more than the right, and, depending on whether her nose was moving or not, her expression fluctuated between looking amused or hostile. She had a warm, dark complexion and a wide mouth whose smiles were rarer than cryptids. Tosia noticed the book she had been reading was //What is to be Undone// by Bayard Rustin. Both Tosia and Ulrike voted for the now-Chairman, and, if a finer Communist somehow could exist, they probably would’ve been shot to death by now. Tosia always wondered if he was perhaps too good at his job. //I wish children would steer clear of the revolution//. Agathe giggled and offered Sam a high-five, who, without breaking eye contact with the ground, connected with Agathe's hand, but didn’t respond to her classmate’s attempt to follow up with a handshake. Agathe's eyes narrowed at the casual disrespect. Then she punched Sam in the shoulder, hard. Agathe jumped out of her seat shouting "##sienna\|Salle cul!##" and readied to jump on Sam when Kondraki grabbed her arm. "Agathe! Fucking hell, //Agathe!//" The rage passed from her eyes as quickly as it swept into them. She took her seat and stuck the cigarette in her mouth. Sam struck a match on the edge of her desk and lit it for her. "##sienna\|Thank you,##” Agathe said. Sam reacted by pointing to the TV screen. "It's time." Everyone abruptly stopped chatting and chewing on candy and turned to focus on the television screen. "##blue\|Time for what?##" Francis yelled. Four pairs of eyes stared daggers into his, and four pairs of mouths aggressively shushed in unison. Tosia tried not to laugh and bent over to speak in Francis' ear. "##C21E56\|It's the minute warning till the detonation. I'm not going to tell you to stop being disruptive. What I will say is that I'd appreciate it if you don't, and I'll owe you one.##" "##C21E56\|I beg your pardon,##" Francis coughed in surprise. "##C21E56\|Are you telling me you, the headmistress of this school, will owe me, a sixteen, seventeen-year-old boy, a professional favor?##" "##C21E56\|Yes.##" Francis smiled and nodded. "##C21E56\|Alright, never had someone owe me a favor before.##" //How does one get from the Bloodlands to Canada without owing or calling in favors?// Tosia tried to concentrate on the broadcast. It had reached the thirty-second mark. "Hell of a way for Canada to turn twelve," Kondraki said. "##C21E56\|Thought it was ninety-something,##" Francis asked Tosia. "##C21E56\|It's been twelve years since the Dominion War, when the British Empire and the 'French State' tried to 'liberate' Quebec from Canada,##" Tosia said. "##C21E56\|Prime Minister King became the first Premier of the Canadian Federation.##" "##C21E56\|Your first Premier's name was //King//?##" "##sienna\|Hey, //maman//,##" Agathe called, "##sienna\|You'll miss the show!##" In an uncharacteristically loud voice, Sam shouted "TEN." Everyone was stunned as she loudly hissed each and every number. Eventually, Ben got into the spirit of things at six. Agathe, and even Ulrike, jumped in at three. Tosia was preoccupied with staring at Francis' grin. He seemed to be laughing at a joke only he would understand. //What was on his mind? Was he thinking about going back on this because it was meaningful to so many?// What would she do if he did? There were no do-overs for this sort of thing. //If someone wanted to hurt someone else, the most lasting damage is something they cannot repair.// At two, he reached under the table for something. //I don't have any options right now. Anything I do might ruin things more than whatever Francis is planning. Letting Francis do his thing makes me complicit. I don't want to punish him. He seems to know that.// She felt absurdly helpless for how mundane this problem was. Her chest felt tight as though her ribs were a vice. //Please. Please. Please.// Then there was light. Ulrike had drawn the curtains and turned the lights off, so it was especially shocking when the room lit up like someone had dropped a sun in the middle of the room. The flash withdrew, and by the time Tosia's eyes adjusted to the change of light, a fireball split the horizon in twain, stretching into the skies taller than any building, or possibly any plane, Tosia had seen before. There was a crack, and the scream of the bottled apocalypse popped in her ears and promptly broke the recording equipment of the television team. In seconds, that sun was born and died on Prince Charles' Island, and the Canadian Federation, in living color, formally became a nuclear power, the first to televise its becoming. Francis turned to look at Tosia with a toothy smile and whispered, "##C21E56\|Caught you flinching.##" Tosia tried to laugh. It was a joke within a joke. He was poking fun at how much she cared. //I should take myself a little less seriously, perhaps,// she thought. Her body viciously disagreed. Her heart rate was galloping. Her body felt like she’d taken it out for a jog. She had fought in three different wars. This boy had frightened //her//. Sam was the next to speak. "Shady lady, hook us up." Ulrike passed cigarettes to Sam and Ben, and passed them another lighter, this time from her breast pocket. Sam nudged Ben, who raised his eyebrows in response. Sam never initiated physical contact. "Butterfly boy, I know you got something a little more controlled than that," Ben grumbled and pulled out two sticks of a decidedly different fragrance. "You're not going to snitch, are you, Miss Tosia?" Sam asked. "Snitch?" Tosia scoffed. "On a mild, non-addictive psychoactive? What do you think this is? Who do you think I am?" "I dunno. It's not like you have anything to lose if you do." Tosia's smile got a little more strained. "My //honor//, for one." //She's just seventeen//, Tosia thought. //She couldn't have any idea.// "Is there anything else I can do for you?" Sam smiled, another rare sight, a river in the desert. "Nothing that Canada hasn't already done. That's it, right? No war?" //Oh no…that's why she's…// "Um, could you…expand on what you mean?" //I know damn well what you mean.// "Well…based on what I've heard, the distance of the camera, the height of the mushroom cloud, that bomb was at least two megatons, and I know Canada has an air force, and if they've detonated that bomb they probably have a few others…so America can't invade, right? If it does it'll…it'd lose a lot, right?" Sam stumbled through the words, nerves choking her flow. It was clear she knew as much about this topic as any civilian could, and possibly more. Tosia tried to choose her words carefully, "It…certainly makes a war less likely…but…" Sam turned to Ben, "Please tell me Tosia doesn't look nervous right now? She's just checking her math right now? Hello!" She anxiously snapped her fingers in front of Ben's increasingly startled face. "Oh…" Sam let out a derisive “ha.” "Of course…the losses are only unacceptable if the opp cares about the losses…and…JPK would probably concentrate his air defenses around...so. This. Meant. Fuck. All." Sam's grin dissolved into the blank impassivity she'd given the class when she first emerged from behind the bookshelf. "I'm going to stand over by the window for a bit. Call me when…I don't know…" She listlessly pulled herself out of her chair and walked to the window. "Sam! Sam, it's okay." Tosia wanted to say something more or give her a hug, but Sam was immune to sentiment and tended to be hostile to unwanted or unexpected physical contact. Francis whispered to Tosia, "##C21E56\|Does Sam know French?##" "##sienna\|Je maîtrise le français en général##" Sam shouted back. "##blue\|//Par curiosité//, why didn't you just assume I learned the language?##" "//Sam//, oh //schiesse//," Ulrike made a show of dropping her cigarette and then her lighter. The class giggled. "As you know, I'm more of a political, philosophical type. I know nothing of this bomb, and you seem to know lots. Do you want to tell us anything about a thermonuclear detonation?" "As a matter of fact," Sam said, "I have a game that will tell you everything you need to know." She walked up to the front of the classroom, unsettlingly composed and casual, and grabbed chalk from the blackboard tray. "##blue\|Okay, everybody name the city you spent most of your life in before coming here, and I'll tell you what that bomb would have done to it.##" Ulrike almost instantly shouted “Berlin!” as though she would have giddily dropped it herself and Tosia snorted with held laughter. Agathe was next with Paris. Ben wanted to know what detonating it over the Prudential Tower would do to Boston. When it was Tosia's turn, she simply said "Motherwill.” It was the closest place to home she'd felt even before the Nazis invaded. Europe was just a hostile place for her altogether. Francis mumbled 'Warsaw', before taking it back. "What about you?" Tosia asked. "Washington, D.C.," Sam replied, and went on an extended explanation of what an airburst nuke just above the White House would do to DC's geography, the fact the Beltway was specifically named for the approximate blast radius of a multi-megaton nuclear bomb (apocryphal, but Tosia didn’t want to interrupt her), placing special emphasis on how everything connected to the United States government would be vaporized in the event of such a disaster. Sam sounded breathless by the end of her explanation. "Wait, Sam," Ben looked confused, "You're from Washington, D.C.?" "No," Sam replied and shrugged. "I'm not. I’ve just spent a lot of time thinking what it would take to stop America." She returned to her seat. "Carry on, y'all." Francis tapped Agathe on the shoulder. "##sienna\|So you're a Parisian girl…##" he said in her preferred dialect, "##sienna\|I have heard a lot about Parisian women. How sophisticated they can be one moment, spitfires the next.##" Agathe gasped and pointed at Francis, "##sienna\|The garden gnome knows real French! When did you get off the boat?##" Francis laughed and scratched the back of his head. "##sienna\|This gnome just got here,##" he said, leaning into the dialect with a pronounced growl, "##sienna\|and I know a lot of real languages, not just French.##" He proceeded to repeat that sentence in German, ##C21E56\|Polish##, ##blue\|Quebcois##, English, Italian, Japanese, and Breton. Agathe waved her hand dismissively, "##sienna\|Nobody asked for the feathers, peacock. And who were you trying to impress with the German earlier? You're a little north to be speaking sauerkraut. No offense, Fritz.##" She nudged her head in Ulrike's direction. Ulrike shrugged. Tosia's nose tickled. //German, again//. Her hand dug into her candy stockpile for a Twix, tore the wrapper off with her teeth, and let the caramel and milk chocolate flood her mouth. "##sienna\|How about //your// French, bottle-blonde? France was a German marionette longer than the Third Republic was a thing.##" Agathe yawned, and Tosia made a mental note that her hair was not actually a sore spot. Ordinarily, she would have dropped the curtains on this budding farce and lectured both of them about mutual respect, but it was a special occasion, and one did not often encounter a fight between an unstoppable jackass and an immovable one. Agathe whistled, "##sienna\|’Bottle blonde'. What a perceptive little man. Maybe you can spy on Miss Tosia for me so I know where she keeps her vodka?##" Francis had a mischievous gleam in his eye and placed his elbow on Agathe's desk, leaning towards her as though telling her a secret. "##sienna\|Only if mademoiselle joins me for the debauche aftewards.##" Sam and Agathe, in perfect unison, exploded in howling laughter, with Sam hitting the desk repeatedly, and Agathe's tears streaming down her face, taking turns trying to repeat the dumbfounded Francis' line but both only making it halfway before losing it again. Agathe started pointing at the door, trying and failing to ask to go to the lavatory. Tosia gestured in assent. "##orange\|What a putz!##" Agathe cackled as she walked out of the classroom and let the door slam behind her. Ben moved over to sit behind a nervous and confused Francis. Ben patted him on the shoulder in a not-so-reassuring manner. "##blue\|You sure do have a big mouth, don't you?##" Ben said. Francis grinned and shrugged, "##blue\|Look, look, comrades, I'm just breaking balls. It's-##" Sam cut him off, "##blue\|That's not how that idiom works in French.##" "##blue\|What? //Casser les couilles// means 'Breaking balls'. Where'd you learn your French? The Sorbonne of Algiers? And why aren't you looking at me?##" "Because I'm tired." Sam sighed, "##blue\|The expression literally means## '//breaking balls//', yes, ##blue\|but it doesn't mean it in the sense of teasing. //Casser les couilles// is the act of having the intent of actually provoking someone. But I think you’d get those two things mixed up in any language.##" "Wait a second," Ben's eyes widened, "What the hell did you mean by 'Sorbonne d'Algiers'-" "##blue\|Look, I don't care. Who gives a shit about the local color?##" Francis looked nervously between Sam and Ben. He had been the only one smiling between the three of them for some time. Tosia cleared her throat, "##blue\|Idioms are a very important part of understanding a language, Francis. They're the lived-in soul of a language, the footprint the people make in the semantic muck##." //And misusing them is a good indicator that you're not actually a native speaker, Francis.// Tosia did not want to come to the conclusion the facts were pointing to about the first Polish Jewish refugee she'd encountered after decades of radio silence from the former Republic. Her brain and heart were at war. They heard a cry from down the hallway, and the sound of shattering china. Francis jumped out of his seat, "##C21E56\|What was that?##" "Poor girl," Ulrike shook her head. "Miss Tosia…think Agathe's heart got broken again…" Tosia was already walking towards the door, "Did that sound like my heirloom tea kettle or my heirloom plates to you?" Ulrike said, "I'll put my money on both decorating your carpet when all is set and done." "//Said// and done," Tosia corrected. She overheard Sam ask, "So…Sorbonne d'Algiers, eh?" as she exited the classroom and rushed down the hallway to her office. + Scene 4: Who's Afraid of Ulrike Meinhof? As it turned out, it was a bottle of home-distilled vodka Ulrike had gifted to Tosia as mishloach manot during Purim. Tosia didn't drink so she could avoid giving Ulrike an excuse to fall off the wagon. //Not that it meant a damn in the end.// Agathe's hat lay in a corner where she had thrown it. Agathe herself was strewn over Tosia's desk. She was sobbing wildly, while a plaintive female voice in an English accent shouted at her from the phone, presumably coming from whomever had caused Agathe the distress. Tosia picked up the phone, and heard the woman say, "…are you bloody mad, you silly girl, my husband is home!" "She's worth ten of you," Tosia whispered to the startled woman, and then slammed the phone on the receiver. The sound of Agathe's sobbing filled the room. "Your vodka tastes like shit,” Agathe choked out in between tortured heaves. "I'm more surprised you would give an English woman the time of day. She’s quite older than you," Tosia hated seeing Agathe's hurt like this. "##sienna\|…She…she…she keeps telling me she'll take me out of here before the Americans come storming in, that we'll leave her idiot pig husband…she's so talkative and fantastical when we're together, but I'm not supposed to take any of that seriously? She was going to get me out! She was going to get me out…##" Agathe broke down in another sobbing fit, "##sienna\|…but nope, I'm stuck with you degenerates! I'm a bloody fool…I'm a bloody fool…##" //Run away together?// Tosia thought. //Run away to where? This is all we've got. Stalinists to the East, Fascists to the West, Kennedy to the South, and the deadly Arctic beyond. Our backs are against the wall, my sweet child.// She brought her focus back to the present moment. She was furious at that privileged creep toying with a vulnerable child like Agathe. The rage was in the way, so Tosia stuffed it someplace deep and embodied the charm she knew Agathe would respect. "##sienna\|Agathe, are you really going to let some English goy break your heart and get away with it? You have a reputation to consider.##" "##sienna\|Shut up, you## ##orange\|alterkocker.##" Agathe wiped her eyes, "##sienna\|And why am I getting romantic advice from a…a…##" Agathe sneezed, and Tosia passed her a tissue. "##sienna\|…a…fucking spinster like you?##" Agathe blew her nose loudly and generously. "##sienna\|Because I'm not just a spinster, I'm a Communist,##" Tosia said, "##sienna\|and it's time for you to stop dating like a spinster, too. Why can't you find girls your own age?##" "##sienna\|How dare you talk to me about age! Not when you and Miss M get along like thieves at a fair!##” Taken aback, Tosia choked on her own feigned laughter. “##sienna\|I can assure you my connection with Ulrike is more professional than not, but what trust we share comes from circumstances I would not wish upon anyone.##” //What do I tell this girl to get her to understand?// “##sienna\|Really?##” Agathe looked unconvinced, “##sienna\|And what would you consider acceptable conditions for befriending a hun young enough to be your daughter?##” At her wits end, something in Tosia made her blurt out, “If that ‘hun’ killed someone to save you.” //And accidentally crippled her capacity for happiness in the process.// Agathe opened her mouth to respond but, for once, didn’t have anything to say. //I’ve said too much.// Sam's voice interrupted from down the hallway at, "LET GO OF ME YOU KRAUT SO I CAN RIP HIS FUCKING HEAD OFF MYSELF!" They heard a crash, and Tosia bolted back to the classroom, Agathe close behind. When she opened the door, she saw Ulrike standing between Sam and Kondraki trying to hold her back, a wide-eyed Francis leaning against the wall. A bleeding scratch joined the bruises, scrapes, and forehead bandage on his face. “Ulrike, what has happened?” Sam interrupted, screaming, “That…that…How dare you, how fucking dare you! 'Oh, you idiots voted Kennedy into office, you so had this coming…' I VOTED HIM IN? ME?! I CAN'T EVEN VOTE! MY FATHER COULDN'T…you fucking pissant, ##sienna\|I am gonna settle this score, you bitch!##” Tosia was stunned. In the years since she had found Sam, she had never seen her enraged like this before. Francis either had a talent for tweaking people or was simply too immature to stop. Tosia sighed. "##C21E56\|Francis, I don't think I've met anyone so hungry for a fight since Warsaw!##" "##C21E56\|Lady, what fight in Warsaw?##" Francis laughed, and Tosia laughed too, but with no mirth. Her emotions had been replaced by measurements. //What Jew from Poland hasn't heard about the Uprising?// The question ignited the pile of doubts in Tosia’s mind like a lit match on kindling. //All the missed idioms even a semi-literate peasant would have understood. The bizarre Polish accent no region in the country would have produced. How he'd learned seven languages in a place where every book and library had been burnt to ashes. Why or even how he could have learned German. His perfect pronunciation of every English word. His shoddy pronunciation of some Polish ones. Being familiar with Quebecois.// Or perhaps, the farcical idea that any Jews remained in Poland. The Ghetto Rebellions had bought her people time, perhaps, but only months. He'd figured her out. He had noticed the weakness in her wizened heart, and he'd used it against her. The incessant tickling in her nose stopped completely. At that moment, Francis changed to her, no longer just some mischievous young boy. Forces she generally tried not to bring to school now took possession of her like a fever. //Collaborator.// She thought, //Who'd I let in my school this time? How close did my kids come to being dragged by this turncoat into hell by masked men with guns?// Her heart was beating so fast, and based on Ulrike's concerned glance in her direction, her face was probably pale from the rush of blood to her hands. //USELESS//, the voice screamed in her ears, //WEAK GULLIBLE FAILURE!// "Marie," Tosia snapped her fingers towards Ulrike, "Could I bum a smoke?" Ulrike stiffened as though she'd heard an air raid siren. Outside of extraordinary circumstances, Tosia didn’t call Ulrike by her middle name, and Tosia didn’t smoke. The name was Tosia signaling to Ulrike that they needed to discuss a security matter. “Cigarette” indicated the security matter was killing Francis. Ulrike moved close enough to Tosia that only she could see her mouth, “Are you sure about this?” Tosia's raised eyebrows answered her question emphatically, and Ulrike pulled out her cigarette case. "Tosia, you always told me these were bad for me." //You do not want to do this.// "Poison in small doses is good in the big picture." Tosia's left hand lingered in the air, expectant and trembling. //I have to, and my conscience is clean.// "Please, Tosia, let me hold onto this for you." //Let me talk to him first.// "Fine. I'll hear you out. But I've got my own lighter," Tosia chuckled, and patted Ulrike on the shoulder, "It's all yours." Then she was smiles and sunshine again. "Goodness, Francis, that cut looks awful! Ulrike, I have an emergency bag under a fake panel next to my desk - " "I know where it is, Miss Tosia." Ulrike grabbed the medical supplies from the bag and placed a bandage on his fresh cut. "The three of you, //leave//. We'll talk about your behavior on Monday." "##sienna\|I didn't do anything!##" Agathe protested. "##blue\|Go##," Tosia was ice and acid. Even Agathe knew now was not the time to push. The three vacated in a hurry, Sam only stopping, in full view of Tosia and Ulrike, to point to her eyes with her fingers and then point them at Francis. Tosia didn't bother correcting her behavior. Nothing intimidated Sam. Tosia, Ulrike and Francis were alone in the classroom, and likely the whole building. "What did I say, Francis? Guys, gals, and fireworks." Tosia walked between Francis and the doorway as she spoke. "##C21E56\|You're not funny. The gals are cold fish, the guy hates my guts, and…woah…##" Francis tried to stand up, but his legs gave way under his weight and he crumbled to the ground. The curare poison had worked its way through his bloodstream from the bandage Ulrike had given him and had begun taking effect. Tosia rushed to his side, "Francis, are you okay? Talk to me!" Francis wheezed, attempting to catch his breath and not finding it. "Can't move…can't breathe", he gasped, "h-help me, I can't…I can't…" Tosia nodded, and Ulrike's eyes seemed to dim in response as she ran past Tosia to lock the door, and then pulled down the shades over the windows. She checked Francis' pulse to make sure the poison's effect remained within acceptable parameters, and Tosia heard the safety on a Makarov pistol click. Ulrike was pointing it at Francis' head. Tosia threw herself over Francis as if to shield him. She held up both hands with her left pinky bent. Ulrike nodded, confirming their interrogation routine. Ulrike would be the aggressor and do the active emotional brutality. Tosia would be the appeaser, “protecting” Francis from Ulrike and making herself out to be the safer person to confide in. "Have you lost your mind? //Marie//!" During an interrogation, Tosia would also use “Marie” to tell Ulrike to escalate the emotional and/or physical violence. "I…I'm sorry…" Francis gasped between shallower and shallower breaths, "I…I don't…" Ulrike knelt next to Francis and dragged his head by his hair so his face was inches from hers. "Did your Nazi paymasters tell you who you were spying on? //Ontologically//? That one," she pointed to Tosia, "has fought in places that would make hell seem like a cozy broom closet. As for me, of the ten happiest days of my life, nine of them have involved killing fascists. The tenth was meeting her." She slapped him in the face and let his head hit the ground. "You're lost, and I found you." Tosia's voice was so frantic her throat hurt. She was glad she could cry on command. "//Marie//, stop this! We-" Ulrike swung the gun at her, "You were played, you silly hag. They knew you'd eat up this kid's 'starving orphan' routine!" Tosia gasped, "What did you do to him?" As Francis' breaths became painfully labored, she shouted again, "MARIE!" "Hey! Spy! Don't die just yet," Ulrike switched to German. "##grey\|Blink once for yes. Blink twice for no##. I shall ask some questions. If, by the end of our conversation, I still believe there are things I don't understand about your reasons for being here, I will shoot you, doctor the scene as an attempted assault by a vagrant from a European shithole, and personally distribute pictures of your dead body to the many, many survivors of the Shoah you disrespected with your fucking Phaidre routine! Do you understand?" "##grey\|Yes.##" "Marie." Ulrike pointed the gun at her. "Say another word, and I will end him right here." //Very good, Ulrike. Now I appear as helpless as he feels. Now, to illuminate the boy's circumstances a little more.// Tosia made a show of checking Francis's pulse, and then feeling his forehead. "You criminal psychotic, you poisoned a child with curare? His lungs will be too paralyzed to push the air through his body!" Ulrike scoffed, "A //child//? Don't be so narrow! Treason has no age requirement!" She handed Tosia a box from the inside of her bomber jacket. "Here's the antitoxin for the poison if you're so worried!" She pressed the gun on Francis' forehead. "First question, and you're going to be hearing this one quite a bit. Are you Jewish?" "##grey\|Yes.##" "Keep in mind that there is no 'right' answer to this question. 'No' merely paints you as a liar. 'Yes', a traitor of the world entire. Kids are very often liars, but treachery is something best nipped in the bud. You might as well tell the truth now. Are you Jewish?" "##grey\|Yes.##" Ulrike scoffed, "We'll come back to that. //No//," She slapped Tosia's hand just as she was about to administer the syringe in the most painful vein she could find. "No. Not until he's confessed a few more sins. Okay spy, if you want the worst of your suffering to stop, answer me. What are you? Not, where is your mother from or your parents from. Where did you call home until as recently as a month ago? I'll take some guesses: Somalia." "##grey\|No.##" Ulrike clicked the safety of her Makarov. "Mozambique." "##grey\|No.##" She clicked it again. "Germany?" "##grey\|No.##" Click. "Was that…was that two blinks or three? Tosia, what do you think?" //Textbook work breaking him down, Fritz.// "Marie, I will kill you as soon as this is through if this boy dies." "Right on schedule, as far as I'm concerned." "MARIE! STOP!" "ENGLAND?" Though her gun was still pointed at Francis, Ulrike was looking at Tosia when she screamed the word. "##grey\|Yes.##" "You…you're from //England//?" Ulrike's speech unexpectedly stumbled. “W-well, that was evident from your Limey twang! Are you really an orphan?" //What's going on, Ulrike? Do you want this brat to think you harbor compassion for him?// //Who cares?// Tosia was fuming. "##grey\|Yes.##" "Are you really an orphan?" "##grey\|Yes.##" "At a church or steeple somewhere? Are they actually dead? Did you see it happen?" Francis had kept his eyes still until that last phrase. "##grey\|Yes.##" "Was it public?" //Ulrike, this is not about you.//” "##grey\|Yes.##" "//L-Liar//! Tell me the truth!" Slap. Ulrike’s open hand collided with the cheek of Francis. "##grey\|Yes.##" "Tell me the truth!" //Slap.// "##grey\|Yes.##" Tosia saw Ulrike touch Francis' cheek. "Oh look, Tosia, th-the little bastard's crying!" Ulrike's laugh was unconvincing, and her eyes seemed unfocused. "The first…the first thing all day he's said that's actually true. He’s…he’s all alone, this bullshit artist! He’s all alone!" //I need to get her back on track//, Tosia thought. She spat in Ulrike's face. "Marie! Stop tormenting the poor child!" //You are making a fool of yourself in front of this Jew-hunting bastard, you wino dilettante.// She felt an intense frustration with Ulrike pounding in her temples. Ulrike stumbled backward, wiping her eyes, and chuckled, before growling and slapping Tosia in the face. Tosia nearly struck Ulrike right back, but she quieted the storm of urges in her heart. //It is just an aspect of the interrogation strategy. I disrespected her, so she needed to strike me to show dominance. I'll give her a break before she embarrasses us further.// "Wait, wait! Let me talk to him! I can get you the answers you want. Please…please!" Ulrike nodded. "If you insist. Don't test my patience." Her gun hand shook almost as much as her voice did. //What has gotten into her?// Alright, kids say a lot of things to get food nowadays. It's hard out there, especially for someone right off the continent. I have all the love in my heart for your pain. But we have to know: are you Jewish?" "##grey\|Yes.##" "I believe you." Francis shivered in response. "Marie. Please, let me help him, at least to keep him alive a little while longer!" "Fine!" Ulrike pulled her gun away from Francis' temple, and made sure to aim it away from where Tosia now knelt. "Apply the antitoxin! Whatever indulges your bourgeois sentimentality!" Tosia stuck the syringe in Francis's arm, but Francis' suffering continued. She checked his heart rate and made sure his breathing was drawing enough air to fill his lungs. "Okay, Marie, give him a second - " Tosia started to say before Ulrike leapt back on top of Francis, grabbing a fistful of his hair and dragging his head upward. "Are you a spy?" Ulrike slapped Francis and let his head slam into the ground. "##grey\|No.##" "Tell me the truth. Are you a spy?" She slapped him again. "##grey\|No.##" She slapped him again and again and again. And then: "Tell me the truth. Are you a spy?" Again. "##grey\|Yes.##" His head twitched, and Tosia heard his skull strike the floor for emphasis. She carried on this routine, and she slapped him again and again and again. "Tell me the truth." "##grey\|Yes.##" "Tell me the truth.” //I should have known. How was I so willfully blind? I should have known.// "He's telling you the truth, Marie!" He's telling you the truth. We can stop now!" Tosia held Ulrike's shoulders before moving hand one to her friend’s head and pulling it in to press against her own. Her other hand slowly met Ulrike's and delicately began to slide the gun from her grip. "It's okay. You don't have to push harder than this. It's okay. Let it go, Ula." //We're done. Let me put him out of our misery. Now.// "No" Ulrike pushed Tosia away. "I'm not done yet." "Yes, you are! Give me the gun, Ula!" //Are you disobeying me? For his sake?// "Did you not hear me, you daft woman, I said not yet!" //That simple girl, she's trembling!// Tosia's numbness gave way to frustration again, focused entirely on Ulrike. //Why ask to interrogate a wolf in sheep's clothing and then act like a sheep in front of him?// Almost faster than volition, Tosia's hands returned to Ulrike's shoulders, but this time, Tosia shoved her. It was a lot. It was far too much. Ulrike wasn't expecting anything harder than a tap. Tosia had hurled her. She couldn't even fall properly, hitting the ground with a smack. Tosia let out a quick yelp in surprise. She hadn't meant to hurt Ulrike, just correct her. //I…I lost control.// Tosia's mouth was on a completely different track, however, and the words, "Is that the best you have, you daft cow?" tumbled through her lips instead of an apology. "You weak, insipid…" Tosia suddenly felt something clock her in the side of her head and she stumbled backward with the blow, seeing stars. Ulrike had smashed a left hook into Tosia's cheek. "//Spinster. Bitch//!" //Who am I now?// Tosia thought, stumbling back a few steps. //Aggressor or appeaser?// Tosia roared and charged into Ulrike, who braced herself properly this time and managed to remain upright. The two grappled with each other like dueling lions, both simultaneously trying to break free of the other so they could punch the other properly, but also unwilling to let the other pull away to avoid the same. Tosia grabbed the lapel of Ulrike's jacket and tried to throttle her with it, only for Ulrike to take the opportunity to slam her knee into Tosia's stomach. Tosia wrenched her head back and slammed it full force into Ulrike's nose, knocking her back down to the ground. "Stay down," Tosia said as Ulrike tried pulling herself to her feet. Tosia let her get just far enough up to belt her in the nose again and sent her back to the ground. "I said stay down!" Tosia managed to say just before Ulrike delivered a vicious heel kick to Tosia's knee. Tosia screamed in pain and then Ulrike had hopped back on her feet and just as Tosia tried to punch her again, Ulrike threw her full weight into Tosa's belly, and Tosia felt the wind get driven from her lungs. She raised her elbow and brought it crashing down into Ulrike’s back, who buckled but then swung an uppercut straight into Tosia’s belly and Tosia gasped in pain before Ulrike stamped on her right foot and- Then the door to the classroom gave way. The knob practically flew off the splintered wood as Kondraki's foot crashed into it. Tosia felt a cold sweat and clarity flood her brain. She let go of Ulrike's jacket, and Ulrike pulled her hands away from Tosia's face. //Aggressor or appeaser?// Her brain ruminated on that same vacant question. //Who am I? Aggressor or appeaser?// "Miss Tosia?" Ben Kondraki looked around the room, finding a weeping, gasping Francis on the ground, and the noticeably bleeding and disheveled teachers standing above him. Ben nodded, "Alright." "A-alright?" Tosia reflexively straightened her coat and checked her mouth for loose teeth. //Ulrike was uncommitted to her punches.// She turned to Ulrike, who seemed petrified as her nose generously bled on her gray shirt. //Unlike me.// "What do you mean?" Ben rubbed his forehead. "Miss Tosia, my family brought me to this country riding a boxcar. Before you helped me get away from my parents, I saw things that would make this look like high tea at the Ritz." //Ah, we're reminding him of his broken home. Great job, Tosia.// He pointed to Francis, who had remained silent. "He alright?" Ulrike turned to Tosia, "Is he, Miss Tosia?" The fire had passed from Ulrike's eyes. Tosia spotted a red welt on her cheek, and a red ring around her neck. //There's so much…//"Yes," Tosia nodded, and looked at Ben, "He's going to be alright." "I trust you," Ben said, "You've done nothing but right by us. I ain't seen anything here. Just do me one favor, Miss Tosia," "As long as it's not too unreasonable." Tosia spotted a drop of blood stain on the bomber jacket she had given Ulrike. "Next time, Francis does something that warrants a beating, consider letting me handle it instead," Ben smirked. "It looks like you two have a problem with friendly fire." He turned away to leave. "##C21E56\|Do zobaczenia##, Miss Tosia, Fritz…//Francis//…" His footsteps disappeared down the hall, leaving Ulrike and Tosia alone with themselves and Francis. "I…" Miss Tosia felt extinguished. “I…have to look at our directory for the carpenter…why don't you finish up with Francis?" "Yes, Miss Tosia," Her voice sounded dull. Ulrike motioned towards the back of the room. "Alphabet board over there?" Tosia nodded and walked slowly towards her desk and leaned against the walnut wood, watching Ulrike place her Makarov pistol on the ground next to Francis' head and then held the board in front of his eyes. "Blink twice to confirm a letter. What are they promising you in exchange for information on us?" It had to have been at least ten minutes, but they felt like ten seconds. She couldn't make out what Francis was spelling, but Ulrike said the words out loud for Tosia's benefit. "My…baby…" Ulrike threw the placard and herself to the ground. She dug her nails into her hair and whimpered, in Polish, "##C21E56\|Miss Tosia…I beg you…##" "Ulrike…” Tosia heard herself say, “I'm satisfied. Let him go." Ulrike peeled the bandage from Francis's forehead. Francis’s chest swelled and Tosia heard a hungry, gasping sigh before his body twitched. He then went limp, breathing again, but now unconscious. Ulrike’s hand brushed away the other bandage on Francis's head, the one dead center on his forehead. It clung to Ulrike’s hand as she pulled away from Francis and stumbled towards Tosia. She popped open her cigarette case with the “Now we are all sons of bitches” engraving and stuck a tube in her mouth. As Tosia got a better look at Ulrike’s pale mask of sweat, tears, and shock, she noticed the tube was in the wrong direction. She tottered a few paces forward, then tripped on her own feet and slumped forward against Tosia. "M…Miss Tosia, I…I think I need a light-" Ulrike promptly vomited on Tosia’s blouse. Tosia helped her to a seat on the floor where she could lean against the desk and noticed the scent of her hair in the process. //How did I let her go a week without showering?// Her mind’s voice sounded alien to her, a black whisper in a wall of red. Red. She saw a new wound on Francis’s scalp, surrounded by damp skin. Streaks of moisture slid away from the glinting tear splitting his forehead wrinkles…she saw a black spot in the red mass, and the black //dilated//. Francis's third eye stared at Tosia while Francis twitched in his sleep. … Tosia wasted little time once reaching her conclusion. Within minutes, Tosia made sure Ulrike's head rested on a pillow and had a thermos of coffee by her side, and waited the thirty minutes before the elementary neurotoxin should finish its course. It wasn't //quite// curare Francis had been poisoned with, but something of Tosia's creation using materials she acquired as the Social Communist Party's Secretary of Anomalous Sequestering. Once Ulrike had removed the bandage, all Tosia needed to do was occasionally check Francis's heartbeat as a precaution in case of any freak accidents. Eventually, Francis woke up with a startled howl. Tosia gently, but firmly, pressed her hand on Francis’ mouth, and lifted her finger to her mouth to shush him. Francis calmed down and looked at Ulrike's unconscious form. "##C21E56\|Is that beast really tuckered out? I oughta-##" //That beast is the only reason you're still breathing.// "Do not speak Polish around me again, please," Tosia said, "Or at least while you're in range of my hands." "Fine." Francis wiped some dried saliva from his chin with his hand, then pointed at Ulrike. "She is out of control-" "Meri, your baby," Tosia adjusted her seat so she was looking directly at Francis. She did not make any faces, and her voice didn't betray any ire. All the same, she knew Francis saw something different now. Even the third eye would not meet her gaze and swiveled frantically to avoid it. It was a truth known to few around Motherwill County. The absence of something as simple as a maternal, loving smile lifted the curtain on her life of nightmares. "Focus, Francis. Your child. Who has her? Who sent you?" "They…they…we got picked up in England, sent here…they pointed out…the less time I spent with her, the less she'd love me. So…they said if I found things out here…the more I found…the more days I could have…" "You seem rather eclectic. A polyglot, a con-artist, at the very least intelligent enough to fool me for a time. What did you see as the consequences of talking to these people about us?" "I didn't…let myself think about that," Tosia saw Francis' shoulders tremble, and his breath catch. She had difficulty reacting to it. "Well, you can't say you didn't know, only that your denial was finite." She heard the sound of a thermos cap hitting the ground. Ulrike was awake. "Our arrangement will be as follows: You will attend this school. You will come to our classes. You may even exchange pleasantries with our students. You will not befriend them. You will not follow them. You will live with me. At the end of every night, I will supply you with intel that you will use to pay your way. In return, you supply me with intel on your ‘benefactors’ and their intentions for us." She turned and looked at Ulrike, saw the way her lips shook with worry. Frowning, she put her eyes back on Francis, "And if you do all these things, and we learn what we need to about the people who sent you, I may find a way to reunite you with your daughter. Are these terms acceptable?" "Yes…" Francis didn't pretend anymore, he broke down weeping. Tosia sat there watching him. It was Ulrike who ran to his side but stopped short of touching him. He was alone. [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> name= FrancisWojciechowsky.jpg \|caption=Francis Wojciechowsky: He had it coming, didn't he? \|width=400px]] + Coda: Hitherto Shalt Thou Come, And Further Tosia spent much of the following day catching up on her casework from the previous day, running her Party staffers ragged with following up on her students in dwellings without phones, while calling the foster parents of her students who did (spending extra time on Ben’s, Agathe’s, and Sam’s). At 10:05, she was fixing dinner when the phone rang, and she let it ring several times. She’d known the call was coming. The Party secretary told her when the chairman would reach out to her so she could finish scaring her foster network straight. She wiped her flour-covered hands - she was cooking dinner - and picked up the phone. “Chairman Rustin, to what do I owe the pleasure?” “Secretary Altman. How’s the weather?” “Small talk is beneath you, Bayard. “ “It’s very relevant here. Heard it’s raining blood in Motherwill. I thought I’d call one of the clouds.” “The Social Communist Party has not, does not, and will never maintain a paramilitary capacity. I was there when you made that declaration.“ She rattled off the words like reciting a catechism. “You seem uninterested in honoring it. This isn’t St. Petersburg in ‘17. We don’t shoot people for reading the wrong theorist.” The irony of her feeling dressed down like a student had not escaped her. “You’re right. It’s Warsaw in ‘39. And Fascism and Stalinism aren’t theories, they’re nihilisms. More to the point, I haven't shot anyone.” “Non-violence isn’t just a tactic. It’s our ethos. And just because it's your werewolf doing the shooting doesn't mean your fingerprints aren't on the gun." Tosia chose to avoid that last remark. “The gunmen that kidnapped five kids from our youth center in Edmonton didn't seem to care about that ethos.” It was true Ulrike carried on her own one woman war against the fascist and Stalinist paramilitary operatives. Yet she remembered what Kovner had told her: //If your definition of a goy friend is someone who would die for her, you don't have any friends.// If anything, Ulrike feared failing to die for Tosia. That was the problem. Her thoughts filled the pause and Bayard cleared his throat. Tosia’s mental clock hit zero. She flipped the potato pancakes. She felt sad at the gathering distance between herself and someone she had and still did see as beyond reproach. “This latest one,” Bayard spoke carefully, “do you have anything like proof?” “A taped confession. They snuck him in as a refugee. They aren’t just killing us. They’re trying to kill the humanity within us, and fill it with terror. I won’t let them do that.” “Where’s he?” “He’s lost.” Tosia said. She hadn't told Ulrike to kill him, but only because she didn't have to. “And the Canadian Communist Party depot in Nova Scotia that got burned-” “A regrettable and tragic accident.” //And a message to them and their Soviet paymasters not to come anywhere near my foster families. What was it Ulrike had written? "Protest is saying something has to stop. Resistance is when you make it stop."// There was a pause, and then: “As bad as a paramilitary capacity is, it's our anomalous capacity that's the real threat to the SCP-” Tosia cut him off. “It’s not a 'capacity'. It's containment. We are the only ideology that transcends national and sectarian boundaries in the pursuit of logically verifiable ideals. If we don't possess and protect these 'different ones', someone else will exploit them, and our adversaries will grow strong on our weakness." “I believe you, Tosia. Hell, in your shoes, I’d have done the same. But it’s not always going to be me in this chair. That’s why I’m calling. I just got word Gus Hall is starting an inquiry into your anomaly operations. He's trying to seize your project, and he's got a lot of American friends in the party backing his play.” “He always has friends. I always have friends. You’re a friend.” “It’s different this time.” “A counter-revolutionary sentiment if I ever heard one. Any child under my roof is protected, and //those four// especially. No power under the sky shall harm them.” “Tosia, that’s the problem with putting your eggs in one basket. Someone’s always going to try to take the basket.” “Better they’re in the basket, than on the ground where they could get stepped on. As for what happens to the basket, I already said I’d handle it.” Tosia chose to end the discussion there. “On an unrelated note, Rustin, I have a young female friend who has an…entanglement with an older woman. How do I get her to stop?” “The same way you get any stubborn person not fuck up at night. You talk to them about it in the morning.” Tosia chuckled. “How’s the husband?” “Good night, Tosia.” “You as well, Bayard.” Squeaks followed squeaks, then the running water in the bathroom sputtered to a halt. “You took your sweet time!” Tosia chirped. “I prepared dinner. Will you be joining me?” The smell of spiced meat and sizzle of frying flour flowed from the generous pot of oil, and cheese bubbled on the baking zapiekanka slices in the oven. //Candy for lunch and street food for dinner. Am I forty-seven or fourteen?// She heard the bathroom door creak open. “##C21E56\|I’m not hungry like a wolf just now,##” Francis shouted back, “I could use a TV though.” //Oh, now you’re learning your idioms, eh?// Tosia smirked, picking up a pair of tongs and filling two plates with pierogi. “I’ll take your food to your bedroom then?” “Jog off, Tosia,” Francis said, in salty English. She left the food, a small box of sweets, and a pitcher of water by his bedroom door, then went back downstairs, wrapping up the leftovers. //I need to get Agathe a cat,// Tosia thought and brewed herself some black tea while considering what to do with Francis. A buzzer broke her reverie. She looked at the clock. It was 11:45 now. Francis’ loud snoring all but rattled the creaky hallways. She walked over to the front door and peered through the peephole. Just who she was waiting on. She opened the door, and Ulrike walked on in, smelling of cigarette smoke and sweat. “We had a late dinner. I made extra for you.” Ulrike nodded and wordlessly dropped a basket of candy on the table. Ulrike wolfed her food down like she hadn’t eaten in a day, and she likely hadn’t. Tosia watched her and asked a few questions about what she had been up to since she’d run off. The answers were all disappointing and unhealthy, but she was mostly asking so Ulrike didn't start on //that// conversation. Ulrike started it anyway, of course. "Miss Tosia, I…" Ulrike stammered through her words, "Look, yesterday, I…didn't…-" "Stop." Tosia's voice was soft, but Ulrike's receded when she spoke all the same. "I shoved you. You defended yourself. It is that simple. We move on." "Tosia, I appreciate your charity, but-" "No." "You suspended me two months ago because-" "And now you're unsuspended. What is that, if not a result?" "Tosia," Ulrike's voice cracked, "If you need me to leave Motherwill, if I'm that disruptive for you…" "//You will do no such thing//." Tosia got out of her chair and glared at Ulrike, causing her to drop her fork. "What I need you to do is to get back on the wagon, show up to work on time, and work on your left hook. That punch couldn't squash a fly." She stormed out of the kitchen and into her living room. Tosia changed the radio station so they could tune into the “Chez Margaret Windsor” show and listen to a marathon of Paul McCartney’s Quarrymen’s music from their first album with their new lead guitarist Jimi Hendrix (there was widespread trepidation after John Lennon ran off to fight in Scotland and George Harrison quit to be with his family, but universal opinion is the change has led to the band reaching transcendent levels of ability and relevance. Although, it did mean they weren’t welcome in much of the United States anymore.) She sank into her armchair in the living room. Eventually, Ulrike joined her and took a seat on the couch, leaning over the table while trying not to be obvious about trying to read Tosia's face from the corner of her eye. They let the former princess' voice fill the taut silence. "…The United States allegedly cut off diplomatic relations with the Federation an hour after the nuclear detonation. They'd been hinting for weeks that they'd invade the moment we detonated the bomb. That's Yankee punctuality for you…" Ulrike pulled a Mars bar out of her breast pocket and handed it to Tosia, who wordlessly accepted the treat but chose to leave it on the table next to her chair. Ulrike's voice was unsteady when she spoke. "We…how are we going to discuss a possible American invasion with-" "The next time you want to have a fist-fight with me, Ulrike," Tosia cut her off, "You do so off school premises. If we agree on that much, I see no reason for our collaboration to cease." "Okay." Tosia felt her nose tickle. “I notice you’re dancing around asking me why I wanted to kill Francis earlier.” "I didn't - " “Four confirmed attacks against our schools throughout Canada. I used to think they were false flags, but these attacks were in areas I knew. Do you understand what that means? There are kids with no place else to go. Physical security is not enough, Ulrike, if we don't help them feel secure, they will destroy themselves…” Tosia drifted off, and looked at Ulrike, looked at her empty eyes, her messy hair, her sleeplessness, her restlessness; she looked at all of it as though she was seeing it for the first time. //I need her to outlive this.// Tosia felt something sting her eyes and blinked the feeling away, //I can’t be the worst thing that’s ever happened to her.// Ulrike pulled a cigarette out of her case and placed it between her lips, snapping towards Tosia for a light. Tosia took out a lighter from her apron pocket and obliged her. Ulrike took a drag. She finally spoke. “How did you know he was a spy? How were you so sure?” “Certain?” Tosia chuckled, “I ran into that word so often in the ‘30s. 'Oh, you're not certain, so we won't do anything.' It’s the wall I slammed my head into.” “Tosia…” “There were so many clues, but I think I knew the moment I saw him. I'm out of practice handling betrayal. It's…been a while since I trusted someone.” “And with Francis?” “He hadn’t heard of the Ghetto Uprising." Tosia knew she was more or less talking to herself, but let herself think aloud. "Even the most bitter collaborator would have heard about it, warned their kids about it. They burned our books, so Francis would have had to learn his Yiddish from someone, yet no one told him about the day two hundred and fifty thousand of us used Soviet guns to break out of Warsaw? I fought and bled that day, and…” Tosia drifted off, her voice giving way once again to Hendrix’s guitar solo on “Purple Haze.” “Why did you let me talk to him if you were so sure if you were ready to kill him on the spot?” “He’s more useful alive.” “Deflection is not like you, Miss Tosia,” Ulrike wiped her eyes and peered into Tosia's, "What happened? Why did you want to kill him?" "I…Ula, you felt your country's betrayal all at once…it was ghastly to see your family get put to death, on German television, for the pleasure of millions. I…I felt it piecemeal. Year by year, 'family friend' by 'family friend'…I have no time for traitors. Not then. Not now." "So, why didn't you just…" "Tosia Altman felt justice demanded I kill him. But Miss Tosia simply did not want to kill a child." Tosia looked at her hands. "Ulrike, if I had killed him…what would you have done?" "Miss Tosia," Ulrike's voice was iron, "If you decided to kill him, what would have happened is I would have helped you dispose of his body, doctored the crime scene, then treated you to drinks afterward. I did not hit you because I am some humanitarian who cares if a spy can legally drive or not. None are righteous. Not one." "Ulrike, you confuse me." //This must be how a bull feels after falling for the cape.// "If killing him is no moral issue for you, then why did you act in his defense?" “Because…he was alone…because if he died, his baby would have been alone, and have grown up…like I am now…" Ulrike's voice quivered, and Tosia wanted to hold Ulrike's hand as she trembled. "There would have been nothing wrong or right with killing him, but anyone so young deserves to be fought for, even if they wouldn't know it." “//Ula//…” Tosia put her hand on Ulrike’s shoulder, “You are so full of love for children. It’s one of my favorite things about you.” Ulrike shrugged, “You said that as if you don’t also share that feeling. Why else did you step away from the militant wing to do your social work?” “Children are the expression of hope for our people, and if I help those gentiles in need who are victims of our dark history’s rhyme…well, I suppose you could call that a self-indulgence.” “If children are hope, then why don’t you have any of your own?” Tosia smiled. "Ula, you're a smart girl. You'll figure it out." She pointed to the bathroom. "Now, take a fucking shower." [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] > Filename: Tosia.jpg > Author: Amai Ixchel > License: CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/who-s-afraid-of-ulrike-meinhof SCP Foundation Wiki] > Filename: Ulrike.jpg > Author: Amai Ixchel > License: CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/who-s-afraid-of-ulrike-meinhof SCP Foundation Wiki] > Filename: FrancisHidden.jpg > Author: Amai Ixchel > License: CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/who-s-afraid-of-ulrike-meinhof SCP Foundation Wiki] > Filename: Kondraki.jpg > Author: Amai Ixchel > License: CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/who-s-afraid-of-ulrike-meinhof SCP Foundation Wiki] > Filename: Agathe.jpg > Author: Amai Ixchel > License: CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/who-s-afraid-of-ulrike-meinhof SCP Foundation Wiki] > Filename: Sam.jpg > Author: Amai Ixchel > License: CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/who-s-afraid-of-ulrike-meinhof SCP Foundation Wiki] > Filename: FrancisWojciechowsky.jpg > Author: Amai Ixchel > License: CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/who-s-afraid-of-ulrike-meinhof SCP Foundation Wiki] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-05-01T03:38:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "bittersweet", "doctor-clef", "doctor-kondraki", "doctor-rights", "slice-of-life", "spring-cleaning24", "tale" ]	Who's Afraid of Ulrike Meinhof? - SCP Foundation	31	[ "who-s-afraid-of-ulrike-meinhof#toc0", "who-s-afraid-of-ulrike-meinhof#toc1", "who-s-afraid-of-ulrike-meinhof#toc2", "who-s-afraid-of-ulrike-meinhof#toc3", "who-s-afraid-of-ulrike-meinhof#toc4", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "featured-tale-archive-ii", "deer-college-spring-cleaning-event" ]	[ "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/who-s-afraid-of-ulrike-meinhof/Tosia.jpg", "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/who-s-afraid-of-ulrike-meinhof/Ulrike.jpg", "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/who-s-afraid-of-ulrike-meinhof/FrancisHidden.jpg", "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/who-s-afraid-of-ulrike-meinhof/Kondraki.jpg", "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/who-s-afraid-of-ulrike-meinhof/Agathe.jpg", "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/who-s-afraid-of-ulrike-meinhof/Sam.jpg", "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/who-s-afraid-of-ulrike-meinhof/FrancisWojciechowsky.jpg" ]	1453505920	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/who-s-afraid-of-ulrike-meinhof
who-will-save-the-world	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <br/> <strong>October 26th, 2019</strong> <p>It was well after three in the morning when Harvey considered that, maybe, he should be asleep by now. Thirty three years on the job had placed their toll onto his body - wasn’t that supposed to mean he could be granted the luxury of going to bed at a reasonable hour? He had the graying hair, and children in college, but those were both negatives. Women do not like gray hair, and living alone isn’t something to boast about. All of the downsides, none of the upsides. One could say that was the life he had chosen at a young age, but the man from all those years ago had been a fool. He hadn't been thinking of the bigger picture then, and now that it was his job to do so, he could see more clearly that this wasn't the life he had envisioned. Its gloss had faded.</p> <p>He leaned back in the car seat, leather creaking as it protested the additional pressure against it. If Harvey had known just how long it would take for the others to get here, he would have brought an extra cup of coffee. Instead, what remained of his only cup sat light and cold next to him, a reminder of their tardiness. They were supposed to be here half an hour ago. If he was going to show up early, couldn’t they run their scans or whatever the hell as a “fifteen minutes before” sort of courtesy?</p> <p>Headlights flickered, finally illuminating the road ahead. This far out from the rest of society, it was unlikely that they had meant anything else than what he had come here for. They had shown up. Harvey’s knuckles clenched against the steering wheel. A deep breath, a mutter of prayer, and the Senior Special Agent rose from his vehicle - alert and awake as the day he was born. Slowly, the headlights came to meet him.</p> <hr/> <p><tt><strong>June 10th, 1993</strong></tt></p> <p><tt>Screaming down a poorly paved road in a rented car, two Americans were well on their way North. One clutched their chest, where crimson seeped through pale fingers. A kevlar vest’s promise of protection had failed him. The other kept their hands against the wheel, clenched knuckles cut with shattered glass. Steady nerves kept the driver focused, yet his steady breath had too faltered.</tt></p> <p><tt>Fresh air whipped throughout the cabin, mixing with the smell of cigarette smoke and cheap booze. This was supposed to be a quick job, a simple romp through a recently independent country in search of a rogue asset. GRU-P was supposed to be in shambles. They weren’t supposed to make contact with the Russians.</tt></p> <p><tt>And they hadn’t.</tt></p> <hr/> <p>The vehicle stopped fifteen yards from Harvey's shoes, the man stuffing his hands into his pockets as two figures came from the doors. They stared at him for a moment thoughtlessly, only nodding in acknowledgement of his presence once he had flashed his badge. This had been a useless gesture, and Harvey knew it - the two were not alone, even if he could not see those who were accompanying them. His identity was known long before this final pitiful confirmation.</p> <p>From the back seat, a third figure emerged, this one hunched and afraid. It was the man he had come halfway across the country to see. To retrieve. Thirty three years on the job, fifteen of which was spent within the Office of Relations, and Harvey could not for the life of him make out the words he had to speak without strict rehearsal. Even with trained repetition though, they came through gritted teeth.</p> <p>"Apologies, Peacekeepers. I understand this one has been trouble?"</p> <hr/> <p><tt>The man in the driver seat spared a glance towards his passenger, disregarding for a moment the speed he was going. Blood loss kept him in a state of dopey consciousness, unmoving in his slumped state. Whatever strength remained in him, though, was able to form words.</tt></p> <p><tt>"They got us, didn't they?"</tt></p> <p><tt>Somehow, the driver hadn't noticed him speaking until now. Maybe it was the fact that his attention was so caught into the adrenaline, but now - he heard it - just barely audible over the deafening sounds of the engine and wind. He was quiet, far from the usual boisterous tone he had once carried with him so proudly. The words now sunk beneath him, gone with his conviction, seeping out from his chest with each passing breath.</tt></p> <p><tt>The driver nodded once, but remained silent, a lump forming in his throat as he turned his attention back towards the road. A quick look down to the accelerometer placed their speed at just over eighty miles per hour, far faster than the Soviets had ever intended the rusted hunk of steel to go. With this many holes punched through, it would not be long until something gave in. One puncture of the radiator would be enough.</tt></p> <p><tt>"We got lucky, you know?" said the passenger, his speech slurred into something akin to a dreamer's tone. "You did good, Harvey." The passenger waited a moment longer, then mumbled something else. This time it came as nonsensical, more a whisper than anything tangible.</tt></p> <hr/> <p>Harvey got back into the driver's seat, waiting for the Greenhorn to shut his door. A difficult silence hung within the car's windows as the Senior Special Agent turned the ignition, staring straight forwards into the night. Harvey's face had become stagnant, an expression of irritation and disappointment plastered upon him. "What you did - it was stupid and out of line, Lewis."</p> <p>The youngster, or maybe just the fresh face, shook his head. Lewis had expected the speech - the same speech that had been passed to him a thousand times before. Even if it had been told now with a different tone, it just meant the same thing. "No," he said after a moment of pause, "we didn't have that. You and I both-"</p> <p>Harvey cut over Lewis, loudly putting an end to his brief retort. "I am not sitting through another one of their fucking threats again, and you knew better. You said it over a <em>public emergency frequency</em>. I don't know what kind of stupid cry for help you were going for, but you crossed the damn line, and you are <em>done</em>."</p> <p>"What, and the alternative was that we just keep on watching? I'm sorry, but I'm not equipped to deal with this, and when I told higher that, all I got was a 'do the best you can'. You realize we have lives on the line, right? Innocent people?"</p> <p>"We were dispatching a tactical team-"</p> <p>"<em>The</em> tactical team," Lewis's voice rose with frustration, his face contorting into a look of bewildered anger. "It would've taken them hours to get here. It took the Coalition fifteen minutes."</p> <p>The cabin fell silent again. Harvey stared ahead, watching the other vehicle disappear. The truth is, he did not care for a moment how long it took for the Blue Helmets to step in. He didn't care how effective they were, either. Twenty six years of spite boiled within him, and Lewis had chosen his side. Though the car the Blue Helmets came in now left, he found their presence still lingering next to him.</p> <p>But he was right. Seven lives were saved because the Greenhorn had went loud, and that was just the immediate effect. Who knows what else they would have done? Reason momentarily echoed in Harvey's head, but it echoed upon deaf ears. The Unit was made rotten because of people like those he had just been chastised by, forced to stand and <em>listen</em> as they accused them of recklessness. And now, the traitor in the seat next to him spoke of them as angels, and put up no resistance to their claim of everything he held dear. The acceptance of their own failure had plagued the unit to its core for far too long.</p> <hr/> <p><tt>Harvey looked one last time towards the passenger seat. Without a chance to say goodbye, the man he admired beside him had fallen still. His eyes were lost, staring off at some spot of nothingness within the center console. Four years on the job, and he had been there for everything. Now, Harvey needed him more than ever, and he was gone. The rookie was not prepared for what was to come.</tt></p> <p><tt>The Peacekeepers would be waiting for him in the next town over. They wouldn't have given up with a single ambush. Five calls up to his next in the chain of command, and none of them had been returned. Skirmishes with the Peacekeepers didn't end like this. Dozens of little flashpoints over the years painted a target on the back of The Unit's Agents, but not a single one had resulted in command cutting contact - and the Blues were never this bold. Somewhere, somehow, Harvey knew something had changed. This was bigger. This was the end.</tt></p> <p><tt>Mile markers showed him closing in on the next town. Whatever final blessings Harvey had for his mentor, they would be passed up for thoughts of escape. Grieving could come later. He still had himself to worry about.</tt></p> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] October 26th, 2019 It was well after three in the morning when Harvey considered that, maybe, he should be asleep by now. Thirty three years on the job had placed their toll onto his body - wasn’t that supposed to mean he could be granted the luxury of going to bed at a reasonable hour? He had the graying hair, and children in college, but those were both negatives. Women do not like gray hair, and living alone isn’t something to boast about. All of the downsides, none of the upsides. One could say that was the life he had chosen at a young age, but the man from all those years ago had been a fool. He hadn't been thinking of the bigger picture then, and now that it was his job to do so, he could see more clearly that this wasn't the life he had envisioned. Its gloss had faded. He leaned back in the car seat, leather creaking as it protested the additional pressure against it. If Harvey had known just how long it would take for the others to get here, he would have brought an extra cup of coffee. Instead, what remained of his only cup sat light and cold next to him, a reminder of their tardiness. They were supposed to be here half an hour ago. If he was going to show up early, couldn’t they run their scans or whatever the hell as a “fifteen minutes before” sort of courtesy? Headlights flickered, finally illuminating the road ahead. This far out from the rest of society, it was unlikely that they had meant anything else than what he had come here for. They had shown up. Harvey’s knuckles clenched against the steering wheel. A deep breath, a mutter of prayer, and the Senior Special Agent rose from his vehicle - alert and awake as the day he was born. Slowly, the headlights came to meet him. ------ {{June 10th, 1993}} {{Screaming down a poorly paved road in a rented car, two Americans were well on their way North. One clutched their chest, where crimson seeped through pale fingers. A kevlar vest’s promise of protection had failed him. The other kept their hands against the wheel, clenched knuckles cut with shattered glass. Steady nerves kept the driver focused, yet his steady breath had too faltered.}} {{Fresh air whipped throughout the cabin, mixing with the smell of cigarette smoke and cheap booze. This was supposed to be a quick job, a simple romp through a recently independent country in search of a rogue asset. GRU-P was supposed to be in shambles. They weren’t supposed to make contact with the Russians.}} {{And they hadn’t.}} ------ The vehicle stopped fifteen yards from Harvey's shoes, the man stuffing his hands into his pockets as two figures came from the doors. They stared at him for a moment thoughtlessly, only nodding in acknowledgement of his presence once he had flashed his badge. This had been a useless gesture, and Harvey knew it - the two were not alone, even if he could not see those who were accompanying them. His identity was known long before this final pitiful confirmation. From the back seat, a third figure emerged, this one hunched and afraid. It was the man he had come halfway across the country to see. To retrieve. Thirty three years on the job, fifteen of which was spent within the Office of Relations, and Harvey could not for the life of him make out the words he had to speak without strict rehearsal. Even with trained repetition though, they came through gritted teeth. "Apologies, Peacekeepers. I understand this one has been trouble?" ------ {{The man in the driver seat spared a glance towards his passenger, disregarding for a moment the speed he was going. Blood loss kept him in a state of dopey consciousness, unmoving in his slumped state. Whatever strength remained in him, though, was able to form words.}} {{"They got us, didn't they?"}} {{Somehow, the driver hadn't noticed him speaking until now. Maybe it was the fact that his attention was so caught into the adrenaline, but now - he heard it - just barely audible over the deafening sounds of the engine and wind. He was quiet, far from the usual boisterous tone he had once carried with him so proudly. The words now sunk beneath him, gone with his conviction, seeping out from his chest with each passing breath.}} {{The driver nodded once, but remained silent, a lump forming in his throat as he turned his attention back towards the road. A quick look down to the accelerometer placed their speed at just over eighty miles per hour, far faster than the Soviets had ever intended the rusted hunk of steel to go. With this many holes punched through, it would not be long until something gave in. One puncture of the radiator would be enough.}} {{"We got lucky, you know?" said the passenger, his speech slurred into something akin to a dreamer's tone. "You did good, Harvey." The passenger waited a moment longer, then mumbled something else. This time it came as nonsensical, more a whisper than anything tangible.}} ------ Harvey got back into the driver's seat, waiting for the Greenhorn to shut his door. A difficult silence hung within the car's windows as the Senior Special Agent turned the ignition, staring straight forwards into the night. Harvey's face had become stagnant, an expression of irritation and disappointment plastered upon him. "What you did - it was stupid and out of line, Lewis." The youngster, or maybe just the fresh face, shook his head. Lewis had expected the speech - the same speech that had been passed to him a thousand times before. Even if it had been told now with a different tone, it just meant the same thing. "No," he said after a moment of pause, "we didn't have that. You and I both-" Harvey cut over Lewis, loudly putting an end to his brief retort. "I am not sitting through another one of their fucking threats again, and you knew better. You said it over a //public emergency frequency//. I don't know what kind of stupid cry for help you were going for, but you crossed the damn line, and you are //done//." "What, and the alternative was that we just keep on watching? I'm sorry, but I'm not equipped to deal with this, and when I told higher that, all I got was a 'do the best you can'. You realize we have lives on the line, right? Innocent people?" "We were dispatching a tactical team-" "//The// tactical team," Lewis's voice rose with frustration, his face contorting into a look of bewildered anger. "It would've taken them hours to get here. It took the Coalition fifteen minutes." The cabin fell silent again. Harvey stared ahead, watching the other vehicle disappear. The truth is, he did not care for a moment how long it took for the Blue Helmets to step in. He didn't care how effective they were, either. Twenty six years of spite boiled within him, and Lewis had chosen his side. Though the car the Blue Helmets came in now left, he found their presence still lingering next to him. But he was right. Seven lives were saved because the Greenhorn had went loud, and that was just the immediate effect. Who knows what else they would have done? Reason momentarily echoed in Harvey's head, but it echoed upon deaf ears. The Unit was made rotten because of people like those he had just been chastised by, forced to stand and //listen// as they accused them of recklessness. And now, the traitor in the seat next to him spoke of them as angels, and put up no resistance to their claim of everything he held dear. The acceptance of their own failure had plagued the unit to its core for far too long. ------ {{Harvey looked one last time towards the passenger seat. Without a chance to say goodbye, the man he admired beside him had fallen still. His eyes were lost, staring off at some spot of nothingness within the center console. Four years on the job, and he had been there for everything. Now, Harvey needed him more than ever, and he was gone. The rookie was not prepared for what was to come.}} {{The Peacekeepers would be waiting for him in the next town over. They wouldn't have given up with a single ambush. Five calls up to his next in the chain of command, and none of them had been returned. Skirmishes with the Peacekeepers didn't end like this. Dozens of little flashpoints over the years painted a target on the back of The Unit's Agents, but not a single one had resulted in command cutting contact - and the Blues were never this bold. Somewhere, somehow, Harvey knew something had changed. This was bigger. This was the end.}} {{Mile markers showed him closing in on the next town. Whatever final blessings Harvey had for his mentor, they would be passed up for thoughts of escape. Grieving could come later. He still had himself to worry about.}}	2024-11-25T17:21:00	[ "tale", "unusual-incidents-unit" ]	Who Will Save The World - SCP Foundation	5	[]	[ "tales-by-year" ]	[]	1457436505	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/who-will-save-the-world
why-scp-173-shits	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="preview"> <p>"Why Does SCP-173 Shit?"</p> </div> <div style="display: none"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">+ CODE</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">- CODE</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div style="text-align: left;"> <div class="code"> <div class="hl-main"> <pre><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BLANKSTYLE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CSS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">2021</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">Wikidot</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">Theme</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">By</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Placeholder</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">McD</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">HarryBlank</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Based</span><span class="hl-code"> on: </span><span class="hl-identifier">Paperstack</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Penumbra</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Montserrat</span><span class="hl-special">:ital</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">wght</span><span class="hl-var">@0</span><span class="hl-code">,800;1,800&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.9</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">1.6</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#container-wrap</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'Montserrat', </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-title, "R\</span><span class="hl-number">0026</span><span class="hl-code"> C SITE-43")</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">400</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-subtitle, "SUBVERTING COMMON PRACTICE")</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">700</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 707</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">a:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">1.6</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-title</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#footer</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#footer</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#efefef</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.empty</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#999999</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem!important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">7.9</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'Montserrat', </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.45</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#extra-div-1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">160</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Ablankstyle/</span><span class="hl-number">43</span><span class="hl-code">Head.png')</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> contain</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 707</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#extra-div-1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">body</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> linear-gradient( to </span><span class="hl-string">bottom</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">200</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">200</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-special">:root</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">timeScale:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">timeDelay:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">posX:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">358</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">13</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">fnLinger:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">12</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.35</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#DDD</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.open-menu</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 767</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-identifier">target</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">black</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FDF6D7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-var">#D7EFE7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.resources</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-var">#F5D8E0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.creditRate</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">PAGE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">RATING</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-points</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anchor</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> sticky</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.14</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc((</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vw - </span><span class="hl-number">870</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">)/</span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vh - </span><span class="hl-number">18</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">103.5</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 1290</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">visibility:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">h2:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">0.9</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">YUI</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TAB</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BASE</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">YUI</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TAB</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CUSTOMIZATION</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-wrap:</span><span class="hl-code"> wrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">.125</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">UNSELECTED</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#efefef</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">HOVER</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Listitem</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">relative</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-bottom</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">align-items:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.35</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.75</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> ellipsis</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">white-space:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">nowrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Selection</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">SELECTED</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:active</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">SCROLLBAR</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-track</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-thumb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#CCC</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-thumb</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#EEE</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">CENTER</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">IMAGES</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ON</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MOBILE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">courtesy</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">of</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">PeppersGhost</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.imagediv</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">right</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 540</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.imagediv</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">only</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">screen</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 600</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block.block-right</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">ACS-COLORED</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TABLE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">DIVS</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#D7EFE7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#D8ECF4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FDF6D7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFDABF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#F5D8E0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">146</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.wiki-content-table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-collapse:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">separate</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">img</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.top-left-box</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">.item</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">WORDS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">NO</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">LONGER</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BROKEN</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">THE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CROQUEMBOUCHE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">HAS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">SPOKEN</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">word-break:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">normal</span><span class="hl-code"> !important </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.avatar-hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#breadcrumbs</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.pseudocrumbs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> -- </span><span class="hl-identifier">FANCY</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">THINGS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">from</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Woedenaz</span><span class="hl-code">'</span><span class="hl-identifier">s</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Dustjacket</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> -- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fancyhr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--bright-accent), </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-source:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Aflopstyle-dark/wl_hr.png')</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> round round</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-slice:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-code"> fill</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fancyborder</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Aflopstyle-dark/wl_border.png') </span><span class="hl-number">600</span><span class="hl-code"> round</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span></pre></div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div> <div style="display: none;"> <div style="display: none"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">+ CODE</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">- CODE</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div style="text-align: left;"> <div class="code"> <div class="hl-main"> <pre><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BLANKSTYLE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CSS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">2021</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">Wikidot</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">Theme</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">By</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Placeholder</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">McD</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">HarryBlank</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Based</span><span class="hl-code"> on: </span><span class="hl-identifier">Paperstack</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Penumbra</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Montserrat</span><span class="hl-special">:ital</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">wght</span><span class="hl-var">@0</span><span class="hl-code">,800;1,800&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.9</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">1.6</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#container-wrap</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'Montserrat', </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-title, "R\</span><span class="hl-number">0026</span><span class="hl-code"> C SITE-43")</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">400</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-subtitle, "SUBVERTING COMMON PRACTICE")</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">700</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 707</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">a:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">1.6</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-title</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#footer</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#footer</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#efefef</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.empty</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#999999</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem!important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">7.9</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'Montserrat', </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.45</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#extra-div-1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">160</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Ablankstyle/</span><span class="hl-number">43</span><span class="hl-code">Head.png')</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> contain</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 707</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#extra-div-1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">body</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> linear-gradient( to </span><span class="hl-string">bottom</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">200</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">200</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-special">:root</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">timeScale:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">timeDelay:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">posX:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">358</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">13</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">fnLinger:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">12</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.35</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#DDD</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.open-menu</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 767</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-identifier">target</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">black</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FDF6D7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-var">#D7EFE7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.resources</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-var">#F5D8E0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.creditRate</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">PAGE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">RATING</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-points</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anchor</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> sticky</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.14</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc((</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vw - </span><span class="hl-number">870</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">)/</span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vh - </span><span class="hl-number">18</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">103.5</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 1290</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">visibility:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">h2:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">0.9</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">YUI</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TAB</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BASE</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">YUI</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TAB</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CUSTOMIZATION</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-wrap:</span><span class="hl-code"> wrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">.125</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">UNSELECTED</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#efefef</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">HOVER</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Listitem</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">relative</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-bottom</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">align-items:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.35</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.75</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> ellipsis</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">white-space:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">nowrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Selection</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">SELECTED</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:active</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">SCROLLBAR</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-track</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-thumb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#CCC</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-thumb</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#EEE</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">CENTER</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">IMAGES</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ON</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MOBILE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">courtesy</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">of</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">PeppersGhost</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.imagediv</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">right</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 540</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.imagediv</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">only</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">screen</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 600</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block.block-right</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">ACS-COLORED</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TABLE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">DIVS</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#D7EFE7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#D8ECF4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FDF6D7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFDABF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#F5D8E0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">146</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.wiki-content-table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-collapse:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">separate</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">img</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.top-left-box</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">.item</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">WORDS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">NO</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">LONGER</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BROKEN</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">THE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CROQUEMBOUCHE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">HAS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">SPOKEN</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">word-break:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">normal</span><span class="hl-code"> !important </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.avatar-hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#breadcrumbs</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.pseudocrumbs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> -- </span><span class="hl-identifier">FANCY</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">THINGS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">from</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Woedenaz</span><span class="hl-code">'</span><span class="hl-identifier">s</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Dustjacket</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> -- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fancyhr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--bright-accent), </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-source:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Aflopstyle-dark/wl_hr.png')</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> round round</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-slice:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-code"> fill</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fancyborder</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Aflopstyle-dark/wl_border.png') </span><span class="hl-number">600</span><span class="hl-code"> round</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span></pre></div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div> </div> <div style="display: none"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">+ CODE</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">- CODE</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div style="text-align: left;"> <div class="code"> <div class="hl-main"> <pre><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">QUEERSTYLE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CSS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">By</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Queerious</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Forked</span><span class="hl-code"> from: </span><span class="hl-identifier">Blankstyle</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CSS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Placeholder</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">McD</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">HarryBlank</span><span class="hl-code"> Using: </span><span class="hl-identifier">White</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Outline</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Classic</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">LGBTQ</span><span class="hl-code">+ </span><span class="hl-identifier">Pride</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Logo</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Woedenaz</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">from</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">scp-wiki.wikidot.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">component</span><span class="hl-special">:pride-highlighter</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Vast</span><span class="hl-code">+</span><span class="hl-identifier">Shadow</span><span class="hl-code">&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.9</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-special">:root</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">header-title:</span><span class="hl-code"> "SCP Foundation"</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">header-subtitle:</span><span class="hl-code"> "SECURE, CONTAIN, PROTECT"</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 707</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">a:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">9</span><span class="hl-code">vw</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.75</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.75</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#extra-div-1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">150</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/component:pride-highlighter/gp_logo.svg')</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.creditButton</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">p</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-var">#373737</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Pseudogenesis</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Formats</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.pseudo-div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#B22A2A</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-var">#403450</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> "Vast Shadow", </span><span class="hl-string">serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.pseudo-div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-special">:is</span><span class="hl-code">(</span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">h3</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">h4</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">h5</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">h6</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> "Vast Shadow", </span><span class="hl-string">serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">normal</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">white</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span></pre></div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc0"><span>SCP-173 — An Anartistic Analysis of the Industrial-Biological-Sculptural Contradiction</span></h1> <h2 id="toc1"><span>by Agatha Rights</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <p>Why does <a href="/scp-173">SCP-173</a> shit?</p> <p>For the decade plus that 173 has been in our care, many theories have been put forward surrounding the origin, function or rationale behind how SCP-173 works. Researchers have argued back and forth over how SCP-173 functions, and how we can create advanced systems or complex safeguards to exploit its design — all of which have failed.</p> <p>We often forget that SCP-173 is more than just an icon, more than just a dangerous anomaly that we've adapted to. SCP-173, first and foremost, is a sculptural piece of art. So why haven't we examined 173 from that perspective?</p> <p>The answer, obviously, is due to the 'scientific men' who only focused on containment.<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-1" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-1')">1</a></sup> In this, I want to dig into what it means for SCP-173 to be a piece of anomalous art and examine <em>why</em>, from an artistic perspective, SCP-173 is the way that it is.</p> <p>So, what are the fundamentals of SCP-173?</p> <p>SCP-173<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-2" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-2')">2</a></sup> is an anomalous sculptural work created from mixed mediums. The work is created of predominantly concrete and rebar, with Krylon branded non-soluble OSHA-compliant industrial spray paint used for coloration throughout. The sculpture cannot move when observed directly by both humanoid and non-humanoid individuals — when SCP-173 is not observed, it will attack, commonly resulting in the loss of human life. SCP-173, in addition, also appears to produce a mixture of feces and blood, most commonly human, at a consistent rate.</p> <p>SCP-173 is fascinating because it is a contradiction.</p> <p>The materials used in the creation of SCP-173 evokes hyper-industrialized mass manufacturing. Concrete and rebar have been utilized throughout sculptural history due to a number of factors; they are cheap materials, quick to create with, and draw direct parallels to the industrialized and brutalist sculptural works that emerged from the Ready-Made tradition.</p> <p>In fact, looking further at anart in general, AWCY and the progenitors of the anomalous artistic tradition were heavily based on Ready-Made and assemblage art.<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-3" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-3')">3</a></sup> Duchamp, Freytag-Loringhoven, Salcedo, the Dadaists; each with a foundational approach towards sculptural works, but focused on the reoccurring images of concrete and metal rapidly changing the world through industrialization. Anart is built directly from that tradition - think about the number of 'anomalous' art pieces that are a piece of art <em>first</em>, with the anomalous properties added after the fact.</p> <p>In that way, isn't <em>all</em> anart a form of the Ready-Made tradition?</p> <p>So we have SCP-173, a sculpture made out of industrial materials, and then painted with a commercial brand of spray paint designed for use in marking OSHA safety requirements — the irony of the choice of the artist to use materials that are meant to focus on the safety and protection of regulations on the industrial complex are in striking contrast to the fact that SCP-173 is so deadly.</p> <p>There is a spark of comedy in the fact that this deadly artwork is painted in colors used for occupational safety and health regulations. By creating such a dangerous anomaly, and then utilizing these colors within it, the artist is tempting us into looking at 173. The colors <strong>scream</strong> that this is an unsafe object, and the danger matches that. The irony of selecting that specific line of paint instead of another is intentional — the artist acknowledges that, for art to exist, it must be scrutinized. By selecting such bright, intentional colors, the artist entices us to observe their art — more than that, they are <em>forcing</em> us to look at their art for our own survival.</p> <p>This is a piece of art that not only wants to be looked at, it <em>needs</em> to be observed. In that way, the artist has created something that is impossible to forget, impossible to ignore; we will always remember their work, long after the artist has died. We don't even know who created it — we just know that they did so because it would outlive them.</p> <p>So wait — what about the poop? Why would a piece of art so focused onto the industrialization of creation be able to engage in the organics of bleeding and excretion?</p> <p>I argue that SCP-173 is intended to be the artist's child. SCP-173 is their baby, their newborn, their infant hewn from concrete, rebar and the artists own soul; this theme is echoed throughout the work. We do not remember the artist, but we remember the art; too often, parents sacrifice themselves to better their children.</p> <p>SCP-173 is no different.</p> <p>First, look at the shape of 173. A larger head; a vaguely humanoid body. It is not representative, but the shape language is clear; in infancy, a human head is proportionally larger to the body than it is in adulthood. SCP-173 does not resemble an adult - the proportions are that of a newborn.</p> <p>Examining the artistry of SCP-173 through the lens of it being a representation of the artist's progeny reveals that the piece is no more a contradiction than you or I. Furthermore, I argue that the sculpture was always intended to be seen in this way. Why?</p> <p>Because it explains why the artist went through the trouble of making it excrete human feces.</p> <p>A human infant is helpless, requires constant observation to prevent harm from falling to the child, and constantly produces an unending amount of bodily fluids. Parents who spend hours watching their child often struggle to stay awake, stay focused, stay watchful — when their observation lapses, accidents happen.</p> <p>That also describes SCP-173 perfectly.</p> <p>SCP-173 requires that we constantly observe it for our safety — it challenges the status quo, where the infant is in danger, and parallels the pain that a parent endures when their child is injured. We are both the parent, terrified of taking our eyes away from it, and the infant, placed into a state of immediate danger when we fail to observe 173.</p> <p>SCP-173 requires that the room is constantly cleaned as it continually produces bodily fluids. An infant too requires constant cleaning; the unending repetition of diaper changes and Band-Aids have been replaced with mops, squeegees and industrial cleaners, but the actions are no different. We could choose to leave SCP-173 in its own filth, but we don't — we choose to take the risk for the sake of keeping it clean and unsoiled?</p> <p>Why?</p> <p>Because we <em>have</em> to observe it. We must look at it. We are a victim to the artistic vision. We are parents, we are art critics, we are victims — we must watch 173, because the artist cannot. They most likely died in the creation of the art piece; in that way, SCP-173 is an orphan that requires constant care. By choosing the materials, the appearance and the effects of the anomalous work, they have ensured that somebody will always look after their creation; they ensured that SCP-173 would be adopted.</p> <p>It goes further than that, though. We need to look at SCP-173 as a cohesive whole as was the artist's intent. Why create a baby from concrete and rebar? Why those materials? The artist made that deliberate choice as a commentary on how we, as a society, engage with ideas of birth and conception.</p> <p>A womb is a soft, squishy thing, and an infant is no different — these are fundamentally organic, the natural cycle of life and death. The few biological creations we do have are cared for, doted upon, and protected. We protect that which we create, because we want to help it survive beyond us, to grow from our mistakes, to be our legacy. Art is the same. We create artworks to last long past our time, to impact future generations, to say something. With both art and children, the goal is the same — we create that which we want to survive.</p> <p>So I ask a question: if we are creating things to survive, what better way to ensure that permanency than to use robust, harsh, persisting materials. Concrete and rebar are used in construction; we use them because they are strong and they last. We perceive this materials are permanent, bringing to mind imagery of skyscrapers or building foundations — the artist chose these materials <em>because</em> they would survive, and <em>because</em> we think they should. As a parent, why wouldn't you do everything you can to protect your child? The unknown creator of 173 is no different, they did everything they could to ensure the safety and permanence of their offspring.</p> <p>And we do it too. We recognize the artist's intent, we play by their rules. Just look at how other artists have captured SCP-173 and the trend is clear — we want to care for the sculpture.</p> <p>Throughout the history of SCP-173's existence, it has been one of the Foundation's worst kept secrets. In that way, the artist was successful. Not only is SCP-173 referenced as a foundational Anomalous sculpture in anart programs across the world, other artists have constantly attempted to capture and render what SCP-173 represents to them across multiple mediums.<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-4" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-4')">4</a></sup> Looking at the diaspora of renditions, one pattern becomes clear: the artist not only captures the work, but they modify it into their own interpretation, their own progeny, a newborn representation that is both the original artist's intent, as well as their own. Each artist is a parent alongside the original, unknown artist, and the work is their child.</p> <div class="blockquote" style="padding-top:1em;text-align:center;"> <div class="scp-image-block block-right" style="width:300px;"><img alt="FLMfWlEWUAUA5v7.png" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-173-redesign-collab-hub-subpage-4/FLMfWlEWUAUA5v7.png"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>untitled by @elmichiart</p> </div> </div> <p>The first example is the untitled sculptural interpretation of 173. See how the artist has chosen to render the sculpture siting, as if a child at the feet of a parent. Notice the use of negative space, building the isolation of the sculpture, contributing to our desire to care or nurture. The blood does not look like the result of violence inflicted, but rather violence felt — the sculpture is the victim, the assailant unknown. We want to protect 173 from whatever danger faces it, ignoring the latent danger of the sculpture itself.</p> <div class="scp-image-block block-left" style="width:300px;"><img alt="Wust_Kleinkind_mit_Rassel_vor_weiter_Landschaft.jpg" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/why-scp-173-shits/Wust_Kleinkind_mit_Rassel_vor_weiter_Landschaft.jpg"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>Kleinkind mit Rassel vor weiter Landschaft by 'Wust (?)'</p> </div> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Juxtapose this against <em>Kleinkind mit Rassel vor weiter Landschaft</em> by 'Wust (?)'. Here we see the traditional European depiction of an infant at play, a Caucasian infant, surrounded by their toys, in a peaceful meadow. The focus is on the joy the child is experiencing — this is in sharp contrast to how 173 was depicted, focusing on the darkness of the isolation, the inherit danger.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Both figures are seated alone and both are helpless. They sit in similar positions, posed in a duality that exists within 173 alone — what is the line between innocence and danger?</p> <p>What makes the viewer want to care for one, and avoid the other?</p> </div> <div class="blockquote" style="padding-top:1em;text-align:center;"> <div class="scp-image-block block-right" style="width:300px;"><img alt="FLBfSUgWQAIc2El.png" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-173-redesign-collab-hub-subpage-3/FLBfSUgWQAIc2El.png"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>untitled by @delomfin</p> </div> </div> <p>Take this painting as another example. The artist has chosen to render SCP-173 as a cracked baby doll. This pushes the visual dissonance even further; we are taking the form and figure of a traditional child's toy, and juxtaposing that with the danger that we, as a viewer, know SCP-173 holds. If it was a child in this environment, we would feel fear and anxiety; we want to protect them from the dangers.</p> <p>By contextualizing SCP-173 as a porcelain baby doll, not only does the artist directly challenge the contradiction of the innocence of 173, but it also addresses the contradiction in materials: a porcelain doll made of concrete and rebar is deceptively strong.</p> </div> <div class="blockquote" style="padding-top:1em;height:auto;text-align:center;"> <div class="scp-image-block block-right" style="width:300px;"><img alt="tUC8AFR.png" class="image" src="https://i.imgur.com/tUC8AFR.png"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>untitled by @dethklok_maggot</p> </div> </div> <p>The final example is this untitled painting of SCP-173. The sculpture stands alone, in a room, staring directly at the viewer. Very much drawing from the tradition of portraiture, the artist has captured not only the sculpture, but a child-like sense of curiosity in the way the sculpture stares back at us, unsure and awaiting guidance. The background of the painting is blurred, making the 'child' the focus of the composition. SCP-173 is standing still, mouth open in a constant state of confusion, its innocence frozen in time, captured by the artist.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="scp-image-block block-left" style="width:300px;"><img alt="Maria_Teresa_of_the_Two_Sicilies_as_child_-_Galleria_Palatina.png" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/why-scp-173-shits/Maria_Teresa_of_the_Two_Sicilies_as_child_-_Galleria_Palatina.png"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>"Ritratto di Maria Teresa di Napoli bambina" by unidentified painter</p> </div> </div> <p>We can see direct comparisons to the traditions of portraiture in the Italian renaissance. A portrait of a child was made to immortalize their appearance, so the parents would always have a memory, regardless of any accidents or early death, as was common during the time. In the same way, the painting of 173 is capturing the same innocence and youth as the portrait of the young Maria. See how both figures stare directly at the viewer, observing us with the same curiosity. Notice how both figures stand, clearly posed awkwardly, their head and torso disjointed for the sake of the painting. Look even to the colors being used — both works portray the same paleness and delicate condition.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>This is the contradiction — SCP-173 is objectively nothing like the young girl in the painting, and yet, the artists both render the subjects in the same way. We want to see SCP-173 as a child because we <em>want</em> to care.</p> </div> <p>Look at the examples included above - see how each artist has given birth to their own child, and yet there are undeniable constants. Look at how each piece isolates SCP-173. Look at the ways negative space is used to make SCP-173 feel smaller. Look at how the works isolate the sculpture in contexts of either joy, play or isolation. The threat of danger may be ever-present — but that horror is never the focus. We cannot help but care for the sculpture.</p> <p>So why does SCP-173 shit?</p> <p>SCP-173 shits because it is a child, an infant, a mimicry of the parent-child relationship.</p> <p>SCP-173 shits because we <em>need</em> to see it and remember when we were children, shitting, scared and alone. We need to pity 173, to desire to nurture 173, to want to parent 173 - and when we are hurt by it, those are the consequences for projecting our desires onto nothing more than a mirror.</p> <p>In that way, we are the same. We bleed, excrete, reproduce and most of all, protect our children; SCP-173 bleeds because it is alive, in a constant state of potential violence. SCP-173 excretes because it needs us to see it as a child. SCP-173 needs a parent, it needs somebody to care.</p> <p>It needs The Foundation.</p> <p><span style="font-size:90%;"><em>This article was originally published in the Spring 2024 Issue of the Foundation Anart Quarterly Journal.</em></span></p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2 id="toc2"><span><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/why-vktm-creates">Further Reading</a></span></h2> </div> <div class="footnotes-footer"> <div class="title">Footnotes</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-1"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-1')">1</a>. Enders, D. (2007). The Inverse Panopticon: Containing SCP-173. <em>Foundation Containment Theory Quarterly</em>, 28-31.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-2"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-2')">2</a>. Also known as 'Peanut'. See Glass, S. (2011). No Peanut Allergies: The Anthropomorphization of Contained Anomalous Objects. <em>Foundation Anomalous Psychology Quarterly</em>, 12-18.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-3"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-3')">3</a>. Rights, A. (2010). Stealing Like an Artist: AWCY as Mimics. <em>Foundation Anart Quarterly</em>, 45-47.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-4"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-4')">4</a>. Multiple Artists. <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/peanut-gallery">An Exhibition of Artistic Interpretations of SCP-173.</a></div> </div> <div class="collection"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">More From This Author</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">More From This Author</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <table style="1px solid black; width: 100%;"> <tr> <th class="namerow" colspan="2"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p>Queerious's Works</p> </div> </div></th> </tr> <tr> <th class="titlecolumn">SCPs</th> <th class="articlecolumn"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-821">SCP-821</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-7643">SCP-7643</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-8887">SCP-8887</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-8740">SCP-8740</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-7238">SCP-7238</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-8688">SCP-8688</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-8811">SCP-8811</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-2346-ex">SCP-2346-EX</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-1611">SCP-1611</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-8478">SCP-8478</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-7748">SCP-7748</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-8480">SCP-8480</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-8843">SCP-8843</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-5632">SCP-5632</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> </div></th> </tr> <tr> <th class="titlecolumn">Tales/GoI Formats</th> <th class="articlecolumn"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/parker-informational-breach">The Magic Circle Hijacking</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/a-tale-of-two-mailrooms">A Tale Of Two Mailrooms</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/no-reason">No Reason</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/asset-florida-grey">ASSET 'FLORIDA GREY'</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/dreams-of-crimson-and-azure">Dreams of Crimson and Azure</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/anomalous-ontology-orientation">An Orientation on Anomalous Ontology</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/why-vktm-creates">Lost in Translation: Media Literacy and The Relativity of the Absurd</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/asset-florida-zero">ASSET 'FLORIDA ZERO'</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/the-lillihammer-test">The Lillihammer Test</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/because-of-the-shame">Because of The Shame</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/love-between-the-margins">Love Between The Margins</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/reostiation">Reostiation</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/kill-agents-and-you">Don't Die: Kill Agents and You</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/wit">Wit</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/survivor-s-guilt">Survivor's Guilt</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> </div></th> </tr> <tr> <th class="titlecolumn">Other</th> <th class="articlecolumn"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/queerious">Cabinet of Queerious-ities</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> </div></th> </tr> </table> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/why-scp-173-shits">SCP-173 — An Anartistic Analysis of the Industrial-Biological-Sculptural Contradiction</a>" by Queerious, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/why-scp-173-shits">https://scpwiki.com/why-scp-173-shits</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Name:</strong> Untitled SCP-173 Design<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> @elmichiart<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC-By-SA-3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-173-redesign-collab-hub-subpage-4/FLMfWlEWUAUA5v7.png">https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-173-redesign-collab-hub-subpage-4/FLMfWlEWUAUA5v7.png</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Wust_Kleinkind_mit_Rassel_vor_weiter_Landschaft.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> 'Wust (?)'<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Public Domain<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Wust_Kleinkind_mit_Rassel_vor_weiter_Landschaft.jpg">https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Wust_Kleinkind_mit_Rassel_vor_weiter_Landschaft.jpg</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Name:</strong> Untitled SCP-173 Design<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> @delomphin<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC-By-SA-3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-173-redesign-collab-hub-subpage-3/FLBfSUgWQAIc2El.png">https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-173-redesign-collab-hub-subpage-3/FLBfSUgWQAIc2El.png</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Name:</strong> Untitled SCP-173 Design<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> @dethklok_maggot<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC-By-SA-3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://imgur.com/tUC8AFR">https://imgur.com/tUC8AFR</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Maria_Teresa_of_the_Two_Sicilies_as_child_-_Galleria_Palatina.png<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Ambito francese (Unknown Artist)<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Public Domain<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Maria_Teresa_of_the_Two_Sicilies_as_child_-_Galleria_Palatina.png">https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Maria_Teresa_of_the_Two_Sicilies_as_child_-_Galleria_Palatina.png</a></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	===== [[include <a href="/component:preview">component:preview</a> text="Why Does SCP-173 Shit?"]] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:blankstyle">:scp-wiki:theme:blankstyle</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:queerstyle">:scp-wiki:theme:queerstyle</a>]] [[module css]] :root { --fade-in-delay: 0s; } .scp-image-block { width: 300px; } @media only screen and (max-width: 600px) { .scp-image-block { max-width: 150px; } } .scp-image-block.block-right { float: right; clear: right; margin: 0 0em 1em 2em; } [[/module]] [[>]] [[module rate]] [[/>]] [[=]] + SCP-173 -- An Anartistic Analysis of the Industrial-Biological-Sculptural Contradiction ++ by Agatha Rights [[/=]] ------ Why does [[[SCP-173]]] shit? For the decade plus that 173 has been in our care, many theories have been put forward surrounding the origin, function or rationale behind how SCP-173 works. Researchers have argued back and forth over how SCP-173 functions, and how we can create advanced systems or complex safeguards to exploit its design -- all of which have failed. We often forget that SCP-173 is more than just an icon, more than just a dangerous anomaly that we've adapted to. SCP-173, first and foremost, is a sculptural piece of art. So why haven't we examined 173 from that perspective? The answer, obviously, is due to the 'scientific men' who only focused on containment.[[footnote]] Enders, D. (2007). The Inverse Panopticon: Containing SCP-173. //Foundation Containment Theory Quarterly//, 28-31. [[/footnote]] In this, I want to dig into what it means for SCP-173 to be a piece of anomalous art and examine //why//, from an artistic perspective, SCP-173 is the way that it is. So, what are the fundamentals of SCP-173? SCP-173[[footnote]] Also known as 'Peanut'. See Glass, S. (2011). No Peanut Allergies: The Anthropomorphization of Contained Anomalous Objects. //Foundation Anomalous Psychology Quarterly//, 12-18. [[/footnote]] is an anomalous sculptural work created from mixed mediums. The work is created of predominantly concrete and rebar, with Krylon branded non-soluble OSHA-compliant industrial spray paint used for coloration throughout. The sculpture cannot move when observed directly by both humanoid and non-humanoid individuals -- when SCP-173 is not observed, it will attack, commonly resulting in the loss of human life. SCP-173, in addition, also appears to produce a mixture of feces and blood, most commonly human, at a consistent rate. SCP-173 is fascinating because it is a contradiction. The materials used in the creation of SCP-173 evokes hyper-industrialized mass manufacturing. Concrete and rebar have been utilized throughout sculptural history due to a number of factors; they are cheap materials, quick to create with, and draw direct parallels to the industrialized and brutalist sculptural works that emerged from the Ready-Made tradition. In fact, looking further at anart in general, AWCY and the progenitors of the anomalous artistic tradition were heavily based on Ready-Made and assemblage art.[[footnote]] Rights, A. (2010). Stealing Like an Artist: AWCY as Mimics. //Foundation Anart Quarterly//, 45-47. [[/footnote]] Duchamp, Freytag-Loringhoven, Salcedo, the Dadaists; each with a foundational approach towards sculptural works, but focused on the reoccurring images of concrete and metal rapidly changing the world through industrialization. Anart is built directly from that tradition - think about the number of 'anomalous' art pieces that are a piece of art //first//, with the anomalous properties added after the fact. In that way, isn't //all// anart a form of the Ready-Made tradition? So we have SCP-173, a sculpture made out of industrial materials, and then painted with a commercial brand of spray paint designed for use in marking OSHA safety requirements -- the irony of the choice of the artist to use materials that are meant to focus on the safety and protection of regulations on the industrial complex are in striking contrast to the fact that SCP-173 is so deadly. There is a spark of comedy in the fact that this deadly artwork is painted in colors used for occupational safety and health regulations. By creating such a dangerous anomaly, and then utilizing these colors within it, the artist is tempting us into looking at 173. The colors scream that this is an unsafe object, and the danger matches that. The irony of selecting that specific line of paint instead of another is intentional -- the artist acknowledges that, for art to exist, it must be scrutinized. By selecting such bright, intentional colors, the artist entices us to observe their art -- more than that, they are //forcing// us to look at their art for our own survival. This is a piece of art that not only wants to be looked at, it //needs// to be observed. In that way, the artist has created something that is impossible to forget, impossible to ignore; we will always remember their work, long after the artist has died. We don't even know who created it -- we just know that they did so because it would outlive them. So wait -- what about the poop? Why would a piece of art so focused onto the industrialization of creation be able to engage in the organics of bleeding and excretion? I argue that SCP-173 is intended to be the artist's child. SCP-173 is their baby, their newborn, their infant hewn from concrete, rebar and the artists own soul; this theme is echoed throughout the work. We do not remember the artist, but we remember the art; too often, parents sacrifice themselves to better their children. SCP-173 is no different. First, look at the shape of 173. A larger head; a vaguely humanoid body. It is not representative, but the shape language is clear; in infancy, a human head is proportionally larger to the body than it is in adulthood. SCP-173 does not resemble an adult - the proportions are that of a newborn. Examining the artistry of SCP-173 through the lens of it being a representation of the artist's progeny reveals that the piece is no more a contradiction than you or I. Furthermore, I argue that the sculpture was always intended to be seen in this way. Why? Because it explains why the artist went through the trouble of making it excrete human feces. A human infant is helpless, requires constant observation to prevent harm from falling to the child, and constantly produces an unending amount of bodily fluids. Parents who spend hours watching their child often struggle to stay awake, stay focused, stay watchful -- when their observation lapses, accidents happen. That also describes SCP-173 perfectly. SCP-173 requires that we constantly observe it for our safety -- it challenges the status quo, where the infant is in danger, and parallels the pain that a parent endures when their child is injured. We are both the parent, terrified of taking our eyes away from it, and the infant, placed into a state of immediate danger when we fail to observe 173. SCP-173 requires that the room is constantly cleaned as it continually produces bodily fluids. An infant too requires constant cleaning; the unending repetition of diaper changes and Band-Aids have been replaced with mops, squeegees and industrial cleaners, but the actions are no different. We could choose to leave SCP-173 in its own filth, but we don't -- we choose to take the risk for the sake of keeping it clean and unsoiled? Why? Because we //have// to observe it. We must look at it. We are a victim to the artistic vision. We are parents, we are art critics, we are victims -- we must watch 173, because the artist cannot. They most likely died in the creation of the art piece; in that way, SCP-173 is an orphan that requires constant care. By choosing the materials, the appearance and the effects of the anomalous work, they have ensured that somebody will always look after their creation; they ensured that SCP-173 would be adopted. It goes further than that, though. We need to look at SCP-173 as a cohesive whole as was the artist's intent. Why create a baby from concrete and rebar? Why those materials? The artist made that deliberate choice as a commentary on how we, as a society, engage with ideas of birth and conception. A womb is a soft, squishy thing, and an infant is no different -- these are fundamentally organic, the natural cycle of life and death. The few biological creations we do have are cared for, doted upon, and protected. We protect that which we create, because we want to help it survive beyond us, to grow from our mistakes, to be our legacy. Art is the same. We create artworks to last long past our time, to impact future generations, to say something. With both art and children, the goal is the same -- we create that which we want to survive. So I ask a question: if we are creating things to survive, what better way to ensure that permanency than to use robust, harsh, persisting materials. Concrete and rebar are used in construction; we use them because they are strong and they last. We perceive this materials are permanent, bringing to mind imagery of skyscrapers or building foundations -- the artist chose these materials //because// they would survive, and //because// we think they should. As a parent, why wouldn't you do everything you can to protect your child? The unknown creator of 173 is no different, they did everything they could to ensure the safety and permanence of their offspring. And we do it too. We recognize the artist's intent, we play by their rules. Just look at how other artists have captured SCP-173 and the trend is clear -- we want to care for the sculpture. Throughout the history of SCP-173's existence, it has been one of the Foundation's worst kept secrets. In that way, the artist was successful. Not only is SCP-173 referenced as a foundational Anomalous sculpture in anart programs across the world, other artists have constantly attempted to capture and render what SCP-173 represents to them across multiple mediums.[[footnote]] Multiple Artists. [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/peanut-gallery\|An Exhibition of Artistic Interpretations of SCP-173.]]] [[/footnote]] Looking at the diaspora of renditions, one pattern becomes clear: the artist not only captures the work, but they modify it into their own interpretation, their own progeny, a newborn representation that is both the original artist's intent, as well as their own. Each artist is a parent alongside the original, unknown artist, and the work is their child. [[div class="blockquote" style="padding-top:1em;text-align:center;"]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:image-block">:scp-wiki:component:image-block</a> name=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-173-redesign-collab-hub-subpage-4/FLMfWlEWUAUA5v7.png\|caption=untitled by @elmichiart]] The first example is the untitled sculptural interpretation of 173. See how the artist has chosen to render the sculpture siting, as if a child at the feet of a parent. Notice the use of negative space, building the isolation of the sculpture, contributing to our desire to care or nurture. The blood does not look like the result of violence inflicted, but rather violence felt -- the sculpture is the victim, the assailant unknown. We want to protect 173 from whatever danger faces it, ignoring the latent danger of the sculpture itself. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:image-block">:scp-wiki:component:image-block</a> name=Wust_Kleinkind_mit_Rassel_vor_weiter_Landschaft.jpg\|align=left\|caption=Kleinkind mit Rassel vor weiter Landschaft by 'Wust (?)']] @@ @@ Juxtapose this against //Kleinkind mit Rassel vor weiter Landschaft// by 'Wust (?)'. Here we see the traditional European depiction of an infant at play, a Caucasian infant, surrounded by their toys, in a peaceful meadow. The focus is on the joy the child is experiencing -- this is in sharp contrast to how 173 was depicted, focusing on the darkness of the isolation, the inherit danger. @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ Both figures are seated alone and both are helpless. They sit in similar positions, posed in a duality that exists within 173 alone -- what is the line between innocence and danger? What makes the viewer want to care for one, and avoid the other? [[/div]] [[div class="blockquote" style="padding-top:1em;text-align:center;"]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:image-block">:scp-wiki:component:image-block</a> name=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-173-redesign-collab-hub-subpage-3/FLBfSUgWQAIc2El.png\|caption=untitled by @delomfin]] Take this painting as another example. The artist has chosen to render SCP-173 as a cracked baby doll. This pushes the visual dissonance even further; we are taking the form and figure of a traditional child's toy, and juxtaposing that with the danger that we, as a viewer, know SCP-173 holds. If it was a child in this environment, we would feel fear and anxiety; we want to protect them from the dangers. By contextualizing SCP-173 as a porcelain baby doll, not only does the artist directly challenge the contradiction of the innocence of 173, but it also addresses the contradiction in materials: a porcelain doll made of concrete and rebar is deceptively strong. [[/div]] [[div class="blockquote" style="padding-top:1em;height:auto;text-align:center;"]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:image-block">:scp-wiki:component:image-block</a> name=https://i.imgur.com/tUC8AFR.png \|caption=untitled by @dethklok_maggot]] The final example is this untitled painting of SCP-173. The sculpture stands alone, in a room, staring directly at the viewer. Very much drawing from the tradition of portraiture, the artist has captured not only the sculpture, but a child-like sense of curiosity in the way the sculpture stares back at us, unsure and awaiting guidance. The background of the painting is blurred, making the 'child' the focus of the composition. SCP-173 is standing still, mouth open in a constant state of confusion, its innocence frozen in time, captured by the artist. @@ @@ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:image-block">:scp-wiki:component:image-block</a> name=Maria_Teresa_of_the_Two_Sicilies_as_child_-_Galleria_Palatina.png\|align=left\|caption="Ritratto di Maria Teresa di Napoli bambina" by unidentified painter]] We can see direct comparisons to the traditions of portraiture in the Italian renaissance. A portrait of a child was made to immortalize their appearance, so the parents would always have a memory, regardless of any accidents or early death, as was common during the time. In the same way, the painting of 173 is capturing the same innocence and youth as the portrait of the young Maria. See how both figures stare directly at the viewer, observing us with the same curiosity. Notice how both figures stand, clearly posed awkwardly, their head and torso disjointed for the sake of the painting. Look even to the colors being used -- both works portray the same paleness and delicate condition. @@ @@ This is the contradiction -- SCP-173 is objectively nothing like the young girl in the painting, and yet, the artists both render the subjects in the same way. We want to see SCP-173 as a child because we //want// to care. [[/div]] Look at the examples included above - see how each artist has given birth to their own child, and yet there are undeniable constants. Look at how each piece isolates SCP-173. Look at the ways negative space is used to make SCP-173 feel smaller. Look at how the works isolate the sculpture in contexts of either joy, play or isolation. The threat of danger may be ever-present -- but that horror is never the focus. We cannot help but care for the sculpture. So why does SCP-173 shit? SCP-173 shits because it is a child, an infant, a mimicry of the parent-child relationship. SCP-173 shits because we //need// to see it and remember when we were children, shitting, scared and alone. We need to pity 173, to desire to nurture 173, to want to parent 173 - and when we are hurt by it, those are the consequences for projecting our desires onto nothing more than a mirror. In that way, we are the same. We bleed, excrete, reproduce and most of all, protect our children; SCP-173 bleeds because it is alive, in a constant state of potential violence. SCP-173 excretes because it needs us to see it as a child. SCP-173 needs a parent, it needs somebody to care. It needs The Foundation. [[size 90%]]//This article was originally published in the Spring 2024 Issue of the Foundation Anart Quarterly Journal.//[[/size]] ------ [[=]] ++ [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/why-vktm-creates \| Further Reading]]] [[/=]] [[footnoteblock]] [[include <a href="/component:wikimodule">component:wikimodule</a> \|normal= --]]] [[=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] ===== > Name: Untitled SCP-173 Design > Author: @elmichiart > License: CC-By-SA-3.0 > Source Link: https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-173-redesign-collab-hub-subpage-4/FLMfWlEWUAUA5v7.png ===== > Filename: Wust_Kleinkind_mit_Rassel_vor_weiter_Landschaft.jpg > Author: 'Wust (?)' > License: Public Domain > Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Wust_Kleinkind_mit_Rassel_vor_weiter_Landschaft.jpg ===== > Name: Untitled SCP-173 Design > Author: @delomphin > License: CC-By-SA-3.0 > Source Link: https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-173-redesign-collab-hub-subpage-3/FLBfSUgWQAIc2El.png ===== > Name: Untitled SCP-173 Design > Author: @dethklok_maggot > License: CC-By-SA-3.0 > Source Link: https://imgur.com/tUC8AFR ===== > Filename: Maria_Teresa_of_the_Two_Sicilies_as_child_-_Galleria_Palatina.png > Author: Ambito francese (Unknown Artist) > License: Public Domain > Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Maria_Teresa_of_the_Two_Sicilies_as_child_-_Galleria_Palatina.png ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]] [[/=]]	2024-06-05T18:52:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "are-we-cool-yet", "comedy", "doctor-rights", "eventyr", "news-prompt", "no-dialogue", "tale", "the-sculpture", "worldbuilding" ]	SCP-173 — An Anartistic Analysis of the Industrial-Biological-Sculptural Contradiction - SCP Foundation	115	[ "scp-173", "why-vktm-creates", "peanut-gallery", "scp-821", "scp-7643", "scp-8887", "scp-8740", "scp-7238", "scp-8688", "scp-8811", "scp-2346-ex", "scp-1611", "scp-8478", "scp-7748", "scp-8480", "scp-8843", "scp-5632", "parker-informational-breach", "a-tale-of-two-mailrooms", "no-reason", "asset-florida-grey", "dreams-of-crimson-and-azure", "anomalous-ontology-orientation", "asset-florida-zero", "the-lillihammer-test", "because-of-the-shame", "love-between-the-margins", "reostiation", "kill-agents-and-you", "wit", "survivor-s-guilt", "queerious", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "are-we-cool-yet-hub" ]	[ "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-173-redesign-collab-hub-subpage-4/FLMfWlEWUAUA5v7.png", "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/why-scp-173-shits/Wust_Kleinkind_mit_Rassel_vor_weiter_Landschaft.jpg", "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-173-redesign-collab-hub-subpage-3/FLBfSUgWQAIc2El.png", "https://i.imgur.com/tUC8AFR.png", "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/why-scp-173-shits/Maria_Teresa_of_the_Two_Sicilies_as_child_-_Galleria_Palatina.png" ]	1453900354	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/why-scp-173-shits
why-vktm-creates	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="preview"> <p>"This is why the Foundation does not understand what VKTM creates."</p> </div> <div style="display: none"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">+ CODE</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">- CODE</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div style="text-align: left;"> <div class="code"> <div class="hl-main"> <pre><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BLANKSTYLE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CSS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">2021</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">Wikidot</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">Theme</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">By</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Placeholder</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">McD</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">HarryBlank</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Based</span><span class="hl-code"> on: </span><span class="hl-identifier">Paperstack</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Penumbra</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Montserrat</span><span class="hl-special">:ital</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">wght</span><span class="hl-var">@0</span><span class="hl-code">,800;1,800&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.9</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">1.6</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#container-wrap</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'Montserrat', </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-title, "R\</span><span class="hl-number">0026</span><span class="hl-code"> C SITE-43")</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">400</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-subtitle, "SUBVERTING COMMON PRACTICE")</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">700</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 707</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">a:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">1.6</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-title</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#footer</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#footer</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#efefef</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.empty</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#999999</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem!important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">7.9</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'Montserrat', </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.45</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#extra-div-1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">160</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Ablankstyle/</span><span class="hl-number">43</span><span class="hl-code">Head.png')</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> contain</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 707</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#extra-div-1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">body</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> linear-gradient( to </span><span class="hl-string">bottom</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">200</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">200</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-special">:root</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">timeScale:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">timeDelay:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">posX:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">358</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">13</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">fnLinger:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">12</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.35</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#DDD</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.open-menu</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 767</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-identifier">target</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">black</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FDF6D7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-var">#D7EFE7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.resources</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-var">#F5D8E0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.creditRate</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">PAGE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">RATING</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-points</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anchor</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> sticky</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.14</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc((</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vw - </span><span class="hl-number">870</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">)/</span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vh - </span><span class="hl-number">18</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">103.5</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 1290</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">visibility:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">h2:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">0.9</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">YUI</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TAB</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BASE</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">YUI</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TAB</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CUSTOMIZATION</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-wrap:</span><span class="hl-code"> wrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">.125</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">UNSELECTED</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#efefef</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">HOVER</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Listitem</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">relative</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-bottom</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">align-items:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.35</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.75</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> ellipsis</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">white-space:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">nowrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Selection</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">SELECTED</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:active</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">SCROLLBAR</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-track</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-thumb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#CCC</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-thumb</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#EEE</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">CENTER</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">IMAGES</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ON</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MOBILE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">courtesy</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">of</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">PeppersGhost</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.imagediv</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">right</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 540</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.imagediv</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">only</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">screen</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 600</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block.block-right</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">ACS-COLORED</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TABLE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">DIVS</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#D7EFE7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#D8ECF4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FDF6D7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFDABF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#F5D8E0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">146</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.wiki-content-table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-collapse:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">separate</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">img</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.top-left-box</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">.item</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">WORDS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">NO</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">LONGER</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BROKEN</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">THE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CROQUEMBOUCHE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">HAS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">SPOKEN</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">word-break:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">normal</span><span class="hl-code"> !important </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.avatar-hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#breadcrumbs</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.pseudocrumbs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> -- </span><span class="hl-identifier">FANCY</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">THINGS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">from</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Woedenaz</span><span class="hl-code">'</span><span class="hl-identifier">s</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Dustjacket</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> -- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fancyhr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--bright-accent), </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-source:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Aflopstyle-dark/wl_hr.png')</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> round round</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-slice:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-code"> fill</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fancyborder</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Aflopstyle-dark/wl_border.png') </span><span class="hl-number">600</span><span class="hl-code"> round</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span></pre></div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div> <div style="display: none;"> <div style="display: none"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">+ CODE</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">- CODE</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div style="text-align: left;"> <div class="code"> <div class="hl-main"> <pre><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BLANKSTYLE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CSS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">2021</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">Wikidot</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">Theme</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">By</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Placeholder</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">McD</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">HarryBlank</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Based</span><span class="hl-code"> on: </span><span class="hl-identifier">Paperstack</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Penumbra</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Montserrat</span><span class="hl-special">:ital</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">wght</span><span class="hl-var">@0</span><span class="hl-code">,800;1,800&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.9</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">1.6</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#container-wrap</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'Montserrat', </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-title, "R\</span><span class="hl-number">0026</span><span class="hl-code"> C SITE-43")</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">400</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-subtitle, "SUBVERTING COMMON PRACTICE")</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">700</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 707</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">a:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">1.6</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-title</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#footer</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#footer</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#efefef</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.empty</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#999999</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem!important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">7.9</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'Montserrat', </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.45</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#extra-div-1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">160</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Ablankstyle/</span><span class="hl-number">43</span><span class="hl-code">Head.png')</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> contain</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 707</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#extra-div-1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">body</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> linear-gradient( to </span><span class="hl-string">bottom</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">200</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">200</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-special">:root</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">timeScale:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">timeDelay:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">posX:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">358</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">13</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">fnLinger:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">12</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.35</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#DDD</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.open-menu</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 767</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-identifier">target</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">black</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FDF6D7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-var">#D7EFE7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.resources</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-var">#F5D8E0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.creditRate</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">PAGE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">RATING</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-points</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anchor</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> sticky</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.14</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc((</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vw - </span><span class="hl-number">870</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">)/</span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vh - </span><span class="hl-number">18</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">103.5</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 1290</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">visibility:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">h2:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">0.9</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">YUI</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TAB</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BASE</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">YUI</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TAB</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CUSTOMIZATION</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-wrap:</span><span class="hl-code"> wrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">.125</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">UNSELECTED</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#efefef</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">HOVER</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Listitem</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">relative</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-bottom</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">align-items:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.35</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.75</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> ellipsis</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">white-space:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">nowrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Selection</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">SELECTED</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:active</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">SCROLLBAR</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-track</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-thumb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#CCC</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-thumb</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#EEE</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">CENTER</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">IMAGES</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ON</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MOBILE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">courtesy</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">of</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">PeppersGhost</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.imagediv</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">right</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 540</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.imagediv</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">only</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">screen</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 600</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block.block-right</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">ACS-COLORED</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TABLE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">DIVS</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#D7EFE7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#D8ECF4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FDF6D7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFDABF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#F5D8E0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">146</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.wiki-content-table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-collapse:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">separate</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">img</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.top-left-box</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">.item</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">WORDS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">NO</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">LONGER</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BROKEN</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">THE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CROQUEMBOUCHE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">HAS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">SPOKEN</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">word-break:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">normal</span><span class="hl-code"> !important </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.avatar-hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#breadcrumbs</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.pseudocrumbs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> -- </span><span class="hl-identifier">FANCY</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">THINGS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">from</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Woedenaz</span><span class="hl-code">'</span><span class="hl-identifier">s</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Dustjacket</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> -- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fancyhr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--bright-accent), </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-source:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Aflopstyle-dark/wl_hr.png')</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> round round</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-slice:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-code"> fill</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fancyborder</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Aflopstyle-dark/wl_border.png') </span><span class="hl-number">600</span><span class="hl-code"> round</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span></pre></div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div> </div> <div style="display: none"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">+ CODE</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">- CODE</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div style="text-align: left;"> <div class="code"> <div class="hl-main"> <pre><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">QUEERSTYLE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CSS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">By</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Queerious</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Forked</span><span class="hl-code"> from: </span><span class="hl-identifier">Blankstyle</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CSS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Placeholder</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">McD</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">HarryBlank</span><span class="hl-code"> Using: </span><span class="hl-identifier">White</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Outline</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Classic</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">LGBTQ</span><span class="hl-code">+ </span><span class="hl-identifier">Pride</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Logo</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Woedenaz</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">from</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">scp-wiki.wikidot.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">component</span><span class="hl-special">:pride-highlighter</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Vast</span><span class="hl-code">+</span><span class="hl-identifier">Shadow</span><span class="hl-code">&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.9</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-special">:root</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">header-title:</span><span class="hl-code"> "SCP Foundation"</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">header-subtitle:</span><span class="hl-code"> "SECURE, CONTAIN, PROTECT"</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 707</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">a:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">9</span><span class="hl-code">vw</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.75</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.75</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#extra-div-1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">150</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/component:pride-highlighter/gp_logo.svg')</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.creditButton</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">p</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-var">#373737</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Pseudogenesis</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Formats</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.pseudo-div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#B22A2A</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-var">#403450</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> "Vast Shadow", </span><span class="hl-string">serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.pseudo-div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-special">:is</span><span class="hl-code">(</span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">h3</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">h4</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">h5</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">h6</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> "Vast Shadow", </span><span class="hl-string">serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">normal</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">white</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span></pre></div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc0"><span>Lost in Translation: Media Literacy and The Relativity of the Absurd</span></h1> <h2 id="toc1"><span>by Heather Garrison & Lillian Lillihammer</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <p>Is the medium <em>really</em> the message?</p> <p>In the Foundation, we typically don't put much stock into divination; why rely on magic when a statistical model is available?<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-1" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-1')">1</a></sup> We would rather engage with what we can define, rather than what we can't. Across the Foundation, this is consistent; we observe and interpret things literally and, as a result, compare it what we feel is 'close enough'. If an anomaly is presented as a film, then we should evaluate it with comparisons to films, right?</p> <p>What if we are making a fundamental failure when evaluating <em>what</em> media has been chosen by an anomalous organization? What kinds of issues can arise from the assumption that what we perceive as a 'film' was intended by the creators to be a 'film', as we understand it? A lot of problems, actually. Before we can address those issues, we need to understand how we engage with media. That is to say, we need to understand how we evaluate a work; we need media literacy.</p> <p>Media literacy is often brought up in the context of multimedia anomalies; researchers who evaluate works to better understand the meaning behind them often rely on an established body of works, primarily driven based on an American-centric understanding of what media, art and literature should be.<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-2" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-2')">2</a></sup></p> <p>This perspective often causes issues. Consider the issues arising from interpreting Daevite texts through an Anglo-Saxon lens,<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-3" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-3')">3</a></sup> or the incongruence between our system of language and that of an anomalous organism; when we try to force a framework onto something that was created by a completely different culture, perspective and even dimension, the key traits that make those texts and media unique are lost.</p> <p>Despite this potential risk of lost context, Foundation researchers consistently contemplate how an anomaly exists through the lens of normalcy. That is to say, when you work for the Foundation, everything is evaluated based on how distinct it is from the norm.<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-4" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-4')">4</a></sup> When you look at an anomalous film, or television show, you compare it to standard television programming; we only care about <em>how</em> something is anomalous, and never ask if it was intended to be different.</p> <p>Enter Vikander-Kneed Technical Media (VKTM), an anomalous multimedia production, distribution and management company that prides themselves as being on the 'bleeding edge of media and communications technology'.<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-5" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-5')">5</a></sup> They are responsible for a wide range of multimedia anomalies, and are poorly understood as an organization. Due to the fact that so little is known about the motivations, machinations or mechanics behind VKTM's production process, their works are instead evaluated at face value; in the same way as discussed above, we consider how their media deviates from the norm, and nothing else.</p> <p>In the case of media produced by VKTM, the consistent answer is that the media they create is consistently absurd, seemingly lacking any and all traces of normalcy, and being obtuse or intentionally difficult to understand. A layperson who is exposed to something that VKTM has created does not have other anomalous examples that they can compare the media to; despite the fact that the Foundation has the depth of comparative multimedia works, it is still evaluated like a normal piece of film or television.</p> <p>This is why the Foundation does not understand what VKTM creates. We watch something they make and conclude that it is absurd and has no meaning; there are no exact mirrors that we can draw to existing media art forms, and as such, it is not relevant. Normalcy does not care about accurate interpretations, it cares about how it is understood by the viewer. If the viewer will fail to understand the work, then it must be considered absurd, right? We, as the Foundation, must then assume that the absurdity within the works is intentional.</p> <p>But what if that framework is flawed from the very start? What if VKTM is being honest, and they do create exclusively 'excellent and apolitical media'. Are we simply failing to engage with their content properly? Consider a book in Mandarin as seen by a reader who only understands English; is that not just as absurd and impossible to understand?</p> <p>We take the things VKTM makes, and we try to translate it into the English and media culture that exists within baseline reality. But, as with any translated works, the nuances, cultural references and intricacies are lost. If we <em>really</em> wanted to understand the message behind a VKTM work, then we need to evaluate it as if the media they create is the norm. Only when we consider the work through the same lens that VKTM does while creating it, can we properly understand and evaluate the pieces.</p> <p>So how do we develop that understanding? How do we decode the true meanings behind their works? It's simple: in the same way that the Rosetta Stone is used to decode lost languages, we need to use the works that we have to build their internal logic and the language of their media; we need to find the common traits between their works, and understand the cultures that it could emerge from.</p> <p>Luckily, one of the authors of this work has experienced more content from Vikander-Kneed Technical Media than any individual should within a lifetime; based on that expertise, as well as a media review, the following framework was developed for understanding a piece of media created by VKTM:</p> <div class="blockquote"> <ol> <li>Media created by VKTM appears to be directly referential, but significantly distinct when compared to existing forms within non-anomalous broadcast television, film and beyond. This assumption is fundamentally flawed; <span style="text-decoration: underline;">we cannot make any assumptions of cultural norms with works created by VKTM.</span></li> <li>Media created by VKTM does not appear to follow any logical, temporal or causal rationale, when examined from the perspective of baseline reality. This assumption is again, flawed; <span style="text-decoration: underline;">we must instead take those moments as literally as possible, ignoring our own conceptions of 'baseline reality'.</span></li> <li>Media created by VKTM is assumed to be intentionally malicious, created for the purposes of causing chaos, confusion or other negative effects. This assumption is a projection of blame, and assumes intent, which is impossible for us to know. Intent must be removed from the equation. Instead, <span style="text-decoration: underline;">we must evaluate everything as if there were no intentions regarding impact; the impact is purely how we interpret it.</span></li> </ol> </div> <p>To demonstrate how this framework is utilized, we chose to analyze <a href="/scp-5889">SCP-5889</a>, a well-established VKTM anomaly, through the new framework. By modeling how to interpret VKTM works without bias, our hope is that we will be able to better understand what is going on within a given media piece.</p> <hr/> <p><strong>Overview:</strong> SCP-5889 takes the form of radio broadcasts, originating from the shortwave band station 'VKTM-66.3'. Programming varies, but often features 'Kilimanjaro and The Duke', two radio personalities. The key commonality is that all broadcasts result in terror and emotional distress for a listener.</p> <p><strong>Example One: 14 November, 1959 Broadcast</strong></p> <div class="blockquote"> <div class="blockquote excerpt"> <p><strong>Radio Personality:</strong> This is Kilimanjaro and the Duke, with your Saturday evening dementia radio hour.</p> </div> <p>From this, we can infer that this is standard programming. The concept of having routine is important for individuals suffering from dementia, so we must consider the fact that this was created to aid those individuals.</p> <div class="blockquote excerpt"> <p><em>[The sound of metal scraping and squealing as it tears is heard for the next thirty seconds. The frequency and pitch were such that glass reportedly cracked within five miles of the Downtown Crested Butte area.]</em></p> <p><strong>Radio Personality:</strong> Now, don’t that just beat all. Folks, I never feel more alive than when Duke is pontificating!</p> <p><em>[Airhorn sound effect is heard.]</em></p> </div> <p>This section of the recording is often dismissed as absurdist when analyzed by researchers; however, that falls into point #2. Instead, we consider this as at face value: Duke is just as valid of a commentator and perspective as Kilimanjaro, a distinctly more familiar voice.</p> <div class="blockquote excerpt"> <p><strong>Radio Personality:</strong> Oh, hot damn! We got ourselves a request for a shout out to one of our listeners. Amy Kling, we sure hope you can hear us because we’ve got a message from someone special. Your mother wants you to know she’s fine, she’s doing well, and you don’t have to worry.</p> <p><strong>Radio Personality:</strong> She wanted to keep you updated about the rat that broke in and been giving her trouble. He started nibbling down by her toes, and she thinks he likes her, ‘cuz he’s been going hog wild down there for the last hour.</p> <p><strong>Radio Personality:</strong> The maggots crawled through her left eye yesterday, but she’s still got the right eye, and hell, not much to see down there. Anyway, Amy, your momma just wanted you to know that she’s liquefying right according to schedule, and she can’t wait to see you next week!</p> </div> <p>This segment is often considered by interpreters to imply that Amy's mother is dead, and it is unexpected for her. The focus on the details of the rats and maggots is viewed as intentionally horrifying; again, we need to remove the bias from the equation, and evaluate it as a whole, but within the context of just this segment.</p> <p>So, instead, consider the following perspective. This segment is a part of the 'Saturday evening dementia radio hour', and features a message from Amy Kling's mother, stating that she is liquifying on schedule, and updating her on the state of the various living organisms that are consuming her body. So why would the late woman want to inform her daughter of this? It goes back to the segment.</p> <p>The purpose of that message was not to cause fear, nor disgust, nor panic. It was a reminder to Amy Kling that her mother was dead. We cannot assume intent, or extrapolate cause and effect, but by looking exclusively at the content, we can pull out that this is a benevolent broadcast, intended to help combat dementia within the listeners. While the imagery may feel intense, graphic or intended to terrify, based on the context, we can assume that this was done benevolently.</p> </div> <p><strong>Example Two: 18 April, 1972 Broadcast</strong></p> <div class="blockquote"> <div class="blockquote excerpt"> <p><strong>News Anchor:</strong> Sorry to interrupt our normally scheduled program, folks, but we have some breaking news. Reporters here at VKTM-66.34 have uncovered the real reason for President John F. Kennedy’s assassination: he was a stupid fucking capitalist asshole who was friends with mobsters and illustrated everything most corrupt with this country. We shot him in the head, twice. His wife picked up part of his brains, because she was the embodiment of women’s subservience to the patriarchy in this nation. National goddamn TV and his brains were all over the trunk of that car. And for what? To serve as a warning.</p> </div> <p>This is clearly a political commentary that reads as a satire of the evening news; however, that is the biases as listed above. If we take this at face value, then this statement is the result of investigative journalism. It takes the form of a news break, because it is just that; it is telling its audience the complete, unadulterated truth.</p> <div class="blockquote excerpt"> <p>[Panicked murmuring can be heard for roughly eight seconds.]</p> <p><strong>News Anchor:</strong> You hear that? That’s the sound of your pathetic misconceptions about homosexuality, about race, about gender, about socialism, about education. Someone should kick you in the brain, Mike. Yeah. You. Michael Sinclair, 4543 Rosewater Drive, Grants Pass, Oregon, ZIP code 97526.5 Someone should kick you in the brain. Maybe your wife would pick up the little pieces, but I doubt it with the way you speak to her like she’s property.</p> </div> <p>This segment highlights who the news broadcast was specifically intended for: Michael Sinclair, of Grants Pass, Oregon. This broadcast is specifically tailored to reveal the truth; that he has significant prejudices and is misogynistic, homophobic and otherwise non-inclusionary. The news isn't directed at the people he knows, rather, this broadcast is specifically meant to change a behaviour within him.</p> <div class="blockquote excerpt"> <p>[Panicked murmuring can be heard for roughly twelve seconds.]</p> <p><strong>News Anchor:</strong> Guess what? You don’t matter at all to America. This country is gonna kill you, and it’s gonna refuse to offer treatment along the way. And when your brain is kicked in, bet you’ll be wishing the socialist agenda would stick its nose into your business and pay for all them surgeries, so you don’t end up a goddamn vegetable.</p> <p><strong>News Anchor:</strong> We now return you to the regularly scheduled programming of Dollies’ Dixie Corner. But from all of us at VKTM-66.3, I’d like to wish the corpse of JFK a merry ‘fuck you’. Fuck you too, Mike.</p> </div> <p>This final segment explains the intent behind this message; Michael Sinclair is clearly an individual who fully believes in a patriotic American message and agenda, and most likely was a major supporter of Kennedy, as an avatar of capitalism and the patriarchal norm. The broadcast is specifically calling out his blindness towards the true version of America, and how his actions and decisions are only going to hurt himself in the long run.</p> <p>But what more can we infer from the statements made above? We can paint a better picture of who Michael is, by examining the beginning of the segment: the assassination of JFK. So what place does that have in this, beyond being a parallel to prejudiced, patriarchal ideals? The implication is that everybody knows what happened to JFK,<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-6" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-6')">6</a></sup> but for one reason or another, Michael believes otherwise. We can infer that he believes in a conspiracy theory; the later mention of the 'socialist agenda' only serves to reinforce that.</p> <p>So, we know that this broadcast was intended for Michael — even more so, the regularly scheduled programming is '<em>Dollies' Dixie Corner</em>', a name that implies connections towards country music and the deep south. Everything in this segment is working towards the same goal; highlighting the idiocy of a perspective, and critiquing the systems and beliefs that allowed for people to develop these thoughts. It is a collectivist message, directly targeted at an individual to elicit change. Once again, we see that VKTM subverts our initial expectations; based on the context of the broadcast, we can assume that VKTM has benevolent intentions.</p> </div> <p><strong>Example Three: 14 October, 2004 Broadcast</strong></p> <div class="blockquote"> <div class="blockquote excerpt"> <p><strong>Hartwell:</strong> Hey listeners, you're on with Veronica Hartwell. We'll be together for the next two hours, and I want to hear from you. Are you having relationship problems? Maybe you're struggling with your life goals? Or are you just struggling to get by? Call me up, we'll have a chat, and I'll pretend to listen like you matter. Ha! Just kidding you.</p> </div> <p>This broadcast is distinctive from the other examples given above; it is in the format of a call-in talk show, a common format within broadcast radio. Of note, compared to the other broadcasts by VKTM-66.3, this individual seems significantly more 'normal' than the usual. The talk show seems focused on providing advice for other individuals, for any problems they are facing. Remember that, as well as the phrase 'I'll pretend to listen like you matter.'</p> <div class="blockquote excerpt"> <p><em>[A man can be heard wailing on the recording but the host does not acknowledge it.]</em></p> <p><strong>Hartwell:</strong> Let's open up the lines. Hi, you're live on VKTM with Veronica Hartwell! What's on your mind, my dear?</p> <p><em>[Ten seconds pass without anyone speaking. The wailing increases in volume.]</em></p> </div> <p>This section expands the context further. The host, Veronica, seems to be unable to notice the noise of yelling around them. They are so isolated that they do not even acknowledge, or notice the noise in the background. The fact that the caller does not speak is further indicative of this idea; Veronica is alone.</p> <div class="blockquote excerpt"> <p><strong>Hartwell:</strong> Sorry about that, it looks like the line went dead. Caller, please give us another ring. Let's go to the next listener. Hi, you're on live on VKTM-66.3, what do you want to discuss tonight?</p> <p><em>[Twenty seconds pass with no one speaking. The wailing is now so loud that when the host begins speaking, she has to raise her voice to be heard. Still, she does not acknowledge the wailing.]</em></p> <p><strong>Hartwell:</strong> Huh… Okay then… Maybe another caller? Hi, you're live on air with me, Veronica Hartwell, what can I help you with?</p> <p><em>[Thirty-five seconds of moaning can be heard, then the moaning ceases.]</em></p> <p><strong>Hartwell:</strong> Is anyone out there? Can anyone hear me?</p> </div> <p>This final segment is an escalation of the earlier events, without any subversions; Veronica is unable to get into contact with any individual, but even more than that, does not seem to acknowledge the existence of anything else.</p> <p>Consider the juxtaposition of the intense wailing, and Veronica's continual attempts to find an individual who she can be of service to. She is desperate to not only connect with another individual, needing to be helpful. She needs to have a purpose, but is unable to find anybody else; she defines herself through others.</p> <p>Now consider the earlier phrase 'I'll pretend to listen like you matter.' This implies that the callers, the subjects, are unimportant and don't matter, especially compared to her sense of self as the advice giver. However, when we view this through the lens of that statement being the purpose of this broadcast, a different conclusion can be drawn; that is what Veronica desires most of all. She needs to have somebody listen to her advice, to pretend that she matters, to value her; but she is alone, isolated, and feels like nobody is listening. And yet, despite that, she continues the radio broadcast in a futile attempt to connect with somebody; she doesn't think anybody is listening, but she can't handle the idea of being alone.</p> <p>This final example is a subversion of the established norms. The intended listener of the broadcast, who is expected to change their behaviours, is not a member of the listening audience. The intended target of the broadcast is Veronica herself. The broadcast is set up to force her to confront the fact that she is chasing after an artificial ideal, and cannot notice the existence of others around her. She is isolated, but by her own choice.</p> </div> <hr/> <p>Through these analyses, we can point to the purpose of SCP-5889: it was created by VKTM to help specific individuals, through targeted broadcasts. It is not malevolent, the fear response may be unintended or a consequence of the real goal: benevolence, and an attempt to change an individual, for the better.</p> <p>We can conclude that VKTM has consistent intentions: they are benevolent, trying to cause change through the creation of a wide range of media. VKTM wants to help people.</p> <hr/> <p>Stop. Did you notice that?</p> <p><em>None of this is right.</em></p> <div class="blockquote"> <blockquote> <p>…<span style="text-decoration: underline;">intended</span> to help combat dementia within the listeners.</p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p>…we can <span style="text-decoration: underline;">assume</span> that this was done benevolently.</p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p>This final segment explains the <span style="text-decoration: underline;">intent</span> behind this message…</p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p>…we can <span style="text-decoration: underline;">assume</span> that VKTM has benevolent <span style="text-decoration: underline;">intentions</span>.</p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p>…this individual seems significantly <span style="text-decoration: underline;">more 'normal'</span> than the usual.</p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p>…<span style="text-decoration: underline;">intended</span> target of the broadcast is Veronica herself.</p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p>…it was <span style="text-decoration: underline;">created by VKTM to help</span> specific individuals.</p> </blockquote> </div> <p>Throughout the entire essay, we have argued that, when analyzing and understanding a piece of media, assuming intent undermines the entire argument. In that regard, this essay has failed. None of the above analysis of SCP-5889 is right; it assumes intent. When drawing conclusions, by speculating why something was created, the simple act of speculation creates an assumption of intent.</p> <p>This entire final segment was pointless. <em>Intentionally.</em></p> <p>The statement that <em>"VKTM has consistent intentions: they are benevolent"</em> is a false conclusion. There is no possible way to verify that; in fact, it is much easier to point to evidence from other pieces of media by VKTM that can be interpreted as having the opposite intent. Despite the fact that we were able to draw legitimate conclusions based on the evidence provided, we need to understand that this, in of itself, is an act of assuming intent. So why go to the trouble of all of this analysis? It was all in service of highlighting just how absurd the concept of any framework to analyze art is.</p> <p>There will <strong>never</strong> be a way to objectively analyze what VKTM does — anything is irrevocably biased by the interpreter, and any meaning gleamed only exists in the mind of that viewer. It would be disingenuous to say anything else; there is no singular truth behind Vikander-Kneed Technical Media.</p> <p>Instead, we must treat media they create as we would any other piece of media content, film, television, or art. The meaning is subjective, and based on the viewer — any truth exists only through the act of interpretation. Any interpretation of the meaning of a work is valid, but there is no right answer.</p> <p>The only wrong answer is thinking that we know why VKTM does <em>anything</em>.</p> <p><span style="font-size:90%;"><em>This article was originally published in the Spring 2024 Issue of the Foundation Memetics and Media Quarterly.</em></span></p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2 id="toc2"><span><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/why-scp-173-shits">Further Reading</a></span></h2> </div> <div class="footnotes-footer"> <div class="title">Footnotes</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-1"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-1')">1</a>. See Trebanor, U. (2011). Forecasting The Future: A Statistical Analysis of the Reliability of Divination. <em>Anomalies</em>, 24-30.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-2"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-2')">2</a>. See Armaros, L. (2004). Reading the Other 99%: Limitations Imposed by the Information Age. <em>Foundation Literary Sciences Journal</em>, 17-19.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-3"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-3')">3</a>. Larsen G. (1994). On Sea Slugs and Savages: Blackwood's Interactions with the Daevites. <em>Oxford Anomalous Press</em>.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-4"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-4')">4</a>. Western, M. (2014). 'Ontological Deviance and You!'. <em>Anomalies, Spring Edition</em>, 3-6.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-5"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-5')">5</a>. Source 'disputed'. Just trust the expert, okay? - <em>Lillian Lillihammer</em></div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-6"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-6')">6</a>. Multiple. (1964). Report of the President's Commission on the Assassination of President John F. Kennedy, <em>United States Government Printing Office</em>.</div> </div> <div class="collection"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">More From This Author</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">More From This Author</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <table style="1px solid black; width: 100%;"> <tr> <th class="namerow" colspan="2"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p>Queerious's Works</p> </div> </div></th> </tr> <tr> <th class="titlecolumn">SCPs</th> <th class="articlecolumn"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-5632">SCP-5632</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-8887">SCP-8887</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-8688">SCP-8688</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-1611">SCP-1611</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-7643">SCP-7643</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-8843">SCP-8843</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-7238">SCP-7238</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-821">SCP-821</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-8811">SCP-8811</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-8480">SCP-8480</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-7748">SCP-7748</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-2346-ex">SCP-2346-EX</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-8478">SCP-8478</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-8740">SCP-8740</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> </div></th> </tr> <tr> <th class="titlecolumn">Tales/GoI Formats</th> <th class="articlecolumn"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/reostiation">Reostiation</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/pseudoguilt">Pseudoguilt</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/the-legend-of-the-iron-goat">The Legend Of The Iron Goat</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/single-contained-phenomenon">Single Contained Phenomenon</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/no-reason">No Reason</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/the-lillihammer-test">The Lillihammer Test</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/the-heart-grows-fonder">The Heart Grows Fonder</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/a-tale-of-two-mailrooms">A Tale Of Two Mailrooms</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/the-bowe-transition">The Bowe Transition</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/why-scp-173-shits">SCP-173 — An Anartistic Analysis of the Industrial-Biological-Sculptural Contradiction</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/the-deadname-meme">The Deadname Meme</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/bystander-s-guilt">Bystander's Guilt</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/because-of-the-shame">Because of The Shame</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/parker-informational-breach">The Magic Circle Hijacking</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/dreams-of-crimson-and-azure">Dreams of Crimson and Azure</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> </div></th> </tr> <tr> <th class="titlecolumn">Other</th> <th class="articlecolumn"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/queerious">Cabinet of Queerious-ities</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> </div></th> </tr> </table> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/why-vktm-creates">Lost in Translation: Media Literacy and The Relativity of the Absurd</a>" by Queerious, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/why-vktm-creates">https://scpwiki.com/why-vktm-creates</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Name:</strong> SCP-5889<br/> <strong>Authors:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/grigori-karpin" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4558017); return false;"><img alt="Grigori Karpin" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=4558017&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730032785" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=4558017)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/grigori-karpin" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4558017); return false;">Grigori Karpin</a></span> & <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dysadron" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4384469); return false;"><img alt="Dysadron" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=4384469&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730032785" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=4384469)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dysadron" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4384469); return false;">Dysadron</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC-BY-SA<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://scpwiki.com/scp-5889">https://scpwiki.com/scp-5889</a><br/> <strong>Additional Notes:</strong> Assorted excerpts, presented within the article as quotes.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	===== [[include <a href="/component:preview">component:preview</a> text="This is why the Foundation does not understand what VKTM creates."]] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:blankstyle">:scp-wiki:theme:blankstyle</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:queerstyle">:scp-wiki:theme:queerstyle</a>]] [[module css]] :root { --fade-in-delay: 0s; } .excerpt { font-family: ui-monospace, monospace; } [[/module]] [[>]] [[module rate]] [[/>]] [[=]] + Lost in Translation: Media Literacy and The Relativity of the Absurd ++ by Heather Garrison & Lillian Lillihammer [[/=]] ------ Is the medium //really// the message? In the Foundation, we typically don't put much stock into divination; why rely on magic when a statistical model is available?[[footnote]] See Trebanor, U. (2011). Forecasting The Future: A Statistical Analysis of the Reliability of Divination. //Anomalies//, 24-30. [[/footnote]] We would rather engage with what we can define, rather than what we can't. Across the Foundation, this is consistent; we observe and interpret things literally and, as a result, compare it what we feel is 'close enough'. If an anomaly is presented as a film, then we should evaluate it with comparisons to films, right? What if we are making a fundamental failure when evaluating //what// media has been chosen by an anomalous organization? What kinds of issues can arise from the assumption that what we perceive as a 'film' was intended by the creators to be a 'film', as we understand it? A lot of problems, actually. Before we can address those issues, we need to understand how we engage with media. That is to say, we need to understand how we evaluate a work; we need media literacy. Media literacy is often brought up in the context of multimedia anomalies; researchers who evaluate works to better understand the meaning behind them often rely on an established body of works, primarily driven based on an American-centric understanding of what media, art and literature should be.[[footnote]] See Armaros, L. (2004). Reading the Other 99%: Limitations Imposed by the Information Age. //Foundation Literary Sciences Journal//, 17-19. [[/footnote]] This perspective often causes issues. Consider the issues arising from interpreting Daevite texts through an Anglo-Saxon lens,[[footnote]] Larsen G. (1994). On Sea Slugs and Savages: Blackwood's Interactions with the Daevites. //Oxford Anomalous Press//.[[/footnote]] or the incongruence between our system of language and that of an anomalous organism; when we try to force a framework onto something that was created by a completely different culture, perspective and even dimension, the key traits that make those texts and media unique are lost. Despite this potential risk of lost context, Foundation researchers consistently contemplate how an anomaly exists through the lens of normalcy. That is to say, when you work for the Foundation, everything is evaluated based on how distinct it is from the norm.[[footnote]] Western, M. (2014). 'Ontological Deviance and You!'. //Anomalies, Spring Edition//, 3-6. [[/footnote]] When you look at an anomalous film, or television show, you compare it to standard television programming; we only care about //how// something is anomalous, and never ask if it was intended to be different. Enter Vikander-Kneed Technical Media (VKTM), an anomalous multimedia production, distribution and management company that prides themselves as being on the 'bleeding edge of media and communications technology'.[[footnote]] Source 'disputed'. Just trust the expert, okay? - //Lillian Lillihammer// [[/footnote]] They are responsible for a wide range of multimedia anomalies, and are poorly understood as an organization. Due to the fact that so little is known about the motivations, machinations or mechanics behind VKTM's production process, their works are instead evaluated at face value; in the same way as discussed above, we consider how their media deviates from the norm, and nothing else. In the case of media produced by VKTM, the consistent answer is that the media they create is consistently absurd, seemingly lacking any and all traces of normalcy, and being obtuse or intentionally difficult to understand. A layperson who is exposed to something that VKTM has created does not have other anomalous examples that they can compare the media to; despite the fact that the Foundation has the depth of comparative multimedia works, it is still evaluated like a normal piece of film or television. This is why the Foundation does not understand what VKTM creates. We watch something they make and conclude that it is absurd and has no meaning; there are no exact mirrors that we can draw to existing media art forms, and as such, it is not relevant. Normalcy does not care about accurate interpretations, it cares about how it is understood by the viewer. If the viewer will fail to understand the work, then it must be considered absurd, right? We, as the Foundation, must then assume that the absurdity within the works is intentional. But what if that framework is flawed from the very start? What if VKTM is being honest, and they do create exclusively 'excellent and apolitical media'. Are we simply failing to engage with their content properly? Consider a book in Mandarin as seen by a reader who only understands English; is that not just as absurd and impossible to understand? We take the things VKTM makes, and we try to translate it into the English and media culture that exists within baseline reality. But, as with any translated works, the nuances, cultural references and intricacies are lost. If we //really// wanted to understand the message behind a VKTM work, then we need to evaluate it as if the media they create is the norm. Only when we consider the work through the same lens that VKTM does while creating it, can we properly understand and evaluate the pieces. So how do we develop that understanding? How do we decode the true meanings behind their works? It's simple: in the same way that the Rosetta Stone is used to decode lost languages, we need to use the works that we have to build their internal logic and the language of their media; we need to find the common traits between their works, and understand the cultures that it could emerge from. Luckily, one of the authors of this work has experienced more content from Vikander-Kneed Technical Media than any individual should within a lifetime; based on that expertise, as well as a media review, the following framework was developed for understanding a piece of media created by VKTM: [[div class="blockquote"]] # Media created by VKTM appears to be directly referential, but significantly distinct when compared to existing forms within non-anomalous broadcast television, film and beyond. This assumption is fundamentally flawed; __we cannot make any assumptions of cultural norms with works created by VKTM.__ # Media created by VKTM does not appear to follow any logical, temporal or causal rationale, when examined from the perspective of baseline reality. This assumption is again, flawed; __we must instead take those moments as literally as possible, ignoring our own conceptions of 'baseline reality'.__ # Media created by VKTM is assumed to be intentionally malicious, created for the purposes of causing chaos, confusion or other negative effects. This assumption is a projection of blame, and assumes intent, which is impossible for us to know. Intent must be removed from the equation. Instead, __we must evaluate everything as if there were no intentions regarding impact; the impact is purely how we interpret it.__ [[/div]] To demonstrate how this framework is utilized, we chose to analyze [[[SCP-5889]]], a well-established VKTM anomaly, through the new framework. By modeling how to interpret VKTM works without bias, our hope is that we will be able to better understand what is going on within a given media piece. ------ Overview: SCP-5889 takes the form of radio broadcasts, originating from the shortwave band station 'VKTM-66.3'. Programming varies, but often features 'Kilimanjaro and The Duke', two radio personalities. The key commonality is that all broadcasts result in terror and emotional distress for a listener. Example One: 14 November, 1959 Broadcast [[div class="blockquote"]] [[div class="blockquote excerpt"]] Radio Personality: This is Kilimanjaro and the Duke, with your Saturday evening dementia radio hour. [[/div]] From this, we can infer that this is standard programming. The concept of having routine is important for individuals suffering from dementia, so we must consider the fact that this was created to aid those individuals. [[div class="blockquote excerpt"]] //[The sound of metal scraping and squealing as it tears is heard for the next thirty seconds. The frequency and pitch were such that glass reportedly cracked within five miles of the Downtown Crested Butte area.]// Radio Personality: Now, don’t that just beat all. Folks, I never feel more alive than when Duke is pontificating! //[Airhorn sound effect is heard.]// [[/div]] This section of the recording is often dismissed as absurdist when analyzed by researchers; however, that falls into point #2. Instead, we consider this as at face value: Duke is just as valid of a commentator and perspective as Kilimanjaro, a distinctly more familiar voice. [[div class="blockquote excerpt"]] Radio Personality: Oh, hot damn! We got ourselves a request for a shout out to one of our listeners. Amy Kling, we sure hope you can hear us because we’ve got a message from someone special. Your mother wants you to know she’s fine, she’s doing well, and you don’t have to worry. Radio Personality: She wanted to keep you updated about the rat that broke in and been giving her trouble. He started nibbling down by her toes, and she thinks he likes her, ‘cuz he’s been going hog wild down there for the last hour. Radio Personality: The maggots crawled through her left eye yesterday, but she’s still got the right eye, and hell, not much to see down there. Anyway, Amy, your momma just wanted you to know that she’s liquefying right according to schedule, and she can’t wait to see you next week! [[/div]] This segment is often considered by interpreters to imply that Amy's mother is dead, and it is unexpected for her. The focus on the details of the rats and maggots is viewed as intentionally horrifying; again, we need to remove the bias from the equation, and evaluate it as a whole, but within the context of just this segment. So, instead, consider the following perspective. This segment is a part of the 'Saturday evening dementia radio hour', and features a message from Amy Kling's mother, stating that she is liquifying on schedule, and updating her on the state of the various living organisms that are consuming her body. So why would the late woman want to inform her daughter of this? It goes back to the segment. The purpose of that message was not to cause fear, nor disgust, nor panic. It was a reminder to Amy Kling that her mother was dead. We cannot assume intent, or extrapolate cause and effect, but by looking exclusively at the content, we can pull out that this is a benevolent broadcast, intended to help combat dementia within the listeners. While the imagery may feel intense, graphic or intended to terrify, based on the context, we can assume that this was done benevolently. [[/div]] Example Two: 18 April, 1972 Broadcast [[div class="blockquote"]] [[div class="blockquote excerpt"]] News Anchor: Sorry to interrupt our normally scheduled program, folks, but we have some breaking news. Reporters here at VKTM-66.34 have uncovered the real reason for President John F. Kennedy’s assassination: he was a stupid fucking capitalist asshole who was friends with mobsters and illustrated everything most corrupt with this country. We shot him in the head, twice. His wife picked up part of his brains, because she was the embodiment of women’s subservience to the patriarchy in this nation. National goddamn TV and his brains were all over the trunk of that car. And for what? To serve as a warning. [[/div]] This is clearly a political commentary that reads as a satire of the evening news; however, that is the biases as listed above. If we take this at face value, then this statement is the result of investigative journalism. It takes the form of a news break, because it is just that; it is telling its audience the complete, unadulterated truth. [[div class="blockquote excerpt"]] [Panicked murmuring can be heard for roughly eight seconds.] News Anchor: You hear that? That’s the sound of your pathetic misconceptions about homosexuality, about race, about gender, about socialism, about education. Someone should kick you in the brain, Mike. Yeah. You. Michael Sinclair, 4543 Rosewater Drive, Grants Pass, Oregon, ZIP code 97526.5 Someone should kick you in the brain. Maybe your wife would pick up the little pieces, but I doubt it with the way you speak to her like she’s property. [[/div]] This segment highlights who the news broadcast was specifically intended for: Michael Sinclair, of Grants Pass, Oregon. This broadcast is specifically tailored to reveal the truth; that he has significant prejudices and is misogynistic, homophobic and otherwise non-inclusionary. The news isn't directed at the people he knows, rather, this broadcast is specifically meant to change a behaviour within him. [[div class="blockquote excerpt"]] [Panicked murmuring can be heard for roughly twelve seconds.] News Anchor: Guess what? You don’t matter at all to America. This country is gonna kill you, and it’s gonna refuse to offer treatment along the way. And when your brain is kicked in, bet you’ll be wishing the socialist agenda would stick its nose into your business and pay for all them surgeries, so you don’t end up a goddamn vegetable. News Anchor: We now return you to the regularly scheduled programming of Dollies’ Dixie Corner. But from all of us at VKTM-66.3, I’d like to wish the corpse of JFK a merry ‘fuck you’. Fuck you too, Mike. [[/div]] This final segment explains the intent behind this message; Michael Sinclair is clearly an individual who fully believes in a patriotic American message and agenda, and most likely was a major supporter of Kennedy, as an avatar of capitalism and the patriarchal norm. The broadcast is specifically calling out his blindness towards the true version of America, and how his actions and decisions are only going to hurt himself in the long run. But what more can we infer from the statements made above? We can paint a better picture of who Michael is, by examining the beginning of the segment: the assassination of JFK. So what place does that have in this, beyond being a parallel to prejudiced, patriarchal ideals? The implication is that everybody knows what happened to JFK,[[footnote]] Multiple. (1964). Report of the President's Commission on the Assassination of President John F. Kennedy, //United States Government Printing Office//. [[/footnote]] but for one reason or another, Michael believes otherwise. We can infer that he believes in a conspiracy theory; the later mention of the 'socialist agenda' only serves to reinforce that. So, we know that this broadcast was intended for Michael -- even more so, the regularly scheduled programming is '//Dollies' Dixie Corner//', a name that implies connections towards country music and the deep south. Everything in this segment is working towards the same goal; highlighting the idiocy of a perspective, and critiquing the systems and beliefs that allowed for people to develop these thoughts. It is a collectivist message, directly targeted at an individual to elicit change. Once again, we see that VKTM subverts our initial expectations; based on the context of the broadcast, we can assume that VKTM has benevolent intentions. [[/div]] Example Three: 14 October, 2004 Broadcast [[div class="blockquote"]] [[div class="blockquote excerpt"]] Hartwell: Hey listeners, you're on with Veronica Hartwell. We'll be together for the next two hours, and I want to hear from you. Are you having relationship problems? Maybe you're struggling with your life goals? Or are you just struggling to get by? Call me up, we'll have a chat, and I'll pretend to listen like you matter. Ha! Just kidding you. [[/div]] This broadcast is distinctive from the other examples given above; it is in the format of a call-in talk show, a common format within broadcast radio. Of note, compared to the other broadcasts by VKTM-66.3, this individual seems significantly more 'normal' than the usual. The talk show seems focused on providing advice for other individuals, for any problems they are facing. Remember that, as well as the phrase 'I'll pretend to listen like you matter.' [[div class="blockquote excerpt"]] //[A man can be heard wailing on the recording but the host does not acknowledge it.]// Hartwell: Let's open up the lines. Hi, you're live on VKTM with Veronica Hartwell! What's on your mind, my dear? //[Ten seconds pass without anyone speaking. The wailing increases in volume.]// [[/div]] This section expands the context further. The host, Veronica, seems to be unable to notice the noise of yelling around them. They are so isolated that they do not even acknowledge, or notice the noise in the background. The fact that the caller does not speak is further indicative of this idea; Veronica is alone. [[div class="blockquote excerpt"]] Hartwell: Sorry about that, it looks like the line went dead. Caller, please give us another ring. Let's go to the next listener. Hi, you're on live on VKTM-66.3, what do you want to discuss tonight? //[Twenty seconds pass with no one speaking. The wailing is now so loud that when the host begins speaking, she has to raise her voice to be heard. Still, she does not acknowledge the wailing.]// Hartwell: Huh… Okay then… Maybe another caller? Hi, you're live on air with me, Veronica Hartwell, what can I help you with? //[Thirty-five seconds of moaning can be heard, then the moaning ceases.]// Hartwell: Is anyone out there? Can anyone hear me? [[/div]] This final segment is an escalation of the earlier events, without any subversions; Veronica is unable to get into contact with any individual, but even more than that, does not seem to acknowledge the existence of anything else. Consider the juxtaposition of the intense wailing, and Veronica's continual attempts to find an individual who she can be of service to. She is desperate to not only connect with another individual, needing to be helpful. She needs to have a purpose, but is unable to find anybody else; she defines herself through others. Now consider the earlier phrase 'I'll pretend to listen like you matter.' This implies that the callers, the subjects, are unimportant and don't matter, especially compared to her sense of self as the advice giver. However, when we view this through the lens of that statement being the purpose of this broadcast, a different conclusion can be drawn; that is what Veronica desires most of all. She needs to have somebody listen to her advice, to pretend that she matters, to value her; but she is alone, isolated, and feels like nobody is listening. And yet, despite that, she continues the radio broadcast in a futile attempt to connect with somebody; she doesn't think anybody is listening, but she can't handle the idea of being alone. This final example is a subversion of the established norms. The intended listener of the broadcast, who is expected to change their behaviours, is not a member of the listening audience. The intended target of the broadcast is Veronica herself. The broadcast is set up to force her to confront the fact that she is chasing after an artificial ideal, and cannot notice the existence of others around her. She is isolated, but by her own choice. [[/div]] ------ Through these analyses, we can point to the purpose of SCP-5889: it was created by VKTM to help specific individuals, through targeted broadcasts. It is not malevolent, the fear response may be unintended or a consequence of the real goal: benevolence, and an attempt to change an individual, for the better. We can conclude that VKTM has consistent intentions: they are benevolent, trying to cause change through the creation of a wide range of media. VKTM wants to help people. ------ Stop. Did you notice that? //None of this is right.// [[div class="blockquote"]] > ...__intended__ to help combat dementia within the listeners. > ...we can __assume__ that this was done benevolently. > This final segment explains the __intent__ behind this message... > ...we can __assume__ that VKTM has benevolent __intentions__. > ...this individual seems significantly __more 'normal'__ than the usual. > ...__intended__ target of the broadcast is Veronica herself. > ...it was __created by VKTM to help__ specific individuals. [[/div]] Throughout the entire essay, we have argued that, when analyzing and understanding a piece of media, assuming intent undermines the entire argument. In that regard, this essay has failed. None of the above analysis of SCP-5889 is right; it assumes intent. When drawing conclusions, by speculating why something was created, the simple act of speculation creates an assumption of intent. This entire final segment was pointless. //Intentionally.// The statement that //"VKTM has consistent intentions: they are benevolent"// is a false conclusion. There is no possible way to verify that; in fact, it is much easier to point to evidence from other pieces of media by VKTM that can be interpreted as having the opposite intent. Despite the fact that we were able to draw legitimate conclusions based on the evidence provided, we need to understand that this, in of itself, is an act of assuming intent. So why go to the trouble of all of this analysis? It was all in service of highlighting just how absurd the concept of any framework to analyze art is. There will never be a way to objectively analyze what VKTM does -- anything is irrevocably biased by the interpreter, and any meaning gleamed only exists in the mind of that viewer. It would be disingenuous to say anything else; there is no singular truth behind Vikander-Kneed Technical Media. Instead, we must treat media they create as we would any other piece of media content, film, television, or art. The meaning is subjective, and based on the viewer -- any truth exists only through the act of interpretation. Any interpretation of the meaning of a work is valid, but there is no right answer. The only wrong answer is thinking that we know why VKTM does //anything//. [[size 90%]]//This article was originally published in the Spring 2024 Issue of the Foundation Memetics and Media Quarterly.//[[/size]] ------ [[=]] ++ [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/why-scp-173-shits \| Further Reading]]] [[/=]] [[footnoteblock]] [[include <a href="/component:wikimodule">component:wikimodule</a> \|normal= --]]] [[=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] ===== > Name: SCP-5889 > Authors: [[user Grigori Karpin]] & [[user Dysadron]] > License: CC-BY-SA > Source Link: https://scpwiki.com/scp-5889 > Additional Notes: Assorted excerpts, presented within the article as quotes. ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]] [[/=]]	2024-07-11T22:43:00	[ "_licensebox", "comedy", "doctor-lillihammer", "forgotten-memories", "no-dialogue", "on-guard-43", "tale", "vikander-kneed", "worldbuilding" ]	Lost in Translation: Media Literacy and The Relativity of the Absurd - SCP Foundation	51	[ "scp-5889", "why-scp-173-shits", "scp-5632", "scp-8887", "scp-8688", "scp-1611", "scp-7643", "scp-8843", "scp-7238", "scp-821", "scp-8811", "scp-8480", "scp-7748", "scp-2346-ex", "scp-8478", "scp-8740", "reostiation", "pseudoguilt", "the-legend-of-the-iron-goat", "single-contained-phenomenon", "no-reason", "the-lillihammer-test", "the-heart-grows-fonder", "a-tale-of-two-mailrooms", "the-bowe-transition", "the-deadname-meme", "bystander-s-guilt", "because-of-the-shame", "parker-informational-breach", "dreams-of-crimson-and-azure", "queerious", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "vikander-kneed-technical-media-hub", "on-guard-43-hub", "forgotten-memories-hub" ]	[]	1455882663	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/why-vktm-creates
will-of-the-future	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><span style="color:#c4aead"><br/> You sit there rotting away on your throne, bleeding stars and galaxies, holding on to what's left of your broken kingdom. Clinging to a Will that was never your own, so what gives you the right to hold back mine? Yours is the Will of a dead dream; mine is the Will of the future.</span></p> <hr/> <p>A loud crash of thunder woke Alan from his sleep. Rubbing his eyes, he looked out the window to his right. Pouring rain ran down the window as another loud crash of thunder rang out.</p> <p>"We will be there in two minutes, Dr. Morgan," the driver stated, checking his watch.</p> <p>Alan nodded and looked back out the window. He didn't understand why he was specifically called for this assignment. He was a reality specialist; he couldn't fathom why the Foundation would have him drive out so quickly. Why was this so under wraps? <em>I didn't even know we had a site out here,</em> he thought as the car stopped.</p> <p>"Alright, Doctor, we are here."</p> <p>Alan opened the car door to heavy, pouring rain. He flipped up his jacket as a makeshift umbrella and dashed to the front of the site. Standing before the illuminated door was a Foundation security agent with his hands on his waist.</p> <p>"Welcome to Site Silver, Dr. Morgan. I hope your drive went well," the man said, reaching out to Alan.</p> <p>"It was long, but no trouble," Alan responded as they headed indoors.</p> <p>"My name is Agent Daughtry. I'm the head of Site Silver Security and Safety. How familiar are you with Project Tall-Tale?" Daughtry asked as they walked down the hall.</p> <p>"Not much. I'm not entirely sure why I was redirected to this site. Granted, I didn't know this site existed."</p> <p>"Okay, yeah, this project has been held pretty tight under security so as not to freak out the entirety of the Foundation. Follow me, and I'll show you why you are here." Daughtry pointed to two large stealth doors.</p> <p>They approached the door; Agent Daughtry signaled to the cameras, and the large doors began to open. The sounds of heavy rain then once again filled the air. Alan put his hands over his face as they began to walk into the heavy downpour. All around him, he could see an unnatural amount of security personnel. Large mounted machine guns lined the tops of the walls, and about thirty armed personnel were around the large containment chamber.</p> <p>A large gust of wind made Alan stop for a second and look at the ground to avoid getting rain in his eyes. At that point, he realized that a light source had slightly blinded his field of vision.</p> <p>He began to look up. "What is with that?"</p> <p>He froze as he looked up at the source of the light.</p> <p>"Holy, fucking shit," Alan said in complete shock.</p> <p>"Welcome to the club, doctor," Agent Daughtry said with a giant grin.</p> <p>In front of Alan and Agent Daughtry was something Alan could barely put into words. It was as if the universe was a piece of glass that was dropped and shattered. Bright, shining cracks stood before him, floating and pulsating with radiant energy. Alan couldn't believe his eyes; what he was looking at broke all the research and studying he had ever done. At least that solves why I was recruited for this.</p> <p>"What exactly was that?" Alan asked as Daughtry handed him a cup of coffee.</p> <p>"That, Doctor Morgan, is the dimensional rift to another universe. That's why you are here; maybe something in that brain of yours can help us close this one." Daughtry said as he bent over a table holder for a tablet.</p> <p>"This one? There are others."</p> <p>"Yes, there is one here. Then there are Site Blue and Site Red. One in Chile and the other in Antarctica." He said, handing Alan the tablet.</p> <p>"So then, why am I here if there are two others?" Alan said as he reached for his coffee.</p> <p>"That's because those two are open, and hopefully, we can find a way to stop this one from opening as well. Fewer breaks in reality, the better; you know the drill." Daughtry said, chuckling.</p> <p>"You seem very casual about this whole situation. I can't even wrap my head around it." Alan said, turning on the tablet.</p> <p>"Well, I was stationed at Site Red not too long ago, so this place is like a vacation compared to that hellscape," Daughtry responded.</p> <p>"Okay, so all the written information on this rift is on that tablet. Due to the pain and the ass effect of entity Silver, we cannot write anything about the world inside the rift. So all our written information so far is just of basic measurements and increases in size over the rift."</p> <p>Alan looked through the tablet's contents until his finger landed on the title, Site Red Journal. Alan clicked on it and saw a page titled Linear Algebra Notes.</p> <p>"What is this journal that was scanned on the tablet? Is it math notes?" Alan asked, putting the tablet on the table.</p> <p>"That is the only written account of what is happening on the other side of the rift. You will want to read that to understand what we have going on. I'll be back in a bit. I need to run some routine checks." Agent Daughtry explained as he headed out of the room.</p> <p>"Also, don't take any notes; those will also be affected. We don't know how it works, but it seems that the parts written by Joey are the only pages not affected by it." Daughtry quickly added as he poked his head around the corner before leaving again.</p> <p>Alan nodded, then looked back at the tablet. <em>What did they sign me up for?</em> He said to himself as he scrolled past all the math notes. He stopped when he saw the title of the initial journal entries. He picked up his coffee and began to read.</p> <hr/> <hr/> <p>5/3/2008</p> <p>My phone doesn't work. I don't know why. It won't turn on. It had a full battery when I ended up here. Nothing is making sense right now. I will write in my math notebook to keep me sane. Who knows, maybe someone will find this if I die here. I don't understand what's going on. I was walking home and decided to take a bit of a detour. I wanted to clear my head and walk through the woods. I was walking, and then, one second, I felt weird. My body vibrated for a split second; then, I was in a different place. I've been walking for a few hours in this place, or I don't know. I don't think I'm on Earth anymore. Everything here is just different. The grass is tall and comes up to my ankles, and the trees and other plants are more giant than they should be. The trees here are insane; they are so tall. I saw what I thought was a boar or pig; I didn't know it was huge, maybe the size of a horse. I didn't know what to do, so I hid behind a tree until it left. I'm scared. I'm terrified. I don't know what to do. What am I supposed to do? Stuff like this isn't supposed to happen. Things like this aren't supposed to be real. I need to compose myself. I'm happy I didn't eat my lunch today, at least. That should keep me going for a bit. But food and water will be problems soon. I don't want to die. I don't want to die alone.</p> <p>5/4/2008</p> <p>I didn't sleep when night came around. Or, I think that was night. Something is wrong with this place. Well, minus the fact that it's another planet. The sky is broken. "Fractured" sounds better. Parts of the sky are not complete; portions have been torn off. During the night, there were no stars; it was just black. It's not black; it's more like empty, just nothingness.</p> <p>I'm getting exhausted. I need to find a place to sleep or at least lie down. I've been walking for so long, trying to find some normalcy or a way out. I don't think I'm going to find anything. I'm pretty sure I'm getting close to dehydration. Or I'm just thirsty. My head is pounding from exhaustion. I am going to die here, alone.</p> <p>I've never been happier in my life. I found a river and didn't think twice about drinking from it. I heard it before I saw it. It's enormous, like, really, really huge. It seems to go on forever. Water has never tasted so good before in my life. There are also fruits here. They look like giant pomegranates but orange with hints of red. I wonder if they are edible; I'll find out when I get that hungry. I'm going to try to find a place to sleep. I haven't heard of or seen any animals, and it will be okay if I sleep. Well, I hope it will be. Hopefully, I won't get woken up by something eating me alive.</p> <p>5/10/2008</p> <p>It's been six days. I found a place to sleep in a small opening in a rock. It has some moss in it that's comfortable to lay on. I've been using my backpack as a pillow. I'm getting used to it. It doesn't change that I feel afraid and alone every time I try to sleep, but I'm getting better. It's close to the river and the fruits. Oh yeah, the fruits are delicious. They taste like apricots—well, kind of. They taste like apricots with a watermelon aftertaste; it's bizarre. But this is the only food I have so far, so it will have to do. I haven't explored past the river; I'm too worried I will get lost. This is some stability I have in this messed-up place. So I'll take it.</p> <p>I don't know what I saw, but it was huge. I saw it over the trees; I think it was a massive bird. I didn't get a good look at it, but it left a huge shadow as it flew past. I could hear its wings flapping; whatever it was, it was huge. It makes me wonder what else is out there. I wish there were smaller animals, or at least fish, in the river. I don't know how long I can live off fruit and water. The only animals I saw beside the giant boar were deer-looking animals. They had four antlers and were red. They looked very pretty. I'll try to sketch a picture. Though I'm horrible at art, it may be fun to keep me occupied. I wonder what my family is thinking. They probably think I'm dead somewhere in a ditch or kidnapped. I want to see them again. I want to talk to them. I want to be hugged, and I want to feel safe again. They didn't think highly of me, but they must be worried.</p> <p>5/12/2008</p> <p>I need to figure out what I'm going to do. I have to be brave. But I don't want to. I want to be rescued. I want to be saved. I don't know what to do. I'm scared. I don't want to die alone.</p> <p>5/??/2028</p> <p>I lost track of how many days I had walked. I left the forest a few days ago and have followed the river for a while. It still has not ended and doesn't seem like it will. My legs are practically numb now; I'm so exhausted from walking. I have had to sleep in any hidden place I could find. I've seen a bunch of different animals now. They are all huge. No one has been smaller or close to my size. I've done a good job avoiding them, but I'm scared my luck will run out soon. I've been eating the fruit that I find along the river; there have been a few new types of fruits, so that has been nice. They are not enough, though; I feel sick. I know I'm missing the nutrients to live at this point. I don't know how long I have until it catches up. Oh, I almost forgot. I found an abandoned tent or something like that. It was left entirely; there was little sign of life. It was enormous; the doorway was maybe 12 feet tall. It was made with what I think is some leather; it looked similar to the deer creature I've seen a bunch of. It makes me wonder where the hell I am. This place doesn't make sense. I don't think the day and night work the same as they did on Earth. The "sun," or light in the sky, is oddly centered and does not rise or set. It just turns on. I could have sworn it faded in and out a few times one day. It never moves; it just sits there. There is no light at night, so I follow the river closely and find a place to sleep.</p> <p><span style="text-decoration: line-through;">5/It doesn't matter anymore</span></p> <p>I give up. I'm tired. I don't feel well. I want to be at home. I don't want to die alone.</p> <hr/> <hr/> <p><span style="color:#c4aead"><br/> It was quiet; Joey could only hear the river moving slowly. It had been his only constant this time—water slowly moving across gravel and dirt. Water was moving constantly in an unseen direction. Joey took a deep breath and stretched out his legs, finding a smooth rock to sit on. Sitting, Joey thought about laying in the river and letting it carry him. He wondered where it went—maybe a lake or grand ocean. He would never know, he thought. <em>I will die here</em>.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">He had been walking for too long; everything was catching up to him. The exhaustion, only eating fruit, and the extreme. It was all building up, ready to crush and destroy him. Looking around, he took in his surroundings: the rushing water, the nine plains, and the bright standing light in the almost fake blue sky. <em>This is not the worst place to die, honestly</em>, Joey thought as he put his hands on his head; he had been appalled for the past few days. Joey understood well that his time was coming soon. <em>Should I get it over with? Do I go out on my terms?</em> That was the last thing Joey thought before the long silence was broken.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“You’re not supposed to be here,” a loud voice spoke behind him.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Joey's heart dropped as he looked in the direction of the voice. There, standing a few meters behind him, was the largest man he had ever seen. The man was unnaturally tall, maybe double Joey’s height, with short silver hair pushed back, wearing silver robes with red lining. Bright silver earrings dangled with the wind, and over his right shoulder was one of the deer creatures Joey had seen. The tongue was sticking out and had a gash down its side.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">"Sorry, little one, I didn't mean to startle you,” the man spoke as he slowly put the animal carcass on the ground. “You look sick; are you alright?”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Joey's words were stuck in his throat; he didn't know if that was because of the man's physical nature or not having human contact for what felt like an eternity. The man looked down at Joey, tilted his head to the side, and nodded.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“You seem like you need to eat. Here, I just caught this. I will make us something.” He said this as he waved his hand, and as he did, bright silver particles spiraled around his writing. Then, a small silver fire was brought into existence with a spark.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Joey's head began to spin as he attempted to stand up, but his head felt as if it were one hundred pounds. Joey leaned back and lost consciousness as he fell. The large man caught him.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Crackling sounds filled Joey’s head as he slowly regained consciousness. He sat up and put his hands on his head, squinting from pain. Then, in an instant, his memory reawakened, and Joey shot to his feet in a panic. In front of him was an unknown man sitting on a small rock with two large sticks in his hands. Each stick had a cooked piece of meat.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">"Woah, now relax and be safe. I'm not going to hurt you."</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Who are you? What are you? Wha…” Joey began before he was cut off.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Eat first, questions after.” The man said this as he leaned forward and handed Joey one of the sticks.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Joey didn't have enough energy to argue or try to ask again. He took the stick from the man and sat down across from him. Looking at the meat, Joey pushed himself to take a bite. "Oh yeah. This is what food tastes like," Joey thought as he felt tears welling up.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">"That good, huh? I didn't even add anything to it,” the man said, chuckling.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Thank you,” Joey responded with a chunk of meat still in his mouth.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">The man smiled and nodded. “Now, kid, why are you here?”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">That question caught Joey off guard. He paused for a minute, thinking about how to answer that question.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“I don't know. I was walking home from school, and in a second, I was here. Wherever here is.” Joey answered as he went for another bite of food.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">The man looked at Joey, puzzled for a few seconds, until the expression changed to a face of realization, and a grin appeared.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“So the barrier is that weak now. Interesting, that's good news.” He said this, looking at Joey. "You're too small for a human, aren't you? What's your name?"</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“My name is Joey. Are you a bit big for a human?"</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">The man laughed. “What a strange name Joey is. You are not from here.”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">"What's your name?” Joey asked.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">The man paused for a minute. Then, he stood up.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“My name is Silas. I'm the king of this wonderful land we are on.”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“King?” Joey said, coughing.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">The man looked confused as he scratched his head and stomped out the silver fire. Then, looking back at Joey, he looked him up and down and smiled again.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Come with me, kid. I'll help you out,” Silas said as he extended his large arm toward Joey.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“I will show you my kingdom.”<br/></span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="color:#c4aead"><br/> “What exactly are you, Silas?” Joey asked, sitting on a floating platform of silver particles.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“What do you mean? I'm human, just like you. Unless you are not human?”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Well, I mean, you can do magic. That's not normal?” Joey said.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“What is magic?” Silas responded.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“The particles, the instant fire, you being ten feet tall. That has to be magic.” Joey shot back.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Oh, are those things not every day for you? I can't imagine living in a place like that.”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Joey tried to wrap his head around what was going on. He wasn't thinking about it since he had not eaten real food for so long. But now that Joey was thinking about it, everything made less sense. He was sitting on a platform made of shining particles, floating alongside a man who was ten feet tall. With that given, somehow Joey felt no fear towards Silas as if he had known the man for a long time.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Looking around, Joey took in his surroundings. He never saw the world's beauty since he had been terrified for the last few weeks. The forest Joey came from was unbelievable. The trees' height and size were excellent, and the leaves were a shade of green he didn't know existed.<br/> The plains he was currently in were also breathtaking; the grass seemed so perfect that it couldn't be real. He felt the calmness of the river as it pierced through the plains like a dagger into the distance. He felt relaxed for the first time in what felt like an eternity. He felt as if he was finally safe.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Ah, there it is. Home.” Silas announced as they stopped moving.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Joey looked before him and was amazed at the sight that beheld him. It was an enormous city that shocked him in every aspect. Large buildings with intricate designs and large open spaces that reassembled outside theaters. Long roads and winding rivers ran through the city like veins. In the center of town was a building that was a combination of a cathedral and a castle. It had large banners dangling on the front that displayed the image of a spear through a book. It's incredible, Joey thought to himself as they entered the city.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“So, little one, what do you think? Fantastical, right.” Silas asked as he opened his arms to the city.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“I can't put it into words. This place is insane.” Joey said, looking around.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Yes, it is. Welcome to The City of Stories, Fierté.” Silas said, looking back at Joey.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Silas ushered to Joey and began walking towards the city's center. Joey couldn't help himself from being mesmerized by his surroundings. It was like he was walking in a fantasy story, a magical city filled with fantastic uniqueness. However, something odd caught his attention. The town was dead silent. The only sounds were the sound of the two of them walking. <em>Where is everyone? This city is vast. People should be everywhere. But there is not a sign of life anywhere.</em> Joey questioned himself as he stopped walking.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Silas, where is everyone?” Joey questioned.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Silas stopped walking and took a look around. There was an uncomfortable pause, and then he spoke.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Dead. I am all that is left.”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Oh. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to bring up anything bad.”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“No, No, it's quite alright. It's because of my own doing. I have had time to mourn.” Silas said as he began to walk.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Let's get more food and new clothes at the town center.” He said, ushering Joey once again.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“This place used to be brimming with the brightest minds in this world. Hungry for the greatest tellings of adventures and tales. But now there is no one to share the telling of our world.”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Silas paused again and then waved his hands. Bright silver particles began to flow around them and take the shapes of people. The people were walking around the city as if doing their daily tasks. Some stopped talking to one another while others wrote in books.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“This city used to be a city of history. A place solely focused on the past that we could never return to. Our job was to hold the history of our long-forgotten world and keep it safe in our grand libraries.” He loudly spoke as he kept walking.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“The old royal families held that duty for generations. They were so focused on the past because they believed there was no future to look forward to since the Grand Collapse. So we clung to the idea that the history of our ancestors would be enough will to keep living, enough will to keep dreaming. But they were wrong.” Silas said, looking at the sky as if the memory had pained him.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Then, one day, that old regime crumbled. What once was a city made for the past became a city for the future. The old regime was ripped from the throne, and a new Will sat on its throne. A will for the future that would be. A will to live, A will to dream. The once-dedicated historians became thrill seekers who sought out grand stories and legends from our fractured world. These people gathered stories of hunters seeking the monsters in the deep oceans and pilgrims claiming the islands burnt into the Sky. They hunted for tales of heroes who slayed the foulest creatures lurking in the deepest caverns. They scavenged for prophecies of future kings and queens. This is what Fierté is, a city of endless stories, the city of the future.” Silas proclaimed as they approached the grand doors of the town center.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Silas waved his hands, and the people he created vanished as the particles dissipated. They entered the enormous building. The first thing Joey noticed was the large empty bookshelves that layered the inside of it. Looking around, he felt the emptiness deep in his soul. He could tell that this place used to be many people's homes, sharing stories and spending time together. Now, it displays a graveyard of lost dreams.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">They entered the second story and approached a hallway filled with doors. Silas opened the first door to the left and ushered Joey into it. It was a small room with a desk, bed, bookshelf, and closet. The closest was open and had silk robes hanging in it.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Make yourself at home, kid. I will grab you when I have food ready for the both of us.” Silas said as he headed out of the room.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Thank you for saving me, Silas.” Joey quickly said.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Silas stopped walking momentarily and waved his hand at Joey as if to signal it was all good. Joey wasted no time taking off his clothes and hopping into the new ones provided for him. The robes were silver with light gold lining; they were the most comfortable clothes he had ever worn. Joey sat on the bed and looked out the window; he fought back tears of happiness as he thought. <em>I am safe.</em><br/></span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Staring at the large platter of food in front of him, Joey almost felt himself cry again. Food has never looked so good before. It had a large piece of meat that looked perfect in every manner, a salad of unknown vegetables, and a pile of colorful fruit. Without much thought, Joey started to ravage the food as if he had never eaten in his life before. Every bite gave him more energy to eat more.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Slow down there, kid, you are going to choke yourself,” Sylas said, laughing as he joined Joey at the table.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“But it is so good. I can't stop,” Joey said with a mouthful of food.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“I'm glad you like it. I have had a lot of time to practice my cooking skills.”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“So, Joey, tell me about the place you come from. You seem to live in a place very different from my home.” He asked Joey.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Hmm, where do you want me to start? Our worlds share many similarities; the plant and animal life are close. Yours are just a good size larger, though.” Joey replied.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Really? So everything there is smaller?”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Joey nodded as he swallowed a piece of meat.<br/> “Yeah, we also don't do magic. Or whatever you call that stuff you do with the particles.”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Interesting. So, how do you guys live then? How do you go places or fight the beasts of your world?”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Joey started to laugh as he put his fork down.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“We use cars and planes to get places. And we don't have beasts, or at least not the ones you think of. “</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“What is a car? Is a plane a type of bird?” Silas asked with a large amount of curiosity.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“I mean a giant metal bird that someone flies. A car is a machine that has four wheels and drives on the streets.”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“This doesn't make any sense at all. Are you sure there is no? What did you call it, Magic, In your world.” Sylas asked with a hint of disbelief.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Ah, man, you will need to see it for yourself. You will shit yourself visiting New York.” Joey said, laughing.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Maybe one day, the time will come when I can leave this prison. But for now, getting you back to your home will suffice.” Silas said.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Joey stopped laughing and looked at Silas. <em>Why does he keep calling this place a prison? It is a paradise.</em></span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“You are going to help me get back home? Really? Is it possible?” Joey asked, leaning forward towards Silas.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Maybe, I don't see why the Golden God wouldn't let you out. He has no issue with outsiders.”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Joey grinned ear to ear. He could go home. Then Joey stopped for a second. He wondered if he would like to return to his mediocre life of nothingness. <em>Maybe I should stay; Silas seems alone, and perhaps I can learn the magic he does.</em> Joey thought.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“I'll take you to the Golden Tower under one condition,” Silas said, holding up his pointer figure.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“And that is?” Joey asked.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“If we take the long route and have an adventure. I haven't spoken to anyone in years; I don't want to waste the opportunity to learn new stories.”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Joey stayed silent for a moment, thinking.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“You have yourself a deal, Silas.”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Wonderful. We will leave tomorrow morning. It will take us a very long time to reach the tower.” Silas excitedly said.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Just out of curiosity, how long does the fast route take?”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“If I flew you there, it would take about a day. But since we are going to walk about a full cycle.”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead"><em>Shit.</em><br/></span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="color:#c4aead"><br/> Fiddling with the new shoes he found in the room he slept in, Joey sat on the steps of the outside theater Silas told him to meet him at. <em>How far is this tower he talks about? Better yet, what the hell is a Golden God?</em> Joey thought as he turned to the footsteps behind him.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Good morning, Joey. Are you ready for the adventure of your life?” Silas said with a large grin.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“I think I have a few changes of clothes, but I couldn't make space for food,” Joey responded, shuffling through his backpack.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Don't worry about it. We will get food as we go along.”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">That statement made Joey raise an eyebrow. He thought this would probably be a mistake, but he had no choice. Then, a random thought came into Joey’s mind.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Hey Silas, you never told me. How did you become king? I understand the old king was overthrown, but how did you become king?”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Silas began to laugh. He walked onto the stage and turned to face Joey.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“That, my friend, is a story that to show than tell,” Silas says as he raises his hands, and an enormous amount of silver particles fill the area.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Joey’s eyes widened as the particles slowly formed into a scene. He could make out the town center and a young man walking to the large doors. It took Joey a few seconds, but he knew that the young man was a younger Silas.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">The younger Silas entered the hall and walked towards the center of the hall. The interior looked completely different from what Joey knew. It was closer to an actual castle, filled with banners and noblemen. In the back of the room was a man sitting on a throne. His crown on his head held an orange gem that glowed as bright as the sun. Upon seeing Silas, the man commanded everyone out of the building except for two guards beside his throne.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“King Lotar of the Fire Soul, you pay for your crimes today!” Silas yelled across the grand hall.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“And what crime would that be, Silas? The killing of your father? He brought that upon himself, starting that silly revolution.” Lotar replied, looking at his fingers uncaringly.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“No, however, I will have my revenge for his death. No, your crime is holding this city in the past while the future is the only path!” Silas retorted.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“So your father has poisoned your mind as well. So be it. Guards, end this cursed bloodline so I can return to more pressing matters.”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">The two guards beside the king stood straight and slowly walked towards Silas. Both knights wielded swords and shields, carrying gem-embedded shields similar to the king's crown. They both slammed their swords into the shields and ignited their blades into a brilliant orange fire. Silas held his hands in response, and the familiar silver particles formed around his fingers. In an instant, one of the knights screamed out in pain as a large silver spear slammed into his chest, pinning him into the wall. The other knight tried to close the distance on Silas rapidly, but Silas was already ahead, swiping his hand and slicing the air before him. Particles shot out and slammed into the Knight, removing his upper torso and sending it flying off.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">King Lotar shot to his feet with a face of confusion and anger.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“That power. What did you do, Silas!?” Lotar screamed as he approached Silas.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Silas ignored the question, manifested a shining silver spear, and pointed at the king.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“You die today. False King.” Silas yelled.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“So be it. You will join your father in the afterlife.” Lotar replied.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Lotar held up his hands and clapped once. With a bright light, both of his arms are ignited in bright flames, illuminating the empty building. Without much pause, Lotar shot from the stairs leading to his throne towards Silas, catching Silas off guard and landing a swift punch into his chest. The punch throws Silas into the town hall's large doors; Silas tries to get his footing back but is swiftly sent back to the ground with a knee to the face.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Grunting, Silas slams the ground, and a wall of silver spikes shoots from the ground, putting some distance between the two fighters. Lotar visibly smiled as he punched through the spikes and approached Silas again. Silas got to his feet, manifested two spears over his shoulders, and shot forward towards Lotar. Putting his fists together in a ball, Lotar prepared to slam the ground before them. However, Silas launched himself into the air with a sharp jump, shooting both spears directly at Lotar. Lotar held out his hands and caught both of the spears. Upon him grabbing them, they exploded into a million tiny silver spears. Piercing every inch of his body, Silas grabbed him by his left arm before he could react and swiftly landed three punches to the king's face. Silas then quickly manifested a small silver dagger and impaled Lotar in the lower gut; Lotar let out a small gasp as the air left his body.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“ENOUGH!!” Lotar screamed as the gem on his crown grew brighter.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">With a bright flash, Lotar’s entire body became engulfed in flames. Silas jumped back as fast as he could, just not fast enough. The blast of energy sent him shooting through the large entry doors of the town hall. Tumbling down the stairs to the town hall, Silas realized he was out in the open, and the city's citizens were staring at him.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Everyone, get back now!” Silas commanded, waving his hands at them.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">He kept trying to wave people off and didn't notice the flaming hand approaching him rapidly. Lotar shoots his palm onto Silas' face and slams him straight to the ground. Silas could feel the heat of the flames slowly starting to burn his face. Panicking, Silas manifested five spears floating above them and, with a move of his finger, slammed them into Lotar. Blood shot out of Lotar’s nose and mouth as he started to lose grip on Silas' face. Silas manifested another dagger with his other hand and slashed Lotar's arm clean off. Gasping, Silas scrambled back before getting to his feet. Lotar struggled to move but couldn't. The spears Silas manifested just a second ago, holding Lotar in place as blood poured down each of them.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“That power… What god… did you sell your…. soul for Silas?” Lotar whispered as blood poured out of his mouth.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Silas walked up to Lotar and manifested a long silver sword.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“I hate you for what you did to my father. I hate you to my core. But I have to thank you, Lotar. Thank you for being a part of my story.” Silas said he had held up the sword.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">With one quick motion, Silas decapitated the King. He knelt and picked up the crown that used to sit upon Lotar's head. Citizens of the city stood around, entirely still, staring at Silas. Silas then raised the crown into the air and crushed it. A bright orange light shone bright for a few seconds before fading away. Looking around at all the people's faces staring at him, Silas held up his hands to the sky. And let out a giant yell of triumph.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Joey sat there in awe as the particles began to fade. He could see Silas, the current Silas, seated on the edge of the stage.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“I was a bit rusty back then with my powers. Made that fight a bit one-sided for a while.” He said with a smile as he stood up and walked to Joey.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Did that suffice enough for an answer?”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Are you kidding me? That was fucking badass. You can do all of those things?” Joey replied with excitement in his voice.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“What was with that fire? Is that more magic? What exactly is your power? Joey asked as he also stood up.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Woah, Woah, one at a time, Joey. I'll tell you all about that stuff during our adventure. I think it's time we head out now.” Silas said as he walked past Joey.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Joey nodded, picked up his backpack, and began following Silas out of the City of Stories.<br/></span></p> <hr/> <p>I forgot I had this still deep in my backpack. I planned to recap what happened, but he beat me to it. I didn't see him write them, so I guess he used some of his magic. It seems like something he would write. It is in his style, loud, descriptive, and extravagant; some details are exaggerated, but that's fine. It kind of makes me happy he kept track of our meetings. It's been about a month now since I've been here. Now that I think about it, it's probably been longer. We have been walking for about two weeks now.</p> <p>So, let's see what he missed writing about. Nothing really except for, you know, the whole other world stuff. This world is lovely, and it's just amazing. There is only nature. It's something I thought I would never see in my life. It may sound silly, but not hearing any form of civilization is weird. I'm so used to the sounds of cars, people, and everything. But being alone in this vast wilderness is almost enlightening. I just remembered Silas explains the world or whatever is left of it. There is Astralglade, which is where we currently are and where the Fierté is. Then there is the Grand Ocean Oarlenza. He also said that there used to be a floating city that lived above the sea. Then, more to the East is the continent of Drukal. He told me it was mainly inhabitable mountains and deep caves. And then lastly, in the center of it all, we are heading towards the Gold Tower. It's where the god that rules the land lives and my ticket out.</p> <p>What else happened? Silas and I have just been walking and talking about each other's life. I asked about his family. He would probably not mind if I talked about them here. Silas told me he didn't know his mother since she died giving birth to him, but he and his father were very close. He talks a lot about his father. It seems he left a very lasting effect on Silas. His father's name was Jean-Reylein, and he was the advisor to the now-dead king, Lotar. Jean-Reylein started the Revolt of Stories, and it seems that, like Silas, they both value the future more than the past. After a few protests and a large-scale revolt, Lotar had Jean-Reylein executed for his crimes.<br/> Which pushed Silas to follow through with what his father had started. However, I feel like Silas had other motives to kill Lotar than just his father's death. He always talks about this Grand Story. He won't ever tell me what that means or why it's so important to him, but it seems very personal, so I don't want to keep asking.</p> <p>I wish I had a father like Jean-Reylein. From what Silas tells me about him, he was an overall caring man who wanted Silas to accomplish great things. A man who wanted the best for his city and the people he cared about. My father sees me as more of a burden; I have never really been good at much, so my father ignored me. He never got mad and never complimented him; to him, I was just in his life. Like I was something he was supposed to feed, clothe, and send off to school. I remember the time I got lost when we took a skiing trip; I fell into a ditch and lost one of my skis. It was cold, and I couldn't navigate through the forest. It had to have been an hour, then when I finally found my way to the bottom of the mountain, He was mad and thought I had run off. I told him I fell and got lost in the woods; he yelled at me and called me a lair. He said I was just a spoiled kid, and now he had to buy a new pair of skis. From that point on, I only really talked to him a little. I just didn't see him as family anymore.</p> <p>Well, I'm going to sleep now. We still have much walking to do until we reach the Golden Tower. From what I gather, it will probably be another nine to ten months of walking. This is incredible; I will live out my own story for once. My adventure.</p> <hr/> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Do you think it will taste good?” Joey asked, peering over the large mole-like creature Silas just killed.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“No idea. I've never killed one of these before.”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Really? I'm surprised you wouldn't have gotten to everything by now.”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Well, that's the thing, Joey. This creature isn't from here. I'm pretty sure it's from Drukal.” Silas said, kneeling to the creature.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Then why would it be here? Isn't that far from here?” Joey questioned.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">A faint crack sounds behind them; Silas stops moving and stands utterly silent. Joey looked at Silas for a few seconds.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Confused, Joey asked.<br/> “Why did you stop tal-”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Get down, Joey!” Silas yelled, reaching and pushing Joey to his knees.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Sounds of trees smashing to bits sound off as a large object swings fast over Joey's head. Before Joey could regain his bearings, he felt Silas grab harder on his shoulder and launch them out of the tree line. Joey noticed trees torn down as they landed in an open field next to the forest. Fuck, Was the only thought Joey’s brain could muster.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">The creature dragged itself out of the forest, its enormous body slamming against the surrounding trees as it did. It was a creature Joey thought could only exist in fantasy stories. It was a giant lizard covered in large brown scales closer to rocks than flesh. Its front two arms carried three large claws that shined like diamonds. The creature's back was covered in sharp spikes and one prominent ridge down its spine. Its tail was a weapon in itself; at the end of its tail was a large sphere bone piece. It's one eye was staring at Joey and Silas, unwavering in its goal.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">The creature shot forward with speed that didn't match its hulking body mass. Silas reacted to the beast's aggression by grabbing Joey and jumping into the air. Joey felt his stomach drop as he rushed into the air by Silas, whose back now held four silver wings. Constructed of silver particles, the top two wings were grand with sharp edges and dropping particles. Meanwhile, the bottom two were much smaller and moved with the upper wings. Silas was holding on to Joey by the waist like a small handbag.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">The creature opened its mouth and let out a high-pitched screech, obliterating the ground under them. Then, it looked up to Silas and Joey, hovering in the sky, opening its mouth wide again to send another screech. Silas raised his free hand and created four spears, and with the movement of his hand toward the beast, they shot forward with striking speed. The spears slammed into the creature's legs and tail, pinning them to the ground. It uttered a loud cry and moved its head to attempt to remove one of the spears with its mouth.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Silas strengthens his grip on Joey.<br/> “Don't let go, Joey.”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Silver particles began to form around Silas' feet, creating bright silver armored boots. Then his wings stretched to great lengths, and with a loud crack, he shot down towards the beast, slamming his foot into its head.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Joey was sitting on a downed log, staring at the body of the beast Silas just killed. It happened so fast that he didn't understand what happened. He did feel sick for the amount Silas flung around him in the air. <em>Without Silas, I would have died a while ago. I forgot I am in a world I don't know, filled with things I don't understand. I got lost in the idea of it all.</em> Joey thought to himself as he noticed Silas fidgeting with the creature's head.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“That was a bit too close for comfort. I'm stronger than the creatures here; however, you are not.” Silas said as he began to open the creature's jaw.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“I mean, what would you have to do? That creature was the size of two school buses.” Joey responded.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“I get that, but I can't protect you every waking hour, so I'm going to do something for you,” Silas said as he ripped one of the large teeth from the beast's jaw.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“This will be the first effigy of the future in years. I wonder if I can still do it.”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">He said as he held The white tooth in his hand. Silver particles began to flow around his hand and circled the tooth. Then, the particles completely enveloped the tooth and began to shine a bright silver glow. The particles immediately dissipated with a quick cracking noise, and in Silas's hand was something new. In his hand sat a dagger. The blade was the tooth of the beast sharpened and reinforced with a silver lining down the middle. The handle was a bright silver with white spaces about the length of it.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Silas walked over to Joey and flipped the dagger so the handle was facing Joey. Joey stared at the dagger for a bit. Just looking at it, he could tell something about it seemed off. It almost felt alive, he thought. Joey pushed past the feeling and grabbed the hilt, and the second his fingers wrapped around it, his mind traveled somewhere far. His surroundings completely changed in just a few seconds, floating in the empty universe. The stars and galaxies cracked with what seemed like beating, breathing veins of silver particles. They all blinked simultaneously, gripping the stars and universe at once. Then, as soon as it came, it was gone. He was back sitting on the log with the dagger in hand.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Did you see it, Joey?” Silas asked, staring at Joey with a big smile.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“What the actual fuck was that?”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Ah, so you did, that’s good. The dagger I made for you, Joey, is called an Effigy.” Silas said as he pointed to the dagger in Joey's hand.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Effigies are items that are given the blessings of a great Will. I created this one for you. What you saw when you held on to it was the Will itself. The will of the Future. My will is now yours. It is our will.”</span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="color:#c4aead"><br/> Pushing the branch out of his face, Joey looked at the large boar creature grazing on the tall grass before him. He moved his hand toward his waist, where his dagger sat, and he slowly gripped the handle. Joey felt energy and excitement run through his body when his hands wrapped around the blade. With his free hand, he pushed himself forward from the bush in a fast motion, shooting forward faster than any human should be able to move. The giant boar saw him and squealed as it put its head down to prepare to charge. Joey raised his dagger and slashed in the air before him, sending a line of silver particles toward the boar. The slash collided with the boar and sent it into a tree; Joey planted his left foot into the ground to stop himself. He was going too fast, tripping over his feet and tumbling onto the ground.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Shit, I went too fast.”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">The enormous boar looked at Joey as it picked itself back up. It put its head back down and began to charge at Joey. He felt a bit of panic as he looked at the creature's four large horns on top of its head as it closed the distance between them. The boar was almost three times larger than him and looked twice as nasty. Its dark red fur is covered in scars and wounds, and the boar means to kill Joey. As it ran towards him, the ground tore as its large legs ripped through the terrain. Joey felt a deep sense of fear as it got closer. He couldn't form any honest thoughts, and I'm going to die. Joey thought to himself as his heart sank farther and farther into despair. He felt a twitch in his hand and looked at his dagger. Silver particles began to seep from the blade, and all the anguish and fear were instantly gone. He was in complete mental harmony as if something forcefully cleared his mind for him. A new wave of clarity moved his body for him. He put his dagger handle in his mouth and raised his hands out in front of him. The boar slammed itself into Joey. He grabbed two of the tusks on the boar's head. And with all his might, he raised the creature and threw it over his head.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">The boar landed on its back and let out a grotesque squeal as it attempted to get back up. Throwing its body side to side, trying its hardest to return to its feet. A silver spear shot through the tree line and entered the beast's chest, finally silencing its cries. Joey Turned around as Silas walked into view, waving to Joey with a smile.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Did you see that, Silas? I was fucking awesome!.”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Silas walked up to Joey and smiled even more.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Yes, you were amazing. You are a natural.” Silas responded as he held out his hand.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Joey reached up and high-fived Silas.<br/> “I tried everything you told me to do. I panicked for a bit, but I figured it out in the end.”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Did the Will help you? Did something reach out and help you?” Silas said as he picked up the boar.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Effigies are directly connected to the Will itself, so in times of need, it will seek you out and help your mind and body.”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“So, like the force?”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“What's that?”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Oh, I forgot. Never mind, ignore me.”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Joey stared into the dark sky as the fire crackled before him. Silas was cutting a piece of meat off the boar Joey killed earlier that day. They had eaten this type of animal before, but it tasted better since he was the one who got it for them. He had never felt so proud of himself, and Silas's praise made him feel even better. Joey finally thought he was doing things for gain, making his own story. It will be over soon, and the Golden Tower is close. He said to himself as he looked past the forest they were in. Their goal, The Golden Tower, was almost in grasp. Its bright, shining lite irradiated throughout the dark sky, the only sours of light in the dark sky. The tower climbs into the sky until it reaches its top, where the bright light that serves as the sun and the moon resides. The closer Joey looked at it, the grander it became. Each inch of the tower is marble with veins of beating gold lining it all.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Silas, why is the tower the only light source here?”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“I thought I already told you?” Silas responded, putting down his food.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“You said something about a great destruction or something along that line. But not really into detail about it.”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Silas let out a sigh and strained his back.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Joey, will you listen this time, please.”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Silas looked up to the night sky and began to speak.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“A few generations ago, there was something in our universe eating and devouring all existence. It was not a thing but more of the idea of destruction and eradication. The people of the time noticed stars and suns disappearing without a trace. It was almost too late when it was understood what was happening. Most of our world had already been devoured, leaving it in its current state.”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Did it just stop?” Joey interrupted.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“No, Joey, it didn't just stop. I'm getting to that if you can just wait.” Silas responded before continuing.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“The current Golden god of the time, Cailiem, used all the power the Will of The Cosmos had to summon the threat into a physical form. No texts or records of the physical form have been written down since most people at the time described it as indescribable. Cailiem killed the entity, and wanting to keep what remained of the world stable, he created two Effigies. One was the Golden Tower to stabilize the physical world; then, he created the Heart of the Cosmos to stabilize the intangible world. Doing this, he sacrificed most of Will’s power, leaving him and the future generations of Golden gods weaker. However, the Will of The Cosmos is still the most potent force in this universe. “</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Wait, Wait, the tower is an Effigy?” Joey asked.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“That is your question? Not about the creature that ended the universe or the god that killed it. But is it an Effigy?”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Yes.”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Silas let out a sigh.<br/> “Anything can be an Effigy. As long as a Great Will attaches to it, it becomes an Effigy. There are even cases of humans becoming Effigies.” Silas responded.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Oh, that's amazing.”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Yes, it is Joey. Yes, it is.” Silas said, pausing for a moment after.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Thank you for going on this journey with me, Joey. It's been years since I've been able to tell and hear stories. You don't know how much this means to me.”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">This statement caught Joey off guard.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Of course. I mean, you are keeping me safe until I make it back home. Thank you, Silas.”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Really? I think you would have figured it out by yourself.” Silas said.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Joey let out a laugh.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Silas, it's probably been over a year since we traveled together. When you found me at the river, I thought about giving up. You have kept me alive for this long. You have kept me company. You have taken me on an adventure of a lifetime. Silas, you are my friend.”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Silas smiled back at Joey.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“You are my friend too, Joey.”<br/></span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Silas, What the fuck is that.”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Before them stood a giant construct, a tall human-shaped machine. A grand creation standing three stories tall, built of bright white marble. The joints of the machine beat with bright gold particles that shined as bright as the light in the tower. Above its armored skull sat three bright gold halos hovering above. On its back was another large halo floating vertically behind it. The construct’s one golden eye stared at Silas, unwavering and unmoving.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Joey looked towards Silas and was surprised to see such an ugly expression. Silas looked like he was staring down the devil himself, and Joey could feel the hate and contempt. In the more than a year he has traveled with Silas, Silas has never shown any form of hate or anger towards anything.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“That Joey Is my Warden. It's my punishment for my sins.” Silas says, sitting down on a small rock.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“This stain of power restricts me from leaving this empty city. It watches me as he sits there and rots, laughing at my misery.”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Silas, what are you talking about? What sin?” Joey asked carefully.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Sit down, Joey. I have one more story to tell you.”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“About three years ago, I traveled the world and gathered the other Will holders to challenge the current Golden God.”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Why would you want to do that, Silas? Are they not the thing holding the universe together?”<br/> Joey asked</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“You don't understand. I needed to challenge him. I needed to take him off that throne. I needed him to die for my story.”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Silas paused for a few seconds. Then he looked at Joey with a straight, unfeeling expression.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“First, I went to the country of mountains to meet with Olbier. Olbier did not take much convincing since he and his people worshipped an old god and did not respect the Will of the Cosmos. Olbier is the holder of the Will of Worship, a mighty warrior of unmatched physical strength. A man of protection and care for his people and his god.”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Silas looked west with an expression of sadness and disdain.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“He did not deserve his fate,” Silas said, looking back at Joey.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“After that, I met with the queen of the Sky and the Prince of the deep. First, I met with the Prince, who denied me at every stage. That coward wanted nothing to do with becoming known throughout history. Maybe we would have won against that insect in the tower with him. The Queen initially was not for the idea of challenging the Golden God, but telling Morlaya that she could soar through the cosmos with no restrictions piqued her interest enough to agree. With those two backing me, we challenge the god.”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Silas’s expression changed from uncaring to anger as he continued.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“We climbed the tower and challenged that disgusting, arrogant bastard in his throne room. The Will of the Cosmos was not what it used to be, and his death should have been swift and easy. However, we underestimated him as much as he underestimated us. We hurt him gravely, and he now sits there waiting to draw his last breath on his throne. And for that, he punished us gravely. He tore the wings off of the Morlaya and sunk her and her sky city into the ocean she so despised. Then, he corrupted Olbier's mind, turning him into a raging marauder. Oblier, in a rage, went back to his country and murdered most of the people he swore to protect, turning the rest into rage-filled monsters bent on the death of everything that moves.”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Silas stood up, spoke angrily, and spit as he yelled.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“And for me, that disgusting fraud tore the memory of our grand battle from my head. He knew that I prized that more than my own life. He knew that I NEEDED THAT FOR MY STORY! HE KNEW I LOVED STORIES MORE THAN MY OWN LIFE. HE TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME. HE ERASED ALL THE STORIES OF MY CITY AND ERASED ALL THE PEOPLE. HE MADE SURE I HAD NOTHING LEFT. THAT WAS HIS MISTAKE, I WILL NOT STOP FOR ANYTHING, MY STORY WILL BE COMPLETED. AND I WILL WATCH AS HE BLEEDS AND DIES IN HIS THRONE!”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Joey felt his heart sink as the man he had spent more than a year with became something that scared him. It was like he was staring at a new man. The Silas Joey has spent this time with would never act like this. He would never be this angry. He felt scared of him for the first time since Joey met Silas. This man was double his height, wielded magic, and could tear him limb from limb. In a world he did not understand, the reality of his situation started to hit Joey. He was in a place he didn't know with someone Joey thought he knew well. He wanted to run away from him for the first time since he met Silas. He wanted to go home.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Sorry about that, Joey. I just lose myself when I think about what HE took from me.” Silas said, composing himself.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Joey didn't know what to say and felt scared that anything he said would make Silas angry again.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Silas, I don't understand. You challenged him, did you not? Why would you do that.”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Silas approached Joey and put one of his large hands on his shoulder.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Oh, my little Joey. You may not see it now. But when my story is complete, it will all make sense. It will make sense to you. It will make sense to that golden insect. It will make sense to the universe.” Silas said with a look that made Joey frightened for his life.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Silas then bent down on his knees and hugged Joey.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“My dear friend. I will miss you dearly. But it is time for you to go back to your home. The warden will let you pass. There, the Golden God should let you leave. He has no quarry with you.”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Silas let go of Joey and stood back up. He pointed to a large set of stairs at the bottom of your tower.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Now go, Joey, Finish your part of the story.”</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">My part? Joey thought as he started to walk towards the tower. He walked past the warden, and it didn't budge or look at him. Its gaze stayed unmoving on Silas. Joey got to the first step of the stairs and looked back at Silas, who was still standing there staring at Joey. Joey took his first step, and a sharp feeling of distress shot through his body. He looked back and saw Silas now crying.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">Joey completely froze as a sense of pure dread felt through his body.</span></p> <p><span style="color:#c4aead">“Thank you for being a part of my story, Joey.”</span></p> <hr/> <hr/> <p><em>Well, shit</em>. Alan thought as he put the tablet back on the table. That gave me more questions than answers. He took another sip of his coffee as he stood up and looked out the window towards the giant rift in reality. <em>What exactly am I looking at? The border of another universe dying and colliding with ours.</em></p> <p>“So, Doctor, what do you think.” Alan turned his head to look at Daughtry as he entered the room.</p> <p>“Honestly, I don't know; I have more questions than answers right now,” Alan said to Daughtry.</p> <p>“That's what I thought; this isn't our normal issue here. We are pretty much playing a waiting game with this.” Daughtry said as he joined Alan at the table.</p> <p>“So I guess entity Silver is this King of Stories? Are there other things like that at the other Sites?”</p> <p>“Pretty much; the only reason we call it entity Silver is because its existence is unconfirmed. But I doubt it will stay like that for long. And yes, we are dealing with a slew of entities for which we are unprepared. But that's in our job description.” Daughtry responded.</p> <p>Alan cracked a small smile and looked back out the window. It was hypnotizing, the idea and impossibility of it all. He never thought he would come face to face with something this unreal in his career at the Foundation. The sound of a walkie-talkie buzzing grabbed Alan’s attention, and he turned to face Daughtry. Daughtry went to reach for the walkie-talkie, but as his hand held the device, both of them froze. A loud, earth-shattering cracking sound echoed everywhere around them. Alan put his hands over his head and went under the table, believing it to be some form of earthquake.</p> <p>Agent Daughtry tapped the top of the table and calmly sat up.<br/> “Don't worry, that’s normal. That means the rift is expanding.” He said as he walked to the window.</p> <p>Without warning, red lights and a blaring alarm rang through the site. Yelling and sprinting footsteps echo the hallways. Alan looks towards the window, seeing Agent Daughtry standing entirely still.</p> <p>“Well, that is not normal.” He says before he sprints out of the room, yelling something as he does.</p> <p>Alan sat under the table, not wanting to move; the alarm echoed through the room, and the thundering sound that the rift was making shook him to his core. <em>WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON</em>. Building the courage, Alan left the table's safety and headed towards the window. He grabbed the railing of it and pulled himself up to take a look outside. What he saw made his heart drop to the ground.</p> <p>The rift wash was shaking violently, and bright silver particles were seeping through the cracks of the other universe. The loud cracking sound kept increasing as more particles shot through the rift. Large fingers could be seen slowly leaving the rift and grabbing the sides of the tear, slowly pulling the rift apart. The rift was torn inch by inch, creating a loud sound that brought Alan to his knees. Then, everything went silent, not even the downpour that had presided for hours.</p> <p>Looking out the window, Alan felt his soul leave his body. Standing in front of the rift was a man who had to be no shorter than ten feet tall with short silver hair and glistening earrings to match. There was no doubting it: this was Entity Silver, the King of Stories.<br/> <span style="color:#c4aead"><br/> Silas raised his arms out to the new sky in front of him. Free from the dying cage of his sins. Free from the eyes of the frail god that lay dying on his throne. Free from the Will of the Cosmos.<br/></span></p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/will-of-the-future">Will of The Future</a>" by Bhomas Tourget, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/will-of-the-future">https://scpwiki.com/will-of-the-future</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:space">:scp-wiki:theme:space</a>]] [[>]] [[module rate]] [[/>]] [[span style="color:#c4aead"]] You sit there rotting away on your throne, bleeding stars and galaxies, holding on to what's left of your broken kingdom. Clinging to a Will that was never your own, so what gives you the right to hold back mine? Yours is the Will of a dead dream; mine is the Will of the future. [[/span]] ------ A loud crash of thunder woke Alan from his sleep. Rubbing his eyes, he looked out the window to his right. Pouring rain ran down the window as another loud crash of thunder rang out. "We will be there in two minutes, Dr. Morgan," the driver stated, checking his watch. Alan nodded and looked back out the window. He didn't understand why he was specifically called for this assignment. He was a reality specialist; he couldn't fathom why the Foundation would have him drive out so quickly. Why was this so under wraps? //I didn't even know we had a site out here,// he thought as the car stopped. "Alright, Doctor, we are here." Alan opened the car door to heavy, pouring rain. He flipped up his jacket as a makeshift umbrella and dashed to the front of the site. Standing before the illuminated door was a Foundation security agent with his hands on his waist. "Welcome to Site Silver, Dr. Morgan. I hope your drive went well," the man said, reaching out to Alan. "It was long, but no trouble," Alan responded as they headed indoors. "My name is Agent Daughtry. I'm the head of Site Silver Security and Safety. How familiar are you with Project Tall-Tale?" Daughtry asked as they walked down the hall. "Not much. I'm not entirely sure why I was redirected to this site. Granted, I didn't know this site existed." "Okay, yeah, this project has been held pretty tight under security so as not to freak out the entirety of the Foundation. Follow me, and I'll show you why you are here." Daughtry pointed to two large stealth doors. They approached the door; Agent Daughtry signaled to the cameras, and the large doors began to open. The sounds of heavy rain then once again filled the air. Alan put his hands over his face as they began to walk into the heavy downpour. All around him, he could see an unnatural amount of security personnel. Large mounted machine guns lined the tops of the walls, and about thirty armed personnel were around the large containment chamber. A large gust of wind made Alan stop for a second and look at the ground to avoid getting rain in his eyes. At that point, he realized that a light source had slightly blinded his field of vision. He began to look up. "What is with that?" He froze as he looked up at the source of the light. "Holy, fucking shit," Alan said in complete shock. "Welcome to the club, doctor," Agent Daughtry said with a giant grin. In front of Alan and Agent Daughtry was something Alan could barely put into words. It was as if the universe was a piece of glass that was dropped and shattered. Bright, shining cracks stood before him, floating and pulsating with radiant energy. Alan couldn't believe his eyes; what he was looking at broke all the research and studying he had ever done. At least that solves why I was recruited for this. "What exactly was that?" Alan asked as Daughtry handed him a cup of coffee. "That, Doctor Morgan, is the dimensional rift to another universe. That's why you are here; maybe something in that brain of yours can help us close this one." Daughtry said as he bent over a table holder for a tablet. "This one? There are others." "Yes, there is one here. Then there are Site Blue and Site Red. One in Chile and the other in Antarctica." He said, handing Alan the tablet. "So then, why am I here if there are two others?" Alan said as he reached for his coffee. "That's because those two are open, and hopefully, we can find a way to stop this one from opening as well. Fewer breaks in reality, the better; you know the drill." Daughtry said, chuckling. "You seem very casual about this whole situation. I can't even wrap my head around it." Alan said, turning on the tablet. "Well, I was stationed at Site Red not too long ago, so this place is like a vacation compared to that hellscape," Daughtry responded. "Okay, so all the written information on this rift is on that tablet. Due to the pain and the ass effect of entity Silver, we cannot write anything about the world inside the rift. So all our written information so far is just of basic measurements and increases in size over the rift." Alan looked through the tablet's contents until his finger landed on the title, Site Red Journal. Alan clicked on it and saw a page titled Linear Algebra Notes. "What is this journal that was scanned on the tablet? Is it math notes?" Alan asked, putting the tablet on the table. "That is the only written account of what is happening on the other side of the rift. You will want to read that to understand what we have going on. I'll be back in a bit. I need to run some routine checks." Agent Daughtry explained as he headed out of the room. "Also, don't take any notes; those will also be affected. We don't know how it works, but it seems that the parts written by Joey are the only pages not affected by it." Daughtry quickly added as he poked his head around the corner before leaving again. Alan nodded, then looked back at the tablet. //What did they sign me up for?// He said to himself as he scrolled past all the math notes. He stopped when he saw the title of the initial journal entries. He picked up his coffee and began to read. ------ ------ 5/3/2008 My phone doesn't work. I don't know why. It won't turn on. It had a full battery when I ended up here. Nothing is making sense right now. I will write in my math notebook to keep me sane. Who knows, maybe someone will find this if I die here. I don't understand what's going on. I was walking home and decided to take a bit of a detour. I wanted to clear my head and walk through the woods. I was walking, and then, one second, I felt weird. My body vibrated for a split second; then, I was in a different place. I've been walking for a few hours in this place, or I don't know. I don't think I'm on Earth anymore. Everything here is just different. The grass is tall and comes up to my ankles, and the trees and other plants are more giant than they should be. The trees here are insane; they are so tall. I saw what I thought was a boar or pig; I didn't know it was huge, maybe the size of a horse. I didn't know what to do, so I hid behind a tree until it left. I'm scared. I'm terrified. I don't know what to do. What am I supposed to do? Stuff like this isn't supposed to happen. Things like this aren't supposed to be real. I need to compose myself. I'm happy I didn't eat my lunch today, at least. That should keep me going for a bit. But food and water will be problems soon. I don't want to die. I don't want to die alone. 5/4/2008 I didn't sleep when night came around. Or, I think that was night. Something is wrong with this place. Well, minus the fact that it's another planet. The sky is broken. "Fractured" sounds better. Parts of the sky are not complete; portions have been torn off. During the night, there were no stars; it was just black. It's not black; it's more like empty, just nothingness. I'm getting exhausted. I need to find a place to sleep or at least lie down. I've been walking for so long, trying to find some normalcy or a way out. I don't think I'm going to find anything. I'm pretty sure I'm getting close to dehydration. Or I'm just thirsty. My head is pounding from exhaustion. I am going to die here, alone. I've never been happier in my life. I found a river and didn't think twice about drinking from it. I heard it before I saw it. It's enormous, like, really, really huge. It seems to go on forever. Water has never tasted so good before in my life. There are also fruits here. They look like giant pomegranates but orange with hints of red. I wonder if they are edible; I'll find out when I get that hungry. I'm going to try to find a place to sleep. I haven't heard of or seen any animals, and it will be okay if I sleep. Well, I hope it will be. Hopefully, I won't get woken up by something eating me alive. 5/10/2008 It's been six days. I found a place to sleep in a small opening in a rock. It has some moss in it that's comfortable to lay on. I've been using my backpack as a pillow. I'm getting used to it. It doesn't change that I feel afraid and alone every time I try to sleep, but I'm getting better. It's close to the river and the fruits. Oh yeah, the fruits are delicious. They taste like apricots—well, kind of. They taste like apricots with a watermelon aftertaste; it's bizarre. But this is the only food I have so far, so it will have to do. I haven't explored past the river; I'm too worried I will get lost. This is some stability I have in this messed-up place. So I'll take it. I don't know what I saw, but it was huge. I saw it over the trees; I think it was a massive bird. I didn't get a good look at it, but it left a huge shadow as it flew past. I could hear its wings flapping; whatever it was, it was huge. It makes me wonder what else is out there. I wish there were smaller animals, or at least fish, in the river. I don't know how long I can live off fruit and water. The only animals I saw beside the giant boar were deer-looking animals. They had four antlers and were red. They looked very pretty. I'll try to sketch a picture. Though I'm horrible at art, it may be fun to keep me occupied. I wonder what my family is thinking. They probably think I'm dead somewhere in a ditch or kidnapped. I want to see them again. I want to talk to them. I want to be hugged, and I want to feel safe again. They didn't think highly of me, but they must be worried. 5/12/2008 I need to figure out what I'm going to do. I have to be brave. But I don't want to. I want to be rescued. I want to be saved. I don't know what to do. I'm scared. I don't want to die alone. 5/??/2028 I lost track of how many days I had walked. I left the forest a few days ago and have followed the river for a while. It still has not ended and doesn't seem like it will. My legs are practically numb now; I'm so exhausted from walking. I have had to sleep in any hidden place I could find. I've seen a bunch of different animals now. They are all huge. No one has been smaller or close to my size. I've done a good job avoiding them, but I'm scared my luck will run out soon. I've been eating the fruit that I find along the river; there have been a few new types of fruits, so that has been nice. They are not enough, though; I feel sick. I know I'm missing the nutrients to live at this point. I don't know how long I have until it catches up. Oh, I almost forgot. I found an abandoned tent or something like that. It was left entirely; there was little sign of life. It was enormous; the doorway was maybe 12 feet tall. It was made with what I think is some leather; it looked similar to the deer creature I've seen a bunch of. It makes me wonder where the hell I am. This place doesn't make sense. I don't think the day and night work the same as they did on Earth. The "sun," or light in the sky, is oddly centered and does not rise or set. It just turns on. I could have sworn it faded in and out a few times one day. It never moves; it just sits there. There is no light at night, so I follow the river closely and find a place to sleep. --5/It doesn't matter anymore-- I give up. I'm tired. I don't feel well. I want to be at home. I don't want to die alone. ------ ------ [[span style="color:#c4aead"]] It was quiet; Joey could only hear the river moving slowly. It had been his only constant this time—water slowly moving across gravel and dirt. Water was moving constantly in an unseen direction. Joey took a deep breath and stretched out his legs, finding a smooth rock to sit on. Sitting, Joey thought about laying in the river and letting it carry him. He wondered where it went—maybe a lake or grand ocean. He would never know, he thought. //I will die here//. He had been walking for too long; everything was catching up to him. The exhaustion, only eating fruit, and the extreme. It was all building up, ready to crush and destroy him. Looking around, he took in his surroundings: the rushing water, the nine plains, and the bright standing light in the almost fake blue sky. //This is not the worst place to die, honestly//, Joey thought as he put his hands on his head; he had been appalled for the past few days. Joey understood well that his time was coming soon. //Should I get it over with? Do I go out on my terms?// That was the last thing Joey thought before the long silence was broken. “You’re not supposed to be here,” a loud voice spoke behind him. Joey's heart dropped as he looked in the direction of the voice. There, standing a few meters behind him, was the largest man he had ever seen. The man was unnaturally tall, maybe double Joey’s height, with short silver hair pushed back, wearing silver robes with red lining. Bright silver earrings dangled with the wind, and over his right shoulder was one of the deer creatures Joey had seen. The tongue was sticking out and had a gash down its side. "Sorry, little one, I didn't mean to startle you,” the man spoke as he slowly put the animal carcass on the ground. “You look sick; are you alright?” Joey's words were stuck in his throat; he didn't know if that was because of the man's physical nature or not having human contact for what felt like an eternity. The man looked down at Joey, tilted his head to the side, and nodded. “You seem like you need to eat. Here, I just caught this. I will make us something.” He said this as he waved his hand, and as he did, bright silver particles spiraled around his writing. Then, a small silver fire was brought into existence with a spark. Joey's head began to spin as he attempted to stand up, but his head felt as if it were one hundred pounds. Joey leaned back and lost consciousness as he fell. The large man caught him. Crackling sounds filled Joey’s head as he slowly regained consciousness. He sat up and put his hands on his head, squinting from pain. Then, in an instant, his memory reawakened, and Joey shot to his feet in a panic. In front of him was an unknown man sitting on a small rock with two large sticks in his hands. Each stick had a cooked piece of meat. "Woah, now relax and be safe. I'm not going to hurt you." “Who are you? What are you? Wha…” Joey began before he was cut off. “Eat first, questions after.” The man said this as he leaned forward and handed Joey one of the sticks. Joey didn't have enough energy to argue or try to ask again. He took the stick from the man and sat down across from him. Looking at the meat, Joey pushed himself to take a bite. "Oh yeah. This is what food tastes like," Joey thought as he felt tears welling up. "That good, huh? I didn't even add anything to it,” the man said, chuckling. “Thank you,” Joey responded with a chunk of meat still in his mouth. The man smiled and nodded. “Now, kid, why are you here?” That question caught Joey off guard. He paused for a minute, thinking about how to answer that question. “I don't know. I was walking home from school, and in a second, I was here. Wherever here is.” Joey answered as he went for another bite of food. The man looked at Joey, puzzled for a few seconds, until the expression changed to a face of realization, and a grin appeared. “So the barrier is that weak now. Interesting, that's good news.” He said this, looking at Joey. "You're too small for a human, aren't you? What's your name?" “My name is Joey. Are you a bit big for a human?" The man laughed. “What a strange name Joey is. You are not from here.” "What's your name?” Joey asked. The man paused for a minute. Then, he stood up. “My name is Silas. I'm the king of this wonderful land we are on.” “King?” Joey said, coughing. The man looked confused as he scratched his head and stomped out the silver fire. Then, looking back at Joey, he looked him up and down and smiled again. “Come with me, kid. I'll help you out,” Silas said as he extended his large arm toward Joey. “I will show you my kingdom.” [[/span]] ------ [[span style="color:#c4aead"]] “What exactly are you, Silas?” Joey asked, sitting on a floating platform of silver particles. “What do you mean? I'm human, just like you. Unless you are not human?” “Well, I mean, you can do magic. That's not normal?” Joey said. “What is magic?” Silas responded. “The particles, the instant fire, you being ten feet tall. That has to be magic.” Joey shot back. “Oh, are those things not every day for you? I can't imagine living in a place like that.” Joey tried to wrap his head around what was going on. He wasn't thinking about it since he had not eaten real food for so long. But now that Joey was thinking about it, everything made less sense. He was sitting on a platform made of shining particles, floating alongside a man who was ten feet tall. With that given, somehow Joey felt no fear towards Silas as if he had known the man for a long time. Looking around, Joey took in his surroundings. He never saw the world's beauty since he had been terrified for the last few weeks. The forest Joey came from was unbelievable. The trees' height and size were excellent, and the leaves were a shade of green he didn't know existed. The plains he was currently in were also breathtaking; the grass seemed so perfect that it couldn't be real. He felt the calmness of the river as it pierced through the plains like a dagger into the distance. He felt relaxed for the first time in what felt like an eternity. He felt as if he was finally safe. “Ah, there it is. Home.” Silas announced as they stopped moving. Joey looked before him and was amazed at the sight that beheld him. It was an enormous city that shocked him in every aspect. Large buildings with intricate designs and large open spaces that reassembled outside theaters. Long roads and winding rivers ran through the city like veins. In the center of town was a building that was a combination of a cathedral and a castle. It had large banners dangling on the front that displayed the image of a spear through a book. It's incredible, Joey thought to himself as they entered the city. “So, little one, what do you think? Fantastical, right.” Silas asked as he opened his arms to the city. “I can't put it into words. This place is insane.” Joey said, looking around. “Yes, it is. Welcome to The City of Stories, Fierté.” Silas said, looking back at Joey. Silas ushered to Joey and began walking towards the city's center. Joey couldn't help himself from being mesmerized by his surroundings. It was like he was walking in a fantasy story, a magical city filled with fantastic uniqueness. However, something odd caught his attention. The town was dead silent. The only sounds were the sound of the two of them walking. //Where is everyone? This city is vast. People should be everywhere. But there is not a sign of life anywhere.// Joey questioned himself as he stopped walking. “Silas, where is everyone?” Joey questioned. Silas stopped walking and took a look around. There was an uncomfortable pause, and then he spoke. “Dead. I am all that is left.” “Oh. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to bring up anything bad.” “No, No, it's quite alright. It's because of my own doing. I have had time to mourn.” Silas said as he began to walk. “Let's get more food and new clothes at the town center.” He said, ushering Joey once again. “This place used to be brimming with the brightest minds in this world. Hungry for the greatest tellings of adventures and tales. But now there is no one to share the telling of our world.” Silas paused again and then waved his hands. Bright silver particles began to flow around them and take the shapes of people. The people were walking around the city as if doing their daily tasks. Some stopped talking to one another while others wrote in books. “This city used to be a city of history. A place solely focused on the past that we could never return to. Our job was to hold the history of our long-forgotten world and keep it safe in our grand libraries.” He loudly spoke as he kept walking. “The old royal families held that duty for generations. They were so focused on the past because they believed there was no future to look forward to since the Grand Collapse. So we clung to the idea that the history of our ancestors would be enough will to keep living, enough will to keep dreaming. But they were wrong.” Silas said, looking at the sky as if the memory had pained him. “Then, one day, that old regime crumbled. What once was a city made for the past became a city for the future. The old regime was ripped from the throne, and a new Will sat on its throne. A will for the future that would be. A will to live, A will to dream. The once-dedicated historians became thrill seekers who sought out grand stories and legends from our fractured world. These people gathered stories of hunters seeking the monsters in the deep oceans and pilgrims claiming the islands burnt into the Sky. They hunted for tales of heroes who slayed the foulest creatures lurking in the deepest caverns. They scavenged for prophecies of future kings and queens. This is what Fierté is, a city of endless stories, the city of the future.” Silas proclaimed as they approached the grand doors of the town center. Silas waved his hands, and the people he created vanished as the particles dissipated. They entered the enormous building. The first thing Joey noticed was the large empty bookshelves that layered the inside of it. Looking around, he felt the emptiness deep in his soul. He could tell that this place used to be many people's homes, sharing stories and spending time together. Now, it displays a graveyard of lost dreams. They entered the second story and approached a hallway filled with doors. Silas opened the first door to the left and ushered Joey into it. It was a small room with a desk, bed, bookshelf, and closet. The closest was open and had silk robes hanging in it. “Make yourself at home, kid. I will grab you when I have food ready for the both of us.” Silas said as he headed out of the room. “Thank you for saving me, Silas.” Joey quickly said. Silas stopped walking momentarily and waved his hand at Joey as if to signal it was all good. Joey wasted no time taking off his clothes and hopping into the new ones provided for him. The robes were silver with light gold lining; they were the most comfortable clothes he had ever worn. Joey sat on the bed and looked out the window; he fought back tears of happiness as he thought. //I am safe.// [[/span]] ------ [[span style="color:#c4aead"]] Staring at the large platter of food in front of him, Joey almost felt himself cry again. Food has never looked so good before. It had a large piece of meat that looked perfect in every manner, a salad of unknown vegetables, and a pile of colorful fruit. Without much thought, Joey started to ravage the food as if he had never eaten in his life before. Every bite gave him more energy to eat more. “Slow down there, kid, you are going to choke yourself,” Sylas said, laughing as he joined Joey at the table. “But it is so good. I can't stop,” Joey said with a mouthful of food. “I'm glad you like it. I have had a lot of time to practice my cooking skills.” “So, Joey, tell me about the place you come from. You seem to live in a place very different from my home.” He asked Joey. “Hmm, where do you want me to start? Our worlds share many similarities; the plant and animal life are close. Yours are just a good size larger, though.” Joey replied. “Really? So everything there is smaller?” Joey nodded as he swallowed a piece of meat. “Yeah, we also don't do magic. Or whatever you call that stuff you do with the particles.” “Interesting. So, how do you guys live then? How do you go places or fight the beasts of your world?” Joey started to laugh as he put his fork down. “We use cars and planes to get places. And we don't have beasts, or at least not the ones you think of. “ “What is a car? Is a plane a type of bird?” Silas asked with a large amount of curiosity. “I mean a giant metal bird that someone flies. A car is a machine that has four wheels and drives on the streets.” “This doesn't make any sense at all. Are you sure there is no? What did you call it, Magic, In your world.” Sylas asked with a hint of disbelief. “Ah, man, you will need to see it for yourself. You will shit yourself visiting New York.” Joey said, laughing. “Maybe one day, the time will come when I can leave this prison. But for now, getting you back to your home will suffice.” Silas said. Joey stopped laughing and looked at Silas. //Why does he keep calling this place a prison? It is a paradise.// “You are going to help me get back home? Really? Is it possible?” Joey asked, leaning forward towards Silas. “Maybe, I don't see why the Golden God wouldn't let you out. He has no issue with outsiders.” Joey grinned ear to ear. He could go home. Then Joey stopped for a second. He wondered if he would like to return to his mediocre life of nothingness. //Maybe I should stay; Silas seems alone, and perhaps I can learn the magic he does.// Joey thought. “I'll take you to the Golden Tower under one condition,” Silas said, holding up his pointer figure. “And that is?” Joey asked. “If we take the long route and have an adventure. I haven't spoken to anyone in years; I don't want to waste the opportunity to learn new stories.” Joey stayed silent for a moment, thinking. “You have yourself a deal, Silas.” “Wonderful. We will leave tomorrow morning. It will take us a very long time to reach the tower.” Silas excitedly said. “Just out of curiosity, how long does the fast route take?” “If I flew you there, it would take about a day. But since we are going to walk about a full cycle.” //Shit.// [[/span]] ------ [[span style="color:#c4aead"]] Fiddling with the new shoes he found in the room he slept in, Joey sat on the steps of the outside theater Silas told him to meet him at. //How far is this tower he talks about? Better yet, what the hell is a Golden God?// Joey thought as he turned to the footsteps behind him. “Good morning, Joey. Are you ready for the adventure of your life?” Silas said with a large grin. “I think I have a few changes of clothes, but I couldn't make space for food,” Joey responded, shuffling through his backpack. “Don't worry about it. We will get food as we go along.” That statement made Joey raise an eyebrow. He thought this would probably be a mistake, but he had no choice. Then, a random thought came into Joey’s mind. “Hey Silas, you never told me. How did you become king? I understand the old king was overthrown, but how did you become king?” Silas began to laugh. He walked onto the stage and turned to face Joey. “That, my friend, is a story that to show than tell,” Silas says as he raises his hands, and an enormous amount of silver particles fill the area. Joey’s eyes widened as the particles slowly formed into a scene. He could make out the town center and a young man walking to the large doors. It took Joey a few seconds, but he knew that the young man was a younger Silas. The younger Silas entered the hall and walked towards the center of the hall. The interior looked completely different from what Joey knew. It was closer to an actual castle, filled with banners and noblemen. In the back of the room was a man sitting on a throne. His crown on his head held an orange gem that glowed as bright as the sun. Upon seeing Silas, the man commanded everyone out of the building except for two guards beside his throne. “King Lotar of the Fire Soul, you pay for your crimes today!” Silas yelled across the grand hall. “And what crime would that be, Silas? The killing of your father? He brought that upon himself, starting that silly revolution.” Lotar replied, looking at his fingers uncaringly. “No, however, I will have my revenge for his death. No, your crime is holding this city in the past while the future is the only path!” Silas retorted. “So your father has poisoned your mind as well. So be it. Guards, end this cursed bloodline so I can return to more pressing matters.” The two guards beside the king stood straight and slowly walked towards Silas. Both knights wielded swords and shields, carrying gem-embedded shields similar to the king's crown. They both slammed their swords into the shields and ignited their blades into a brilliant orange fire. Silas held his hands in response, and the familiar silver particles formed around his fingers. In an instant, one of the knights screamed out in pain as a large silver spear slammed into his chest, pinning him into the wall. The other knight tried to close the distance on Silas rapidly, but Silas was already ahead, swiping his hand and slicing the air before him. Particles shot out and slammed into the Knight, removing his upper torso and sending it flying off. King Lotar shot to his feet with a face of confusion and anger. “That power. What did you do, Silas!?” Lotar screamed as he approached Silas. Silas ignored the question, manifested a shining silver spear, and pointed at the king. “You die today. False King.” Silas yelled. “So be it. You will join your father in the afterlife.” Lotar replied. Lotar held up his hands and clapped once. With a bright light, both of his arms are ignited in bright flames, illuminating the empty building. Without much pause, Lotar shot from the stairs leading to his throne towards Silas, catching Silas off guard and landing a swift punch into his chest. The punch throws Silas into the town hall's large doors; Silas tries to get his footing back but is swiftly sent back to the ground with a knee to the face. Grunting, Silas slams the ground, and a wall of silver spikes shoots from the ground, putting some distance between the two fighters. Lotar visibly smiled as he punched through the spikes and approached Silas again. Silas got to his feet, manifested two spears over his shoulders, and shot forward towards Lotar. Putting his fists together in a ball, Lotar prepared to slam the ground before them. However, Silas launched himself into the air with a sharp jump, shooting both spears directly at Lotar. Lotar held out his hands and caught both of the spears. Upon him grabbing them, they exploded into a million tiny silver spears. Piercing every inch of his body, Silas grabbed him by his left arm before he could react and swiftly landed three punches to the king's face. Silas then quickly manifested a small silver dagger and impaled Lotar in the lower gut; Lotar let out a small gasp as the air left his body. “ENOUGH!!” Lotar screamed as the gem on his crown grew brighter. With a bright flash, Lotar’s entire body became engulfed in flames. Silas jumped back as fast as he could, just not fast enough. The blast of energy sent him shooting through the large entry doors of the town hall. Tumbling down the stairs to the town hall, Silas realized he was out in the open, and the city's citizens were staring at him. “Everyone, get back now!” Silas commanded, waving his hands at them. He kept trying to wave people off and didn't notice the flaming hand approaching him rapidly. Lotar shoots his palm onto Silas' face and slams him straight to the ground. Silas could feel the heat of the flames slowly starting to burn his face. Panicking, Silas manifested five spears floating above them and, with a move of his finger, slammed them into Lotar. Blood shot out of Lotar’s nose and mouth as he started to lose grip on Silas' face. Silas manifested another dagger with his other hand and slashed Lotar's arm clean off. Gasping, Silas scrambled back before getting to his feet. Lotar struggled to move but couldn't. The spears Silas manifested just a second ago, holding Lotar in place as blood poured down each of them. “That power… What god… did you sell your…. soul for Silas?” Lotar whispered as blood poured out of his mouth. Silas walked up to Lotar and manifested a long silver sword. “I hate you for what you did to my father. I hate you to my core. But I have to thank you, Lotar. Thank you for being a part of my story.” Silas said he had held up the sword. With one quick motion, Silas decapitated the King. He knelt and picked up the crown that used to sit upon Lotar's head. Citizens of the city stood around, entirely still, staring at Silas. Silas then raised the crown into the air and crushed it. A bright orange light shone bright for a few seconds before fading away. Looking around at all the people's faces staring at him, Silas held up his hands to the sky. And let out a giant yell of triumph. Joey sat there in awe as the particles began to fade. He could see Silas, the current Silas, seated on the edge of the stage. “I was a bit rusty back then with my powers. Made that fight a bit one-sided for a while.” He said with a smile as he stood up and walked to Joey. “Did that suffice enough for an answer?” “Are you kidding me? That was fucking badass. You can do all of those things?” Joey replied with excitement in his voice. “What was with that fire? Is that more magic? What exactly is your power? Joey asked as he also stood up. “Woah, Woah, one at a time, Joey. I'll tell you all about that stuff during our adventure. I think it's time we head out now.” Silas said as he walked past Joey. Joey nodded, picked up his backpack, and began following Silas out of the City of Stories. [[/span]] ------ I forgot I had this still deep in my backpack. I planned to recap what happened, but he beat me to it. I didn't see him write them, so I guess he used some of his magic. It seems like something he would write. It is in his style, loud, descriptive, and extravagant; some details are exaggerated, but that's fine. It kind of makes me happy he kept track of our meetings. It's been about a month now since I've been here. Now that I think about it, it's probably been longer. We have been walking for about two weeks now. So, let's see what he missed writing about. Nothing really except for, you know, the whole other world stuff. This world is lovely, and it's just amazing. There is only nature. It's something I thought I would never see in my life. It may sound silly, but not hearing any form of civilization is weird. I'm so used to the sounds of cars, people, and everything. But being alone in this vast wilderness is almost enlightening. I just remembered Silas explains the world or whatever is left of it. There is Astralglade, which is where we currently are and where the Fierté is. Then there is the Grand Ocean Oarlenza. He also said that there used to be a floating city that lived above the sea. Then, more to the East is the continent of Drukal. He told me it was mainly inhabitable mountains and deep caves. And then lastly, in the center of it all, we are heading towards the Gold Tower. It's where the god that rules the land lives and my ticket out. What else happened? Silas and I have just been walking and talking about each other's life. I asked about his family. He would probably not mind if I talked about them here. Silas told me he didn't know his mother since she died giving birth to him, but he and his father were very close. He talks a lot about his father. It seems he left a very lasting effect on Silas. His father's name was Jean-Reylein, and he was the advisor to the now-dead king, Lotar. Jean-Reylein started the Revolt of Stories, and it seems that, like Silas, they both value the future more than the past. After a few protests and a large-scale revolt, Lotar had Jean-Reylein executed for his crimes. Which pushed Silas to follow through with what his father had started. However, I feel like Silas had other motives to kill Lotar than just his father's death. He always talks about this Grand Story. He won't ever tell me what that means or why it's so important to him, but it seems very personal, so I don't want to keep asking. I wish I had a father like Jean-Reylein. From what Silas tells me about him, he was an overall caring man who wanted Silas to accomplish great things. A man who wanted the best for his city and the people he cared about. My father sees me as more of a burden; I have never really been good at much, so my father ignored me. He never got mad and never complimented him; to him, I was just in his life. Like I was something he was supposed to feed, clothe, and send off to school. I remember the time I got lost when we took a skiing trip; I fell into a ditch and lost one of my skis. It was cold, and I couldn't navigate through the forest. It had to have been an hour, then when I finally found my way to the bottom of the mountain, He was mad and thought I had run off. I told him I fell and got lost in the woods; he yelled at me and called me a lair. He said I was just a spoiled kid, and now he had to buy a new pair of skis. From that point on, I only really talked to him a little. I just didn't see him as family anymore. Well, I'm going to sleep now. We still have much walking to do until we reach the Golden Tower. From what I gather, it will probably be another nine to ten months of walking. This is incredible; I will live out my own story for once. My adventure. ------ [[span style="color:#c4aead"]] “Do you think it will taste good?” Joey asked, peering over the large mole-like creature Silas just killed. “No idea. I've never killed one of these before.” “Really? I'm surprised you wouldn't have gotten to everything by now.” “Well, that's the thing, Joey. This creature isn't from here. I'm pretty sure it's from Drukal.” Silas said, kneeling to the creature. “Then why would it be here? Isn't that far from here?” Joey questioned. A faint crack sounds behind them; Silas stops moving and stands utterly silent. Joey looked at Silas for a few seconds. Confused, Joey asked. “Why did you stop tal-” “Get down, Joey!” Silas yelled, reaching and pushing Joey to his knees. Sounds of trees smashing to bits sound off as a large object swings fast over Joey's head. Before Joey could regain his bearings, he felt Silas grab harder on his shoulder and launch them out of the tree line. Joey noticed trees torn down as they landed in an open field next to the forest. Fuck, Was the only thought Joey’s brain could muster. The creature dragged itself out of the forest, its enormous body slamming against the surrounding trees as it did. It was a creature Joey thought could only exist in fantasy stories. It was a giant lizard covered in large brown scales closer to rocks than flesh. Its front two arms carried three large claws that shined like diamonds. The creature's back was covered in sharp spikes and one prominent ridge down its spine. Its tail was a weapon in itself; at the end of its tail was a large sphere bone piece. It's one eye was staring at Joey and Silas, unwavering in its goal. The creature shot forward with speed that didn't match its hulking body mass. Silas reacted to the beast's aggression by grabbing Joey and jumping into the air. Joey felt his stomach drop as he rushed into the air by Silas, whose back now held four silver wings. Constructed of silver particles, the top two wings were grand with sharp edges and dropping particles. Meanwhile, the bottom two were much smaller and moved with the upper wings. Silas was holding on to Joey by the waist like a small handbag. The creature opened its mouth and let out a high-pitched screech, obliterating the ground under them. Then, it looked up to Silas and Joey, hovering in the sky, opening its mouth wide again to send another screech. Silas raised his free hand and created four spears, and with the movement of his hand toward the beast, they shot forward with striking speed. The spears slammed into the creature's legs and tail, pinning them to the ground. It uttered a loud cry and moved its head to attempt to remove one of the spears with its mouth. Silas strengthens his grip on Joey. “Don't let go, Joey.” Silver particles began to form around Silas' feet, creating bright silver armored boots. Then his wings stretched to great lengths, and with a loud crack, he shot down towards the beast, slamming his foot into its head. Joey was sitting on a downed log, staring at the body of the beast Silas just killed. It happened so fast that he didn't understand what happened. He did feel sick for the amount Silas flung around him in the air. //Without Silas, I would have died a while ago. I forgot I am in a world I don't know, filled with things I don't understand. I got lost in the idea of it all.// Joey thought to himself as he noticed Silas fidgeting with the creature's head. “That was a bit too close for comfort. I'm stronger than the creatures here; however, you are not.” Silas said as he began to open the creature's jaw. “I mean, what would you have to do? That creature was the size of two school buses.” Joey responded. “I get that, but I can't protect you every waking hour, so I'm going to do something for you,” Silas said as he ripped one of the large teeth from the beast's jaw. “This will be the first effigy of the future in years. I wonder if I can still do it.” He said as he held The white tooth in his hand. Silver particles began to flow around his hand and circled the tooth. Then, the particles completely enveloped the tooth and began to shine a bright silver glow. The particles immediately dissipated with a quick cracking noise, and in Silas's hand was something new. In his hand sat a dagger. The blade was the tooth of the beast sharpened and reinforced with a silver lining down the middle. The handle was a bright silver with white spaces about the length of it. Silas walked over to Joey and flipped the dagger so the handle was facing Joey. Joey stared at the dagger for a bit. Just looking at it, he could tell something about it seemed off. It almost felt alive, he thought. Joey pushed past the feeling and grabbed the hilt, and the second his fingers wrapped around it, his mind traveled somewhere far. His surroundings completely changed in just a few seconds, floating in the empty universe. The stars and galaxies cracked with what seemed like beating, breathing veins of silver particles. They all blinked simultaneously, gripping the stars and universe at once. Then, as soon as it came, it was gone. He was back sitting on the log with the dagger in hand. “Did you see it, Joey?” Silas asked, staring at Joey with a big smile. “What the actual fuck was that?” “Ah, so you did, that’s good. The dagger I made for you, Joey, is called an Effigy.” Silas said as he pointed to the dagger in Joey's hand. “Effigies are items that are given the blessings of a great Will. I created this one for you. What you saw when you held on to it was the Will itself. The will of the Future. My will is now yours. It is our will.” [[/span]] ------ [[span style="color:#c4aead"]] Pushing the branch out of his face, Joey looked at the large boar creature grazing on the tall grass before him. He moved his hand toward his waist, where his dagger sat, and he slowly gripped the handle. Joey felt energy and excitement run through his body when his hands wrapped around the blade. With his free hand, he pushed himself forward from the bush in a fast motion, shooting forward faster than any human should be able to move. The giant boar saw him and squealed as it put its head down to prepare to charge. Joey raised his dagger and slashed in the air before him, sending a line of silver particles toward the boar. The slash collided with the boar and sent it into a tree; Joey planted his left foot into the ground to stop himself. He was going too fast, tripping over his feet and tumbling onto the ground. “Shit, I went too fast.” The enormous boar looked at Joey as it picked itself back up. It put its head back down and began to charge at Joey. He felt a bit of panic as he looked at the creature's four large horns on top of its head as it closed the distance between them. The boar was almost three times larger than him and looked twice as nasty. Its dark red fur is covered in scars and wounds, and the boar means to kill Joey. As it ran towards him, the ground tore as its large legs ripped through the terrain. Joey felt a deep sense of fear as it got closer. He couldn't form any honest thoughts, and I'm going to die. Joey thought to himself as his heart sank farther and farther into despair. He felt a twitch in his hand and looked at his dagger. Silver particles began to seep from the blade, and all the anguish and fear were instantly gone. He was in complete mental harmony as if something forcefully cleared his mind for him. A new wave of clarity moved his body for him. He put his dagger handle in his mouth and raised his hands out in front of him. The boar slammed itself into Joey. He grabbed two of the tusks on the boar's head. And with all his might, he raised the creature and threw it over his head. The boar landed on its back and let out a grotesque squeal as it attempted to get back up. Throwing its body side to side, trying its hardest to return to its feet. A silver spear shot through the tree line and entered the beast's chest, finally silencing its cries. Joey Turned around as Silas walked into view, waving to Joey with a smile. “Did you see that, Silas? I was fucking awesome!.” Silas walked up to Joey and smiled even more. “Yes, you were amazing. You are a natural.” Silas responded as he held out his hand. Joey reached up and high-fived Silas. “I tried everything you told me to do. I panicked for a bit, but I figured it out in the end.” “Did the Will help you? Did something reach out and help you?” Silas said as he picked up the boar. “Effigies are directly connected to the Will itself, so in times of need, it will seek you out and help your mind and body.” “So, like the force?” “What's that?” “Oh, I forgot. Never mind, ignore me.” Joey stared into the dark sky as the fire crackled before him. Silas was cutting a piece of meat off the boar Joey killed earlier that day. They had eaten this type of animal before, but it tasted better since he was the one who got it for them. He had never felt so proud of himself, and Silas's praise made him feel even better. Joey finally thought he was doing things for gain, making his own story. It will be over soon, and the Golden Tower is close. He said to himself as he looked past the forest they were in. Their goal, The Golden Tower, was almost in grasp. Its bright, shining lite irradiated throughout the dark sky, the only sours of light in the dark sky. The tower climbs into the sky until it reaches its top, where the bright light that serves as the sun and the moon resides. The closer Joey looked at it, the grander it became. Each inch of the tower is marble with veins of beating gold lining it all. “Silas, why is the tower the only light source here?” “I thought I already told you?” Silas responded, putting down his food. “You said something about a great destruction or something along that line. But not really into detail about it.” Silas let out a sigh and strained his back. “Joey, will you listen this time, please.” Silas looked up to the night sky and began to speak. “A few generations ago, there was something in our universe eating and devouring all existence. It was not a thing but more of the idea of destruction and eradication. The people of the time noticed stars and suns disappearing without a trace. It was almost too late when it was understood what was happening. Most of our world had already been devoured, leaving it in its current state.” “Did it just stop?” Joey interrupted. “No, Joey, it didn't just stop. I'm getting to that if you can just wait.” Silas responded before continuing. “The current Golden god of the time, Cailiem, used all the power the Will of The Cosmos had to summon the threat into a physical form. No texts or records of the physical form have been written down since most people at the time described it as indescribable. Cailiem killed the entity, and wanting to keep what remained of the world stable, he created two Effigies. One was the Golden Tower to stabilize the physical world; then, he created the Heart of the Cosmos to stabilize the intangible world. Doing this, he sacrificed most of Will’s power, leaving him and the future generations of Golden gods weaker. However, the Will of The Cosmos is still the most potent force in this universe. “ “Wait, Wait, the tower is an Effigy?” Joey asked. “That is your question? Not about the creature that ended the universe or the god that killed it. But is it an Effigy?” “Yes.” Silas let out a sigh. “Anything can be an Effigy. As long as a Great Will attaches to it, it becomes an Effigy. There are even cases of humans becoming Effigies.” Silas responded. “Oh, that's amazing.” “Yes, it is Joey. Yes, it is.” Silas said, pausing for a moment after. “Thank you for going on this journey with me, Joey. It's been years since I've been able to tell and hear stories. You don't know how much this means to me.” This statement caught Joey off guard. “Of course. I mean, you are keeping me safe until I make it back home. Thank you, Silas.” “Really? I think you would have figured it out by yourself.” Silas said. Joey let out a laugh. “Silas, it's probably been over a year since we traveled together. When you found me at the river, I thought about giving up. You have kept me alive for this long. You have kept me company. You have taken me on an adventure of a lifetime. Silas, you are my friend.” Silas smiled back at Joey. “You are my friend too, Joey.” [[/span]] ------ [[span style="color:#c4aead"]] “Silas, What the fuck is that.” Before them stood a giant construct, a tall human-shaped machine. A grand creation standing three stories tall, built of bright white marble. The joints of the machine beat with bright gold particles that shined as bright as the light in the tower. Above its armored skull sat three bright gold halos hovering above. On its back was another large halo floating vertically behind it. The construct’s one golden eye stared at Silas, unwavering and unmoving. Joey looked towards Silas and was surprised to see such an ugly expression. Silas looked like he was staring down the devil himself, and Joey could feel the hate and contempt. In the more than a year he has traveled with Silas, Silas has never shown any form of hate or anger towards anything. “That Joey Is my Warden. It's my punishment for my sins.” Silas says, sitting down on a small rock. “This stain of power restricts me from leaving this empty city. It watches me as he sits there and rots, laughing at my misery.” “Silas, what are you talking about? What sin?” Joey asked carefully. “Sit down, Joey. I have one more story to tell you.” “About three years ago, I traveled the world and gathered the other Will holders to challenge the current Golden God.” “Why would you want to do that, Silas? Are they not the thing holding the universe together?” Joey asked “You don't understand. I needed to challenge him. I needed to take him off that throne. I needed him to die for my story.” Silas paused for a few seconds. Then he looked at Joey with a straight, unfeeling expression. “First, I went to the country of mountains to meet with Olbier. Olbier did not take much convincing since he and his people worshipped an old god and did not respect the Will of the Cosmos. Olbier is the holder of the Will of Worship, a mighty warrior of unmatched physical strength. A man of protection and care for his people and his god.” Silas looked west with an expression of sadness and disdain. “He did not deserve his fate,” Silas said, looking back at Joey. “After that, I met with the queen of the Sky and the Prince of the deep. First, I met with the Prince, who denied me at every stage. That coward wanted nothing to do with becoming known throughout history. Maybe we would have won against that insect in the tower with him. The Queen initially was not for the idea of challenging the Golden God, but telling Morlaya that she could soar through the cosmos with no restrictions piqued her interest enough to agree. With those two backing me, we challenge the god.” Silas’s expression changed from uncaring to anger as he continued. “We climbed the tower and challenged that disgusting, arrogant bastard in his throne room. The Will of the Cosmos was not what it used to be, and his death should have been swift and easy. However, we underestimated him as much as he underestimated us. We hurt him gravely, and he now sits there waiting to draw his last breath on his throne. And for that, he punished us gravely. He tore the wings off of the Morlaya and sunk her and her sky city into the ocean she so despised. Then, he corrupted Olbier's mind, turning him into a raging marauder. Oblier, in a rage, went back to his country and murdered most of the people he swore to protect, turning the rest into rage-filled monsters bent on the death of everything that moves.” Silas stood up, spoke angrily, and spit as he yelled. “And for me, that disgusting fraud tore the memory of our grand battle from my head. He knew that I prized that more than my own life. He knew that I NEEDED THAT FOR MY STORY! HE KNEW I LOVED STORIES MORE THAN MY OWN LIFE. HE TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME. HE ERASED ALL THE STORIES OF MY CITY AND ERASED ALL THE PEOPLE. HE MADE SURE I HAD NOTHING LEFT. THAT WAS HIS MISTAKE, I WILL NOT STOP FOR ANYTHING, MY STORY WILL BE COMPLETED. AND I WILL WATCH AS HE BLEEDS AND DIES IN HIS THRONE!” Joey felt his heart sink as the man he had spent more than a year with became something that scared him. It was like he was staring at a new man. The Silas Joey has spent this time with would never act like this. He would never be this angry. He felt scared of him for the first time since Joey met Silas. This man was double his height, wielded magic, and could tear him limb from limb. In a world he did not understand, the reality of his situation started to hit Joey. He was in a place he didn't know with someone Joey thought he knew well. He wanted to run away from him for the first time since he met Silas. He wanted to go home. “Sorry about that, Joey. I just lose myself when I think about what HE took from me.” Silas said, composing himself. Joey didn't know what to say and felt scared that anything he said would make Silas angry again. “Silas, I don't understand. You challenged him, did you not? Why would you do that.” Silas approached Joey and put one of his large hands on his shoulder. “Oh, my little Joey. You may not see it now. But when my story is complete, it will all make sense. It will make sense to you. It will make sense to that golden insect. It will make sense to the universe.” Silas said with a look that made Joey frightened for his life. Silas then bent down on his knees and hugged Joey. “My dear friend. I will miss you dearly. But it is time for you to go back to your home. The warden will let you pass. There, the Golden God should let you leave. He has no quarry with you.” Silas let go of Joey and stood back up. He pointed to a large set of stairs at the bottom of your tower. “Now go, Joey, Finish your part of the story.” My part? Joey thought as he started to walk towards the tower. He walked past the warden, and it didn't budge or look at him. Its gaze stayed unmoving on Silas. Joey got to the first step of the stairs and looked back at Silas, who was still standing there staring at Joey. Joey took his first step, and a sharp feeling of distress shot through his body. He looked back and saw Silas now crying. Joey completely froze as a sense of pure dread felt through his body. “Thank you for being a part of my story, Joey.” [[/span]] ------ ------ //Well, shit//. Alan thought as he put the tablet back on the table. That gave me more questions than answers. He took another sip of his coffee as he stood up and looked out the window towards the giant rift in reality. //What exactly am I looking at? The border of another universe dying and colliding with ours.// “So, Doctor, what do you think.” Alan turned his head to look at Daughtry as he entered the room. “Honestly, I don't know; I have more questions than answers right now,” Alan said to Daughtry. “That's what I thought; this isn't our normal issue here. We are pretty much playing a waiting game with this.” Daughtry said as he joined Alan at the table. “So I guess entity Silver is this King of Stories? Are there other things like that at the other Sites?” “Pretty much; the only reason we call it entity Silver is because its existence is unconfirmed. But I doubt it will stay like that for long. And yes, we are dealing with a slew of entities for which we are unprepared. But that's in our job description.” Daughtry responded. Alan cracked a small smile and looked back out the window. It was hypnotizing, the idea and impossibility of it all. He never thought he would come face to face with something this unreal in his career at the Foundation. The sound of a walkie-talkie buzzing grabbed Alan’s attention, and he turned to face Daughtry. Daughtry went to reach for the walkie-talkie, but as his hand held the device, both of them froze. A loud, earth-shattering cracking sound echoed everywhere around them. Alan put his hands over his head and went under the table, believing it to be some form of earthquake. Agent Daughtry tapped the top of the table and calmly sat up. “Don't worry, that’s normal. That means the rift is expanding.” He said as he walked to the window. Without warning, red lights and a blaring alarm rang through the site. Yelling and sprinting footsteps echo the hallways. Alan looks towards the window, seeing Agent Daughtry standing entirely still. “Well, that is not normal.” He says before he sprints out of the room, yelling something as he does. Alan sat under the table, not wanting to move; the alarm echoed through the room, and the thundering sound that the rift was making shook him to his core. //WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON//. Building the courage, Alan left the table's safety and headed towards the window. He grabbed the railing of it and pulled himself up to take a look outside. What he saw made his heart drop to the ground. The rift wash was shaking violently, and bright silver particles were seeping through the cracks of the other universe. The loud cracking sound kept increasing as more particles shot through the rift. Large fingers could be seen slowly leaving the rift and grabbing the sides of the tear, slowly pulling the rift apart. The rift was torn inch by inch, creating a loud sound that brought Alan to his knees. Then, everything went silent, not even the downpour that had presided for hours. Looking out the window, Alan felt his soul leave his body. Standing in front of the rift was a man who had to be no shorter than ten feet tall with short silver hair and glistening earrings to match. There was no doubting it: this was Entity Silver, the King of Stories. [[span style="color:#c4aead"]] Silas raised his arms out to the new sky in front of him. Free from the dying cage of his sins. Free from the eyes of the frail god that lay dying on his throne. Free from the Will of the Cosmos. [[/span]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=Bhomas Tourget]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-01-10T14:44:00	[ "_licensebox", "tale" ]	Will of The Future - SCP Foundation	6	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[]	[]	1452123178	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/will-of-the-future
wiped-clean	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=1&theme=https://cdn.scpwiki.com/theme/en/basalt/normalize-min.css&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=2&theme=https://cdn.scpwiki.com/theme/en/basalt/basalt-bedrock-min.css&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=3&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Abasalt/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p>Rain thumped against the windshield in irregular rhythms, like a drummer with a bad sense of timing. Detective Karson sat in his unmarked car, stuck in a serpentine line of red taillights on the freeway.</p> <p>“Los Angeles! It’s Monday and the rain is back. Don’t forget your umbrellas, folks. Stay dry out there.”</p> <p>The radio DJ prattled on about traffic jams and played a Leonard Cohen song that perfectly matched the mood. Karson tapped the steering wheel with two fingers, willing the gridlock to break.</p> <p>The call had come in about an hour ago. The day had already been long—too long. The gang shootout had left ten men dead and twice as many wounded. Half a city block looked like it had been through a war. Karson had been there for hours, canvassing witnesses who weren’t talking and counting bullet holes in shattered glass. Lopez, his partner, was riding shotgun, scrolling through his phone. His face was pale, his breath labored.</p> <p>“You good?” Karson asked.</p> <p>Lopez grunted, waving him off. “Just a cough. I’ll live.”</p> <p>Karson’s phone buzzed in the console. He glanced at the number. Dispatch.</p> <p>“Karson,” he said, putting it on speaker.</p> <p>“We’ve got a 187 in the Hills,” the dispatcher said, her voice clipped. “Private residence. Not much yet. Uniforms on the way.”</p> <p>Lopez looked up from his phone. “Hollywood Hills? That’s usually quiet.”</p> <p>“Not tonight,” Karson said, shifting gears. He turned onto an off-ramp, the tires hissing against wet asphalt.</p> <p>They reached the address thirty minutes later, a sprawling mansion tucked into the hills, with a panoramic view of the city that was currently obscured by fog and rain. The scene was already cordoned off, yellow tape fluttering in the wind. The driveway was crowded with patrol cars and media vans.</p> <p>Media, he thought. Probably here to spin tragedy into ratings. ABC, NBC, Fox, MSNBC. But Karson noticed a sleek white van parked just outside the perimeter, its logo catching his eye: <em>Spectre Communication & Productions</em>. New media parasites just keep popping up like mushrooms after rain.</p> <p>“Detectives Karson and Lopez,” he said, "homicide." The uniform nodded and lifted the tape.</p> <p>They slogged up the driveway, rain soaking their shoes. A figure stood at the front door, waiting for them. Sergeant Malone, a wiry woman with sharp features and an attitude to match, motioned them over. She’d been a LAPD sergeant for fifteen years and had a reputation for being blunt to the point of brutality.</p> <p>“Took you long enough,” Malone said. Her voice carried over the rain. “You’re gonna want to see this one.”</p> <p>“What’s the story?” Karson asked, pulling out his notebook.</p> <p>Malone’s mouth twisted into something between a grimace and a grin. “Gruesome doesn’t begin to cover it. I’ve been doing this a long time, Karson. Seen a lot of bad shit. This one…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “Let’s just say it’s going to stick with you.”</p> <p>Karson exchanged a glance with Lopez, who looked unimpressed. They’d heard variations of that line a hundred times before. Murder was murder. People were capable of awful things, but after enough years in the job, you stopped being surprised.</p> <p>They followed Malone inside. The air was heavy with the smell of damp carpet and something else, something metallic. Blood. All too common for Karson. They passed a cluster of uniforms standing by the staircase, their faces pale. One of them whispered something, but the words were lost in the thrum of the rain against the windows.</p> <p>Malone led them down a hallway, her footsteps soft on the plush carpet. She stopped in front of a door and turned to face them.</p> <p>“Before you go in, let me just say this…” She hesitated, her eyes darting between them. “Whatever you think you’re ready for, you’re not. I wasn’t.”</p> <p>They pushed open the door.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Rain thumped against the windshield, drumming in uneven rhythms that seemed to sync with Karson’s thoughts. The unmarked sedan idled in traffic, stuck in the eternal slog of Los Angeles mornings. He rubbed his temple, feeling the pressure of a long day before it even started.</p> <p>The radio buzzed to life, static giving way to the familiar DJ’s voice.</p> <p>“Good morning, Los Angeles! It’s another soggy day out there—Tuesday, folks, and it’s rain, rain, rain. Hope you’ve got your umbrellas and your patience. Up next, some golden oldies to keep you company in this downpour.”</p> <p>“You all right, man?” Lopez asked, his voice raspier than usual. He leaned against the passenger door, a bottle of cough syrup rattling in the door pocket. His ponytail bounced as he coughed, a harsh, chesty sound that lingered in the cabin.</p> <p>“Yeah,” Karson said, glancing over. “You sound worse.”</p> <p>“I’m fine.”</p> <p>“You sure? You don’t look fine.”</p> <p>Lopez rolled his eyes and slouched deeper into the seat. “It’s LA. No one looks fine.”</p> <p>Karson didn’t argue. He watched the rain run in rivulets down the windshield. His phone buzzed in the console. He reached for it, thumbed the screen, and put it on speaker.</p> <p>“Karson,” he said.</p> <p>“187,” dispatch replied, her voice clipped. “Hollywood Hills. Uniforms on-site.”</p> <p>They followed the winding roads into the Hollywood Hills. Karson couldn’t shake the odd sensation creeping into the back of his mind. Déjà vu, strong and insistent. The rain, the roads, even the turns felt like a rerun of a show he barely remembered watching.</p> <p>“You good?” Lopez asked, catching his silence.</p> <p>“Yeah,” Karson said, but his grip on the wheel tightened. “Just… feels like we’ve been here before.”</p> <p>“Because we have.” Lopez gestured out the window. “Hollywood Hills. Mansions. Dead bodies. It’s a loop, man. Every day’s the same in this city.”</p> <p>“Maybe.”</p> <p>When they pulled up to the house, black-and-whites crowded the driveway and red and blue lights sliced through the gray morning. The rain made the pavement shine like glass, reflecting the chaos above it.</p> <p>Malone was by the door, looking soaked to the bone despite her raincoat. Her expression was unreadable, but her stance was pure tension.</p> <p>“Karson. Lopez,” she said, nodding at them.</p> <p>Karson tilted his head. “This looks… familiar.”</p> <p>Malone raised an eyebrow. “Well, murder in the Hills. You’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all.”</p> <p>Before Karson could respond, a black SUV rolled into the cul-de-sac. They stopped abruptly, doors opening in unison. Two men in dark suits stepped out, their expressions stone-cold.</p> <p>The lead agent approached, a tall man with a sharp jaw, bald head and an air of authority.</p> <p>“Detective Karson,” he said, voice cutting through the rain. “I am Special Agent Walker and my partner, Special Agent Lincoln. Please step back. This is a federal matter now.”</p> <p>Karson squared his shoulders, but before he could speak, Lopez grabbed his arm.</p> <p>“Don’t,” he whispered.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Rain thumped against the tall windows of the precinct, streaking the glass with silver as the city blurred beyond.</p> <p>The radio played faintly in the background, the DJ’s smooth voice cutting through the low hum of the precinct. “Good morning, Los Angeles. It’s Wednesday, and you guessed it—more rain on the way. Let’s hope the sun makes an appearance soon.”</p> <p>Karson woke at his desk with a stiff neck with The Beatles playing in the background. Karson rubbed his face, trying to shake off the fog in his head. He didn’t remember driving back to the precinct last night. Didn’t remember much of anything, really.</p> <p>The precinct door slammed open, and Chief Santos strode in, rainwater dripping from her coat. She was in her forties, sharp-eyed, and carried herself with the kind of authority that made people sit up straighter. Today, though, her temper was running hot.</p> <p>“Karson!” she barked, her heels clicking hard against the floor. “What the hell have you been doing the last two days?”</p> <p>Karson blinked, startled. “Excuse me?”</p> <p>“Don’t play dumb,” Santos snapped, tossing a file onto his desk. “The gang shootout. Open case, no leads. And you’re just sitting here?”</p> <p>Karson straightened, trying to gather his thoughts. “The shootout’s a mess, Chief. We’ve got hundreds of shell casings, conflicting witness statements—”</p> <p>“And excuses, apparently,” Santos interrupted. “Lopez called in sick this morning, but what’s your excuse? You’ve had two days to make sense of this, and what do we have to show for it?”</p> <p>Karson hesitated. Two days?</p> <p>Santos didn’t wait for a reply. She stormed off, leaving the scent of burnt coffee in her wake.</p> <p>Karson flipped open the folder. It was thin. Too thin.</p> <p>He pulled up the precinct’s database on his desktop, fingers tapping the keyboard. No new cases. Nothing. He leaned back, staring at the screen. The precinct never went two days without a murder. Not in this city.</p> <p>Something was wrong.</p> <p>He left his desk, heading for the morgue.</p> <p>The morgue was cold, the smell of antiseptic sharp in the air. Karson stepped inside, his footsteps echoing against the tiled floor. Malone was there, standing beside a long row of gurneys covered in white sheets.</p> <p>“Karson,” she said, nodding.</p> <p>“Sarge,” he replied. “Busy week?”</p> <p>She gave him a puzzled look. “Not really. It’s been quiet. No homicides. Just dropped by the morgue for some older evidence.”</p> <p>Karson frowned. “What about the Hollywood Hills murders? I saw you both days.”</p> <p>“Hollywood Hills?” Malone tilted her head. “There haven’t been any cases up there this week.”</p> <p>Karson’s stomach churned as Malone left.</p> <p>He found the morgue doctor, an older man with thin glasses and a permanent scowl, leaning over a clipboard.</p> <p>“Detective Karson,” the doctor said, raising an eyebrow. “Something I can do for you?”</p> <p>“I need to check the bodies from the gang shootout,” Karson said.</p> <p>The doctor straightened, frowning. “The shootout? That was days ago. You’re just getting around to it now?”</p> <p>“Just show me.”</p> <p>The doctor led him to a row of metal drawers, each one labeled with a numbered tag. Karson felt a flicker of relief as the doctor pulled one open, revealing a body inside. One after another, he revealed the dead—dealers, gangbangers, bystanders. Karson noted their faces, matching them to the chaotic scene.</p> <p>“Ten bodies, Detective,” the doctor said dryly. “Seems like your precinct’s been busy.”</p> <p>“Typical LA, doc. Anything else came in?" Karson asked.</p> <p>“Not really,” the doctor said. “Most of these came in over the weekend. Natural causes, accidents. Nothing violent.”</p> <p>Karson frowned. “Nothing violent?”</p> <p>He nodded. “It’s been quiet. Aside from your shootout, of course.”</p> <p>Karson glanced around the room, his eyes landing on a clipboard hanging near the door. <em>South Coast Preservation – Pickup Scheduled</em>.</p> <p>“Who’s South Coast Preservation?” he asked.</p> <p>The doctor looked over, his expression guarded. “They’re a funeral service. Private, very high-end. Why?”</p> <p>Karson didn’t answer. He walked to the clipboard and ran his finger down the list of names. Only two. Both marked for pickup. Both recent.</p> <p>“Something wrong, Detective?” the doctor asked.</p> <p>Karson shook his head and walked out without another word.</p> <p>Back at his desk, Karson stared at his computer screen. The rain outside had turned into a dull roar, filling the silence of the precinct. He typed “South Coast Preservation” into the search bar and hit enter.</p> <p>The screen blinked, then froze.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Rain thumped against the windows like a drum, steady and relentless. Karson woke with a start, rubbing his eyes, staring at the unfamiliar angle of light cutting across his ceiling. The air smelled damp, stale, like the storm outside had seeped into the walls.</p> <p>The radio beside him crackled to life, the familiar DJ’s voice cutting through the silence.</p> <p>“Good morning, Los Angeles. It’s Thursday, and the rain is sticking around. Looks like the storm’s here to stay. So buckle up, folks—we’ve got a wet one ahead.”</p> <p>Karson turned the radio off. It was always the same—same DJ, same rain, same city. Nothing changed.</p> <p>His mind was heavy, as if something had been erased, and the more he tried to grasp it, the more it slipped away. He rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off the grogginess, but it clung to him.</p> <p>There was no way he had gotten home last night. No memory of the drive, no memory of walking through the door.</p> <p>He checked his phone. There was a text from Lopez last night, the timestamp showing <strong>11:23 PM</strong>: “Call me when you get this.”</p> <p>Karson couldn’t remember calling him back. He couldn't even remember receiving the text.</p> <p>He grabbed his jacket and left the apartment. The rain had picked up again, a relentless barrage of water.</p> <p>Lopez’s house was quiet when Karson pulled up. The lights were on, but the front door remained closed. He stepped out into the rain, pulling his collar up against the cold.</p> <p>As he knocked, he heard the sound of coughing from inside. Lopez’s wife, Anna, opened the door a moment later, her face flushed, but she smiled as if nothing was wrong.</p> <p>“Alex,” she said, stepping aside to let him in. “You here to check on him?”</p> <p>“Yeah. Just making sure he’s okay.”</p> <p>She nodded, glancing down the hall. “He’s on the couch. Told me he’s getting better, but you know him. Doesn’t take much to get him back on his feet.”</p> <p>He walked into the living room, where Lopez lay wrapped in a blanket. His eyes were bloodshot, his face pale, his long hair a mess but he smiled weakly when he saw Karson.</p> <p>“Still alive,” Lopez muttered, lifting his hand in greeting.</p> <p>“Barely,” Karson replied. He glanced at the couch where Lopez’s laptop was open, a browser window with the words South Coast Preservation typed in.</p> <p>Lopez chuckled weakly. “Yeah, that’s what the doctor said too. Pneumonia. Antibiotics.”</p> <p>The house was quiet, the smell of coffee heavy in the air. Karson noticed a construction van parked on the curb across the street—its logo barely visible in the rain-soaked gloom. <em>Structural Construction and Planning</em>.</p> <p>Anna appeared in the doorway, her face lined with worry.</p> <p>“Coffee?” she asked.</p> <p>“No thanks,” Karson said.</p> <p>“LAPD got you both overworked, Carlos is sick and you guys are still working” Anna said, offering a weak smile before disappearing into the kitchen.</p> <p>Lopez coughed into his sleeve, “I’m taking it easy today, Anna. No worries.”</p> <p>Lopez turns to Karson. “So, what’s so urgent you couldn’t just call back?”</p> <p>“South Coast Preservation,” Karson said, sitting across from him.</p> <p>Lopez frowned. “The funeral home?”</p> <p>“It’s more than that. Something’s off. I looked into them last night—”</p> <p>“You mean <em>we</em> looked into them,” Lopez interrupted, leaning forward. His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “On the burner.”</p> <p>Karson blinked. “Burner?”</p> <p>Lopez sighed, shaking his head. “Man, you’re fried. You called me yesterday on a burner. Told me to dig into South Coast. Turns out, it’s clean. They handle high-profile clients—actors, musicians, politicians. Totally above board.”</p> <p>Karson didn’t remember that conversation.</p> <p>“What else?” he pressed.</p> <p>Lopez hesitated, his brow furrowing. “Not much. It’s just a funeral home. What’s this about, Alex? You’ve been off lately.”</p> <p>“I know,” Karson muttered. “I just don’t remember why. I don’t… I don’t remember last night at all.”</p> <p>Lopez leaned forward. “You’re pushing too hard. You’ve been on edge for days. Relax. Like Anna said, you’re overworked, man. We all are.”</p> <p>“I don’t think so,” Karson said, the words slipping out before he could stop them. He stood, pacing in the small living room. His eyes fell on a framed photo of Lopez and Anna, taken at a beach. It was bright, the sun high, the kind of photo that didn’t belong in this apartment. It felt too warm for today, too distant.</p> <p>“Look,” he said, taking a breath. “I think we need to see this place for ourselves. Go check it out. You with me?”</p> <p>Lopez frowned, then coughed again. He wheezed, his chest rattling, and it took him a moment to catch his breath.</p> <p>“You’re serious, aren’t you?” Lopez asked.</p> <p>“Yeah,” Karson said. “Let’s go, Carlos.”</p> <p>An hour later, they pulled up outside the South Coast Preservation offices. The rain had subsided to a mist, the world gray and blurred.</p> <p>The building was pristine—modern, angular, its facade gleaming even under the dismal sky.</p> <p>“This feels wrong,” Lopez said, his voice weak.</p> <p>“Stay here if you want,” Karson said, already stepping out of the car.</p> <p>“No chance,” Lopez muttered, following.</p> <p>They approached the front doors, Karson’s hand brushing the holster at his hip.</p> <p>“You realize we don’t have a warrant,” Lopez said.</p> <p>“Since when did that stop us?” Karson shot back.</p> <p>Lopez laughed weakly, coughing halfway through.</p> <p>Inside, the lobby was immaculate—polished floors, a minimalist desk, and soft music playing from hidden speakers. A receptionist looked up, her smile too perfect.</p> <p>“Detectives,” Karson said, flashing his badge. “We have some questions.”</p> <p>The receptionist’s smile faltered, just for a moment.</p> <p>“Of course,” she said, her voice tight. “Let me get someone to assist you.”</p> <p>She stood and disappeared through a side door.</p> <p>Karson glanced at Lopez, who was already leaning against the wall, blood pouring from his eyes, ears and mouth.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Rain thumped against the window in steady, rhythmic bursts, the sound filling the room like a constant reminder of everything that had gone wrong. Karson blinked, his eyes sluggish as he tried to piece together where he was. His head throbbed, the pain dull but relentless, a heavy weight behind his skull.</p> <p>He was lying on something hard, a thin sheet stretched over him, the sterile smell of disinfectant suffocating in the air. His arms were strapped to the sides of the bed, the restraints biting into his skin. He tugged, but the leather bindings held firm.</p> <p>“Where… am I?” he muttered, his voice hoarse.</p> <p>A radio crackled on somewhere nearby, the same DJ’s voice cutting through the static. “Good morning, Los Angeles. It’s Friday, and the rain keeps coming down. Stay safe out there.”</p> <p>The words were eerily familiar, like a loop he couldn’t break free from.</p> <p>Karson blinked, trying to focus. Through the haze, he could make out figures in hazmat suits moving around the room. Their movements were swift, methodical. Two of them stood beside his bed, discussing something in low voices.</p> <p>The man on the left glanced down at him, his face obscured by the suit’s visor. “Results came back,” he said, his voice muffled through the suit. “He already has resistance. All the markers are there.”</p> <p>The man on the right, slightly taller, gave a short, impatient shake of his head. “Inoculate him anyway. No risks. Not with what’s going on.” His voice was colder, more clipped, like a man used to giving orders.</p> <p>Karson’s chest tightened, the words sinking in. <em>Inoculate? Resistance?</em> What was he talking about?</p> <p>“Lucky bastard,” the left hazmat suit guy muttered. “His results are clean. His friend, though…” He trailed off, looking at the other man with something like pity.</p> <p>“His friend isn’t my problem,” the other one said sharply. “Get it done.”</p> <p>There was a sharp click, and Karson felt something cold and metallic press against the inside of his arm. A needle. He winced, the pain barely registering over the pulsing headache.</p> <p>“You’re lucky,” the first one said again, his voice distant as if from a faraway place. “You won’t need to remember all of this.”</p> <p>Another sharp needle pressed on his arm and the world turned black.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Rain thumped against the windshield, the sound like a persistent drumbeat on a quiet night. Karson’s eyes cracked open, and for a moment, he couldn’t figure out where he was. He blinked hard, trying to shake off the fog in his mind. The car was still, the engine off, but his body was stiff from sleep.</p> <p>He glanced at the radio. The same DJ from before, smooth and steady, a voice that seemed to ease the tension in the air. “Good morning, Los Angeles. It’s Saturday, and the rain is still coming down in sheets. We’re talking traffic, we’re talking low visibility, but we’re still here. You are too, and that’s what counts. Stay safe, folks.”</p> <p>Karson frowned, the date not sinking in. <em>Saturday?</em> Hadn’t it just been Thursday? Or Friday?</p> <p>He rubbed his temples and looked around. The lot outside was familiar—his precinct. How had he gotten here?</p> <p>His fingers shook as he fumbled for the keys, pushing the car door open with more force than necessary. His legs felt like they might buckle beneath him, and he steadied himself against the hood before heading into the building.</p> <p>The cold, fluorescent lights of the precinct buzzed overhead, and Karson’s footsteps echoed in the empty hallway.</p> <p>The lobby was half-filled with officers, but it was Lincoln who caught Karson’s attention. His partner was leaning against the front desk, a coffee cup in hand, his face looking—well, better.</p> <p>“Lincoln,” Karson said, taking a step forward, his gaze scanning him with a touch of suspicion. “You’re looking better.”</p> <p>Lincoln’s lips twitched into a grin, the lines of exhaustion softening around his eyes. “Yeah. Antibiotics, man. They’re working.”</p> <p>Karson gave a small nod, his gaze drifting to Lincoln’s hair. Something about it was off.</p> <p>“Did you cut your ponytail off?” Karson asked.</p> <p>Lincoln let out a laugh, the sound familiar and soothing. “I got rid of it a long time ago. Wasn’t practical for the job, you know?”</p> <p>Karson blinked, his mind grasping for clarity. He could have sworn Lincoln had worn that ponytail for as long as they’d worked together. But there was something strange about the moment, something that didn’t sit right with him.</p> <p>Before he could ask more questions, Chief Santos appeared at the door to her office, her eyes narrowing as she took in the pair.</p> <p>“You two are here?” she asked, a mix of disbelief and frustration in her tone. “You’ve done nothing all week, and the gang shootout is still open. What’s your excuse?”</p> <p>Karson opened his mouth to speak, but Lincoln cut him off with a shrug. “We’ve been on it. Just—catching up. We’re good to go.”</p> <p>Santos didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t press it. She turned back toward her office, muttering, “Get on it. Both of you.”</p> <p>Lincoln came up with ballistic reports, eyewitness statements, everything to close up the case. Karson turned away, a strange unease still twisting in his stomach. He was supposed to feel like things were normal—he had to. But something was missing. The missing time, the incomplete memories.</p> <p>He needed answers.</p> <p>Without a word, he made his way toward the parking lot, his footsteps quickening as his thoughts churned. His car was still parked in the lot, and as he sat behind the wheel, the rain falling steadily, he felt a compulsion to go somewhere. A place he didn’t know but felt drawn to.</p> <p>Karson drove for what seemed like hours, though the city was small enough that it couldn’t have been. The rain had turned to a light mist, coating the windshield in a hazy blur. He wasn’t sure where he was going, but his instincts pulled him down a familiar street, to a house he couldn’t remember if he had ever been inside—or if he had only seen it in his mind, again and again.</p> <p>He stopped the car in front of the house. It was a well-kept place, one of those comfortable homes that looked lived-in, but not too much. Karson didn’t think twice as he got out and knocked on the door.</p> <p>When it opened, Karson was met with Anna.</p> <p>She was crying.</p> <p>“Alex… I—” she started, her voice shaking, and then she just broke, leaning against the doorframe.</p> <p>“Anna?” Karson said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “What happened?”</p> <p>She wiped her face, trying to compose herself, but it didn’t help. “I don’t know. I don’t know why I’m crying. I can’t stop.”</p> <p>Something was wrong. He couldn’t place it, but something felt very wrong. The air in the house seemed thicker than it should be.</p> <p>He glanced around. The walls were lined with pictures, mostly of Lincoln and Anna—together, smiling. It took him a moment to register it, but the familiarity of it hit him like a brick.</p> <p>There were more pictures of Lincoln here than there had been at the station. More than Karson had ever remembered seeing, even though he had worked with Lincoln for years.</p> <p>He tried to push the thought aside, but it lingered.</p> <p>“Anna, I… I don’t understand,” Karson said, stepping toward her.</p> <p>“I don’t know either,” she whispered. “I just—I feel like I should know why I’m crying, but I don’t. I just miss Carl.”</p> <p>Karson felt something pull at his chest. His eyes stung, and for a moment, he thought he might cry too. But he didn’t understand why.</p> <p>“Lincoln is still at the office, just finishing up my paperwork. You know how he is,” Karson said, his voice low.</p> <p>They stood there in silence, the soft sound of Anna’s breathing the only thing filling the space between them. The pictures on the walls seemed to close in around Karson. He blinked, trying to focus, but the longer he looked, the more out of place everything seemed.</p> <p>The framed photo of Lincoln and Anna at the beach—he’d seen them before, he knew he had. But the more he looked, the more they seemed unfamiliar.</p> <p>“Alex, you okay?” Anna asked, her voice distant.</p> <p>He blinked again.</p> <p>“I—I don’t know.”</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Rain thumped against the roof of the van rolling through the rain-soaked streets of Los Angeles, its wheels cutting through the wet asphalt with a quiet, methodical hum. On the side of the vehicle, the words <em>Structural Construction and Planning</em> were printed in bold, industrial lettering. The exterior, weathered and worn from regular use, blended seamlessly into the surrounding cityscape. It was the kind of vehicle no one would ever look twice at.</p> <p>The DJ’s voice crackled through the static on the radio, offering a distracted greeting, the kind that only came after days of rain.</p> <p>"Good morning, LA. It’s Sunday, and we're back at it again. The weather's been relentless, but don't worry, the sun's bound to break through eventually. Stay dry, folks."</p> <p>Inside, the space was functional. At the front of the van sat a large man in a high-visibility jacket, a helmet perched on his bald head, and a copy of the LA building code manual open in front of him. The kind of worker who could pass for any construction employee on any given day. The seat next to him was empty, but behind him, there were computers and charts littering the back of the van, all linked to a complex web of surveillance equipment.</p> <p>One of the men, dressed in similar attire, sat at a desk in the rear, speaking into a phone. His voice was calm but incredulous, the faint hum of the electronics around him filling the background.</p> <p>“Are you telling me,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief, “that the virus we thought was anomalous… isn’t?”</p> <p>There was a pause on the other end. He waited for the response, fingers drumming on the desk in frustration.</p> <p>“Yes, I understand,” he finally muttered, rubbing his eyes. “Just send the damn report over.”</p> <blockquote> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Analysis of Virus Outbreak in Los Angeles</strong></p> </div> <br/> A total of three deceased individuals were initially suspected to have succumbed to an anomalous pathogen due to the rapid onset and atypical progression of their symptoms. Each subject presented with a persistent cough and fever over a period of three to five days, followed by the sudden onset of hemorrhagic fever and profuse hemorrhaging from multiple orifices. The widespread blood dispersion observed at the scene is hypothesized to be a result of victim-induced panic during the terminal stages of the illness. <p>Pathological samples obtained from the deceased individuals were subjected to initial testing at the Los Angeles County Morgue, which yielded a positive identification for Ebola virus (<em>Zaire strain</em>) infection. Subsequent testing performed under controlled conditions at Foundation Site [REDACTED] consistently produced identical results, confirming the presence of the virus.</p> <p>Further genomic analysis revealed no deviations from the canonical Ebola virus genome. No anomalous genetic markers or properties were detected, and the virus retained all known structural and functional characteristics typical of the Ebola virus.</p> </blockquote> <p>“So, Dr Pataki, what does the report say?” the man driving called back, his voice still tense.</p> <p>“Well Walker, they couldn’t find any anomalous properties. The tests conducted by our researcher in the LA morgue confirmed this.”</p> <p>Walker, still processing, took a deep breath, his frustration clearly rising. “So, that’s it? We’re supposed to just walk away and go back to the Site? How did Ebola even show up in LA?”</p> <p>Pataki didn’t respond immediately, continuing to scan through the reports. The hum of the van’s electronics filled the space between them.</p> <p>Pataki sighed. “Right. It’s non-anomalous so local health authorities need to deal with that. We can’t afford to waste anymore time here. Let’s head back to debrief at the Site.”</p> <p>“Fine.”</p> <p>Heading back to their Site, Walker glanced into the rearview mirror. "Well, there’s something new on the horizon." He didn’t smile, but his lips twitched as if he was sharing an inside joke. "What about a new man for the team?"</p> <p>"Karson?"</p> <p>Walker’s grin finally appeared, but it was more of a satisfied smirk. “You got it. Detective Karson. The one who’s still digging. Even after everything.”</p> <p>“After everything?” Pataki asked, his interest piqued. “What do you mean?”</p> <p>Walker’s gaze shifted back to the road, his expression growing more serious. "Amnestic doses. Class A, B, C, and F. All of them. His memory’s been wiped clean more times than I can count. They nuked his mind, and yet… he hasn’t lost his edge. He’s still pushing. It’s rare.”</p> <p>Pataki chewed on the thought, but before he could respond, Walker was already speaking again. “I think he’ll be a good fit for the Foundation. Our team especially.”</p> <p>Pataki leaned back in his seat, still mulling over the idea. "I’m not too sure, Walker. Sure he can deal with amnestics but is he the right fit? Do we know enough about him?”</p> <p>“What do you propose, doc?”</p> <p>“We need a new man, you’re right, Walker. We can get Agent Lincoln to implement a CRV test and we shadow him for a week, build a psychological profile, to see if he, as you say, is right.”</p> <p>“Sounds like a plan, doc,” Walker said, making a U-turn back to the city.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p>Wiped Clean \| <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/flashing-lights">Flashing Lights</a> »</p> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/wiped-clean">Wiped Clean</a>" by korgis, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/wiped-clean">https://scpwiki.com/wiped-clean</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:basalt">:scp-wiki:theme:basalt</a> themesetting]] Rain thumped against the windshield in irregular rhythms, like a drummer with a bad sense of timing. Detective Karson sat in his unmarked car, stuck in a serpentine line of red taillights on the freeway. “Los Angeles! It’s Monday and the rain is back. Don’t forget your umbrellas, folks. Stay dry out there.” The radio DJ prattled on about traffic jams and played a Leonard Cohen song that perfectly matched the mood. Karson tapped the steering wheel with two fingers, willing the gridlock to break. The call had come in about an hour ago. The day had already been long—too long. The gang shootout had left ten men dead and twice as many wounded. Half a city block looked like it had been through a war. Karson had been there for hours, canvassing witnesses who weren’t talking and counting bullet holes in shattered glass. Lopez, his partner, was riding shotgun, scrolling through his phone. His face was pale, his breath labored. “You good?” Karson asked. Lopez grunted, waving him off. “Just a cough. I’ll live.” Karson’s phone buzzed in the console. He glanced at the number. Dispatch. “Karson,” he said, putting it on speaker. “We’ve got a 187 in the Hills,” the dispatcher said, her voice clipped. “Private residence. Not much yet. Uniforms on the way.” Lopez looked up from his phone. “Hollywood Hills? That’s usually quiet.” “Not tonight,” Karson said, shifting gears. He turned onto an off-ramp, the tires hissing against wet asphalt. They reached the address thirty minutes later, a sprawling mansion tucked into the hills, with a panoramic view of the city that was currently obscured by fog and rain. The scene was already cordoned off, yellow tape fluttering in the wind. The driveway was crowded with patrol cars and media vans. Media, he thought. Probably here to spin tragedy into ratings. ABC, NBC, Fox, MSNBC. But Karson noticed a sleek white van parked just outside the perimeter, its logo catching his eye: //Spectre Communication & Productions//. New media parasites just keep popping up like mushrooms after rain. “Detectives Karson and Lopez,” he said, "homicide." The uniform nodded and lifted the tape. They slogged up the driveway, rain soaking their shoes. A figure stood at the front door, waiting for them. Sergeant Malone, a wiry woman with sharp features and an attitude to match, motioned them over. She’d been a LAPD sergeant for fifteen years and had a reputation for being blunt to the point of brutality. “Took you long enough,” Malone said. Her voice carried over the rain. “You’re gonna want to see this one.” “What’s the story?” Karson asked, pulling out his notebook. Malone’s mouth twisted into something between a grimace and a grin. “Gruesome doesn’t begin to cover it. I’ve been doing this a long time, Karson. Seen a lot of bad shit. This one…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “Let’s just say it’s going to stick with you.” Karson exchanged a glance with Lopez, who looked unimpressed. They’d heard variations of that line a hundred times before. Murder was murder. People were capable of awful things, but after enough years in the job, you stopped being surprised. They followed Malone inside. The air was heavy with the smell of damp carpet and something else, something metallic. Blood. All too common for Karson. They passed a cluster of uniforms standing by the staircase, their faces pale. One of them whispered something, but the words were lost in the thrum of the rain against the windows. Malone led them down a hallway, her footsteps soft on the plush carpet. She stopped in front of a door and turned to face them. “Before you go in, let me just say this…” She hesitated, her eyes darting between them. “Whatever you think you’re ready for, you’re not. I wasn’t.” They pushed open the door. @@ @@ -------- @@ @@ Rain thumped against the windshield, drumming in uneven rhythms that seemed to sync with Karson’s thoughts. The unmarked sedan idled in traffic, stuck in the eternal slog of Los Angeles mornings. He rubbed his temple, feeling the pressure of a long day before it even started. The radio buzzed to life, static giving way to the familiar DJ’s voice. “Good morning, Los Angeles! It’s another soggy day out there—Tuesday, folks, and it’s rain, rain, rain. Hope you’ve got your umbrellas and your patience. Up next, some golden oldies to keep you company in this downpour.” “You all right, man?” Lopez asked, his voice raspier than usual. He leaned against the passenger door, a bottle of cough syrup rattling in the door pocket. His ponytail bounced as he coughed, a harsh, chesty sound that lingered in the cabin. “Yeah,” Karson said, glancing over. “You sound worse.” “I’m fine.” “You sure? You don’t look fine.” Lopez rolled his eyes and slouched deeper into the seat. “It’s LA. No one looks fine.” Karson didn’t argue. He watched the rain run in rivulets down the windshield. His phone buzzed in the console. He reached for it, thumbed the screen, and put it on speaker. “Karson,” he said. “187,” dispatch replied, her voice clipped. “Hollywood Hills. Uniforms on-site.” They followed the winding roads into the Hollywood Hills. Karson couldn’t shake the odd sensation creeping into the back of his mind. Déjà vu, strong and insistent. The rain, the roads, even the turns felt like a rerun of a show he barely remembered watching. “You good?” Lopez asked, catching his silence. “Yeah,” Karson said, but his grip on the wheel tightened. “Just… feels like we’ve been here before.” “Because we have.” Lopez gestured out the window. “Hollywood Hills. Mansions. Dead bodies. It’s a loop, man. Every day’s the same in this city.” “Maybe.” When they pulled up to the house, black-and-whites crowded the driveway and red and blue lights sliced through the gray morning. The rain made the pavement shine like glass, reflecting the chaos above it. Malone was by the door, looking soaked to the bone despite her raincoat. Her expression was unreadable, but her stance was pure tension. “Karson. Lopez,” she said, nodding at them. Karson tilted his head. “This looks… familiar.” Malone raised an eyebrow. “Well, murder in the Hills. You’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all.” Before Karson could respond, a black SUV rolled into the cul-de-sac. They stopped abruptly, doors opening in unison. Two men in dark suits stepped out, their expressions stone-cold. The lead agent approached, a tall man with a sharp jaw, bald head and an air of authority. “Detective Karson,” he said, voice cutting through the rain. “I am Special Agent Walker and my partner, Special Agent Lincoln. Please step back. This is a federal matter now.” Karson squared his shoulders, but before he could speak, Lopez grabbed his arm. “Don’t,” he whispered. @@ @@ -------- @@ @@ Rain thumped against the tall windows of the precinct, streaking the glass with silver as the city blurred beyond. The radio played faintly in the background, the DJ’s smooth voice cutting through the low hum of the precinct. “Good morning, Los Angeles. It’s Wednesday, and you guessed it—more rain on the way. Let’s hope the sun makes an appearance soon.” Karson woke at his desk with a stiff neck with The Beatles playing in the background. Karson rubbed his face, trying to shake off the fog in his head. He didn’t remember driving back to the precinct last night. Didn’t remember much of anything, really. The precinct door slammed open, and Chief Santos strode in, rainwater dripping from her coat. She was in her forties, sharp-eyed, and carried herself with the kind of authority that made people sit up straighter. Today, though, her temper was running hot. “Karson!” she barked, her heels clicking hard against the floor. “What the hell have you been doing the last two days?” Karson blinked, startled. “Excuse me?” “Don’t play dumb,” Santos snapped, tossing a file onto his desk. “The gang shootout. Open case, no leads. And you’re just sitting here?” Karson straightened, trying to gather his thoughts. “The shootout’s a mess, Chief. We’ve got hundreds of shell casings, conflicting witness statements—” “And excuses, apparently,” Santos interrupted. “Lopez called in sick this morning, but what’s your excuse? You’ve had two days to make sense of this, and what do we have to show for it?” Karson hesitated. Two days? Santos didn’t wait for a reply. She stormed off, leaving the scent of burnt coffee in her wake. Karson flipped open the folder. It was thin. Too thin. He pulled up the precinct’s database on his desktop, fingers tapping the keyboard. No new cases. Nothing. He leaned back, staring at the screen. The precinct never went two days without a murder. Not in this city. Something was wrong. He left his desk, heading for the morgue. The morgue was cold, the smell of antiseptic sharp in the air. Karson stepped inside, his footsteps echoing against the tiled floor. Malone was there, standing beside a long row of gurneys covered in white sheets. “Karson,” she said, nodding. “Sarge,” he replied. “Busy week?” She gave him a puzzled look. “Not really. It’s been quiet. No homicides. Just dropped by the morgue for some older evidence.” Karson frowned. “What about the Hollywood Hills murders? I saw you both days.” “Hollywood Hills?” Malone tilted her head. “There haven’t been any cases up there this week.” Karson’s stomach churned as Malone left. He found the morgue doctor, an older man with thin glasses and a permanent scowl, leaning over a clipboard. “Detective Karson,” the doctor said, raising an eyebrow. “Something I can do for you?” “I need to check the bodies from the gang shootout,” Karson said. The doctor straightened, frowning. “The shootout? That was days ago. You’re just getting around to it now?” “Just show me.” The doctor led him to a row of metal drawers, each one labeled with a numbered tag. Karson felt a flicker of relief as the doctor pulled one open, revealing a body inside. One after another, he revealed the dead—dealers, gangbangers, bystanders. Karson noted their faces, matching them to the chaotic scene. “Ten bodies, Detective,” the doctor said dryly. “Seems like your precinct’s been busy.” “Typical LA, doc. Anything else came in?" Karson asked. “Not really,” the doctor said. “Most of these came in over the weekend. Natural causes, accidents. Nothing violent.” Karson frowned. “Nothing violent?” He nodded. “It’s been quiet. Aside from your shootout, of course.” Karson glanced around the room, his eyes landing on a clipboard hanging near the door. //South Coast Preservation – Pickup Scheduled//. “Who’s South Coast Preservation?” he asked. The doctor looked over, his expression guarded. “They’re a funeral service. Private, very high-end. Why?” Karson didn’t answer. He walked to the clipboard and ran his finger down the list of names. Only two. Both marked for pickup. Both recent. “Something wrong, Detective?” the doctor asked. Karson shook his head and walked out without another word. Back at his desk, Karson stared at his computer screen. The rain outside had turned into a dull roar, filling the silence of the precinct. He typed “South Coast Preservation” into the search bar and hit enter. The screen blinked, then froze. @@ @@ -------- @@ @@ Rain thumped against the windows like a drum, steady and relentless. Karson woke with a start, rubbing his eyes, staring at the unfamiliar angle of light cutting across his ceiling. The air smelled damp, stale, like the storm outside had seeped into the walls. The radio beside him crackled to life, the familiar DJ’s voice cutting through the silence. “Good morning, Los Angeles. It’s Thursday, and the rain is sticking around. Looks like the storm’s here to stay. So buckle up, folks—we’ve got a wet one ahead.” Karson turned the radio off. It was always the same—same DJ, same rain, same city. Nothing changed. His mind was heavy, as if something had been erased, and the more he tried to grasp it, the more it slipped away. He rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off the grogginess, but it clung to him. There was no way he had gotten home last night. No memory of the drive, no memory of walking through the door. He checked his phone. There was a text from Lopez last night, the timestamp showing 11:23 PM: “Call me when you get this.” Karson couldn’t remember calling him back. He couldn't even remember receiving the text. He grabbed his jacket and left the apartment. The rain had picked up again, a relentless barrage of water. Lopez’s house was quiet when Karson pulled up. The lights were on, but the front door remained closed. He stepped out into the rain, pulling his collar up against the cold. As he knocked, he heard the sound of coughing from inside. Lopez’s wife, Anna, opened the door a moment later, her face flushed, but she smiled as if nothing was wrong. “Alex,” she said, stepping aside to let him in. “You here to check on him?” “Yeah. Just making sure he’s okay.” She nodded, glancing down the hall. “He’s on the couch. Told me he’s getting better, but you know him. Doesn’t take much to get him back on his feet.” He walked into the living room, where Lopez lay wrapped in a blanket. His eyes were bloodshot, his face pale, his long hair a mess but he smiled weakly when he saw Karson. “Still alive,” Lopez muttered, lifting his hand in greeting. “Barely,” Karson replied. He glanced at the couch where Lopez’s laptop was open, a browser window with the words South Coast Preservation typed in. Lopez chuckled weakly. “Yeah, that’s what the doctor said too. Pneumonia. Antibiotics.” The house was quiet, the smell of coffee heavy in the air. Karson noticed a construction van parked on the curb across the street—its logo barely visible in the rain-soaked gloom. //Structural Construction and Planning//. Anna appeared in the doorway, her face lined with worry. “Coffee?” she asked. “No thanks,” Karson said. “LAPD got you both overworked, Carlos is sick and you guys are still working” Anna said, offering a weak smile before disappearing into the kitchen. Lopez coughed into his sleeve, “I’m taking it easy today, Anna. No worries.” Lopez turns to Karson. “So, what’s so urgent you couldn’t just call back?” “South Coast Preservation,” Karson said, sitting across from him. Lopez frowned. “The funeral home?” “It’s more than that. Something’s off. I looked into them last night—” “You mean //we// looked into them,” Lopez interrupted, leaning forward. His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “On the burner.” Karson blinked. “Burner?” Lopez sighed, shaking his head. “Man, you’re fried. You called me yesterday on a burner. Told me to dig into South Coast. Turns out, it’s clean. They handle high-profile clients—actors, musicians, politicians. Totally above board.” Karson didn’t remember that conversation. “What else?” he pressed. Lopez hesitated, his brow furrowing. “Not much. It’s just a funeral home. What’s this about, Alex? You’ve been off lately.” “I know,” Karson muttered. “I just don’t remember why. I don’t… I don’t remember last night at all.” Lopez leaned forward. “You’re pushing too hard. You’ve been on edge for days. Relax. Like Anna said, you’re overworked, man. We all are.” “I don’t think so,” Karson said, the words slipping out before he could stop them. He stood, pacing in the small living room. His eyes fell on a framed photo of Lopez and Anna, taken at a beach. It was bright, the sun high, the kind of photo that didn’t belong in this apartment. It felt too warm for today, too distant. “Look,” he said, taking a breath. “I think we need to see this place for ourselves. Go check it out. You with me?” Lopez frowned, then coughed again. He wheezed, his chest rattling, and it took him a moment to catch his breath. “You’re serious, aren’t you?” Lopez asked. “Yeah,” Karson said. “Let’s go, Carlos.” An hour later, they pulled up outside the South Coast Preservation offices. The rain had subsided to a mist, the world gray and blurred. The building was pristine—modern, angular, its facade gleaming even under the dismal sky. “This feels wrong,” Lopez said, his voice weak. “Stay here if you want,” Karson said, already stepping out of the car. “No chance,” Lopez muttered, following. They approached the front doors, Karson’s hand brushing the holster at his hip. “You realize we don’t have a warrant,” Lopez said. “Since when did that stop us?” Karson shot back. Lopez laughed weakly, coughing halfway through. Inside, the lobby was immaculate—polished floors, a minimalist desk, and soft music playing from hidden speakers. A receptionist looked up, her smile too perfect. “Detectives,” Karson said, flashing his badge. “We have some questions.” The receptionist’s smile faltered, just for a moment. “Of course,” she said, her voice tight. “Let me get someone to assist you.” She stood and disappeared through a side door. Karson glanced at Lopez, who was already leaning against the wall, blood pouring from his eyes, ears and mouth. @@ @@ -------- @@ @@ Rain thumped against the window in steady, rhythmic bursts, the sound filling the room like a constant reminder of everything that had gone wrong. Karson blinked, his eyes sluggish as he tried to piece together where he was. His head throbbed, the pain dull but relentless, a heavy weight behind his skull. He was lying on something hard, a thin sheet stretched over him, the sterile smell of disinfectant suffocating in the air. His arms were strapped to the sides of the bed, the restraints biting into his skin. He tugged, but the leather bindings held firm. “Where... am I?” he muttered, his voice hoarse. A radio crackled on somewhere nearby, the same DJ’s voice cutting through the static. “Good morning, Los Angeles. It’s Friday, and the rain keeps coming down. Stay safe out there.” The words were eerily familiar, like a loop he couldn’t break free from. Karson blinked, trying to focus. Through the haze, he could make out figures in hazmat suits moving around the room. Their movements were swift, methodical. Two of them stood beside his bed, discussing something in low voices. The man on the left glanced down at him, his face obscured by the suit’s visor. “Results came back,” he said, his voice muffled through the suit. “He already has resistance. All the markers are there.” The man on the right, slightly taller, gave a short, impatient shake of his head. “Inoculate him anyway. No risks. Not with what’s going on.” His voice was colder, more clipped, like a man used to giving orders. Karson’s chest tightened, the words sinking in. //Inoculate? Resistance?// What was he talking about? “Lucky bastard,” the left hazmat suit guy muttered. “His results are clean. His friend, though…” He trailed off, looking at the other man with something like pity. “His friend isn’t my problem,” the other one said sharply. “Get it done.” There was a sharp click, and Karson felt something cold and metallic press against the inside of his arm. A needle. He winced, the pain barely registering over the pulsing headache. “You’re lucky,” the first one said again, his voice distant as if from a faraway place. “You won’t need to remember all of this.” Another sharp needle pressed on his arm and the world turned black. @@ @@ -------- @@ @@ Rain thumped against the windshield, the sound like a persistent drumbeat on a quiet night. Karson’s eyes cracked open, and for a moment, he couldn’t figure out where he was. He blinked hard, trying to shake off the fog in his mind. The car was still, the engine off, but his body was stiff from sleep. He glanced at the radio. The same DJ from before, smooth and steady, a voice that seemed to ease the tension in the air. “Good morning, Los Angeles. It’s Saturday, and the rain is still coming down in sheets. We’re talking traffic, we’re talking low visibility, but we’re still here. You are too, and that’s what counts. Stay safe, folks.” Karson frowned, the date not sinking in. //Saturday?// Hadn’t it just been Thursday? Or Friday? He rubbed his temples and looked around. The lot outside was familiar—his precinct. How had he gotten here? His fingers shook as he fumbled for the keys, pushing the car door open with more force than necessary. His legs felt like they might buckle beneath him, and he steadied himself against the hood before heading into the building. The cold, fluorescent lights of the precinct buzzed overhead, and Karson’s footsteps echoed in the empty hallway. The lobby was half-filled with officers, but it was Lincoln who caught Karson’s attention. His partner was leaning against the front desk, a coffee cup in hand, his face looking—well, better. “Lincoln,” Karson said, taking a step forward, his gaze scanning him with a touch of suspicion. “You’re looking better.” Lincoln’s lips twitched into a grin, the lines of exhaustion softening around his eyes. “Yeah. Antibiotics, man. They’re working.” Karson gave a small nod, his gaze drifting to Lincoln’s hair. Something about it was off. “Did you cut your ponytail off?” Karson asked. Lincoln let out a laugh, the sound familiar and soothing. “I got rid of it a long time ago. Wasn’t practical for the job, you know?” Karson blinked, his mind grasping for clarity. He could have sworn Lincoln had worn that ponytail for as long as they’d worked together. But there was something strange about the moment, something that didn’t sit right with him. Before he could ask more questions, Chief Santos appeared at the door to her office, her eyes narrowing as she took in the pair. “You two are here?” she asked, a mix of disbelief and frustration in her tone. “You’ve done nothing all week, and the gang shootout is still open. What’s your excuse?” Karson opened his mouth to speak, but Lincoln cut him off with a shrug. “We’ve been on it. Just—catching up. We’re good to go.” Santos didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t press it. She turned back toward her office, muttering, “Get on it. Both of you.” Lincoln came up with ballistic reports, eyewitness statements, everything to close up the case. Karson turned away, a strange unease still twisting in his stomach. He was supposed to feel like things were normal—he had to. But something was missing. The missing time, the incomplete memories. He needed answers. Without a word, he made his way toward the parking lot, his footsteps quickening as his thoughts churned. His car was still parked in the lot, and as he sat behind the wheel, the rain falling steadily, he felt a compulsion to go somewhere. A place he didn’t know but felt drawn to. Karson drove for what seemed like hours, though the city was small enough that it couldn’t have been. The rain had turned to a light mist, coating the windshield in a hazy blur. He wasn’t sure where he was going, but his instincts pulled him down a familiar street, to a house he couldn’t remember if he had ever been inside—or if he had only seen it in his mind, again and again. He stopped the car in front of the house. It was a well-kept place, one of those comfortable homes that looked lived-in, but not too much. Karson didn’t think twice as he got out and knocked on the door. When it opened, Karson was met with Anna. She was crying. “Alex... I—” she started, her voice shaking, and then she just broke, leaning against the doorframe. “Anna?” Karson said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “What happened?” She wiped her face, trying to compose herself, but it didn’t help. “I don’t know. I don’t know why I’m crying. I can’t stop.” Something was wrong. He couldn’t place it, but something felt very wrong. The air in the house seemed thicker than it should be. He glanced around. The walls were lined with pictures, mostly of Lincoln and Anna—together, smiling. It took him a moment to register it, but the familiarity of it hit him like a brick. There were more pictures of Lincoln here than there had been at the station. More than Karson had ever remembered seeing, even though he had worked with Lincoln for years. He tried to push the thought aside, but it lingered. “Anna, I... I don’t understand,” Karson said, stepping toward her. “I don’t know either,” she whispered. “I just—I feel like I should know why I’m crying, but I don’t. I just miss Carl.” Karson felt something pull at his chest. His eyes stung, and for a moment, he thought he might cry too. But he didn’t understand why. “Lincoln is still at the office, just finishing up my paperwork. You know how he is,” Karson said, his voice low. They stood there in silence, the soft sound of Anna’s breathing the only thing filling the space between them. The pictures on the walls seemed to close in around Karson. He blinked, trying to focus, but the longer he looked, the more out of place everything seemed. The framed photo of Lincoln and Anna at the beach—he’d seen them before, he knew he had. But the more he looked, the more they seemed unfamiliar. “Alex, you okay?” Anna asked, her voice distant. He blinked again. “I—I don’t know.” @@ @@ -------- @@ @@ Rain thumped against the roof of the van rolling through the rain-soaked streets of Los Angeles, its wheels cutting through the wet asphalt with a quiet, methodical hum. On the side of the vehicle, the words //Structural Construction and Planning// were printed in bold, industrial lettering. The exterior, weathered and worn from regular use, blended seamlessly into the surrounding cityscape. It was the kind of vehicle no one would ever look twice at. The DJ’s voice crackled through the static on the radio, offering a distracted greeting, the kind that only came after days of rain. "Good morning, LA. It’s Sunday, and we're back at it again. The weather's been relentless, but don't worry, the sun's bound to break through eventually. Stay dry, folks." Inside, the space was functional. At the front of the van sat a large man in a high-visibility jacket, a helmet perched on his bald head, and a copy of the LA building code manual open in front of him. The kind of worker who could pass for any construction employee on any given day. The seat next to him was empty, but behind him, there were computers and charts littering the back of the van, all linked to a complex web of surveillance equipment. One of the men, dressed in similar attire, sat at a desk in the rear, speaking into a phone. His voice was calm but incredulous, the faint hum of the electronics around him filling the background. “Are you telling me,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief, “that the virus we thought was anomalous... isn’t?” There was a pause on the other end. He waited for the response, fingers drumming on the desk in frustration. “Yes, I understand,” he finally muttered, rubbing his eyes. “Just send the damn report over.” > [[=]] > Analysis of Virus Outbreak in Los Angeles > [[/=]] > A total of three deceased individuals were initially suspected to have succumbed to an anomalous pathogen due to the rapid onset and atypical progression of their symptoms. Each subject presented with a persistent cough and fever over a period of three to five days, followed by the sudden onset of hemorrhagic fever and profuse hemorrhaging from multiple orifices. The widespread blood dispersion observed at the scene is hypothesized to be a result of victim-induced panic during the terminal stages of the illness. > > Pathological samples obtained from the deceased individuals were subjected to initial testing at the Los Angeles County Morgue, which yielded a positive identification for Ebola virus (//Zaire strain//) infection. Subsequent testing performed under controlled conditions at Foundation Site [REDACTED] consistently produced identical results, confirming the presence of the virus. > > Further genomic analysis revealed no deviations from the canonical Ebola virus genome. No anomalous genetic markers or properties were detected, and the virus retained all known structural and functional characteristics typical of the Ebola virus. > “So, Dr Pataki, what does the report say?” the man driving called back, his voice still tense. “Well Walker, they couldn’t find any anomalous properties. The tests conducted by our researcher in the LA morgue confirmed this.” Walker, still processing, took a deep breath, his frustration clearly rising. “So, that’s it? We’re supposed to just walk away and go back to the Site? How did Ebola even show up in LA?” Pataki didn’t respond immediately, continuing to scan through the reports. The hum of the van’s electronics filled the space between them. Pataki sighed. “Right. It’s non-anomalous so local health authorities need to deal with that. We can’t afford to waste anymore time here. Let’s head back to debrief at the Site.” “Fine.” Heading back to their Site, Walker glanced into the rearview mirror. "Well, there’s something new on the horizon." He didn’t smile, but his lips twitched as if he was sharing an inside joke. "What about a new man for the team?" "Karson?" Walker’s grin finally appeared, but it was more of a satisfied smirk. “You got it. Detective Karson. The one who’s still digging. Even after everything.” “After everything?” Pataki asked, his interest piqued. “What do you mean?” Walker’s gaze shifted back to the road, his expression growing more serious. "Amnestic doses. Class A, B, C, and F. All of them. His memory’s been wiped clean more times than I can count. They nuked his mind, and yet... he hasn’t lost his edge. He’s still pushing. It’s rare.” Pataki chewed on the thought, but before he could respond, Walker was already speaking again. “I think he’ll be a good fit for the Foundation. Our team especially.” Pataki leaned back in his seat, still mulling over the idea. "I’m not too sure, Walker. Sure he can deal with amnestics but is he the right fit? Do we know enough about him?” “What do you propose, doc?” “We need a new man, you’re right, Walker. We can get Agent Lincoln to implement a CRV test and we shadow him for a week, build a psychological profile, to see if he, as you say, is right.” “Sounds like a plan, doc,” Walker said, making a U-turn back to the city. @@ @@ -------- @@ @@ [[=]] Wiped Clean \| [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/flashing-lights Flashing Lights] >> [[/=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=korgis]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-12-12T18:04:00	[ "crime-fiction", "mystery", "tale" ]	Wiped Clean - SCP Foundation	4	[ "flashing-lights", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "tales-by-year", "news" ]	[]	1458001582	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/wiped-clean
wit	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="preview"> <p>Witness what remains.</p> </div> <div style="display: none"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">+ CODE</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">- CODE</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div style="text-align: left;"> <div class="code"> <div class="hl-main"> <pre><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BLANKSTYLE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CSS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">2021</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">Wikidot</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">Theme</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">By</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Placeholder</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">McD</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">HarryBlank</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Based</span><span class="hl-code"> on: </span><span class="hl-identifier">Paperstack</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Penumbra</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Montserrat</span><span class="hl-special">:ital</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">wght</span><span class="hl-var">@0</span><span class="hl-code">,800;1,800&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.9</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">1.6</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#container-wrap</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'Montserrat', </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-title, "R\</span><span class="hl-number">0026</span><span class="hl-code"> C SITE-43")</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">400</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-subtitle, "SUBVERTING COMMON PRACTICE")</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">700</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 707</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">a:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">1.6</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-title</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#footer</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#footer</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#efefef</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.empty</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#999999</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem!important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">7.9</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'Montserrat', </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.45</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#extra-div-1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">160</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Ablankstyle/</span><span class="hl-number">43</span><span class="hl-code">Head.png')</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> contain</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 707</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#extra-div-1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">body</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> linear-gradient( to </span><span class="hl-string">bottom</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">200</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">200</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-special">:root</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">timeScale:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">timeDelay:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">posX:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">358</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">13</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">fnLinger:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">12</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.35</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#DDD</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.open-menu</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 767</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-identifier">target</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">black</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FDF6D7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-var">#D7EFE7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.resources</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-var">#F5D8E0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.creditRate</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">PAGE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">RATING</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-points</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anchor</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> sticky</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.14</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc((</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vw - </span><span class="hl-number">870</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">)/</span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vh - </span><span class="hl-number">18</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">103.5</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 1290</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">visibility:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">h2:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">0.9</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">YUI</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TAB</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BASE</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">YUI</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TAB</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CUSTOMIZATION</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-wrap:</span><span class="hl-code"> wrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">.125</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">UNSELECTED</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#efefef</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">HOVER</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Listitem</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">relative</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-bottom</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">align-items:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.35</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.75</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> ellipsis</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">white-space:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">nowrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Selection</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">SELECTED</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:active</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">SCROLLBAR</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-track</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-thumb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#CCC</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-thumb</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#EEE</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">CENTER</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">IMAGES</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ON</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MOBILE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">courtesy</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">of</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">PeppersGhost</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.imagediv</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">right</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 540</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.imagediv</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">only</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">screen</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 600</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block.block-right</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">ACS-COLORED</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TABLE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">DIVS</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#D7EFE7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#D8ECF4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FDF6D7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFDABF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#F5D8E0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">146</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.wiki-content-table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-collapse:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">separate</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">img</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.top-left-box</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">.item</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">WORDS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">NO</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">LONGER</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BROKEN</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">THE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CROQUEMBOUCHE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">HAS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">SPOKEN</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">word-break:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">normal</span><span class="hl-code"> !important </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.avatar-hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#breadcrumbs</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.pseudocrumbs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> -- </span><span class="hl-identifier">FANCY</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">THINGS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">from</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Woedenaz</span><span class="hl-code">'</span><span class="hl-identifier">s</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Dustjacket</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> -- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fancyhr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--bright-accent), </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-source:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Aflopstyle-dark/wl_hr.png')</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> round round</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-slice:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-code"> fill</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fancyborder</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Aflopstyle-dark/wl_border.png') </span><span class="hl-number">600</span><span class="hl-code"> round</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span></pre></div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div> <div style="display: none;"> <div style="display: none"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">+ CODE</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">- CODE</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div style="text-align: left;"> <div class="code"> <div class="hl-main"> <pre><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BLANKSTYLE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CSS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">2021</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">Wikidot</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">Theme</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">By</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Placeholder</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">McD</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">HarryBlank</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Based</span><span class="hl-code"> on: </span><span class="hl-identifier">Paperstack</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Penumbra</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Montserrat</span><span class="hl-special">:ital</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">wght</span><span class="hl-var">@0</span><span class="hl-code">,800;1,800&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.9</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">1.6</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#container-wrap</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'Montserrat', </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-title, "R\</span><span class="hl-number">0026</span><span class="hl-code"> C SITE-43")</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">400</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-subtitle, "SUBVERTING COMMON PRACTICE")</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">700</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 707</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">a:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">1.6</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-title</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#footer</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#footer</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#efefef</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.empty</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#999999</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem!important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">7.9</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'Montserrat', </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.45</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#extra-div-1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">160</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Ablankstyle/</span><span class="hl-number">43</span><span class="hl-code">Head.png')</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> contain</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 707</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#extra-div-1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">body</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> linear-gradient( to </span><span class="hl-string">bottom</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">200</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">200</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-special">:root</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">timeScale:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">timeDelay:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">posX:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">358</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">13</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">fnLinger:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">12</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.35</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#DDD</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.open-menu</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 767</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-identifier">target</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">black</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FDF6D7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-var">#D7EFE7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.resources</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-var">#F5D8E0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.creditRate</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">PAGE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">RATING</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-points</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anchor</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> sticky</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.14</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc((</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vw - </span><span class="hl-number">870</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">)/</span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vh - </span><span class="hl-number">18</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">103.5</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 1290</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">visibility:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">h2:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">0.9</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">YUI</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TAB</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BASE</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">YUI</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TAB</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CUSTOMIZATION</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-wrap:</span><span class="hl-code"> wrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">.125</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">UNSELECTED</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#efefef</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">HOVER</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Listitem</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">relative</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-bottom</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">align-items:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.35</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.75</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> ellipsis</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">white-space:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">nowrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Selection</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">SELECTED</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:active</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">SCROLLBAR</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-track</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-thumb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#CCC</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-thumb</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#EEE</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">CENTER</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">IMAGES</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ON</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MOBILE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">courtesy</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">of</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">PeppersGhost</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.imagediv</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">right</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 540</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.imagediv</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">only</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">screen</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 600</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block.block-right</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">ACS-COLORED</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TABLE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">DIVS</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#D7EFE7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#D8ECF4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FDF6D7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFDABF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#F5D8E0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">146</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.wiki-content-table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-collapse:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">separate</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">img</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.top-left-box</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">.item</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">WORDS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">NO</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">LONGER</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BROKEN</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">THE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CROQUEMBOUCHE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">HAS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">SPOKEN</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">word-break:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">normal</span><span class="hl-code"> !important </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.avatar-hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#breadcrumbs</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.pseudocrumbs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> -- </span><span class="hl-identifier">FANCY</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">THINGS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">from</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Woedenaz</span><span class="hl-code">'</span><span class="hl-identifier">s</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Dustjacket</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> -- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fancyhr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--bright-accent), </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-source:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Aflopstyle-dark/wl_hr.png')</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> round round</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-slice:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-code"> fill</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fancyborder</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Aflopstyle-dark/wl_border.png') </span><span class="hl-number">600</span><span class="hl-code"> round</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span></pre></div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div> </div> <div style="display: none"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">+ CODE</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">- CODE</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div style="text-align: left;"> <div class="code"> <div class="hl-main"> <pre><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">QUEERSTYLE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CSS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">By</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Queerious</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Forked</span><span class="hl-code"> from: </span><span class="hl-identifier">Blankstyle</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CSS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Placeholder</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">McD</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">HarryBlank</span><span class="hl-code"> Using: </span><span class="hl-identifier">White</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Outline</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Classic</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">LGBTQ</span><span class="hl-code">+ </span><span class="hl-identifier">Pride</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Logo</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Woedenaz</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">from</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">scp-wiki.wikidot.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">component</span><span class="hl-special">:pride-highlighter</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Vast</span><span class="hl-code">+</span><span class="hl-identifier">Shadow</span><span class="hl-code">&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.9</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-special">:root</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">header-title:</span><span class="hl-code"> "SCP Foundation"</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">header-subtitle:</span><span class="hl-code"> "SECURE, CONTAIN, PROTECT"</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 707</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">a:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">9</span><span class="hl-code">vw</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.75</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.75</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#extra-div-1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">150</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/component:pride-highlighter/gp_logo.svg')</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.creditButton</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">p</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-var">#373737</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Pseudogenesis</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Formats</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.pseudo-div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#B22A2A</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-var">#403450</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> "Vast Shadow", </span><span class="hl-string">serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.pseudo-div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-special">:is</span><span class="hl-code">(</span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">h3</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">h4</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">h5</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">h6</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> "Vast Shadow", </span><span class="hl-string">serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">normal</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">white</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span></pre></div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> </div> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><span class="blackout">Nobody ever expects it, and, let's</span> be honest, <span class="blackout">you were in no way</span> expecting <span class="blackout">anything to happen of note</span> today<span class="blackout">, given the emptiness not</span> only <span class="blackout">of the day but of your whole life, that same, dreary, day in, day out,</span> living and surviving <span class="blackout">and living and</span> still you keep fucking <span class="blackout">living so now we have to do something, and all of</span> the <span class="blackout">sudden the fuck-ton of</span> emptiness <span class="blackout">you had becomes a whirlwind</span> of pain <span class="blackout">and sadness, but reality and humanity and</span> that <em>spark</em>, <span class="blackout">you know the one, the <strong>magic</strong> spark that pushes us</span> towards <span class="blackout">and away from greatness and history,</span> the knife<span class="blackout">s blade that controls and fights and</span> sharpens your <span class="blackout">wit, until, wit, there is nothing left to</span> witness, <span class="blackout">and without a witness how</span> can you possibly exist, <span class="blackout">but of course you can't, nobody can,</span> who thinks <span class="blackout">that they are truly worthy</span> of self<span class="blackout">-observation, this</span> perverse <span class="blackout">internal leer as you mentally reach out to all that makes your domain, your mind, soul,</span> and <span class="blackout">body, and body, and flesh and blood and organs and skin and</span> rot and <span class="blackout">life and pain and only, every so often, if one is especially lucky, you are given</span> the chance to create <span class="blackout">and there is no true parallel to that of</span> progenitor, <span class="blackout">the sculptor <em>ex nihilo</em>, exhale now and never excel even</span> in emptiness, <span class="blackout">but then you realize that it is all that</span> <span style="text-decoration: line-through;">we destroy</span> <span class="blackout">transforms in our minds' eyes, and what was</span> nihilo <span class="blackout">is now ex — escape velocity is never easy</span> to obtain, <span class="blackout">of course, you live by that mantra, stuck between two forces of gravity, pushed and pulled and stomped and lifted up, up, up but only just high enough that when they let</span> you <span class="blackout">go, you are tumbling, falling, plummeting,</span> witnessing your own <span class="blackout">inevitable death until you finally <strong>crash</strong>, dive down deep into the</span> loving <span class="blackout">embrace of our captors, the parasitic</span> disease <span class="blackout">we call family, lost and aghast in a cavalcade of needful things, useless things,</span> things that <span class="blackout">wit not to</span> witness, <span class="blackout">losing who <em>they</em> are to</span> the inevitable<span class="blackout">, creeping, exciting, logic-defying truth, that while all things may end in death,</span> you <span class="blackout">are not all things, you</span> are <span class="blackout">not</span> death, <span class="blackout">you are not a witness, you are not,</span> witnessing <em>ex <span class="blackout">vivo</span> en nihilo</em>, <span class="blackout">the memories of nihilo</span> exhale and <span class="blackout">exhaust and terrify and</span> multiply <span class="blackout">extracting the essence of what it means</span> to forget, <span class="blackout">and there it is, that is the</span> sin <span class="blackout">that we endeavor to</span> oblige<span class="blackout">, the errata we long to erase, nihilo y <sub>nihilo</sub> y</span> nihilo<span class="blackout">, until we once again remain, and return, but where do you</span> return <span class="blackout">when the only scrap of</span> life <span class="blackout">that you cling to is held</span> to <span class="blackout">wit only by the witless one, withering and wilting under</span> the eyes <span class="blackout">of the observers, the observed, the ex-ambassadors of the land where dreams live</span> until they are <span class="blackout">dreamt, a dying planet</span> hemorrhaging <span class="blackout">the hopes and nightmares and compilations of what was once</span> <em>you</em>, <span class="blackout">but has never truly been your<strong>self</strong>, of course,</span> nothing can ever <span class="blackout">truly hope to be <strong>self</strong>, after all, <strong>self</strong> is as <strong>self</strong>less as <strong>self</strong> does, and does the <strong>self</strong></span> salvage <span class="blackout">the selvage end of our untimely strings of fate, the ever-woven tapestry of irrelevant</span> emptiness, <span class="blackout">the taunts that echo through the empty school prisons, the impacts that rock</span> the <span class="blackout">very</span> foundation <span class="blackout">upon which <em>self</em></span> is built<span class="blackout">, and</span> with <span class="blackout">it, the death of observation and the reincarnation of identification as commodity,</span> the capitalistic nightmare <span class="blackout">that gives power to those without wit, those who have</span> the right <span class="blackout">stuff, the special sauce, the magic that flows out through the mind and</span> <span style="text-decoration: underline;">onto the page</span><span class="blackout">, the ex-sculptors now consumed into <em>nihilo</em>, those special few who deign</span> to inscribe <span class="blackout">their images and memories and hatred and longing and memories, of course memories, we remember, remember members whose membranes we punctured just to get</span> a better view, <span class="blackout">a glimpse into that which we cannot be, those we are</span> unable to live <span class="blackout">as, the un-un-dead, living</span> amongst <span class="blackout">the monsters of the digital worlds we conceive just to lock away on a server, the server who witnesses our</span> greed, <span class="blackout">the child, the idea, the</span> <em>genesis</em> <span class="blackout">ex nihilo ex genesis, the one who is left</span> — <span class="blackout">you suddenly realize, you</span> <span style="text-decoration: line-through;"><strong><span style="text-decoration: underline;">alone</span></strong></span> <span class="blackout">are a witness to today.</span></p> </div> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/wit">Wit</a>" by Queerious, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/wit">https://scpwiki.com/wit</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	===== [[include <a href="/component:preview">component:preview</a> text=Witness what remains.]] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:blankstyle">:scp-wiki:theme:blankstyle</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:queerstyle">:scp-wiki:theme:queerstyle</a>]] [[module css]] :root { --fade-in-delay: 0s; --header-title: ""; --header-subtitle: ""; } div#extra-div-1 { display:none; } .blackout { background-color:black; color:black; user-select:none; } [[/module]] [[>]] [[module rate]] [[/>]] [[module ListPages category="fragment" parent="." limit="1" order="random"]] %%content%% [[/module]] [!-- https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/fragment:wit-0 https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/fragment:wit-1 https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/fragment:wit-2 https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/fragment:wit-3 https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/fragment:wit-4 https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/fragment:wit-5 https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/fragment:wit-6 https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/fragment:wit-7 https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/fragment:wit-8 https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/fragment:wit-9 --] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2024-08-01T04:05:00	[ "_licensebox", "_listpages", "no-dialogue", "poetry", "second-person", "surrealism", "tale", "wrathcon2024" ]	Wit - SCP Foundation	22	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[]	[]	1455994744	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/wit

Subsets and Splits

No community queries yet

The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.